Читать книгу Bye Bye Love - Patricia Burns - Страница 11

CHAPTER SEVEN

SCARLETT loathed Jonathan’s father almost as much as she loathed his mother. He was a big, heavy-set man with a massive balding head and a belligerent manner, very different from her own gentle dad. But worse than that, there was something about the way he looked at her that she hated.

It was Marlene who warned her.

‘Don’t let the Guv’nor get you in a tight place by yourself. He don’t know how to keep his hands to himself. And if the Missus catches him at it, it’ll be you what gets it in the neck. I seen it happen lots of times. Me, I make sure there’s always someone else around.’

‘Right. Thanks,’ Scarlett said.

It was yet another thing to worry about, along with her dad’s health, starting at her new school and, hanging over it all, Jonathan’s departure to Paris in the autumn. Top of the list at the moment was buying her new school uniform.

‘But you got a school uniform,’ her father said when she raised the subject one morning.

‘I’ve got one for my old school. It’s no use for the new one, it’s the wrong colour,’ Scarlett explained, handing him his cup of tea to drink in bed and locating his matches. Surely he must understand that? ‘It’s only the white shirts that are the same, and anyway the ones I had last year are too tight.’

It was a pity about the shirts. They were perfectly all right for another year, but they no longer did up over her swelling breasts. What she needed as well was a bra, but she couldn’t possibly tell him that. The yearning for her mother came over her yet again. It would have been so nice to go shopping for bras with her mum.

‘I need a skirt and a jumper and a tie and a mac and a beastly beret,’ she said, blinking back the threatening tears.

‘Oh, dear. That’s going to add up to a pretty penny, isn’t it?’

‘But I’ve got to have them, Dad. I can’t go to school without the uniform.’

It was going to be horrible enough starting somewhere where she didn’t know anyone at all and everyone else had their own groups of friends. At her last school she had known everyone in her own year and quite a few of the older and younger girls.

Victor felt in the pockets of the trousers he had hung over the bedhead. He produced some grubby notes and a handful of silver.

‘See how far that goes, love, and if it ain’t enough, I’ll see if I can get a sub off the Guv’nor.’

As he handed her the money, she caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. It wasn’t the first time.

‘You been drinking, Dad?’

He avoided her eyes. ‘No, no. I had one or two last night, that’s all. Now, off you go and see what you can buy, there’s a good girl.’

‘You could come with me,’ she said. ‘It’s your day off today, isn’t it?’

Victor rubbed the back of his neck.

‘Ah…well…now…I’d like to, love, but I’m really tired, you know? Trekking round the shops, it’s hard on the feet. I was thinking of catching up with the shut-eye.’

‘That’s all you ever do,’ Scarlett grumbled.

It was always a terrible job getting him out of bed in the mornings and, when she wasn’t out all day herself, she would find him back in bed again between midday and evening opening times. What was more, he always had a Scotch or two then before closing his eyes. She sometimes had to take the bottle out of his limp hand and set it on the table.

Victor gave an apologetic smile. ‘Your poor old dad’s not as young as he used to be, you know, love. This place—it’s a bit different from the dear old Lion. On the go all the time. And it’s hard taking orders after being the boss.’

‘I suppose,’ Scarlett said.

She realised that he was having to work a lot harder. Instead of having her and her mum running round doing all the donkey work, he was having to graft himself. And his hours behind the bar were quite different too. There was no leaning on the bar or sitting on a stool yarning with the regulars, it was non-stop serving. He did look tired. The film star looks that her mother had fallen for had collapsed into a lined and weary face. The carefree air had disappeared. Just looking at him made Scarlett feel anxious, but she didn’t know what to do to help him. She fell back on her mother’s fix-all remedy.

‘Would you like another cuppa?’ she offered.

Victor patted her hand.

‘That’d be lovely. You’re a good girl, Scarlett. Take after your mum. You know—’ he paused and sighed, staring up at the flaking grey paint on the ceiling ‘—I just miss her so much. I don’t know what to do without her, and that’s a fact.’

‘I know,’ Scarlett agreed.

Nothing could fill the gap left by her mother, but at least she did have Jonathan. It wasn’t the same, but it was wonderful and exciting. Sometimes she felt as if she could spread her arms and fly. She had all that, and her father didn’t. No wonder he was tired. She gave up making demands on him and went to get the money she had earned from several washing-up sessions. She had been saving it to get some smart clothes for the winter and a farewell present for Jonathan, but starting school in the wrong colour was unthinkable, so that had to come first.

It was as they were walking back down the High Street with carrier bags full of stiff new clothes that she realised that Jonathan was unusually quiet.

‘What’s up with you, don’t you like shopping?’ she asked. After all, it was supposed to be a women’s occupation. Other girls had been out with their mothers choosing things.

‘No, it’s not that. At least—I’m not keen usually but it’s different with you. Everything’s fun when we do it together.’

Scarlett glowed with pleasure. ‘That’s just how I feel,’ she said.

They squeezed each other’s hands and smiled. But she could see that something was still troubling him.

‘Come on, spit it out,’ she said.

They sat down on a bench at the top of Pier Hill. The last of the summer trippers were flooding down the pier from the steamers, everyone dressed up and cheerful despite the grey day and the threat of rain in the air.

‘Look…er…this is a bit difficult,’ Jonathan started.

A sinking feeling of doom formed in Scarlett’s stomach. Last time he had spoken like this, it had been to tell her that he was going to France.

‘Go on.’

‘Well…Mum and Dad, they have these downs on people. It doesn’t really mean anything, but…well, at the moment they seem to have their knife into your father. They keep going on about his timekeeping and stuff—’

‘That is so unfair!’ Scarlett flared and, even as she said it, she knew that it was nothing of the kind. She was always having to remind him to go and start work.

‘I know, but…well, it’s not just that. It’s…well, there’s been quite a run on the Scotch and Mum marked the optics and someone’s been using them out of hours—’

The feeling of doom was making her quite queasy.

‘I hope they’re not saying my dad’s taking it?’ she said, fear making her aggressive. It all added up. She hated herself for even thinking it, but he had been drinking Scotch, and there was that business of the old lady’s money. ‘That’s slander, that is. My dad’s not a thief!’

‘I’m sure he’s not. But if you could just…it’d be terrible if he was to get the sack, Scarlett. We wouldn’t be able to see half so much of each other.’

‘I’ll tell him. So that he can be on the lookout for whoever it is. It’s probably one of the part-timers,’ she said, with far more conviction than she felt.

‘Right. Yes, I’m sure it is. I just thought you ought to know,’ Jonathan said.

‘Well maybe you ought to—’ Scarlett retorted, and stopped short.

‘Ought to what?’

Ought to know that his dad was no saint. It was on the tip of her tongue. But she had no proof. It was just a feeling.

‘Nothing.’

‘No, go on. If you want to say something, then say it.’

There was just the same edge of aggression in his voice that she had used. She guessed it was for the same reason. He couldn’t be sure of his father either.

‘It’s nothing. Just something Marlene said, that’s all.’

‘Marlene’s got a big mouth and a chip on her shoulder. You don’t want to listen to what she says.’

‘Right.’

They both stared at the pier. They’d managed to keep the family loyalties and they’d managed not to row over their parents, but still it put a shadow over the rest of the day, blighting some of the very little time they now had left.

The first few days of September flew by. Scarlett started at her new school and, although it wasn’t quite as bad as she had anticipated, still there was a lot to get used to. It helped that Jonathan came to meet her each day and walked home with her.

The illuminations were now switched on all along the sea front. There were strings and networks of coloured lights and all sorts of fantastic set pieces that appeared to move as the bulbs flashed on and off. Fountains spurted, fish jumped and splashed, plants grew, animals trotted, all in arrangements of coloured bulbs. Along the cliff gardens, trees and shrubs glowed blue, red and orange, while the Never-Never Land was a magical place of lights and fairy tale models. The summer season extended into September as trippers came down from London in their thousands to wonder at it all, and stayed on to visit the Kursaal, eat fish and chips and drink in the sea front pubs.

On busy evenings Jonathan and Scarlett were required to help out. Even Jonathan’s mother had conceded that Scarlett was quick and efficient, and employing her meant that bar staff could be where they were needed most. For her part, Scarlett enjoyed quite a lot of the job. The actual washing up was dull and tiring, but she was earning some money, Jonathan was in and out of the little room all the time and it was good to be part of a team that was keeping up with the public’s insatiable demands. Her father and the barmaids would use a trip to bring glasses out as an excuse for a quick break, and would stay for a few moments to have a joke with her or tell her what was going on in the bars.

On the last Saturday in September, the Trafalgar was crowded once again and Scarlett was up to her elbows in soapy water.

‘They’re good tippers out there tonight. That’s the sixth one that’s bought me one for myself,’ Marlene said, whipping out her lipstick and powder compact and giving her make-up a quick once-over.

‘All right for some. Nobody gives the washer-upper a tip,’ Scarlett said.

Marlene squinted at herself in the little mirror, patted her hair, gave a satisfied nod and snapped the compact shut.

‘All in good time, darling. You’ll be pulling it in when you’re old enough.’

‘I’m not going to work in a pub.’

‘Ooh, hoity-toity! You think you’re better than all this then, do you?’

‘No. I just want to do something different.’

‘We’ll see.’

Marlene looked over her shoulder in a theatrical fashion and lowered her voice. ‘Best have a word with your old man, dearie. The Guv’nor don’t mind the odd drink or two, but he’s had more than that. If he can’t keep up because he’s pissed, there’ll be hell to pay. All right? Don’t mind me saying, do you?’

And she made off, leaving Scarlett cursing.

Jonathan came in with his hands full of empties. ‘What’s up?’

‘Oh, just Marlene being Marlene.’

Jonathan put the glasses in the sink and gave her a hug. ‘Ignore her.’

‘I am.’ She closed her eyes and leaned against him, savouring the moment.

One of the part-timers was in next, complaining about the Missus.

‘I know, she’s a cow,’ Scarlett agreed.

Then it was Irma. ‘Ain’t you got those half-pints finished yet? We’re running out.’

‘They’re over there,’ Scarlett told her, nodding at the tray. ‘They’ve been ready ages.’

‘Huh. Well, I should think so too,’ Irma said, refusing to be put in the wrong.

Next her father nipped in and leaned against the draining board, lighting a cigarette.

‘Gawd, my back! I could do with a sit-down.’

Even through the tobacco smoke she could smell alcohol on his breath.

‘Best lay off the drink, Dad. People are noticing.’

Victor took a long drag, held it in his lungs and let it out slowly through his nose. ‘It’s a pub, sweetheart. That’s what people do in pubs. They drink. And, besides, I need it to get me through the evening. My back’s killing me and my feet aren’t much better.’

‘But if the Guv’nor—’

‘He won’t. Now stop nagging, pet. I got enough to worry about without you going on at me.’

‘It’s just that Marlene said—’

‘Marlene’s a sour little tart. Now let a man have a fag in peace, for Gawd’s sake.’

Through the open door, the Missus’s voice could be heard. ‘Vic! Get your arse back in here.’

Victor groaned and shifted his weight back onto his feet. ‘No peace for the wicked.’

Jonathan came in and out a few times more, and then Scarlett had another visitor.

‘Hello, darlin’. Workin’ hard? That’s what I like to see.’

It was the Guv’nor. Nerves crawled across Scarlett’s back. She shrank a little closer to the sink.

‘Bit more here for you to do.’

He placed a couple of pint jugs in the water, then ran his hand over her bottom, closing it about one cheek.

‘Get off!’ Scarlett spat, twisting out of his grasp.

He gave a chuckle deep in his chest.

‘Now then, sweetheart. You know you like it really.’

He stepped behind her, pinning her against the draining board with the weight of his body. His hands came round to cover her breasts.

‘Very nice,’ he approved, fondling.

‘Get off!’ Scarlett shouted. ‘Get off or I’ll—’

One big hand clamped over her mouth. She could feel him hardening against her back.

‘No need to make a fuss, darlin’,’ his voice said in her ear. ‘We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, would we? Not when we’re just having a bit of fun.’

Scarlett jabbed backwards with her elbows, kicked at his shins. It seemed to have no effect on him.

‘Ooh, it likes to fight, does it?’

The hand on her breast squeezed tight. Scarlett’s cry of pain was stifled in her throat.

‘Let’s just keep it nice and quiet, shall we? After all, you wouldn’t want your dad to get the sack, now would you?’

Scarlett’s hand closed round the handle of a pint jug. Without thinking, she picked it up and jabbed it backwards over her head and into the Guv’nor’s face. There was a cracking noise.

Everything seemed to happen at once. The Guv’nor gave a roar and slackened his hold on her, Scarlett wriggled free only to find herself grasped by the arm and slapped across the face, making her ears ring. And then the room was full of people shouting. Jonathan was there, and his mother, and her father. The Guv’nor was shouting loudest of all. There was blood running down his face from a jagged cut on his forehead.

‘The little cat! She glassed me!’

‘He was touching me!’ Scarlett screamed.

Her father got to her and put his arms round her. ‘It’s all right, baby, it’s all right—’

‘That little tart, I knew she was trouble,’ the Missus was saying.

‘Don’t say that!’ Jonathan yelled, and rounded on his father. ‘How can you do that? How dare you?’

‘And you can shut your trap—’

The Missus took charge of the situation. ‘You go upstairs and I’ll see to that cut,’ she said to her husband. ‘You lot can all stop gawping and get back to work and you, Vic—you can collect your cards in the morning, and I want you out by midday, you and that little madam. Is that understood?’

‘No!’ Jonathan yelled. ‘No, you can’t do that.’

‘I can do whatever I like,’ his mother informed him grimly.

Beside her, Scarlett’s father was drawing himself up to his full height.

‘I’m not letting my daughter stay in this place a minute longer. We’re going right now.’