Читать книгу Follow Your Dream - Patricia Burns - Страница 12

THERE were far better reasons for a forty-eight-hour pass than attending your sister’s engagement party, James thought as he watched the lighted windows of the eastern suburbs of London trundle by. Especially when that sister was set on marrying Boring Bob Parker. The party itself didn’t promise to be a bundle of laughs, either. His army pals had envied him his trip home, assuming that the celebration would be a big booze-up at the pub. James hadn’t told them that it was going to be Saturday tea at the Parkers’ place. Even with a cake made and iced by Susan, it was not his idea of fun. Still, family was family and Susan had insisted that the celebration be postponed until he could get leave, so here he was on the train to Southend, ready to be happy for his sister and his mother, both of whom appeared to be delighted with this turn of events. And, of course, there was the bonus of seeing Wendy again. Maybe she was an unattainable star, but he wasn’t going to give up trying.

Homecoming was always special, engagement or no engagement, and as the train passed through Leigh-on-Sea James put away his book and stared out into the darkness, trying to see the estuary. Moonlight spilled through a gap in the clouds as he gazed, making a silver path across the Thames and emphasizing the dark shapes of the boats moored in the shallows, while across on the other side the flames from the oil refineries flared like beacons. It was good to be back.

Susan and Bob were waiting for him at Southend Central. An irrational disappointment dragged at James when he saw it was just the two of them. He hadn’t expected Wendy to be with them to greet him. He hadn’t even hoped. It was Friday night and she was sure to be out with some flash bloke enjoying herself. But, all the same…He pulled himself together and strode along the platform to meet them.

‘Hello, you two! Congratulations—’ He kissed Susan’s cheek, shook Bob’s hand. ‘I hope you appreciate what a treasure you’ve got in my sister.’

‘Oh, James—!’ Susan exclaimed, embarrassed but pleased.

‘But of course I do. She’s going to be the perfect wife,’ Bob assured him.

James could believe that all right. Susan had been in training for it all her life. She was an excellent cook, even with the limited facilities they had in their tiny kitchen, an accomplished needlewoman and a fanatical housewife. And she was used to managing on a limited income. There would be no overspending in their household.

Susan threaded her arm through her fiancé’s and gazed up at him with pride.

‘And Bob will be the perfect husband.’

This James doubted. How could his sister be in love with such a dull stick? It was still a mystery to him.

‘How’s your family?’ he asked Bob, hoping for news of Wendy.

‘Oh—fine, fine, thank you. All very well. They’re looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Lillian wanted to come with us to meet you this evening! But of course it was out of the question.’

Little Lillian. James smiled to himself. That put him in his place. He hoped for Wendy and got her kid sister. Well, at least someone was pleased he was back.

All the way home, he was treated to an account of how Bob and Susan were saving up for the deposit on a house of their own. Before they had crossed the High Street, he was bored almost to tears with the minutiae of percentages and repayments and surveyors and solicitors. It all seemed so dry compared with the active challenges he had been tackling every day on his army training. It was only when they arrived at the flat that his own achievement was recognised.

‘My darling boy!’ His mother gave him a welcoming hug. She seemed smaller than when he had last seen her. He could feel the frail bones of her back.

She held his upper arms to take a good look at him, then realised what was under her fingers.

‘What’s this? A lance corporal’s stripe? You clever thing! Well done! Look, Susan, Bob—James has been made a lance corporal already!’

James gave a shrug. ‘It’s only one little step up the ladder, Mum.’

But he couldn’t help sneaking a look at Bob, who he knew had only got his stripe a month before leaving the army.

‘You’re spending your time yelling at your platoon, then?’ Bob said.

‘Oh, yes, I got my drills one and two, and my marksman’s. All helps put a bit extra in the pay,’ James said, deliberately playing it down. They both knew that not everyone got these qualifications. He had spiked Bob’s right to patronise him when it came to army service.

It wasn’t until Susan had gone off to the Parkers’ the next afternoon to help with the party food that James had a chance to speak to his mother about the engagement.

‘Do you really think Susan’s doing the right thing?’ he asked.

His mother looked at him in amazement. ‘But of course she is, darling. She’s so happy! And Bob’s such a steady chap, he’ll look after her well. They’re saving for a house of their own, you know. Bob has it all worked out—’

‘Yes, I do know.’ He had heard more than enough about it last night. ‘But is that enough? I mean, is that all you need to be happy with someone?’

‘Susan loves him, and he’ll be a good provider. Not like some young fellows these days. The things you hear about those Teddy boys! I’m afraid his brother is one of them. Now, if our Susan wanted to marry Frank, I’d be very worried, but Bob’s quite different. He’s solid, is Bob.’

So that was all that women wanted? A house and a good provider? He was sure that Wendy wanted more than that. Unbidden, into his mind came the memory of Lillian telling him of her dream of becoming a dancer. She certainly wanted something out of the ordinary. But then she was just a kid. It was different for his sister.

The celebration tea at the Parkers’ was slightly less gruesome than the one ten months ago when the two families had been introduced to each other.

After months of army food, just having a good tea was a treat for James. Now that rationing had at last ended, everyone was enjoying a more varied diet. Susan’s cake took pride of place in the centre of the table, a fluffy sponge covered with royal icing and fancy piping, with her name and Bob’s inside a sugar heart. It was resting on a green glass plate that James and Susan’s parents had received as a wedding present. Around it were jam tarts and scones, and four different sorts of sandwiches—banana, egg and cress, corned beef and ham and mustard.

‘What a feast!’ James said, and earned grateful smiles from all the womenfolk who had been involved in providing the spread.

All, that was, except Wendy. She was looking more opulent and desirable than ever in a baby-blue fluffy jumper and a grey pencil skirt.

‘Typical man, thinking about his stomach,’ she remarked. It sounded dismissive, but there was that challenge in her eyes.

‘I was thinking what a good party this is for Bob and Susan,’ James said.

His hands ached to run down her spine and over her beautiful backside.

‘We all helped,’ another voice piped up.

A small part of his mind registered Lillian’s presence, but his attention was still on her sister.

‘Oh, yeah, the happy couple,’ Wendy said.

For the first time, he realised that they thought the same about something. Wendy was no more delighted with the occasion than he was but, with both their families within earshot, they could say nothing more. One thing was for sure, though—he was determined not to be outmanoeuvred at the tea table this time. He pulled a chair out and invited Wendy to sit down. To his delight, she accepted. Swiftly, he sat on the chair next to hers. Mission accomplished. His knee was just inches from hers.

The rest of the family were sorting themselves out. The older ones hadn’t changed in the time since he had last seen them. Wendy’s mum was still faded and anxious-looking, her dad still carried his dark cloud of resentment against the world, her grandmother still ruled them all. But the young people had changed. Bob looked practically middle-aged; he was even going a bit thin on top, though he was only twenty-five. Frank was sporting a DA and sideburns to go with his full Teddy boy rig of draped jacket, drainpipe trousers and brothel-creeper shoes. And Lillian—Lillian was sitting at the corner of the table furthest from him, in between her mother and grandmother. Her schoolgirl plaits were gone and in their place was a fashionable ponytail. She was wearing a white blouse and bright red cardigan with a full blue and grey checked skirt, and around her waist was one of those wide elastic belts that Wendy favoured. She would have looked surprisingly grown-up, had she not been in a huge sulk. James caught her eye and was given a glowering look. He couldn’t imagine what he had done to upset her. Why, he’d hardly spoken to her, so what could he have said wrong? He gave her a grin and a wink across the table. She went red and looked away. James gave up on her. He had more important things to do than worry about a sulky kid.

As the conversation limped along at the table, James gradually let his leg sag sideways, until his knee touched Wendy’s. He expected her to twitch her leg away in a huff but she didn’t, so James moved his foot as well, so that it was resting alongside Wendy’s. He could feel the warmth of her shapely calf against his as she talked to the others, natural as anything, not giving anything away.

When most of the food was eaten, Susan stood up to cut the celebration cake. Flushed and happy, his sister sliced into her white-iced masterpiece and handed it round the table to polite noises of admiration from everyone. James did not want to move from his delicious closeness to Wendy, but he had been planning a surprise for this moment and he didn’t want to let it pass. The Parkers might have the big house to hold this party, but the Kershaws were not going to sit there playing the poor relations, not while he could do something about it. He reached behind him for the brown paper bag he had set down by the wall.

‘Before we eat Susan’s lovely cake—’ he said.

Voices round the table fell quiet. Surprised eyes turned on him. Gran Parker looked affronted at his interruption, Susan’s face was frozen in dismay. He smiled at his sister, trying to reassure her that he was not about to ruin her big moment.

‘—I thought it would be nice to have something a bit more exciting than tea to toast the happy couple with.’

He produced a bottle of sherry and a half bottle of Scotch. There was silence for a couple of heartbeats while the entire Parker clan looked at Gran to see what her reaction would be. The old woman pursed her lips, then, to everyone’s surprise, she gave a nod.

‘I wouldn’t say no.’

There was a general letting-out of breath and happy clamour. Lillian was sent to fetch glasses and James poured sherry for the ladies and Scotch for the men, making sure that Lillian got a drop along with the others. Keeping a firm hold on the initiative, he stood up and raised his glass.

‘To Susan and Bob—may they have a long and happy life together,’ he said.

‘Susan and Bob!’ everyone chorused.

Glasses clinked, drinks were sipped, the cake was eaten, everyone relaxed for the first time that day. Across the table from him, James was glad to see his sister glowing with pleasure and his mother wiping away happy tears. The Parker men had a more complicated reaction. They were obviously delighted to be having a drink, but mortified that someone younger than them had had the courage to risk Gran’s disapproval. One up to the Kershaws, he thought as Wendy’s leg brushed against his.

When the meal was finally over and the smokers were lighting up, Gran gave Lillian a poke in the arm. ‘Dishes, Lillian. And you, Wendy.’

Susan got up to help as well, but James stood at the same time.

‘It’s all right, Suse, I’ll do it. This is your party.’

This time, though, his plan fell apart. Wendy helped clear the dirty plates but, once they were piled up in the kitchen, she made for the door.

‘Won’t be long,’ she said.

Lillian slammed the cutlery into the sink.

‘Huh. That’s what she always says. That’ll be the last we see of her. She’ll only come back again if she thinks Gran’s about to come and inspect what we’re doing.’

James was torn. He wanted to follow Wendy to wherever she was off to, but a sense of fairness held him where he was. Everyone took advantage of Lillian. He didn’t want to be the same. He gave her glossy ponytail a playful tug.

‘What’s up with you, Lill? You’re like a bear with a sore head.’

She jerked her hair away. ‘Don’t call me Lill. I hate it.’

‘OK, OK.’ James picked up the tea towel. ‘So what shall I call you? Lillian’s a bit of a mouthful.’

Lillian didn’t answer. She washed the cups and saucers and plates with swift efficiency and stacked them on the draining board for James to dry. He could tell just by the set of her shoulders that something was up.

‘What do you think?’ he persisted, while wondering where Wendy was. Probably the only places she could hide were the bathroom or her bedroom, neither of which he could go to.

‘My Aunty Eileen called me Lindy-Lou. But don’t you dare say that’s babyish,’ she growled.

It was babyish, of course. But he couldn’t keep his mind on the subject. Supposing Wendy had been expecting him to follow her? Was he missing his big chance? But then, if he didn’t follow her when she wanted him to, did that give him the upper hand? Perhaps, if he did try it on, she would just laugh at him…He wasn’t used to this games playing. He wasn’t even sure if it was games playing. Maybe Wendy simply didn’t like washing-up.

He was roused from his reverie by the sound of a sob. He glanced at Lillian and was horrified to find that she was crying. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

‘Hey—what’s the matter? Whatever’s wrong?’

No doubt her ghastly family had done something to upset her.

Lillian threw the dishcloth into the water and held on to the rim of the sink with white-knuckled hands. Her shoulders were shaking.

‘Why are you so h-horrible to me?’ she sobbed.

James was shocked. ‘Me? What have I done?’

‘You’re ignoring me. You’re treating me l-like I’m not here, just like they all do. You used not to. You used to be n-nice to me. You treated me like I was a p-proper person and you l-listened to me.’

‘I am listening to you,’ James protested.

‘You’re not! You’re thinking about Wendy.’

This was so true that he was silenced.

‘I hate her. She’s so beautiful and everything, she just does what she likes. It’s not fair! I saw what she was doing. Just ’cos I said you were going to be rich—’

‘What?’ James asked. He couldn’t follow this at all.

Lillian bit her lip. For several moments she didn’t answer. She just stood there, fiddling with the dish cloth. Finally it burst out of her.

‘I told her you were going to be rich one day, and own a garage and a car and everything, and now she’s sitting next to you and looking at you with those goo-goo eyes—’

Now it was James’s turn to be angry. He didn’t want to be seen as some stupid boy boasting about what he was going to do, when he knew no one would believe him. His own mother didn’t believe him when he said he was going to get her out of that flat one day. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe it himself. He did, completely. But he knew how it looked to other people—just a pipe dream.

‘You told her about that? Lillian, I told you in confidence. That was between you and me. I haven’t told anyone about your dreams. I wouldn’t even think of doing so. They’re your private thoughts.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry—’ Lillian was shaking her head from side to side as she listened to him. Now she looked up at him with anguished eyes, her face pinched and her mouth distorted. ‘I didn’t mean to, honest. It just sort of came out. We were talking, and we never talk usually and she was being nice for once and telling me what she wanted and about marrying someone rich and that and I just sort of let it out. Oh, now I’ve spoilt everything! I wish I was dead—’

Living with two women over the years had made him used to coping with emotional outbursts. He put his arms round Lillian and rocked her as she sobbed on his shoulder.

‘Come on, now, you don’t mean that. And I know you wouldn’t have let it out deliberately; you’re not like that. It’s not the end of the world—’

‘Well, well, well! What a touching little scene!’

James looked round. There in the doorway was Wendy, standing with one hand on the frame and the other on her hip, smiling. James felt his face going red. This must look bad.

‘She’s upset,’ he said.

‘She’s fifteen,’ Wendy said, as if that explained everything. She strolled into the kitchen and picked up a spare tea towel. ‘Good thing it was me and not Gran or Dad what came in.’

With a howl, Lillian backed out of his now loose embrace and ran from the room.

Wendy shrugged. ‘She’ll learn,’ she said. ‘You can finish the washing. I don’t want to ruin my hands in that water.’

‘But shouldn’t we—couldn’t you go after her, say something?’

‘She’s all right. Like I said, she’s fifteen. She’ll get over it.’

When everything was neatly stacked away, she leaned her back against the sink and gave him one of her slow, considering looks.

‘You’ve made yourself really useful round here, haven’t you? I wonder why?’

This time James didn’t stop to think. He stepped forward and put his hands on her narrow waist, pulling her towards him. His mouth closed on her shining, mocking smile. For a second or two she resisted him, then her lips opened and responded and he fell into a whirlpool of a kiss. When Wendy pulled away, she almost looked impressed.

‘My—you’re quite good at that, aren’t you?’

‘Come out with me tonight,’ James said.

Wendy put a hand to her head, smoothing an imaginary stray lock back into place. ‘Oh, no—just because you’ve got a stripe up already, it doesn’t mean I’ll go out with you. Maybe if you get made a sergeant.’

She gave a superior smile. They both knew that national servicemen hardly ever got made sergeants.

She made for the door.

‘Is that a promise?’ James pressed. He knew he could get the trade qualifications needed. He already had the skills from his time at the garage. He could certainly get to be corporal. After that, being made even an acting unpaid sergeant depended on someone dropping out.

Wendy looked back at him over her shoulder. ‘Maybe.’

He would make it, James resolved, if it was the last thing he did.