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The Gown(123)

Author:Jennifer Robson

“I think your Milly would do a great deal to help you. And her letters make Canada sound like a wonderful place. Cold, yes, but with many consolations.”

There was just enough time, on their drive to the house in Edenbridge, for Walter to explain to Miriam, with Ann’s help, some of the rituals of a traditional English Christmas. Caroling and wassailing and paper hats, the king’s message on the wireless, the tree with its paper chains and treasured ornaments, and the spectacle of the pudding, already sodden with brandy, being set afire with even more spirits.

She and Miriam were given a room to share, and she spent ages holding baby Victoria, and in the morning there were stockings laden with little gifts that Ruby had painstakingly amassed for everyone, even Ann. And there were moments when she forgot to be sad and was able to let herself be buoyed along by the others’ happiness. Only for an instant, but it was enough. It would have to be enough.

ON DECEMBER 29 SHE booked her passage to Canada, all but emptying her modest savings account in the process. On December 30 she told Miss Duley.

Ann waited until the end of the day, after everyone had left for home, and then she sat the other woman down and told her that she was emigrating to Canada. Not as baldly as that, of course, for she tried to couch it in terms that would make it rather less of a shock. She explained that she missed her sister-in-law very much. She said she wished to see more of the world. She claimed to believe that Canada was the sort of place where a hardworking young woman like herself might better herself.

Miss Duley didn’t believe a word of it. “The truth, Ann. This has something to do with that young man, doesn’t it?”

“Please, Miss Duley. Please.”

“I don’t blame you one bit for leaving, my dear. Only I will miss you. I hope you know that.”

“I do. I love it here. I always have, and I don’t want to go. I truly don’t. But everyone here knows I’m not married. All the other girls. Mr. Hartnell, too. I can’t bear the thought of everyone knowing, and thinking the worst of me. I just can’t.”

“Could you go away? Have the baby and give it up? There are so many families who’d be grateful—”

“I would, only I want this baby. I never saw myself getting married, you know, not really, but I did want to be a mum. Now I have the chance.”

“I see, and I don’t disagree. But why go so far away? Why the other end of the world?”

“He doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to find out. Not ever. He might try to take the baby from me. Don’t you see? I can’t take that chance.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about him. Mr. Hartnell did confide in me, not so very long ago, that he had put a word in the ear of someone at the palace, just a quiet word, and naturally the wretch was given the sack straightaway. It then came out that he’d run up a number of debts. Very large, I gather, and when they came to light he did a midnight flit.”

“He . . . he did what?” Ann asked, not quite able to believe her own ears.

“He vanished. Made for somewhere in the Far East? Or perhaps it was Australia.”

“How did Mr. Hartnell know who he was? I never told him.”

“Nor did I. I don’t suppose it matters, does it? The scoundrel is gone, and is in no position to be a threat to you ever again. Surely that must be a relief. Now—tell me when you are leaving. I know Mr. Hartnell will be very sad to hear of it.”

“My ship leaves on January fifth,” she answered, though saying it out loud didn’t make it feel any more real. Not until the coast of England had faded from view would it truly feel real to her.

“Then you’ll just miss him. He won’t be back from the south of France for another week after that. Oh, well. I’ll write you a splendid reference, of course, which will certainly carry some weight with the Canadians. Presumably they have one or two decent dressmakers there.”

“Thank you, Miss Duley. I’ve never said so before, but I’m very grateful for all you taught me.”

“And I’m every bit as grateful for your many years of hard work. I’m also rather concerned that if we continue on in this vein we’ll both end up in a puddle of tears. So why don’t you let me treat you to supper at Lyons? Only a small token of my esteem, but no less sincere for all that.”

ANN WAS ABLE to put a few more pounds in her savings account by selling the wireless and some of the better pieces of furniture, and as she’d always been a tidy and frugal sort of person she hadn’t much in the way of smaller things to pack. Photographs of her parents and brother, her nan’s Royal Worcester cup and saucer, the rose-patterned china that had been her mum’s.