Читать книгу Follow Your Dream - Patricia Burns - Страница 10

LILLIAN cycled along the seafront with the wind in her hair. The tide was in, the sun was sparkling on the water and the seagulls were soaring in the blue sky. It was a warm July Saturday and everyone had their summer clothes on, the women in cotton dresses and straw hats, the men in short sleeves and open-necked shirts. Everyone seemed to have a smile on their face. Everyone but Lillian, whose heart was broken.

The summer season was practically at its height. Not so many people came to Southend for a whole week any more, but the day trippers were out in force. After years of war and then of austerity, people were sick of rations and restrictions and making do and general dreariness. It was a new age, there was a new young queen on the throne, and they wanted to have fun again. Hundreds of families came down the Thames on steamers, landed at Southend pier and streamed down its mile and a quarter to spread out along the seafront. Others came by train from the City or the East End. The quieter people got out at Leigh or Chalkwell or Westcliff, looking for more genteel pleasures. The rowdy ones stayed on for Southend and headed for the Golden Mile. Clubs and workplaces booked coaches which trundled down the main roads, stopping off at pubs along the way, till they arrived at the huge coach park behind the Golden Mile, their passengers happily drunk and ready for a good knees-up.

As she approached her own street, Lillian slowed down. She had already cycled all the way along the seafront to Shoebury and back and she ought to turn in and go home. But at Sunny View there was Gran and a whole list of chores. She couldn’t face it. She hated her family and she hated doing chores. Past the top of her road she went, past the Kursaal with its fairground and its dance hall and its famous dome, along the Golden Mile and all the amusement arcades and finally under the pier and out the other side. Here she stopped at last and treated herself to an ice cream.

She leaned on the rail at the edge of the promenade and looked down at the go-karts roaring round the speedway. The whiff of petrol and exhaust fumes set off a wave of longing.

‘Oh, James,’ she said with a sigh.

She was missing him so much. He was a month into his basic training now, and it had seemed like the longest month of her life. Nothing was fun any more. Nobody cared. Even Janette was fed up with hearing her talk about him and refused to listen any more.

‘Why don’t you write to me?’ she said out loud.

She still hoped against all logic that he would, but always she was sorely disappointed. She had to rely on Susan, begging her for news of her brother every time she came round to their house. Bob was often cross with her, telling her not to bother his girlfriend, but Susan was surprisingly nice.

‘He says he’s surviving it OK,’ she told Lillian. ‘He’s not letting the NCOs get him down.’

Or, ‘He’s been square-bashing all week and he’s got blisters, but at least he knows his left from his right, which is more than some of them do.’

Or, ‘He’s enjoying the rifle practice; he says he’s quite good at it.’

Always he sent his regards to the Parker family. The family, not Lillian personally. It hurt every time.

There was still another two weeks until he finished basic training and got a weekend pass. Would he call in at Sunny View? He had to. She couldn’t bear it if he was so close and she didn’t get to see him. A small cold voice of realism told her that he might well come to see Wendy. She gripped the handrail, growling with jealousy. It wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t she be beautiful like Wendy?

Below her, the young men running the speedway showed off, jumping on the side bumpers of the cars driven by pretty girls and flirting with them. All these people enjoying themselves. For her, summer only meant more work to do at Sunny View. She finished her ice cream and sighed deeply. She didn’t want to go home, but staying here was only making her feel more fed up.

She drew her eyes away from the speedway and looked at the pier pavilion with its theatre. A long banner advertised the summer show, with its singers and dancers. Dancers. An even deeper gloom settled on her. That was another thing. She was no nearer her dream of becoming a professional dancer. Then into her mind came something that James had said when they were discussing their futures.

‘It’s no good just waiting for fate to take its course; you have to do something yourself.’

‘I am,’ she had told him. ‘I practise every day.’

‘But that’s no use if nobody sees you but me and Janette. We’re not going to give you a job on the stage.’

Lillian had flared up at that, and asked him what he was doing towards becoming the owner of a garage with a car of his own.

‘At the moment I’m learning all I can, not just how to fix cars, but how to run the business. There’s all sorts of things that could be done better where I work,’ he told her. ‘Then I’ll try to get into REME when I do my national service and get a bit more training there, and when I come out I’m going to start doing repair work for people on Sundays and evenings and build up a list of customers while I save up for equipment. Then I’ll rent a small place and work my way up.’

Lillian had been very impressed. He really did have it all planned out. His was not just a dream, it was a real ambition. It made hers look like childish fantasy.

As she thought of this, her eye was caught by a poster with a dancer on it fixed to the railings just along from where she was leaning. She moved over to read it better.

Carnival Talent Contest—Children—Juniors—Adults—Big Prizes—Enter now!

A bubble of excitement formed inside Lillian. This was it! This was her chance to show what she could do! She grabbed her bike and pedalled up the steep hill to the Carnival offices to get an entry form, then freewheeled back down again and headed for home, her head buzzing with ideas of what she might do.

The moment she stepped in at the back door, she was in trouble. Bob was sitting at the kitchen table, studying for his banking exam.

‘Gran wants to see you,’ he said in a tone that made it sound like a threat.

Her confident mood evaporated. It was as if a heavy cloak had fallen over her shoulders, weighing her down, smothering her. Lillian went along to the front room and knocked. Gran didn’t even call for her to come in, she opened the door herself.

‘Where on earth have you been? Why are you never here when you’re needed?’

‘I…I didn’t know…’ Lillian stammered.

‘That’s no excuse. Your mother’s ill or something—’ Gran managed to imply that the illness was minor and probably imaginary ‘—and the sheets need to go on number five. What if we want to let that and it’s not ready? Go and see to it straight away.’

It was no use Lillian suggesting that someone else might have done it. Wendy was still at work; Frank was probably out, Bob was studying and of course Gran herself couldn’t do it. She was about to run upstairs when there was a ring at the front door. She hesitated. Usually she would have hurried to answer it, but Gran was just as near as she was and, as it was sure to be potential guests, she would want to look them over.

‘What are you standing there for?’ Gran demanded. ‘Go and answer it before they go away. We can’t afford to lose good money.’

Lillian did as she was bid. Standing on the doorstep were a young couple with a cheap suitcase each. The girl looked very nervous. She was half hiding behind the man. Lillian knew immediately what their fate would be but, with Gran listening to what she was saying, she didn’t dare suggest politely that they tried elsewhere.

‘If you’d like to come in, I’ll just fetch the landlady,’ she told them, using the formula that Gran required.

She put her head round Gran’s door again, informed her that there were guests to see her and set off to get the sheets out of the airing cupboard. As she went up the stairs, she heard Gran’s heavy footsteps crossing the hall floor and her icy voice.

‘Are you married?’

The man answered, sounding offended. ‘Yeah, ’course we are.’

‘You don’t look like it. Where’s your wedding certificate?’

‘At home, ain’t it? We don’t carry it around with us,’ the man said.

‘I don’t have any funny business going on under my roof.’

‘Here, what are you saying? You calling me a liar?’

The man sounded really truculent now. Lillian opened the airing cupboard door as quietly as she could, so that she didn’t miss anything.

‘I’m saying I have a right to say who I have using my rooms.’

The young woman spoke now, her voice squeaky with fear. ‘Come on, Pete, let’s leave it.’

‘No, I’m not bleeding leaving it. This old bat thinks we’re here for a dirty weekend. Bleeding cheek!’

‘I will not be sworn at. Kindly leave.’

Lillian leaned over the banisters. She could see the top of the young couple’s heads. The woman was edging towards the open door.

‘Please, Pete—’

‘Don’t worry, love. I wouldn’t stay here if you paid me. The cheek! I never heard the like. Come along, we’ll find somewhere what’s pleased to take our money.’

‘This is a respectable house,’ was Gran’s parting shot, before she closed the door behind them.

Lillian changed the bedlinen in room five, making crisp hospital corners as she had been taught, then ran up to the attic and tapped on the door of her parents’ room. Her mum was often what she called ‘a bit under the weather’ but she very rarely took to her bed, especially not on a Saturday, their busiest day.

‘Mum?’

She peeped round the door. Her mother was lying curled up in the high double bed. The green curtains were drawn, giving her face a ghostly tinge.

‘Mum, are you all right? Can I get you anything?’

Her mother opened her eyes a little. ‘Does your gran want me?’ She sounded very tired.

‘No, no, it’s all right. I’ve done number five, and I can do tea if you like. What’s the matter, Mum? Has the doctor been?’

‘No, no, it’s just—you know—women’s troubles.’

Lillian did know about women’s troubles now, but hers had not yet caused her to take to her bed.

‘D’you want a cuppa or anything?’

‘No, nothing. I just want to sleep.’

She closed her eyes again. Lillian crept away. It didn’t even occur to her to wish that she had a mother she could confide in, someone whom she could share her hopes with and consult about what she might do for the talent contest. Her mother had always been too tired or too busy to give her any attention. But oh, if only Aunty Eileen were still around…

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of work. Two more lots of guests arrived, passed Gran’s stringent suitability test, were told the house rules and were shown their rooms. Lillian got on with buttering the bread and setting the table so that tea was ready for when for Dad and Wendy came in from work and Frank turned up from wherever he had been. After tea she had the washing-up and clearing away to do. Wendy was supposed to help her, but she was getting ready for a date.

Lillian was dying to rush round to Janette’s, tell her about the contest and sift through her pile of records to find a suitable one to perform to. But with Mum in bed and Wendy and the boys going out, there was nobody left but herself to make tea and cocoa, answer the door to any late guests and see to anything Gran might want. Lillian spent the evening humming tunes and trying out steps. A fast happy song or a slow dreamy one? Tap or ballet? She just couldn’t make her mind up. And then there was the question of what she was going to wear. It was all a lot more complicated than she had first thought. One thing was clear, though, she now had something to prove to James that she was just as serious as he was about achieving her aim.

On Sunday morning her mother was on her feet again, though looking far from well, but Lillian still had to help prepare the breakfasts for the PGs, clear away and wash up afterwards and strip their beds when they had left. Then there was Sunday lunch, with more washing-up and the cooker to clean.

‘Horrible, horrible thing!’ she growled, scrubbing grease from the inside of the oven.

It was nearly three in the afternoon before she finally made it round to Janette’s, and by then she was just bursting with impatience.

Her friend was thrilled with the idea of entering the talent contest.

‘You are brave! I like doing shows with the dancing school, but I couldn’t get up there and dance in front of judges.’

‘It’s a way to get noticed,’ Lillian said.

‘Won’t your family mind?’

This had been bothering Lillian. There was no danger of their going to the contest but, if she won, she would be in the local paper. She couldn’t imagine what the reaction would be.

‘I’m not going to think about that,’ she said. ‘Let’s decide what music I should choose.’

It took two days of constant mind-changing before she finally decided on We’re a Couple of Swells. The music was jaunty but not too fast and gave her an opportunity to put some gymnastics into the dance. She and Janette cobbled together bits of routines Janette had learnt at her classes with new ideas of Lillian’s that had been inspired by trips to the cinema and the variety shows she had watched on Janette’s parents’ television.

‘It’s no good trying to look like Grace Kelly or someone like that. My dance teacher says people like young girls to look like young girls, not sophisticated women. You need to be fresh and lively. People like lively. It makes them feel happy,’ Janette said.

Lillian had to take her word for it.

‘More like Petula Clark?’ she suggested.

‘Sort of. The gymnastics are good. They’re your strong point. Nobody at my class can do cartwheels and handsprings and stuff as well as you.’

So they all went in.

Costume was easier—Lillian could get into Janette’s pink taffeta party dress and her last year’s ballet shoes, so all she needed was a pair of frilly knickers to wear underneath.

‘Do I look all right? Isn’t it a bit babyish?’ she asked anxiously, peering at herself in Janette’s mirror.

‘It’s very pretty,’ Janette said, offended.

Lillian filled in her form and paid her entrance fee. She came away from the Carnival offices feeling rather sick. She was committed now. It wasn’t just a pipe dream; she really was going to get up there in front of people and perform. All she had to do now was to buy the sheet music for the pianist and practise until her dance was perfect.

James was due home the weekend before the carnival. Lillian stayed in all day on Saturday on the off-chance that he might call in. She whiled away the time practising her dance routine, but by late afternoon she couldn’t stand being inside any longer and went out into the yard to oil her bike. After all, James had told her to maintain it properly, and she didn’t want him to think she had been neglecting it.

She was busy pumping up the tyres, all the while keeping her ear tuned to any possible visitors to the house, when there was a pounding of footsteps in the back alleyway. Lillian looked up as Frank came crashing through the gate clutching a bundle wrapped in sacking. He dived into the shed, shuffled around a bit and then came out again without the bundle.

‘If anyone asks, you ain’t seen me, right?’ he said to Lillian.

‘Yeah, but—’

‘Ain’t seen me all day. You got that?’

‘Right.’

‘Mind you remember. It’s life or death.’

At that, he disappeared out of the back gate again and could be heard running northwards, away from the seafront. Lillian was about to go and investigate the bundle when she heard men’s voices coming from the other direction.

‘Which is his one?’

‘They all look the same.’

‘Count—his is the sixth one up.’

The tall back gate wobbled and opened to reveal three young men in Edwardian-style jackets, bootlace ties and drainpipe jeans. They sported long sideburns and their hair was brushed back in James Dean quiffs. When they caught sight of Lillian they stopped and stared for a moment. Lillian looked stonily back, trying to control a lurch of fear. Teddy boys! They might look very smart, but they had a bad reputation. They always went around in gangs and usually carried knuckle dusters and flick knives.

‘You Frank Parker’s sister?’ one demanded. He appeared to be the leader. The other two just stood there looking tough.

Lillian nodded.

‘Where is he?’

Lillian swallowed. They did look very threatening. ‘Dunno.’

‘He indoors?’

‘No.’

‘You sure? Only he was heading up this way.’

They took a couple of steps towards her. Lillian stood up. Life or death, that was what Frank had said. He might be a pain, but he was her brother.

‘I ain’t seen him all day.’

It came out without a wobble. Lillian was proud of herself. The three men looked unconvinced.

‘I been out here doing my bike for half an hour or more,’ she elaborated. ‘So I’d of seen him come in. We always use the back.’

‘You’re not lying, are you?’ the leader asked.

All three of them pressed forward, surrounding her. Their faces were menacing. The leader pushed her in the chest with his hard fingers.

‘Only you better not be lying. We don’t like liars.’

One of them picked up her bike. ‘This yours?’

Anger laced with fear came flooding through her. ‘Don’t you touch that! I ain’t done nothing to you.’

The young man laughed and heaved it over the fence, where it landed in next door’s yard with a clatter.

‘You pig! You better not of damaged it!’ Lillian cried.

What would James say if he found it was broken?

The leader poked her again. Lillian’s heart beat with fear.

‘That’s just a warning. If we find out you’re lying, you’ll be over that fence next, see? Now, where’s Frank?’

‘I dunno!’ Lillian repeated desperately.

She tried to turn and run inside, but one of the Teds grabbed her and spun her round to face the leader.

‘You leave her alone!’ A new voice rang out.

There was a blur of khaki and a smack of fist on flesh. First one then the other Ted yelped and Lillian found herself released.

‘James!’

For it was him, in his uniform and very angry.

The third Ted, the one who had thrown her bike over the fence, yelled, ‘Blimey, it’s the army!’

James landed two more punches on the leader.

‘Yeah, and you better scarper before my mates get out here. They’ll make mincemeat of you,’ he threatened.

For a long nerve-stretching moment, Lillian thought the Teds might set on James with bicycle chains or flick knives. James made a move towards the third one. It broke the deadlock. All three turned and ran.

Lillian’s legs turned suddenly to string. She staggered and James caught her in his arms.

‘Lillian, are you all right? What was all that about?’

‘Where’s your friends?’ Lillian asked stupidly.

‘What? Oh, there aren’t any. I didn’t want them to think it was three to one. Lillian, what’s going on?’

Shakily, Lillian managed to explain.

‘I don’t think much of the company your brother keeps,’ James said. ‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’

For once in her life, Lillian was the centre of attention.

‘Oh, Lillian, thank God—’ her mother gasped. ‘Those dreadful Teddy boys—sit down, sit down—’

She found herself sitting at the kitchen table, clasped in her mother’s arms.

‘Hot sweet tea, that’s what she needs for shock,’ James was saying.

Susan filled the kettle. ‘Did you take them on all by yourself?’ she asked her brother.

‘He did. There were three of them; they were looking for Frank,’ Lillian explained.

‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to, really I don’t,’ her mother wailed.

Gran appeared, alerted by the raised voices. ‘What’s going on here?’

Everyone tried to explain at once.

Gran laid a hand on Lillian’s shoulder. ‘You all right, girl?’ she asked gruffly.

Lillian nodded. It was the first time she had ever been shown any concern from her grandmother.

‘That boy; he’s heading for trouble,’ Gran stated. ‘I’ll have a few words to say to him when he gets home.’

A cup of hot sweet tea was put in front of Lillian. She sipped it, basking in her temporary star status.

Gran was fulminating about Frank bringing the family in disrepute while Bob agreed with her. Susan distributed more tea.

‘What did they want Frank for, I wonder?’ James said.

With a jolt, Lillian remembered the bundle. What was it, that caused so much trouble? And was it still in the shed? She wanted to go and look but, when she made to get up, James pressed her down into her chair again.

‘You just stay there.’

And then she thought of something else. ‘My bike! Have they damaged my bike?’

‘I’ll check in a minute. If they have, I’ll mend it,’ James assured her.

Nettie looked up at him. ‘You saved my little girl,’ she said. ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

By the time Dad and Wendy arrived home, James was the official hero of the hour.

‘Fought them off single-handed, he did,’ Nettie said.

‘If I’d have known what was going on, I would have been there with him,’ Bob explained.

‘Of course you would, dear,’ Susan agreed.

Even Wendy looked mildly impressed.

Everyone wanted to know all about James’s basic training, and he kept them all entertained with stories of the hardships he had survived until Susan reminded him that their mother was making him a special meal.

‘Nothing skimped now rationing’s over,’ she boasted.

And he was gone. Lillian had been rescued by him, but had had no chance to speak to him and tell him about what she was doing towards making her dream come true. It was very poor compensation to hear Frank getting a rollicking from Gran when he finally made an appearance close to bedtime.