A Brighter Tomorrow - Maggie Ford (thriller novels to read .txt) 📗

nightgown, her greying hair hanging loose, Ellie caught her arm. ‘If it’s someone asking after me, please don’t tell them I’m here.’

‘Who’d be asking after you?’ came the retort. ‘I’ll kill ’em, whoever they are, knocking at this blooming hour.’

‘Then don’t anwer it. It could be anybody.’

‘I can’t ’ave people banging on me door this time of night, waking all me neighbours up.’

‘Then ask who it is first.’

Mrs Sharp went to stand behind the door. ‘What d’yer want?’ she queried, short of temper at the intrusion on her sleep. ‘Are you Mrs Sharp?’ came the reply.

‘It’s Ronnie!’ Her eyes turned in panic towards Ellie. ‘Somethink’s ’appened to him. It’s the police come ter tell me!’

But Ellie had recognized Doctor Lowe’s high tone. ‘It’s my employer,’ she hissed.

Mrs Sharp glanced at her. Ellie was shaking her head, one hand motioning negatively. To her relief, Mrs Sharp nodded reassurance and turned back to the door. ‘What d’yer want?’

‘I want to know if Miss Jay is there with you.’

‘You mean the girl what used ter live next door? No, she ain’t ’ere. Sorry. Ain’t seen nothink of ’er. Who are yer?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ came the lowered reply. ‘I apologize for having bothered you.’

‘I should think so – strangers waking us up this time of night!’

‘I do beg your pardon.’

‘What’s yer name anyway?’

Ellie’s hand was waving frantically: no, please let him go.

‘It’s of no consequence,’ came the voice, followed by silence as the owner walked away.

‘He’s gorn,’ Mrs Sharp said unnecessarily.

Ellie looked at her as she moved past to go back to bed. ‘Thank you for not betraying me. I feel so guilty coming here disturbing everyone. I shall be gone as soon as it’s daylight.’

‘You’ll ’ave a bit of breakfast with us ’fore yer go.’ The woman eyed her. ‘One thing yer got from that employer of yours: nice, polite manners; and yer’ve learnt ter speak nice too. Beats me why yer want ter leave there. Unless yer’ve got somewhere much nicer to go.’

‘I have,’ Ellie lied. There was no point telling her that she had no idea where to go. She would find somewhere. She’d have enough money come Monday and in her bags were some small paintings. She already knew what she’d do: sell them if she could and, on the strength of that, plan her life.

She didn’t hear Ronnie come in. She only awoke as someone came down the stairs, the battered little clock on the mantelshelf showing it to be nine fifteen. She had never slept so long, not even on a Sunday morning.

Leaping off the couch, embarrassed to be seen still lying there, though she had slept more or less fully dressed, Ellie pushed stockinged feet into her boots, frantically trying to do up the buttons along the outside of them.

She was sitting on the edge of the couch, the cover neatly folded and the cushion in an upright position, when Ronnie strode into the room one hand holding a steaming mug of tea from which he was sipping, the other hand holding out a similar mug to her.

‘Mum told me you was ’ere,’ he said as she gratefully took the tea, the brew as strong as ever. His voice, when it had broken, had been a deep one. Now it sounded deeper than ever, sending a little thrill through her. But it was all too late, Ronnie now courting and Michael still sitting painfully in her heart.

She’d tried not to think about what she and Michael had done. Why had she let it happen? But she’d been so sure of him – that they would run off together, be married; that their unforeseen moment of passion would be one of many moments. Hours later he had let her down.

She would never forgive him for that. She had even had a premonition after what they had done, but had bmshed it away, foolishly believing every word he’d said.

‘I never knew you was ’ere till this morning,’ Ronnie went on, his broad smile coming sudden and charming. ‘Good job I didn’t walk in on you in the middle of the night. We’d of both got a shock.’

Ellie didn’t make such a good job of her answering smile, was even relieved to have Mrs Sharp come into the room.

‘I’ve made you a bit of breakfast,’ she said. ‘No one else is up yet. Ronnie’s sister’s only too glad to get a lie-in, going ter work so early the rest of the week, and the other two kids just ’ate school, so they make the most of Sundays too. The ol’ man, of course, don’t hardly ever get up most days of the week. It’s only Ronnie what’s always up with the lark. Anyway, you said you wanted ter be off early so I made yer some breakfast – a bit of bacon and toast, orright?’

‘I don’t want to take your food, Mrs Sharp,’ Ellie burst out, following her out to the kitchen, where the appetizing smell of bacon met her.

‘Oh, we don’t do so bad,’ laughed Mrs Sharp. She nodded towards Ronnie following behind. ‘That one brings in a nice little wage these days, a training reporter now. And my gel don’t do so bad in factory work. They make up for what the old man don’t bring in, lazy old bugger! No, we can afford a bit of bacon for a guest.’

She bustled about while the two young people sat at the cloth-covered kitchen table. ‘Though when Ronnie gets married, I shall miss his money; but then I don’t ’ave ter feed him or wash ’is stuff, do I?’

Teapot in hand she paused to look at Ellie. ‘So where’re yer going to stay on a Sunday? Friends, is it? Got a young man, have yer?’

As Ellie looked blankly at her, she seemed to deduce that her reply to all of it would be negative. She gave a sigh and, concentrating on topping up her son’s half-drunk mug of tea, said, ‘Then ’ave yer got any money?’

This time Ellie could