Which was exactly what Peggy expected him to say, but she still heaved a silent breath of relief now that she had told him.
He sat staring into the fire, only lifting his head now and again to look at her, before saying softly, ‘So where’ve they been for ’last ten years? How has she managed? What kind o’ work has she been doing? Little lad’s been well brought up; good manners, polite. She’s done a good job on him – but has she had a man in her life to help her?’ His forehead creased worriedly. ‘Women can go to ’bad when they’ve been left in such a situation.’
‘They can, that’s true,’ Peggy admitted, ‘But I honestly don’t know, Aaron. I’m hoping that when Jenny comes again she’ll be able to tell us. If you’ll agree I’d like to invite her here to see us so we can talk things over.’
‘Invite …? You mean ’lad’s mother? Dorothy?’
The door opened again. ‘Sorry for disturbing you,’ Robin apologized. ‘Is it all right to get some logs from the basket? The fire’s burning very low.’
‘Aye, yes, course it is.’ Aaron half rose from his chair.
‘It’s all right, Aaron, I can get them.’ Robin gave a merry grin and lowered his voice. ‘Molly’s doing very well with her reading, but I think she’s just remembering a lot of the words. She might have forgotten some of them by tomorrow.’
Aaron nodded and watched him go into the scullery and come back with several logs in his arms. ‘Mebbe you’d mek a teacher when you’re grown?’ he suggested.
‘I think I’d rather be a fisherman.’ Robin paused, and then said seriously, ‘I used to think I’d like to be an actor, but I loved it out on the estuary this morning. I suppose I’ll know for sure when I’ve been out in rough weather.’
When he’d gone back into the parlour, Aaron scratched his beard. ‘I’ll tell you what, Mother,’ he murmured. ‘No matter that I’ll never forgive that rogue Deakin for what he’s done, I’ll say this much: he’s a good sailor and fisherman, allus was and still is, and you can be sure that when he teks out a sailboat he’ll bring it safe home.’
‘What ’you on about, Aaron?’
‘Why, Deakin o’ course.’ He spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. ‘And that’s where ’lad gets it from. This morning I took him almost to ’mouth of ’Humber and although ’tide was strong he nivver turned a hair. Sailing or fishing, it’s in his blood. That’s for sure.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
‘You’re very quiet,’ Giles said as he and Delia walked back to their lodgings after a show. They had left the theatre earlier than the other performers; Delia had no need to stay for a final bow and Giles had quickly put on his hat, coat and gloves. They had left by the stage door and were heading down Paragon Street before the audience came out.
As it was almost midnight they avoided the darkened Princes Dock and passing by William Wilberforce’s towering monument crossed over Junction Bridge into Whitefriargate, where the shops were in darkness and the only light came from the flickering gas of the street lamps. It was quiet, save for the rattle of a brougham’s wheels as it passed on the cobbled street and the muffled ribald laughter coming from a nearby hostelry.
Delia admitted that she was tired. But that wasn’t the sole reason why she was quiet. She had been pondering for a few days on what Jenny had said about her owning up about Robin and even confronting Jack. It seemed to Delia that Jenny was furious with her brother over his youthful behaviour and thought that his whole manner had been and still was despicable; it was as if she couldn’t wait to challenge and punish him on Delia’s behalf.
‘It will ruin his marriage,’ Delia had said to her. ‘His wife won’t ever forgive him if she learns what happened, and …’ She had hesitated. She always evaded arguments – perhaps because in times past she had expected a physical blow if she was too plain-speaking – and tended to step away from any confrontation. ‘I have Robin to think of.’
And that was the root of the matter. She had seen for herself what a difference a settled existence had made to Robin; he had made friends and he seemed happy and that was what she wanted above all else. She didn’t want to disturb him, even though it broke her heart to be away from him. But the thought that she had abandoned him to the care of others worried her. That wasn’t what a good mother did. And if Jack Robinson should be told that his unknowingly begotten son was living in such close proximity, would he turn against him or even deny him?
‘You’re thinking about your son?’ Giles murmured as they turned towards Church Street and the chimes of midnight began to ring out.
‘I am,’ she admitted. ‘I want to see him. I want to be with him.’ Without any prior warning the situation suddenly became too much and she began to sob. ‘What kind of mother am I – what kind of mother can leave her child with someone else?’
Giles took her arm and tucked it under his. ‘One who had reached rock bottom, perhaps, and couldn’t see a way forward? What would have happened to him, or indeed either of you, if you hadn’t done what you did?’
Delia fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief and Giles handed her a clean one of his own; she could smell the slight fragrance of eau de Cologne and realized it was the one he used when resting his
