Free Two Penn'orth of Sky by Katie Flynn Page A

Southampton before nightfall,’ Mr Wesley said gruffly, when Emmy approached them outside the church. ‘We shall return to the hotel, pick up our suitcases, and leave at once.’
    Emmy must have looked shocked, as well as stricken, for her mother-in-law patted her arm and drew her aside. ‘My dear, I know you must think us strange parents because I’m sure Peter never explained the deep rift between himself and the rest of the family,’ she said. ‘I can’t explain now, it’s too long a story; I’ll write, when I get home. But I must tell you that I was pleased with Peter’s marriage and thought it might well be the making of him.’
    Emmy’s eyes flashed. ‘Peter didn’t need marriage to make him a wonderful person; he was that before I met him,’ she said. ‘But surely you could stay on for another day or two? I – I don’t need to tell you that I’m in desperate straits, with no one to help or advise me. My mother died three years ago, and—’
    Mr Wesley had been standing back, appearing not to listen to the conversation, but at these words he stepped forward, his face reddening angrily. ‘If you’re expecting financial help from us, then you’ll be disappointed,’ he said thickly. ‘My younger son and his wife have cost us a fortune and almost bankrupted the business. Twelve months ago we had to sell Epsley Manor. We wrote to Peter, asking him to come back into the business so that we might try to turn things round. He replied, eventually, saying that such a move would be fatal to his career and that he was sure we would sort things out. We’ve not done so. Besides, we gave Peter a large sum when he joinedthe Merchant Navy and a pretty handsome wedding present. You’ve not done badly out of us, young lady.’
    ‘We – we spent the money on furniture, Mr Wesley, we didn’t fritter it away,’ Emmy said numbly. ‘I wrote and told you at the time, I know I did.’
    Her mother-in-law patted her arm. ‘Yes, I know,’ she said quietly. ‘But I’m afraid Peter’s brother and his wife are continuing to spend as though we were still rich; they will be the ruin of us all, which is why we can’t help you. But you’re a very beautiful young woman; you will doubtless marry again, and if I may venture to advise you . . .’
    But Emmy had heard enough. The very thought of marrying again was dreadful to her, and that his mother should suggest it, with Peter’s funeral service scarcely over, was like a slap in the face. She could feel tears brimming in her eyes and turned away to hide them. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she muttered. ‘We’ll manage, Diana and me. We’ll be all right.’
    Behind her, she heard Mrs Wesley start to speak, heard Mr Wesley’s harsh voice cut the words off short, but she did not turn back towards them. Instead, she went over to where the Fishers stood, with Diana, very tiny and pale in her blacks, standing beside them. It would take a good deal of Beryl’s kindness and common sense to wipe out the nastiness of her recent conversation with the Wesleys, but she knew that Beryl would give whatever comfort she could.
    And presently, climbing into the funeral car, she saw the Wesleys driving off in their long black limousine and was conscious of considerable relief. After what had occurred, meeting them again would have been painful, to say the least.
    *
    Beryl was a tower of strength. She came round to Lancaster Avenue to help Emmy try to sort out her financial position, assuming that her friend would at least be able to manage, and was shocked to discover that, apart from the pension, there was no money. ‘Because Peter was so young – only thirty-six – the widow’s pension I shall receive will be very small,’ Emmy told her, as the two of them sat thankfully down to share a pot of tea in the kitchen. ‘And neither Peter nor myself ever thought about saving for a rainy day, because there always seemed to be money. But there’s hardly any, Beryl. He – he talked