Читать книгу Closer than Blood: Friendship Helps You Survive - Julie Shaw, Julie Shaw - Страница 10

Shirley’s dad was in a worse mood than she’d seen in a long time. ‘One of those Hudson boys?’ he snapped at her. ‘Them from Little Horton? You’re bloody well not going out with him, and that’s that!’

It was nearly six o’clock and Shirley knew she’d have Keith knocking on the door any minute. And her mam hadn’t even finished pinning up her hair yet. ‘Mam, tell him!’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m 17 now and I’m working, so I should be allowed to go out with who I like!’

Though now she was wishing she hadn’t even told them. Well, wishing she hadn’t told her dad, at any rate. Her mam had been fine. But as for her dad … well, that had been something of a revelation. She never imagined in a million years that her dad even knew who the Hudsons were – he hardly ever left Clayton except to go to work, after all. But as soon as she’d said the name and where they came from, he’d gone berserk. The family’s reputation must have been even greater than she’d realised.

‘What’s wrong with being from Little Horton?’ Shirley’s mam tried on her behalf.

‘Yes, exactly,’ Shirley added. ‘Dad, you’re just being a snob.’

‘Everything!’ Raymond barked, all the veins in his neck bulging. ‘It’s that bloody Charlie Hudson’s brother from Canterbury, that’s who it is! How the bloody hell did you get mixed up with the likes of him?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with him!’ Shirley began, as her mam tried to finish her hair off. Not that easy when she was finding it almost impossible to keep still. ‘He’s –’

‘So you say,’ her father carried on, talking right over her. ‘Oh, I know how this has happened,’ he said suddenly, waggling a finger in her direction. ‘It’s that bloody Anita’s fault, isn’t it? It’s her got you mixed up with them, isn’t it? That friend of yours is never happy unless she’s gallivanting around the bloody town, that one!’

‘Why do you always blame Anita?’ Shirley shouted back, rising from the table. If there was one thing that annoyed her more than any other criticism, it was having it suggested that she didn’t make her own decisions. Actually, no – it was worse than that. What was really annoying was his suggestion that she let her best friend make them for her. The cheek! ‘It’s got nothing to do with Anita, Dad,’ she fumed. ‘I’m not a baby, you know! I make up my own mind. And I’ve made up my own mind about going out with Keith Hudson, so there!’

But he didn’t seem to be listening. ‘So you say,’ he huffed, marching back and forth across the front-room carpet, craning his neck every so often to look out into the street. ‘But she never liked that John of yours, did she? It’s all falling into place now. Is that why you’ve blown him out all of a sudden?’ He ran his hand through his hair, trying to haul the disobedient curls back into place. ‘And for one of them bleeding Hudson reprobates as well. Hell-fire, Shirley! You can do better than that.’

Shirley sat and fumed, cursing her honesty. She shouldn’t have told him. It was as simple as that. She should have lied, like so many other girls did, about where they were going, what they were doing and who they were doing it with – and for precisely the reason she was cursing herself now; because some fathers so obviously couldn’t see reason themselves. Who was her dad to say what Keith Hudson was like? He’d never even met him! Just listened to gossip and taken it as gospel, that was what, and now she was stuck with the distressing possibility that Keith would turn up and immediately be sent packing.

The thought was mortifying and she wished she’d been altogether more crafty – sneaked out while he was looking the other way. As it was, he was very much in her way, seemingly determined to ruin everything, and she needed her mam to help her try to get him to see reason. Though if he didn’t, she decided, she was going out with Keith Hudson anyway, hook or by crook, whether her dad liked it or not. He wouldn’t wait around for ever, after all.

Up to now, it had to be said, Keith Hudson had been impressively patient. Well, perhaps persistent was the better word, Shirley decided, and she decided she liked that a lot. She had no idea what his sister had reported of their conversation at the Lister’s a fortnight previously, but she had a hunch – given what Anita had told her about Annie – that she would have repeated it verbatim. Probably would have enjoyed doing so as well, Shirley reckoned, given the mischievous gleam she’d had in her eye.

But whatever the facts, two other facts had subsequently become clear – that she couldn’t seem to get Keith Hudson out of her mind and that, even if she had, he’d have popped straight back in again, because he’d certainly been popping up in person. It felt like he’d been everywhere these past couple of weeks, showing up when least expected; he’d suddenly started going to Farmer Giles’s coffee bar – where she and Anita often hung out when they were bored – and he’d turned up for the Saturday matinee at the picture house, too. He’d even been waiting outside the sewing factory Shirley worked at. She’d come out after her shift on the previous Monday and there he’d been, large as life – well, actually, not so large in Keith’s case – casually leaning against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette.

‘You again?’ she’d said, trying to come across as offhand but failing miserably, as the colour tracked up her cheeks and her stomach danced a jig. ‘You’re like a bloody bad penny, you are,’ she added, ‘always showing up. Haven’t you got anything better to do?’

She waved off her work friends, who were all in danger of getting the giggles and embarrassing her even further. Then she stood in front of him, conscious of his lingering, up-and-down look.

He grinned. He had the nicest smile ever, she decided, with his beautifully straight white teeth and the slight dimple in his chin. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Can’t blame a bloke for trying, can you? Anyway, you’ll have to walk me home or you’ll be responsible for me losing half a week’s wages.’

Shirley shook her head in confusion. ‘And how exactly do you work that out?’

‘Well,’ Keith explained, ‘our Annie bet me a pound that you were too much of a snob to let a tyke like me take you out, and I really can’t afford to lose a pound, Shirley.’ He winked. ‘So you’ll have to take pity on me, won’t you?’

She’d refused, though. Same as she’d refused on the Tuesday and Wednesday, but then on the Thursday night, when she’d gone out with Anita to the Ideal Dance-hall and he’d turned up there as well, she’d finally succumbed to the feeling in her tummy that, try as she might to ignore it, simply wouldn’t go away.

‘Yes, okay then!’ she’d almost huffed at him, after his casual announcement that she really didn’t know what she was missing. Because that was the problem; she was beginning to think she did know. Or, at least, that she was very keen to find out, however much it galled her to know Annie blinking Hudson was obviously right about her falling for the legendary Hudson charm.

There was also the issue of the pound she’d owe her brother, which Shirley reckoned served her right. So they’d made arrangements for Keith to bring her back there on the Saturday night, when there was a band playing that she liked.

The intervening 48 hours had felt like the longest in Shirley’s life, as if time had slowed down especially to annoy her. And now, at the eleventh hour, with him due to knock on the door at any minute, her blasted dad could go and ruin everything.

He was beyond angry now. She could tell. He’d just said ‘bleeding’ and he never said that word unless he was about to blow a fuse. And the thought of him blowing a fuse at Keith Hudson was unthinkable. He’d run a mile and probably never come back. Probably think she wasn’t worth the trouble after all.

Shirley decided to change her tack. Perhaps taking him on wasn’t the best way of going about things. ‘Please, Dad,’ she begged, softening both her voice and her expression. ‘Keith’s not like his brothers. Honestly, he isn’t. He’s really nice and he’ll be here calling for me in ten minutes. Please don’t show me up, Dad. I couldn’t bear it.’

Shirley’s mam had picked up a tin of lacquer and was now spraying the Tony Curtis quiff she’d created in Shirley’s hair. ‘Raymond, leave the lass alone,’ she said, as the can hissed around her. ‘I mean it. She does right playing the field for a bit instead of getting herself tied down to the first man she meets. How else is she going to meet mister right?’

There was a heavy emphasis on the ‘right’ bit, but Shirley’s dad didn’t seem to notice.

‘Playing the field?’ he said, leaping up from the chair he’d only just sat back down on. ‘No daughter of mine is going to play the bloody field! Them Hudsons are trouble, do you hear me? That Charlie’s just out from the clink for God knows what, and that younger one – Malcolm, is it? – he’s another one. Locked up more often than he’s out, as well! They’re all bloody trouble, and everyone knows it! You’re not going anywhere with a bleeding Hudson boy and that’s an end to it!’

Just as Shirley was about to point out that they weren’t all bloody trouble, there was a soft but clearly audible knock on the front door. ‘Oh, Mam,’ she cried, the injustice of it making tears prickle in her eyes now, ‘look at him! You’ve got to go and stop him, Mam, please!’ She desperately hoped that the closed front door was enough to contain the commotion that was going on inside.

Because it certainly looked as if he was going to need stopping. He was already rolling up his shirt sleeves as he stomped off to answer the door. What was he going to do? Punch poor Keith in the face just because of his surname? Shirley blanched at the thought. He wouldn’t do that, surely? ‘Mam!’ she said again, panicked now, because she’d never seen her dad like this before. ‘Hurry up. Stop him. He might hit him!’

Mary took a hankie from her pinny pocket and passed it to her, seemingly unruffled. ‘Here, love, buck up – don’t spoil your lovely make-up. You know your dad – his bark’s always worse than his bite, and he’s not going to do any such thing. He wouldn’t dare, because he knows he’ll have me to answer to, doesn’t he? Come on, let’s go and meet this young man of yours, shall we?’

Shirley sniffed and carefully dabbed the corners of her eyes before following her mam out into the hall, feeling slightly reassured. She could only just see Keith because he was half hidden beyond her dad, but she could see enough to catch the fact that he was smiling politely and had stuck out a hand ready for shaking.

‘Nice to meet you, Mr Read,’ he was saying. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. And I also want to promise you that I’ll have your Shirley back early – I’ll walk her all the way back home myself.’

Shirley could tell, just from the back of him, what her dad’s expression would be. ‘I’d expect nothing less, lad,’ he answered. ‘But don’t get ahead of yourself. Unless I’m very much mistaken, I haven’t even said she can go yet, have I?’

Shirley’s heart sank as she watched her dad physically bristle. He wasn’t going to send him packing now, was he? She bristled herself. If he did she’d certainly let him know all about it – how he had comprehensively, totally ruined her entire life. But it seemed he was still busy giving his lecture. ‘Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you, as well, lad,’ he growled. ‘You and the rest of your family.’

This didn’t seem to faze Keith at all. ‘I can’t speak for the rest of the clan, obviously,’ he said, standing straight on the doorstep, as if to attention. ‘But I can assure you that I’ve never been in trouble with the law. In fact, sir, I’ve been in the army, just like you.’

Shirley cringed in anticipation of her dad’s likely response to this. The war had been years ago but that didn’t mean he was going to let anyone forget it, least of all the 21-year-old currently standing on his doorstep, who she knew, even though her dad still had his back to her, would now be at the end of a particularly stony glare. ‘Like me?’ he barked. ‘I wasn’t messing around “in the army”, as you put it. I was fighting for my country, lad! Crawling through bloody ditches in Burma and getting stabbed by the bloody Japs! So you’re wrong there, my son. You weren’t just like me at all!’

Keith nodded his acknowledgement and Shirley’s mam, unseen by her dad, nudged her arm and rolled her eyes. ‘No, you’re right, sir,’ Keith quickly corrected. ‘Not the same thing at all. I just mentioned it because I’m honoured to meet a war hero, honest I am.’ He cleared his throat and for the first time let his gaze rest momentarily on Shirley. ‘I would also be honoured,’ he went on, smiling at Shirley’s mam as well now, ‘if you’d give me a chance to prove that I’m a good man, Mr Read, and to allow me to court your daughter.’

Shirley felt a smile form on her lips as Keith looked at her. Her mam smiled as well. Then poked her dad in the kidneys with a very forceful finger, making it clear that, to her mind, Keith had done what he’d needed to – proved that he wasn’t a reprobate at all.

Shirley held her breath. How could her father find any reason to turn him down? He was smart, he was polite and he couldn’t be held responsible for his surname. On those grounds alone, it was only fair that her dad agreed. And it seemed he did agree. ‘Right then,’ he said finally, ‘all right. She can go. But –’ he added, raising an admonishing finger, ‘I’m warning you, lad, I’ll be at this front door at ten o’clock sharp, and if Shirley isn’t walking through it, you are bang in trouble. Understand?’

Shirley was out of the house like a rocket.

‘Phew,’ she said as they rounded the corner onto Bradford Road. ‘That was touch and go there for a minute, wasn’t it? But you did so well.’

The night was young, the air was warm and she was going on a date with Keith Hudson. She felt such a surge of excitement at being out with him finally that it was all she could do not to skip down the street.

He stuck out an elbow for Shirley to slip her arm into, and winked. ‘You don’t grow up in a family like mine without learning a few things,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Like how to get yourself out of a sticky situation. And trust me, Shirl, your dad’s a pussycat compared to mine.’

A pussycat? Shirley smiled back at Keith as they walked, feeling a little shy all of a sudden, not to mention a bit bemused by what he’d said. Pussycat wasn’t the kind of word she’d have used to describe her dad – not when he was angry, at any rate. He was more like a frigging bull at a gate, in her book.

But not to Keith, obviously. What was his dad like, then? She’d have a chance to find out soon enough, she supposed, and in the meantime the thought that Keith wasn’t afraid of hers sent another thrill running through her. How nice to have a fearless man on her arm for a change. Even though she hadn’t realised it at the time, she’d obviously done right to break up with boring John Arnold. So that a proper man like Keith – home from the army, no less – could come back into her life and sweep her off her feet.

Whatever his surname happened to be.