The Search for Love

by Claire Lorrimer

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

At seventeen, beautiful green-eyed Beverly Bampton knew just what she wanted. She was madly in love with Jonnie Colt and dreamt of nothing more than being his wife, lover and best friend. And once she became mother of his five children, their world was finally complete. Then why was Jonnie becoming increasingly distant? Perhaps something -- or someone -- was conspiring against her. Can the depth of her love save them?

Release date: April 10, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

Beverly replaced the tin of talcum powder on the bathroom shelf and had already half turned on her heel to hurry downstairs when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the basin. She frowned and suddenly looked at herself with more than the usual glance. What she saw shocked her and added quickly to the day’s growing depression.

I look a sight! she thought, touching the tip of her shiny retroussé nose, then trying ineffectually to tidy the mop of dark hair that seemed to be straggling rather than curling over her forehead. Her mouth gave her no encouragement either. Over large, it looked its best brightly outlined with lipstick and with her lips smiling and upturned at the corners. But now it grimaced at her from the looking-glass and her eyes lifted swiftly away from this feature to stare directly into themselves. Green eyes, beautiful eyes, Jonnie called them, fringed with dark curling lashes, but now red-rimmed from a bad night’s sleep and ringed with violet shadows and tiny lines of fatigue.

Her expression became defiant.

“It’s not my fault! When have I time to get my hair done? See to my make-up? My clothes?”

She looked away from the mirror and down at her none-too-clean tweed slacks and slightly too tight twin-set. The slacks needed pressing and she needed a new jersey – three new jerseys, come to that. But there wasn’t time or money to cope with these things.

It’s not my fault! she repeated silently, but it was to her mother she was really speaking in her mind. Only last weekend Mummy had torn strips off her for going around looking the way she did.

“It’s so unlike you, Beverly! You were always the fastidious one, the most fussy, most clothes-conscious, of my two daughters. And look at yourself! I can’t think how you can bear to have Jonnie see you this way!”

“Oh, he doesn’t notice,” Beverly had replied vaguely. “And, anyway, I haven’t time nowadays. Nor would you if you had five young children to care for and no money!”

Of course, that had been Mrs Bampton’s cue to restart the old argument about Beverly and Jonnie taking a small allowance from her. She could well afford it, as they both knew. But Jonnie was proud. He hadn’t forgotten that Beverly’s mother had tried to prevent their marrying. “Far too young,” she had said, “and Jonnie hasn’t sufficient money to support you the way you’ve been used to, Beverly.”

“Seventeen isn’t young these days, Mummy. And, besides, Jonnie’s boss has promised him a rise next year. You just haven’t any faith in Jonnie or in me. Because you’ve always given me everything, you think I can’t do without it. Well, I’d rather have Jonnie and do without the so-called luxuries.”

In the end Beverly and Jonnie had won over Mrs Bampton, and, although she still maintained they were too young, once she had given in she had been very nice about everything, giving them the house as a wedding present and Beverly a magnificent and sensible trousseau. Really, Beverly hadn’t had any new clothes since then, and it had turned out to be just as well she’d had such a large trousseau, for they couldn’t afford luxuries like new clothes on their budget. With the ever-rising cost of living, even Jonnie’s payrise hadn’t helped, except to keep them out of debt. And Jonnie wouldn’t accept a shilling-piece from his mother-in-law. Deep inside her, Beverly agreed. It was a question of pride, hers as well as Jonnie’s. They’d said they would manage and they would! All the same, it was a terrible struggle and seeing herself now in the glass Beverly realized for the first time just how badly that struggle was showing.

It wasn’t just herself – it was all over the house. They couldn’t afford to have the sitting-room carpet cleaned this year and it looked spotty and shabby. They hadn’t been able to buy new bathroom curtains; the children’s clothes were patched and darned and nothing matched. It was the same with the china … all odds and ends because they no longer had a full set of anything.

They might have managed pretty well if it hadn’t been for the children. Beverly could admit this to herself, though not to anyone else – least of all to her mother.

Nicky had been the first; they hadn’t planned to have Nicky but he’d come along all the same exactly nine months after their honeymoon. She’d just had her eighteenth birthday when the baby was born. Although they had meant to wait a few years before they took on the responsibility of a family, they’d none the less been thrilled and happy about Nicky and with the very young’s adaptability had reversed all their original ideas and decided to have the family first and a good time afterwards.

Jonnie had agreed whole-heartedly after the first surprise and delight in finding himself a father. Nicky had been such a good baby and they’d hardly noticed the extra expense at first. One of Beverly’s aunts had given them a pram, her elder sister, Pam, a cot and baby bath and most of the larger items like a playpen which her own two children had outgrown.

“Let’s have another, soon!” Jonnie had said. “It’s nice to have two boys growing up near to each other in age.”

So eighteen months later Philip had been born – the brother they had wanted for Nick.

The second baby had somehow seemed to affect their finances more than the first. Maybe because they’d worked out on paper that he wouldn’t cost anything. In theory he should not have done. He had all Nick’s things to grow into. Yet in practice they began to find themselves really hard up.

“I hope that’s an end to it!” Mrs Bampton had said firmly.

Beverly eyed her mother stubbornly. Privately, she thought they wouldn’t have any more children – not yet awhile anyway. But Mrs Bampton’s remark somehow seemed like a challenge, a doubting of hers and Jonnie’s capabilities.

“Why not, Mummy? Jonnie and I would both like a daughter.”

Her mother’s shocked reply strengthened Beverly’s belief that a daughter was now the most desirable thing in the world to have.

“Besides,” she argued, “it wouldn’t be fair to have one child all by itself, say, in five years’ time. It would be almost as bad for it as being an only child.”

Twelve months after Philip, Julia completed the family. This time, Mrs Bampton knew better than to discuss any possibility of adding to the numbers. She didn’t need to. Beverly had her hands full with three children under four and even an outsider could see how precarious were the young couple’s finances.

Mrs Bampton was a widow, still young and extremely smart in her appearance. She needed to be for she was quite a personality in the fashion world where she had gone into business on the death of her husband ten years previously. Mr Bampton had left her very well provided for, but with her two daughters away at boarding school, she felt the need for some occupation and with her good dress sense, her social contacts and natural head for business matters, she had quickly risen to a position of authority in the fashion house who had given her a job.

Now she was by way of being very well off. Both her daughters were married and she had only her smart little London flat to keep up. There was more than sufficient money for her to have given Jonnie and Beverly a helping hand in the way of a regular allowance. But they wouldn’t take it. Secretly, she admired them both for their spirit of independence, but she could not see that it could continue. Granted Beverly was nearly twenty-one and would come into an income from her father’s legacy of a hundred and fifty pounds a year. Jonnie had eight hundred a year which was pretty good for a boy of twenty-three. All the same, they were five in the family now and neither Jonnie nor Beverly were really trained to manage economically. Jonnie had never considered giving up his Aston Martin sports car, nor his membership at the golf club – not that the latter cost him so much, but naturally he had to spend a bit of money at the club, rounds of drinks in return to those who treated him. And they liked to entertain, to offer their friends gin, whisky, sherry. It was important, too, for Jonnie to look smart at his work, and he had a new suit every year, tailored for him. No wonder they were poor! And Beverly might blame her appearance on her lack of time to see to herself, but the fact remained that more money could have bought Beverly a little domestic help and more time; not to mention clothes.

Then it had happened! Not intentionally – even Mrs Bampton had no doubt that they’d meant to confine their family to three children. But all the same, Beverly had found she was going to have another baby, and even her bravado had been finally shaken when later on an X-ray confirmed that “it” would be “they” – she was to have twins!

It was plain bad luck, Mrs Bampton said, but Beverly, after the first shock, had refused ever to allow her mother to call her two new babies “bad luck”. She loved them, even while she resented deep down inside her the hopeless mess they were slowly but surely making of her life. She loved all five of her children when she had time and wasn’t too worn out with the domestic chores to even think of them as individuals.

I look worn out! she told herself now, turning away from the glass with tears of self-pity filling her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. And no wonder! Just look what my days are like!

She was up at six every morning, feeding the twins, then getting the other three children dressed and breakfasted with Jonnie so that he could be away by eight. By the time he’d left the house, she felt she’d done a day’s work already! But the day had only started. There was the twins’ mid-morning bath and feed to interrupt the mountain of washing and the housework. There was lunch to get, to be washed up, the twins to be fed again at two while the other children rested. Then ironing, or mending, tea, and the bedtime rush and scramble with the twins’ evening feed and then Jonnie’s supper. Granted, Jonnie helped all he could; he did shopping in his lunch hour, and as soon as he was home he took over the washing-up, the fires, the wood cutting, the coke and coal hauling. He even gave the twins their late-night feed.

But he wasn’t home all the time. He had the supreme advantage of being able to get away from it five days a week for eight hours a day, and he had his golf every Sunday morning.

How she resented that golf.

“But, darling, I must have a few hours off in a week,” he had answered her request to him to give it up.

“And when do I get any rest?”

“Well, you can put your feet up every Sunday afternoon,” he’d suggested. “I’ll mind the kids.”

But of course it didn’t work. How could she go to her bed and lie down and enjoy an hour or two with a book, knowing how hard she would have to work to make up for all the jobs not done while she had her rest? After the first try she’d given it up.

The continual round, day in, day out, had begun to tell on her nerves. Jonnie had suffered, for her temper became short and irritable. After their first, blazing quarrel, she had lain in their big double bed, sobbing in his arms.

“Look, darling, the trouble obviously is that you don’t have enough fun. Neither do I, come to that. Do you realize we haven’t been out dancing for a whole year? From now on we’re going to go out once a week, without fail. We’ll shut the door behind us and go out and enjoy ourselves.”

“But we can’t afford it!” Beverly wailed.

“Yes we can. We must! We won’t go anywhere expensive. Leave it to me.”

The first time had been wonderful. Until six o’clock next morning when Beverly realized that a late night, several drinks when you’re not used to them, and four hours’ dancing are not a good prelude to a heavy day’s work beginning at six in the morning.

The night out had become fortnightly, then monthly, and finally ceased altogether. Slowly but surely, the days, weeks, months went by, and now, suddenly, Beverly realized that she looked more like a woman of forty than of twenty-five. She was shocked, depressed, and suddenly wildly angry with Jonnie … with life. Between them they had cheated her out of all the fun a young girl should have had. It wasn’t even as if she and Jonnie were madly in love any more.

This, really, was the key to her discontent. Whilst they loved one another, all the hard work, the economizing, the doing-without, had been worth while. Now, quite suddenly, overnight, it wasn’t worth while any more.

But I do still love Jonnie, I do! Beverly argued with herself. But in her heart, she was forced to admit that love seemed to have flown out of the window. Granted, she and Jonnie still shared the big double bed, but they no longer slept in each other’s arms. Only occasionally did Jonnie’s arms reach out for her, and recently she had steeled herself against her natural inclination to be loved by him. Resentment stopped her. Jonnie couldn’t expect to have it all ways. If he couldn’t be bothered any more to kiss her when he came home at night or when he went off in the morning; if he never had time to pay her a compliment or bring her some little surprise, then he had no right to claim her body just because he suddenly felt in the mood. Gradually, even that had stopped and they lived like strangers who happened to share the same bed, the same house, the same children and nothing else.

Downstairs, Beverly could hear one of the children crying. It sounded like Philip. He cried easily and noisily but it was never for long. Julia, once she started, could go on for hours, but at least she sobbed quietly, to herself.

Let him yell! Beverly thought rebelliously. It’s just what I feel like doing.

As she went into the kitchen to put the kettle on for one of her never-ending pots of tea, she knew that at long last she was beginning to weaken. Hitherto, she had been heart and soul with Jonnie about accepting financial help from her mother. But the moment came, she told herself, when the camel’s back was broken, and that was how she felt this morning. A pound or two a week would give Beverly some domestic help, and her mother had said a thousand times that she wouldn’t miss it. After all, why should she go on wearing herself literally to the point of a breakdown just to bolster Jonnie’s pride? He should see for himself that his wife had far, far too much to do. Every one of their friends seemed staggered to find she could cope, even though Nicky had started school. A daily help two or three hours a day. What an incredible difference it could make to her life! Jonnie ought to see that it wasn’t fair to put his pride before her health. Tonight she would tell him so outright, to his face.

A little strengthened by the cup of tea and by her own new-found determination to remake her life, Beverly turned to the pile of washing. As she worked, her mind ran on, planning swiftly and with some of her old quick enthusiasm. With a daily help, she could get out to the hairdresser occasionally and have her hair done … it needed it so badly. She might even save up for a new dress. There would be time at last to sort out her things and give herself a few beauty treatments. Soon Jonnie would begin to notice the difference and he would fall in love with her all over again. It was his indifference that hurt so much.

Of course I do still love him, Beverly told herself by lunchtime. I’ll always love Jonnie, all my life. It’s just that we’ve grown apart … we are not the same two people who fell in love with each other. Jonnie’s never fun the way he used to be. But we’ll be able to get back to being ourselves.

By the time Jonnie came home, Beverly looked a very different girl from the wife who usually greeted him. She had found a moment to brush out her thick dark hair … to powder her nose and put on some fresh lipstick. She had even changed out of her slacks into a dress. Because her thoughts had carried her so far ahead of Jonnie in her planning of the future, she was totally unprepared for the fact that it was the same Jonnie who had left the house eight hours earlier. He glanced at her briefly and said:

“Oh lord, Beverly, we haven’t got people coming in, have we? I wanted to go through my accounts tonight.”

Hurt by his tone as much as by his failure to kiss her, Beverly turned away from him and said coldly:

“No, no one is coming. Tonight is just the same as any other night.”

“Then why all the dressing-up?” Jonnie said, but without waiting for her answer: “Supper ready? I’m hungry.”

Beverly controlled herself with an effort. Jonnie was always hungry and until he had eaten, it was best to let all she had to say to him wait. Silently, she dished up the supper and silently they sat opposite one another eating. Dutifully, Jonnie helped her with the dishes and then left her to make coffee. When she took the tray into the drawing-room, he was already buried in a mound of papers.

“Jonnie, I want to talk to you,” she began as she handed him his coffee. He didn’t look up, but said:

“Not now, Bev. I’m busy.”

“Yes, now,” Beverly said, her voice suddenly sharp and angry. “And you know I hate you calling me Bev. It sounds like that bottled coffee or whatever it is.”

Jonnie made no reply, and Beverly felt anger rising in her. How unfair Jonnie was – how rude to her these days. All he could think of was his work. A year or two ago he had come in about six and given her a hand with the children before supper. Now he was never in before seven and sometimes it was eight or nine. At least when he did get back he could pay her a little attention.

“Jonnie!” He looked up, his broad forehead creased in a frown of irritation. Beneath the forehead, the bright blue of his eyes stared at her with no love in them. There were lines beneath them that Beverly hadn’t really noticed before – lines of worry and fatigue that maybe shouldn’t be on the face of a man still in his twenties. Beverly’s anger drained away as suddenly as it had come. Impulsively, she knelt down on the floor and leant her head on his knees.

“Darling, please listen,” she said, her voice now soft and appealing. “It’s something to do with us – with our life …”

“With us?” Jonnie’s voice was sharp, questioning. She had his attention now – all of it.

“Yes! Jonnie, I’ve been thinking all day about – well – about the life I lead … you lead – both of us, and how everything seems to be a bit on top of us. It’s true, and you can’t deny it,” she added as she heard him draw in his breath sharply as if he might have been going to contradict her. “Jonnie, I want you to let me accept Mother’s offer to help out a bit. I know how much you feel we should manage withou. . .