Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [72]
Hannah was taken aback. “No. No of course not. . . .”
“We’ll look after you, Mummy. I’ll help more. I won’t make a mess in my room. And I’ll make my bed.”
Hannah wanted to weep, and hug Jenny so hard she might even hurt her. The passion inside her was too much, but she must control herself, or she could frighten Jenny. She was a child. She would not be afraid so long as Hannah herself was not. It all depended upon her. That was the trouble, it was always the trouble, and Joseph did not understand.
“You help a lot already,” she said, making herself smile. “I was just upset because of something that happened in the village. Uncle Joseph was telling me I did the wrong thing, and I was cross with him because I don’t like to be told I’m wrong, especially when I am. And Uncle Joseph isn’t going back to the war for a long time yet, maybe not at all. He isn’t well enough.”
“Is he going to get well? Margaret’s daddy isn’t going to get well. She says he was gassed, and he’ll always be sick.”
She touched Jenny’s hair, pushing it out of her eyes automatically. It was too soft to stay in grips.
“That’s terrible. But it isn’t what happened to Uncle Joseph. He will get well, just not for a while yet. Perhaps you could help out by making him a cup of tea. Let him put the kettle on, and you get out the pot for him. I need to go out quickly, just for a little while.”
“Are you coming back?”
“Yes, of course I am! Tell Uncle Joseph I’ve gone to put it right.”
“What right?”
“He’ll know.”
It was an extraordinarily difficult thing to do because she knew she had been guilty of deceit, both of Ben and of herself. Several times she hesitated, actually stopping on the footpath, wondering if she was ridiculous to seek him out at the tearoom where she knew he would be having an early lunch, perhaps not even alone. Was she making more out of a glance than he had ever meant? Would she end up embarrassing herself even more? It would be far easier simply to let it go until the next time they happened to meet.
That would probably be at church tomorrow, and that was the last place to have the sort of conversation she needed to. How could she be brief, honest, and retain some dignity for both of them? She should leave it until the opportunity arose by itself. Which could be a week from now!
She reached the tearoom and stopped outside. The sun was winking on mullioned windows and there was a black and white cat basking on the sill inside. She could go in and buy something for Joseph, and still change her mind. A chocolate cake to have with dinner?
She pushed the door open. It was noisy, cheerful. Half a dozen couples were there already eating sandwiches and talking. She saw Ben at a table with another man, a few years older, perhaps in his middle thirties. That was the perfect excuse to avoid the whole issue. She could not possibly raise the issue in front of his friend.
She walked to the counter and smiled at Mrs. Bateman. She had known her for as long as she could remember.
“Afternoon, Miss Hannah,” she said cheerfully. “Chocolate cake, is it, for Mr. Joseph?” Without waiting for a reply she disappeared to go to the kitchen, leaving Hannah alone at the counter.
The next moment Ben was behind her. “Are you all right?” he said gently. “You look . . .” He could not find a tactful word.
“Flustered,” she supplied for him, meeting his eyes, then wishing she had not. The warmth was still there, all the possibilities she was willing and afraid to see. Now was the moment. “I am,” she answered. “I realized that I behaved rather badly an hour ago when poor Mrs. Oundle lost her chops.”
He grinned broadly. “So did I! I haven’t seen anything so funny in months, and I needed to laugh. Do you think we should apologize to her? Or would that only make it worse? There are some things you need to pretend didn’t happen, or at least that you didn’t see.”
“Since we doubled up and howled with laughter, I