Ellie (61 page)

Ellie was suddenly sober. She looked round at Bonny and back again to Mrs Ray. ‘I’ll have to get a taxi.’

‘You can’t get one now!’ Bonny said, her voice shrill in the silent hallway.

‘I’ll ask Mr Ray to take you.’ Mrs Ray turned back up the stairs. ‘He’s awake anyway and Bonny’s right, you can’t get a taxi at this time of night. Just go and make yourself some coffee, Ellie, he won’t be a moment.’

Mr Ray was a miserable little man, but he always did what his wife said. He came downstairs pulling a jacket over his pyjamas. He still had the bottoms on – Ellie could see them dangling beneath his trousers as she gulped down the scalding Camp coffee.

‘You are
so
kind, Mr Ray,’ she said. ‘It’s about twenty-five miles to the hospital. It would be a fortune in a taxi, even if I could get one.’

He merely grunted and said something about charging her for the petrol since it was still rationed, then bent down to put his shoes on.

‘I’ll ring you in the morning,’ Ellie said, turning to Bonny. ‘If I can’t get back by tomorrow night someone will have to stand in for me.’

‘I’ll see to that when you phone.’ Bonny hugged her once more, her face soft with concern. ‘I’ll be thinking about you.’

‘She’s been waiting for you,’ Nurse Symonds said simply as Ellie arrived at the ward, the real meaning of her words obvious. ‘She’s in a room on her own now, go on in.’

It was so quiet in the hospital, eerie with just the dim, green night-lights glowing through glass doors. Nurse Symonds was a big, raw-faced woman whose wit and often sharp tongue had endeared her to Marleen.

Ellie believed she’d prepared herself for the worst. But as she went into the small room and saw her aunt lying there under a small, dim light, she let out an involuntary cry of distress.

Marleen had been growing thinner and weaker for some months, but now she was almost skeletal. No dark glasses to hide the scarred and empty eye sockets, folds of slack, grey skin revealing sharp cheekbones and her grey hair so thin she looked at least eighty. Her mouth had sunk in, lips cracked and bloodless.

‘About time too.’ Marleen turned her head slightly towards the sound of Ellie’s feet, her voice weak, but with all its usual acerbic sarcasm.

‘I came as soon as I heard you were poorly.’ Ellie was surprised that Marleen could be aware of time or sense who her visitor was when she looked so fragile. ‘I was out when they telephoned.’

‘Bin drinking gin, too.’ Marleen’s nostrils twitched as Ellie bent over to kiss her. ‘Wish you’d brought me some.’

The remark was so typical of her aunt’s humour that for a moment Ellie thought the nurses and doctor were mistaken about her dying.

‘I would’ve done, if I’d known you were up to it,’ she said, taking hold of Marleen’s thin scraggy hand and pressing it in both of hers.

An odd noise came from Marleen’s chest as she tried to cough. ‘I ain’t got long now, Ellie,’ she wheezed, ‘so don’t interrupt. I just wanted to say ’ow proud I am of you. Don’t reckon I’ll end up in the same manor as Poll, but if I do I’ll tell ’er all about you.’ She paused, struggling for breath.

Ellie took a teapot-like cup from the bedside locker and held it to Marleen’s cracked lips. ‘Don’t try to talk, Auntie,’ she urged. ‘Save your strength.’

Marleen took one sip, but shook her head impatiently. ‘For what?’ she said, her voice quavering now, each breath a struggle. ‘I done it all, luv. I ain’t afraid to die.’

‘Please don’t talk like that!’ Tears ran down Ellie’s face.

Marleen fell silent then, the only sound her laboured, wheezing breath. Ellie sat beside her, holding her hand.

Five minutes passed, then ten.

‘I love you, Auntie,’ Ellie whispered, not knowing whether Marleen could still hear her, but it needed saying.

The hand in hers moved, a weak attempt to prove she’d heard, and Ellie bent her head to kiss it.

‘I love you an’ all.’ Each word came out so slow and tortured Ellie could only stare in horror, clinging to that thin hand, knowing instinctively the moment of death was approaching.

Marleen sunk into unconsciousness, her squeaking breath growing slowly fainter. The nurse came in and sat silently beside the bed.

It had been dark when Ellie arrived, but slowly, grey then pink light pushed away the night, giving Marleen’s face a faint blush. A weak, almost imperceptible sound came from her, then utter silence.

‘She’s gone,’ the nurse said softly, taking the hand Ellie was holding and placing it gently with the other across Marleen’s chest. ‘Rest in peace, Marleen.’

Ellie looked down at the wizened figure in the bed and let her mind slip back to recall her aunt as she wanted to remember her.

A clear picture came to her, of a day at Southend when Ellie was seven. There was a talent competition on the promenade, and Marleen, urged on by Polly, took part. The number she chose was a saucy music hall song, ‘He’s Got Flirty Eyes’. Ellie could see Marleen so distinctly. Her hair was deep auburn then, a cascade of loose, shiny waves and she wore only an emerald green bathing suit. She could hear the riotous applause, the wolf whistles and calls for an encore ringing in her ears, and see Marleen’s broad grin when she won the first prize of two guineas. She insisted on spending every penny of that money on Polly and Ellie. They went on every ride in the fun fair and had candy floss, ice-creams and cockles and then supper before they went home on the train.

But perhaps the most poignant memory of that wonderful day was Marleen’s words to Ellie as she kissed her goodbye late at night. ‘I ain’t so talented,’ she’d smiled. ‘But I’ve got nerve, Ellie, and that’s all it takes mostly. You just remember that!’

Ellie kissed Marleen one last time, tears rolling down her cheeks. Marleen had kept her nerve, right up to the last moment. Ellie had a funny feeling that when Marleen arrived at the Pearly Gates she’d be demanding the best seat in the house.

‘She was such a character,’ Nurse Symonds said as she led Ellie out of the room, her arm round her. ‘We’re all going to miss her, Ellie. Now you come with me, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’

It was when the nurse brought a bag of Marleen’s belongings to Ellie that she really broke down. It was such a pitifully small collection for a woman who had once needed dozens of boxes to shift her belongings from one flat to another and a reminder of how little her mother left behind too. A small teddy bear Ellie had bought her, a bottle of cheap scent perhaps given by another patient, a couple of nightdresses and a cardigan. But in an envelope were a batch of reviews for Ellie’s show at the Phoenix. Clearly Marleen had asked people to read them again and again, as they were yellow and dog-eared.

‘She was so very proud of you.’ Nurse Symonds patted Ellie’s shoulder soothingly as she saw her tuck them away again. ‘Those meant a great deal to her. She used to say, “Nurse, mark my words, my Ellie’s going to be a big star. When you go to the flicks and see her up on the screen, you make sure you clap and stamp your feet for me!”’

Ellie wiped tears from her eyes.

‘She’d had enough,’ the nurse said softly. ‘She put on a brave face here and made us all laugh. But I know she was glad to go.’

The nurse was right, of course. Maybe in a few days Ellie might even be able to voice the same opinion, but for now she could only feel a huge chasm where her aunt had been.

Ellie leafed through the bundle of letters, stopping short when she saw several that weren’t from her. The handwriting looked familiar and she opened one to see who they were from.

She was staggered to find it was Annie King – a warm, friendly letter that implied she’d been visiting too.

‘Did Mrs King come to visit her?’ Ellie looked up at the nurse in bewilderment.

‘Yes, dear. She came once a month,’ the nurse replied. ‘Didn’t your aunt tell you? They seemed like very good friends.’

So many times Ellie had thought of visiting Annie, if only to put her side of the story about Charley, but fear of rejection had prevented her and now she felt ashamed she hadn’t appreciated how big-hearted Annie was.

‘No, she never said.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘I expect she was being tactful. Annie’s son was my old boyfriend.’

‘Would you like me to write to Mrs King then?’ the nurse asked solicitously.

Ellie hesitated for only a moment. ‘No, I’ll call on her. I must thank her for her kindness. It wouldn’t be right for her to get such news in a letter.’

For the first time in her life, Bonny was on time for a date. She paused in a shop doorway just around the corner from the Black Lion, took out her compact and powdered her nose, frowning at her reflection.

If it hadn’t been for Ellie telephoning early this morning with the sad news that Marleen had passed away, Bonny would have dressed to kill in her new blue costume and matching hat. But to wear something so flamboyant didn’t seem right, even if her heart was pounding with excitement at seeing Magnus. So she put on her boring navy coat and an ordinary print dress beneath. She’d have to think of some other way of ensnaring him.

Magnus got to the Black Lion just as a church clock was striking the half hour. Vivid images of Ruth had plagued him all morning. He could see her running to him full tilt down the platform at Harrogate station when he was demobbed, arms wide open and tears of joy in her eyes. He felt she knew by telepathy that he had spent the night with erotic dreams of another woman.

Ruth was small, plump, with curly dark brown hair, now, at thirty-seven, sprinkled with grey. She had never been a head-turner; her charm was her keen interest in others, her unselfishness and warmth. In all these years of marriage he’d never wanted anyone else in his arms but her. So why was he waiting here to meet an empty-headed young dancer?

He told himself he was only being polite in meeting Bonny for lunch. He would bore her with his happy marriage and his clever children, then get in his car and leave.

He’d been waiting for less than a minute when Bonny came round the corner. He was surprised by her sensible dark coat – he’d prepared himself for something more dramatic – and a little of his unease left him.

‘Hello Magnus.’ She tripped lightly towards him, her smile surprisingly hesitant. ‘I almost didn’t come because I’ve been so upset. But it seemed awfully rude to just leave you here not knowing what’s happened.’

Magnus took her across the road to a small restaurant and over an aperitif she explained how Ellie had gone to see her aunt in the early hours.

‘I couldn’t sleep for worrying about Ellie.’ Her eyes swam and she wiped them with her hanky. ‘She rang this morning to say Marleen had died and I’ve been crying ever since. She hasn’t got anyone but me now.’

Magnus was deeply touched by her concern for Ellie. He listened as she explained how Ellie had gone on to London to inform someone else, but that she intended to get back in time for tonight’s performance.

‘I haven’t got anyone either,’ Bonny sniffed. ‘My parents were killed in the war, just like Ellie’s mum.’

Sympathy overrode Magnus’s intention to cut this lunch short and be on his way. He ordered soup and lamb chops for them both, and a bottle of wine to cheer her up.

Somehow Magnus didn’t get around to talking about his family as he’d intended. He did speak of Craigmore and his childhood on the estate, of his student days in Oxford and his time in the RAF, but not the blissful years tucked in between when Ruth, Stephen and Sophie had been his whole world. Neither did he mention that Stephen was almost sixteen, Sophie thirteen and that both he and Ruth hoped for another child now the war was over.

Bonny was exhilarating company. She painted such vivid pictures of the characters in both this show and previous ones. Her fluffy, girlish dreams and aspirations to get to Hollywood, her enthusiasm for life made him feel unaccountably tender towards her.

Drinking at lunchtime always went straight to Magnus’s head, and when Bonny suggested they went for a walk in the afternoon it seemed the only answer if he was to drive to London later. Yesterday’s heavy rain had cleared the skies and the spring sunshine was very warm as he took her into the botanical gardens.

‘Isn’t that beautiful!’ She gasped at a magnolia tree in full blossom just inside the gates. ‘Its like a – a prayer.’

There was something very touching and unexpected in finding she appreciated nature. Somehow he’d thought her interests wouldn’t stretch beyond the cinema and shops.

‘I love it here,’ she said, smiling with pure delight at a bed of red tulips and forget-me-nots. ‘One day I want to have a beautiful garden all of my own.’

When Magnus thought about it later on that day, he wondered how they came to select the most secluded bench in the entire garden. Was it he who chose it, willing something more to happen? Or was it her? Or merely fate that no one else came that way as they sat almost concealed by two large rhododendron bushes?

It was Bonny, however, who instigated the first kiss. ‘It turned out a nice day after all,’ she said sweetly, half turning on the seat beside him and putting her hand on his cheek. ‘Thank you for the lunch and cheering me up.’

Her lips met his and Magnus couldn’t and didn’t want to avoid them and all at once he had her in his arms, kissing her back with the kind of passion he hadn’t felt for twenty years. He was just a boy again, his heart racing, blood pumping at twice the normal speed. Reason, logic and morality had no meaning. He was like a salmon desperately swimming upstream against the current of his conscience, and winning because the need was so great.

Bonny didn’t give him a moment to draw breath or consider what they were doing. Her fingers were creeping between the buttons on his shirt, gliding tantalisingly over bare skin, giving him a picture of exactly how it would be if they were in a hotel room.

Magnus’s hands slid into her coat, the soft crêpe of her dress making it so easy to feel the contours of her body. When his hand cupped her breast there was no brassière beneath to dull the impact of hardened nipple against his fingers and her gasp of pleasure made it doubly thrilling. Her lips stayed on his, her tongue driving him wilder and wilder until his only thought and need was to possess.