Opal Plumstead (43 page)

‘There now, open your eyes,’ he said.

When I did, the beach and sky and sea seemed picturebook bright for one moment, and Morgan himself brighter than anything else, his dear face right before me.

He made me put on his straw boater to keep the sun off. There were daisies growing in the tufts of grass near the steps. He picked a handful. I thought he was going to present me with a little bouquet, but he selected individual daisies instead and carefully inserted them at each twist of my plait.

‘There, now you look like a fairy-tale princess,’ he said.

‘Hardly,’ I said, but I
felt
like a princess when I was with him. I was as dazzled as the Lady of Shalott.

I started murmuring the first verse, and Morgan joined in. We recited all our favourite poems, and then passages from Shakespeare. It had been so long since I’d read any poetry, but verse after verse came flooding back until I felt I might permanently talk in rhyming couplets.

Then Morgan looked at his watch. It was a quarter past five already! The motor coach left at six.

‘Oh my Lord, we’ll have to run for it. This is the day of championship sprints,’ said Morgan, leaping to his feet and pulling me up with him. We hastily tugged our stockings and shoes back on, and made for the steps. It was a struggle going up them at top speed. I had to throw myself down on the cliff top and rest for a few seconds, my heart banging in my chest.

Then we had to set off again. It wasn’t too bad running through the shady wood, but it was hard work when we emerged into the full glare of the sun. We decided to run down the windy cliff path instead of queuing for the lift. We got a little lost and had to ask people to point us the way to the coach station. They argued about the best route to take, which took up more time, but eventually we were on our way again. As six o’clock chimed, we turned the corner and saw a whole line of different-coloured coaches.

‘Oh Lord, which one?’ I gasped.

‘It’ll be green and cream. Don’t worry, we’ll find it,’ Morgan said, running down the line. ‘Here it is! Come on, Opal.’ He held out his hand and helped me up the steps.

‘Thank goodness!’ I was so out of breath I could barely speak.

The coach driver laughed at us. ‘Bit tight for timing, eh? Sit down and get your breath back, young lady.’

We collapsed on the seat while the whole coach smiled at us. The children were all pink in the face, their special-outing white clothes grubby now, or sodden from the sea. They were sucking great sticks of seaside rock or nibbling on disgusting cockles and whelks. The mothers and fathers were all eating out of greasy brown bags of fried food.

‘Oh dear, we’re the only ones without supper,’ said Morgan.

‘I’m still full of lunch,’ I said, hand on my chest. ‘My heart’s thumping!’

‘I don’t know why we were in such a rush to catch the coach,’ said Morgan. ‘It would have been much more fun to miss it. We could have stayed overnight at one of those little hotels on the seafront.’ He looked in his wallet. ‘No, actually, we couldn’t!’

‘We could have walked the streets, watching the sun set. Then we could have found a fisherman’s hut and curled up inside for the night,’ I suggested.

‘You could curl up inside. I’d have to sleep outside to protect your reputation.’

‘Oh, bother my reputation. I wouldn’t want you getting cold. Or possibly pecked to death by seagulls! You’ll have to creep in beside me.’

‘Then that will be very romantic, though I think there’ll be a very strong smell of fish!’

‘And if Britain goes to war, we’ll never go back home. We’ll stay in our fisherman’s hut. I’ll scrub it until it doesn’t smell fishy any more, then I’ll paint fairies all over the wall. No, hang on – mermaids like the one on your shaving mug.’

‘Will you grow blue hair and a blue tail too?’

‘Of course. I’ll swim all night by the light of the moon. You’ll swim too, but you won’t be able to keep up with me because you’re a mere human. Then I’ll take pity on you and wait, flipping my beautiful blue tail until you catch up.’

‘You’d better make yourself useful and catch us lots of fish while you’re at it – or will that be my job? I could get my own fishing boat and cast my nets every night, while you’re doing your moonlight swimming. Yes, I’d sooner be the one providing for you.’

‘I shall provide for us too. During the day I’ll decorate the pavement along the seafront with my coloured chalks. I’ll draw mermaids and fishermen, and a converted fisherman’s hut painted in soft sea blue and hung with multi-coloured lanterns. I’ll chalk seagulls and shells and little children paddling, and small ships out at sea. I’ll put your straw boater on the pavement beside me so that passing folk will throw pennies into it. When I’ve collected enough, I’ll buy bread and potatoes to go with the fish you have caught. We won’t mind eating this every day, but I shall work especially hard on Saturdays so that we can have our favourite meal on Sunday. I’ll find a honeydew melon and roast a chicken, and whip up raspberries and sugar and cream to make meringues.’

We carried on spinning our elaborate fantasy until we got to the halfway house, where the coach driver took a break and we could stretch our legs and buy refreshments.

Morgan had used up all his money, so I spent the last of mine on two bottles of ginger beer and a huge hot potato swimming in butter and sprinkled with salt. Morgan held it and we took alternate bites.

When we resumed our journey there was a singsong. Folk sang
The Boy I Love Is Up in the Gallery
,
It’s a Long Way to Tipperary
,
My Old Man Said Follow the Van
, and others I can’t remember. Morgan and I didn’t know the words properly as we’d never been to a music hall, but the tunes were easy enough to pick up and we la-la-la’d in time. The children joined in too, but they soon fell asleep. After a while their parents started nodding off too.

Morgan and I were too tired to continue our imaginary games. He put his arm round me and I nestled close, my head on his shoulder. We slept for the rest of the way back to town.

We didn’t have enough money left for a taxi. I begged Morgan to set out on his long journey to Fairy Glen straight away, but he insisted on walking me all the way home first. It was frighteningly late. I hoped Mother would have long ago gone to bed, but through a crack in the curtains I saw that the lamp was still lit.

‘Oh dear,’ I said.

‘Shall I come in with you?’ said Morgan.

‘No, that might upset her more. You’d better go straight home now. I do hope
your
mother isn’t waiting up.’

‘I’m an adult now. I can stay out all night if I wish,’ said Morgan, but he sounded a little uneasy.

‘Thank you for the most wonderful day I’ve ever had,’ I said. I fingered my opal necklace. ‘I meant what I said. I shall never ever take it off.’

‘Well, I shall walk round with my mermaid shaving mug in my hand for ever too. It had better be my left, so I can still write and shake folks’ hands with my right.’

‘Go home, you silly man.’

‘We must say goodbye properly first.’ He pulled me closer and gave me another kiss. It lasted longer than the one in the green wood. I’d have happily stood there by the gate kissing him all night long, if it weren’t for that ominous light indoors. At last we broke away from our embrace and I went in to face Mother.

She was sitting in Father’s chair, as if she now had the authority of both parents. I think she had nodded off where she sat, as her head jerked when I came into the room. She looked at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, her face grim.

‘How dare you come home so late, Opal! What will people think?’

‘Most folk will be fast asleep in their beds. And those who are out and about to see me won’t think anything of it because they have stayed out too, so there’s no need to fuss. Let’s go to bed now,’ I said.

I couldn’t bear to let a row with Mother tarnish my wondrous golden day.

I ran upstairs, but Mother shouted and came after me into my bedroom.

‘How dare you ignore me! Isn’t it enough that your father and sister have both disgraced themselves? Why do you have to act like a little hussy too? You might have set your cap at that Morgan Roberts, but he’s just using you – can’t you see? He’ll never respect you if you stay out half the night with him.’

‘Mother, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I couldn’t get home any sooner. I’ve been on a motor coach trip to Hastings. We didn’t get back into town until half past eleven.’

‘Don’t tell me such wicked lies. A boy like Morgan Roberts would never go on a coach trip! Do you think I’m stupid?’

‘Yes I do, because I’m telling you the honest truth. Now please go to bed, Mother. I’m very tired and I’m sure you are too.’

Mother started sobbing in rage and frustration. It was all I could do not to seize hold of her and push her out of the door. I made myself hold her and pat her back and mop her tears. I tried to reassure her, and eventually she crept away. I could take off my clothes and lie down in peace. I wore my opal necklace underneath my nightdress and fell asleep holding it tight in my hand.

I COULDN’T WAKE
up the next morning. I was dimly aware of Mother shouting at me, but I buried my head under the pillow. I was dreaming of being in Hastings and wanted to stay there.

‘Opal! What are you thinking of? It’s twenty to eight!’ Mother said, pulling the sheets off me.

I had to stagger up, wash my face, and struggle into my clothes. There was no time for breakfast. I grabbed a heel of bread with dripping and, once I was out of the house, started running. I knew I was going to be late for work even if I flew like the wind, so when I got a stitch in my side I started walking. By the time the factory was in sight I had slowed right down. I very much hoped Mrs Roberts wouldn’t be at Fairy Glen today.

I had to slink in past Mr Beeston’s office.

‘Miss Opal Plumstead, a good fifteen minutes late!’ he said.

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Beeston,’ I said humbly.

‘So I should think. I’m afraid I shall have to write your name in my late book. If Mrs Roberts sees fit to dock you an hour’s wages, I won’t be able to stop her.’

‘I’m not an hour late!’

‘I don’t make the rules, my dear. I simply implement them. Anyone arriving more than five minutes late forfeits an hour’s wages. Anyone up to and including me.’

‘Then these are ridiculously unfair rules,’ I said, and I marched past him.

All the girls were hard at work in the design room.

‘Ah, so you’re deigning to grace us with your presence, are you?’ said Alice. ‘You’re going to be for it, you know, even though you’re such a favourite. Mrs Roberts has already had her head round the door looking for you.’

This totally unnerved me, though I tried to appear indifferent. I sat down and reached for a box lid, though I’d never in all my life felt less like inventing fairies. It was a struggle to keep my hand steady enough to control my paintbrush at first, but I gradually relaxed a little, and found myself painting a mermaid frolicking in the sea with a merry trio of green and blue fairies swooping down to speak to her.

‘Opal Plumstead!’ It was Mrs Roberts, her voice very stern. ‘Please come to my office.’

Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Told you,’ she whispered.

I took a deep breath, put down my brush and walked out of the room in a dignified manner, though my knees were shaking. Mrs Roberts didn’t turn to acknowledge me. I followed her along the corridor into her room. She sat at the desk. I stood before her. She waited a good thirty seconds, staring at me coldly.

‘I’m not surprised you were late this morning. You must have been very late home yesterday evening.’

‘Yes, Mrs Roberts. Morgan and I—’

‘I know, I know,’ she interrupted. She’d winced when I said the word
Morgan
, as if she couldn’t even bear me to say her son’s name. ‘I also know that you’ve been secretly writing to him for months. I found an entire cache of your letters hidden in Morgan’s trunk.’

‘You’ve been reading my private letters?’ I said.

‘Kindly don’t use that tone to me. I have
not
read your childish outpourings. It was enough to simply see your signature at the end. How dare you bombard him with these letters?’

‘He wrote just as many to me. He wrote
first
,’ I said.

‘My son is very kind and sympathetic. I’m sure he initially thought of you as a child, as I did myself. I had no idea you could be so scheming and underhand.’

‘I am
not
scheming or underhand. I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t know why you’re being so horrible to me.’ I was fighting hard not to burst into tears.

‘I
thought
you’d set your cap at my son at Easter, though it was hard to believe your temerity. I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. I never dreamed you were deceiving me all this time – even plotting to meet up with him the minute he returned from Scotland. Then you kept him out all day and half the night until I was nearly demented with worry.’

‘We went on a coach trip to the seaside. We couldn’t help getting back late.’

‘A motor-coach trip! Of all the vulgar things to do on a bank holiday! I can scarcely believe my son went along with this.’