A Question of Trust: A Novel

Laura said briskly that she had no difficulty in doing any such thing, and that Tom’s loyalty to Mr Pemberton came close to feudal at times, but when she told her mother the amount being discussed, Edith told her she didn’t know how lucky she was.

‘I’m not saying it’s not right, and of course Tom has been very loyal to Mr Pemberton, but it’s not usual. So if you’ve got half the sense I hope you have, you’ll tell him how grateful you are. Nothing demeaning about showing good manners, Laura.’

Mr Pemberton seemed very excited about the imminent baby. Having no grandchildren of his own to look forward to, it had given him quite a new lease of life. Mrs Pemberton had succumbed entirely to her depression and was in a nursing home. Living alone, surrounded by ghosts, he took great comfort from the youthful energies and patent happiness of the young Knelstons. He did have to admit finding Laura’s visits, or rather her burgeoning physical presence, rather embarrassing, and had a little trouble finding somewhere to fix his eyes when she was in the room, other than on her. Tom had asked rather anxiously if he would mind her visiting, since she would very much like to thank him for his great kindness to them both, and once he had adjusted to her shape and size, he found himself looking forward impatiently to each visit – especially as she invariably brought a large cake she had baked herself.

Laura had returned from one of her visits to Mr Pemberton, and was slightly wearily climbing the stairs to the flat, when the door burst open and Tom, looking as if he might explode himself, appeared through it.

‘Now what?’ said Laura, smiling at him. ‘Don’t tell me – Aneurin Bevan has heard about the baby and wants to be its godfather.’

‘Almost,’ said Tom. ‘Almost as good as that. Laura – I’ve been asked to be one of the two delegates from the branch of the HLP at the party conference in Blackpool this September.’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ said Laura, pushing past him, and lowering herself carefully onto the sofa. ‘That really is exciting, Tom. Let me see the letter.’

‘Here,’ he said, handing it over with great care as if it was fashioned from fine china and might break. ‘Here, look, can you believe that?’

‘I can, yes,’ she said, having read it, and smiling up at him, thinking that one of the reasons she loved him so very much was his inability to perceive his own value. ‘I think it’s wonderful just the same, completely wonderful, just like you are, Tom Knelston. Oh, I’m so proud of you. If only I could come too.’

‘Well, maybe you can,’ said Tom. ‘I’ll – I’ll ask.’ It was a measure of the enormity of his achievement that he would even consider such a thing. ‘I’ll talk to Mr Roberts tomorrow. See what he says. You never know.’

‘No, you never do. Mind you, the size I’m getting, I’ll need two seats rather than one . . .’

The next day brought more exciting news still; Mr Roberts, the chairman of the Hilchester branch of the Labour Party, said that there was to be a debate on the subject of the plight of the ex-servicemen. ‘I’m going to put you forward to speak on the subject. Just at one of the fringe meetings, naturally, not the main conference. We’re very proud of you, Tom,’ said Mr Roberts, suddenly rather pink in the face. ‘You’ve done very well. If only your father was here to see all this.’

‘If only,’ said Tom.

There was a silence; then Tom said, ‘Er, Mr Roberts, I was wondering if – that is – whether – if – I mean –’

‘Come along, Tom, spit it out.’

‘Well, whether Laura could come. To the conference.’

He was so sure Mr Roberts would say no, that when the reply came, he said, ‘I didn’t think it would be possible.’

‘And you thought wrong. She can come. She’s a member of the party, after all. Of course, she’ll only be able to be there as an observer, and won’t be able to speak. Although –’ he cleared his throat, looked at Tom rather awkwardly – ‘I would have thought, in her condition, she must get rather tired. Of course, it’s your decision but with most of the delegates being male . . . Well, you will I’m sure consider your decision very carefully as to whether she will feel comfortable there.’

‘Indeed,’ said Tom. ‘Thank you for your thoughtfulness. She does get tired, yes, but if I am to speak, she will want to be there and to hear me. And I will want her to be there.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ said Mr Roberts. ‘I just wouldn’t want you to be distracted, by worrying about her, you know.’

‘I won’t be,’ said Tom. ‘She won’t let me be. She is a very committed member of the party. Thank you so much, Mr Roberts. For everything. I won’t let you down. Will Mrs Roberts be attending?’

‘No,’ said Mr Roberts, and a very quiet sigh escaped him. ‘She will not. I fear she has never shown the interest in politics Laura does. She feels they are not for her. Mind you, with the five children, she has quite enough to occupy her. But I regret it just the same.’

Yes, I expect you do, Tom thought, remembering the attitude of the men towards the female members at his very first meeting, when Laura had confronted them over the washing-up. Possibly Mrs Roberts would be a devoted party member now without that attitude. Well, he had been lucky. And now he could go home and tell Laura the news. She would be so pleased.

They struck lucky with their B&B. Anne Higgins, whose house was only a fifteen-minute walk away from Blackpool Sands, supplied not only a very pretty double room right next door to the bathroom, but a large and comfortable double bed. ‘Looks like I knew you were coming,’ she said, smiling at Laura’s stomach, protruding from her carefully buttoned navy woollen coat. The coat had been the subject of a brief but quite fierce argument between Tom and Laura; she had wanted a red one, but Tom, mindful of Mr Roberts’s clear concerns about Laura’s condition and people’s possible attitude towards it, had urged her to buy the navy. She had told him she knew perfectly well why he preferred it, and anyway, red would be a more suitable colour given that they were not attending a Tory conference. Then, suddenly and uncharacteristically, she gave in. He was not to know that for perhaps the first and only time in her life, she had decided to put her wifely duties before her most deeply felt attitudes.

The days of the conference passed in a complete blur. They travelled up by train, together with Mr Roberts, who gave them a lift in his taxi to Mrs Higgins’s guest house.

Having settled in and with a couple of hours’ daylight to spare, they made for the seafront, and walked along the huge, sweeping beach, gazing up awestruck at the famous Blackpool Tower. ‘You know,’ Tom said, reaching for Laura’s hand and smiling happily, ‘I really love it here.’

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