For All Our Tomorrows (13 page)

‘Yes, of course it is. Who else would it be?’

‘Well, my lover . . . ’ His face was unusually serious as he faced his wife. ‘Had he not called out the lifeboat, we might well have sunk and lost all o’ them fish. We were holed, you know, by that shell. Proper job he made of it, getting us out of there without losing a single fish.’

Sadie turned on him in a red hot rage. ‘That’s all you ever think about. Bloody fish!’

‘No, my lover, I enjoy all of it, even the rowing up and down the river all night long. I don’t mind it in the least, fish or no fish.’ And having said his peace, stuck his pipe back in and continued reading the paper.

‘Oh, I despair of both of you, I do really.’ Sadie flounced to the mirror that hung over the fireplace, her scarlet lips in a sulky pout as she patted her stiff, tight curls into place and struggled to calm herself. Temper did nothing at all for the complexion, so she really should be careful. ‘And what he’ll think of us, I can’t imagine. No doubt he’s used to big fancy houses in America, if he’s as rich as you say he is.’

Realisation dawned, and Bette went to put her hands on her mother’s shoulders, plump and soft, they were made even wider by the shoulder pads she’d stuffed into her dress.

‘Is that what’s really bothering you? That he’ll look down on us because our house is small and we aren’t well off. Well, he isn’t like that. He’s very polite and kind, not like some of the others, always showing off. Not like his mate, Barney.’ Bette slipped her arms further round the cushiony warmth of her mother and laid her cheek against her shoulder. ‘Stop fretting, Mam. You’ll like him, really you will.’

Sadie pushed her off. ‘We’ll see,’ she said, flouncing into the kitchen. ‘In any case, I shall make no extra fuss just because we’re having a visitor. He can take us as he finds us. We’re only having fish pie, so if he doesn’t like it, that’s his hard luck.’

Bette smiled to herself, knowing that it would be delicious, filled with scallops and shrimps and fresh ling, the best of the catch, topped off with creamy mashed potato. If there was one thing Sadie excelled at, it was cooking. And there was also a chocolate cake tucked away in the cupboard, which her mother had made just that morning, no doubt having bribed Mr Whitting with extra coupons in order to get the fat for it. Bette felt a nub of excitement deep inside. It was going to be a lovely evening, she was sure of it.

Barney and Chad strolled down into town from Windmill, exhausted from their training and in dire need of a beer and some relaxation. There was still a tension bristling between them, hovering beneath the surface, but they’d been friends so long, it didn’t prevent them enjoying a pint together.

‘Come on, let’s grab that beer before you go play with your gal. We deserve it.’

Chad was not against the idea. It had been a long, hard day, a long, hard week in fact. They’d been soaked through to the skin and some of the ammunition they’d used on the exercise had been live. Things were getting much more serious, he could tell. No date had been fixed for the invasion, so far as he was aware, but word had it that it would be soon, once Eisenhower and Churchill had stopped arguing and come to an agreement. Any opportunity for a bit of pleasure must be made the most of. Even so, he didn’t want to get involved in a long session.

Beer and broads, that’s all some of his buddies ever thought about. ‘I can’t be late. I promised Bette. I’m supposed to be meeting her at Whitehouse first, then she’ll take me home for supper. It’s an important night for her. I gotta get it right.’

‘Don’t worry, she’ll wait. They always do.’

They went into the Kings Hotel and the place was humming with GIs and service men. Barney fought his way to the bar and ordered a couple of pints. He downed his in one long swallow, ordered another round and did the same again. Barney had polished off a couple more by the time a group of sailors came in, and he shouted over to them. ‘Hey, you limeys, can you afford to come in such a smart place? How much d’you make in a day, huh?’

‘Three and sixpence,’ said the youngest among them.

‘Shucks, that’s too bad! Here, let me give you a dime,’ and he tossed them a few coins.

‘You watch yer bleedin’ mouth, buster. Don’t you try throwing your weight about in here.’

It was clear that the sailors were not amused and, worried about possible consequences, Chad quickly stepped forward. ‘Hey, take no notice of my buddy here, he’s a bit the worse for wear. Slow down, Barney. There’s a chippy round the corner, why don’t you get some decent food inside you to soak up the alcohol?’

‘Get the hell off of me. This gal turned you into a plaster saint, or what? Drink your damned beer and live a little, for Chrissake.’ And Barney gave him an almighty shove that sent Chad sprawling back against the bar.

The barman was quick to intervene. ‘If there’s any trouble, you lot are out of here.’

 
Chad slammed down his glass. ‘I’m off now. Like I say, I don’t want to keep Bette and her family waiting.’

‘Told her any more fairy stories lately about your big ole estate with the antebellum mansion?’

‘Ok, I made a big mistake there but you made things a million times worse with all that bragging about a string of restaurants. Shooting your mouth off, as usual. Dumbhead!’

‘Who you calling dumb?’ Barney roared back, his face turning ugly with anger.

Chad flapped a hand, warning him to keep his voice down as the sailors and the barman continued to glower across at them. Stepping close, he spoke quietly, adopting gentle, calming tones. ‘Look, old buddy, this one is serious, right? So I don’t want it messed up by your bragging. You keep your big mouth shut. I’ll put things right in my own way, in my own time, when the moment’s right. You’ve done enough damage.’ So saying, he marched out the door.

Barney strode after him, flinging himself down the steps and dragging Chad to a halt as soon as they reached the quay. ‘Whoa, that’s no way to talk to an old friend. I thought you and me were buddies. What’s mine is yours, what yours is . . .’

‘Naw. You’re not sharing my gal.’

‘You’ve been happy enough to take
my
leavings in the past, when I’m done with them. So now it’s my turn to take
yours
.’

‘No way. I already said, Bette is special.’

‘Only because you got there first. You have got there, I suppose?’

Chad ignored the jibe but shook himself free and kept on walking. The sooner he got to their little beach and found Bette, the better. ‘I’ve had enough of listening to this crap. You’ve really got on my nerves lately with your damned practical jokes and clever quips. You never let up for a minute. Always showing off, bragging that you know best, that you always get the girl.’

Barney shouted after him in his lazy drawl. ‘Well it’s true, I generally do. Never failed so far. So, has she opened her legs for you yet, chum, or not? Come on, own up. She sure would have if I’d been in charge. Maybe she has already, for all you know.’

Without pausing to think of the wisdom of his action, Chad swung back and socked his best friend right in the jaw. Barney didn’t see it coming, didn’t even have time to duck as his knees buckled and he staggered backwards, nearly keeling over. Swearing profoundly, he launched himself at Chad, flooring him with a tackle which would have raised a roar of approval from his local football team, of which he was a star player. Having pinned him to the ground, Barney found a use for his fists while Chad did his utmost to counter the blows with several of his own.
 

Within seconds, sailors and marines were pouring out of the pub, punching and kicking and generally joining in the fracas, glad of the excuse to express their jealous hatred of Yanks.

And then out of nowhere came the sound of running feet.

‘Chad! Barney! What the hell are you doing? Have you gone mad? What are you fighting for?’

Bette, tired of waiting in the dark loneliness of the little beach, had come looking for him. Now she desperately struggled to pull the pair apart. But when it looked as if she might get caught up in the blows herself, hands grabbed at her and dragged her out of the way.

‘Back off, Bette. This could be dangerous.’

It was Hugh, who seemed to have emerged out of nowhere. Iris Logan was there too, and Dan Roskelly who always loved a fight, plus several others: Ethel Penhale, Isobel Wynne and Hamil Charke among them. And of course the ubiquitous Nora Snell, standing there in her old coat and hat, arms folded, greedily absorbing every detail so she could spread the tale far and wide. The whole dratted neighbourhood seemed to have turned out to watch.

Ignoring them, Bette yelled at the two men. ’Stop it! Stop it this minute.’

They paid not the slightest attention. Whatever had upset them, they were clearly not going to be pacified by the screams of any helpless female or a set of gawping townsfolk.

‘Let them fight it out,’ Hugh said. ‘Damned hooligans.’

The battle raged on with admittedly more punches missing than actually connecting but violent enough for Bette to keep on begging them to stop, and others too were becoming concerned.

There came the screech of brakes and police whistles, and the thud of boots on cobbles. The Snowdrops had arrived. Seconds later the punch-up was brought to an abrupt end and any hopes Bette had nursed of introducing Chad to her family, were rudely dashed. The battling twosome would be spending the night in the glasshouse instead.

‘And serves you right,’ she shouted after them, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Men!’

‘Did you see that fight?’ Hugh demanded of Sara, when he got back to The Ship. ‘I saved your stupid sister from being permanently injured although why she’d put herself in danger by getting involved in the first place with those louts, I cannot imagine. I hope I’ve made my point though. Can you see now what troublemakers these Yanks are? Grown men fighting over one hair-brained girl. Ridiculous. Makes one wonder what idiots we’ve got fighting on our side.’

Sara had gone quite pale. ‘Is Bette all right? She wasn’t hurt?’

‘By a miracle, no she wasn’t.’

‘I thought Chad was supposed to be meeting Mam and Dad tonight?’

‘Clearly he felt the need for some Dutch courage first. Can’t say I blame him, with your mother.’

‘But how come you saw it all? What were you doing on the quay?’

‘Looking after your sister’s interests, obviously. I was the one who called in the MPs. Well, somebody had to,’ he said ,when he saw her shocked expression. ‘The situation was serious.’

‘I expect you’re right.’ Sara was reaching for her coat.

‘Where are you off to now? You can’t just run out on me, there’s work to be done.’

‘You don’t need me when you’ve got Iris to serve behind the bar. You won’t let me anywhere near.’

‘But there’s the cleaning to be done, we need more pickled onions, and we’re running out of pasties.’

‘They’ll have to wait. I need to see for myself that Bette is all right.’ She almost ran out of the door. Hugh charged after her.

‘Sara, come back here this minute, this minute I say.
Sara, are you listening to me
?’

Sara evidently wasn’t. She didn’t even stop to apologise for her disobedience. People in the street turned to see who Hugh Marrack was shouting at, and when they saw Sara hurrying away up Lostwithiel Street, smiled quietly to themselves.

‘Maybe the worm has turned at last,’ wondered Nora Snell, watching events from her little flat window overlooking the square.

Chapter Thirteen

‘Are you all right?’ Sara found her sister back at the salon, seated in one of the chairs beneath a hair dryer, sobbing her heart out.

‘They’ve arrested him. What will they do to him? Will they send him to jail, or transfer him to some other unit? Oh, lord, I couldn’t bear it if they did.’

Sara put her arms about Bette and rocked her gently. ‘Come on, love, pull yourself together. I’m sure it’s not the first time this sort of thing has happened. All men get drunk now and then.’

‘He wasn’t drunk, I swear it. He wouldn’t. He promised me. If he was, it would be that Barney who put him up to it. That man is so full of himself.’

‘I thought you quite liked Barney? Isn’t he the good looking one you said you might try out next time?’
 

‘He’s all right, I suppose, but I don’t feel the same way about him as I do about my Chad.’

‘
My
Chad is it now? Well, they apparently showed those cocky sailors a thing or two about American type football tackles.’ Sara was smiling, trying to persuade her sister to see the funny side, but Bette wasn’t in the mood.

‘Chad is special. He’s gentle and kind, and fun to be with. I really like him, Sara.’

‘I can see that. And he makes you happy?’

Bette’s eyes suddenly shone. ‘Oh, yes, he makes me very happy. I think I’m falling in love with him. Would that be very terrible?’

Sara hugged her tight. ‘Why should it be?’

‘Mam doesn’t like him, and this business won’t help. She’ll be furious. She’d taken such trouble, made a cake specially.’

Sighing, Sara pulled a face. ‘Then I’d better come home with you. You might be in need of someone to act as referee.’