Sing as We Go (11 page)

‘But I think I’m intruding on her peace and quiet. I – I ought to look for a place of my own as soon as I can afford it.’

Amy chuckled. ‘Well, we could do just what we liked then, when I come to stay. Stay out all night, if we wanted to. We wouldn’t have to trot home like obedient children as soon as the pictures finished. I bet she’s watching the clock this very minute and calculating just how long it takes for us to walk home from town. Ooh, wouldn’t I love to be an hour late home. Just once.’

Kathy laughed. ‘But we won’t be, will we?’

Amy gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘No, we won’t. Because she’d tell my dad and he wouldn’t let me come any more.’ There was a slight pause before, with a note of surprise in her tone, Amy added, ‘But to be truthful, I wouldn’t want to worry the old dear.’

Kathy said nothing. There was nothing she could say, but a fresh wave of guilt swept through her at the deception she was practising.

As the three of them boarded the bus on the Easter Monday morning, even Jemima seemed excited. The day was warm and sunny and she wore a flowery dress, broad-brimmed white hat and carried a parasol. It took over two hours to reach the seaside resort of Saltershaven on the east coast and everyone was thankful to climb down.

‘Come along, let’s complete your education,’ Amy teased, linking her arm through Kathy’s. ‘It’s high time a girl of your age saw the sea.’

From the clock tower set near the sea front, they walked until they could see the sea and the beach.

Kathy gasped. ‘Oh my! Isn’t it big! I had no idea.’ She stood and gazed at the expanse of water before her, fascinated by the gentle waves rolling languidly on to the shore. Already bare-footed children were playing on the warm sand, building sandcastles and digging a moat around them, then running to the sea’s edge to fill buckets to pour into it.

‘I should have brought my bucket and spade.’ Kathy laughed. ‘I’ve a whole childhood to catch up on.’ There was a distinct note of sadness in her tone. She felt a sense of loss for all the fun she’d missed. A time she would never be able to recapture, at least not until she’d children of her own. Her heart gave a little leap as she thought about Tony. Perhaps one day . . .

‘Come along, girls,’ Jemima interrupted her. ‘I don’t know about you, but I need a cup of tea. I think there’s a little café at the pier entrance.’

They walked along the sea front until they came to the pier. ‘Do let’s go on it, Aunt Jemima. Look – it goes right out into the sea. Let’s go and stand right at the end of it.’

‘When we’ve had a cup of tea,’ Jemima said firmly, but there was a smile on her face.

The day was a huge success. The girls had a donkey ride, giggling as they bounced up and down and ignoring the jibes of the group of children who stood watching the grown-ups acting like children. They weren’t to know that, for one of the girls, it was her first taste of seaside fun. They rode on the big dipper, squealing with terrified delight and clutching each other. Aunt Jemima watched from the ground, smiling gently and congratulating herself on having suggested the day trip. As the time approached for them to board the bus again, they walked back to the pick-up point along the sea front eating ice cream and admiring the well-kept gardens and the smooth bowling greens on the foreshore.

All three were tired, but contented. Though she loved Amy dearly and was becoming very fond of Jemima, Kathy’s only disappointment was that Tony had not been there to share the day.

If Kathy had placed her bet, she would have won.

‘My dad stopped me coming,’ Stella greeted her mournfully on the Tuesday morning. ‘At the very last minute. He actually rang up Mr Kendall on Saturday afternoon and told him – told him, mind you – to send me straight home after work. And I was so looking forward to it. I even came to work in my Sunday best coat and all. I cried all night, but that man’s got a heart of stone. Even my mam couldn’t persuade him. Mind you, I don’t think she tried very hard. She’s almost as bad as him.’

Kathy bit back the remark, I thought as much. Instead, she adopted a sympathetic expression. ‘I’m so sorry. We wondered where you’d got to. We waited outside for you for about half an hour.’

‘Was the picture good?’ Stella asked eagerly. ‘Oh, I do wish I’d been strong enough to defy him, but – ’ she sighed heavily – ‘until I can get a place of my own in the city I daren’t cross him.’

‘Miss Matthews . . . Miss Burton . . .’ They both jumped as they heard Muriel’s sharp tone. ‘Were you thinking of doing any work today?’

‘Of course, Miss Curtis. Sorry, Miss Curtis,’ Stella said meekly, and hurried away to greet a customer who had just entered the department. Kathy said nothing but tilted the hat she was arranging on a display to a slightly jauntier angle. As she did so, she glanced thoughtfully after Stella. I wonder . . .

Kathy thought about her idea for several days. Could she and Stella find a flat somewhere near the city centre to share? But as the days passed, the idea became less appealing. Although she liked the girl well enough, she doubted she could live with her. Stella was a moody girl. One moment she was friendly, laughing and chattering and sharing confidences. The next she’d taken offence at some simple remark or action and had retreated into sulky silence. While this might be because of her home life under the harsh regime of her strict father, Kathy felt she daren’t take the risk. She very much doubted that Stella, once she knew who ‘lover boy’ really was, would be able to keep it secret. And, if they lived together, Stella was bound to find out.

Besides, Kathy told herself, things were settling down into a very nice routine in the little terraced house. Jemima had made no hints that she wanted her lodger to move out and Kathy’s outings with Tony were covered by Stella’s willingness to enter into the intrigue and by Kathy’s membership of the choral society.

Throughout the summer, Kathy lived in a little world of her own. While Jemima read the newspapers avidly and listened more and more to the news on her little battery-operated wireless, Kathy was blithely ignorant of the gloom that was pervading the country. Her only thoughts were of the next meeting with Tony, whenever that might be. She ignored the times he arranged an outing and then cancelled it at the last minute, always giving the same excuse. ‘My mother’s not well . . .’

The first time they planned to go to the pictures on a Thursday evening, Kathy waited for over an hour outside the cinema, earning herself one or two very strange looks from passers-by. She blushed to realize what they must be thinking. Deciding at last that Tony was not coming, Kathy walked towards home, tears of disappointment stinging her throat. Was he tiring of her? Was this his way of ending it?

As she neared the end of the street where she lived, Kathy realized that it was far too early to go home yet. Aunt Jemima believed her to be at the choral society meeting, so that’s exactly where she’d go. Instead of turning into the street, Kathy walked on to the school just beyond the Arboretum. She let herself into the main door and tiptoed into the hall, taking her place at the end of the second row, near the other two sopranos. Mrs Sims smiled at her and shared her songbook. After a few moments, miraculously Kathy had forgotten all about Tony as her voice soared to the rafters and the members of the choir smiled at each other, delighted that their little songbird had come after all.

‘I’m so sorry I was late,’ Kathy apologized swiftly to Ron Spencer as they broke for tea and biscuits halfway through their allotted three-hour meeting.

‘We missed you, my dear,’ was all the kindly man said. But he asked no probing questions. It wasn’t in his nature and for that, Kathy was grateful. But she mentally crossed her fingers, hoping that neither Ron nor his wife Mabel would mention to Jemima that Kathy had arrived late that evening.

The following morning, Tony whispered a hurried apology as he passed through the millinery department, adding, ‘Saturday? Are you all right for Saturday?’

Kathy’s heart leapt. He still wanted her. ‘Of course,’ she breathed, her anguish of the previous night swept away.

‘Meet me at the restaurant we went to that first evening. Remember?’

She nodded, glancing around to make sure that neither Miss Curtis nor Stella was watching.

‘Till Saturday, darling,’ he murmured as he moved away. ‘Eight thirty.’

For the rest of the day, Kathy hummed happily to herself.

‘You’re in a good mood,’ Stella muttered. ‘Got a date with lover boy, have we?’

‘Might have,’ Kathy said airily.

The younger girl glared at her balefully. ‘I really think you might let me in on the big secret. Specially as I’m covering for you. Don’t you trust me?’

‘Of course I do,’ Kathy said a little too swiftly and Stella eyed her suspiciously. ‘Look, you’ve been a brick – a real pal – and . . . and I will tell you. Very soon. Just – just give me a few more weeks. Please, Stella.’

‘All right,’ the girl agreed reluctantly. ‘But I don’t know what all the mystery is about. Are you ashamed of him, or something?’

‘No, no, of course I’m not,’ Kathy declared hotly. ‘It’s just – just that . . . well, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure of him. I mean – if he really likes me. If – if he’s serious.’

‘Oh.’ Stella was thoughtful for a moment. In her ignorance, she was struggling to understand how it must feel to fall in love. The only experience she had was from the books she’d read or the films she’d seen on the very rare occasions she’d been allowed to go to the cinema. ‘You mean, you sort of feel . . . that if you tell anyone it might – well – it might ruin it.’

‘Something like that,’ Kathy agreed carefully. More lies, she thought sadly. She’d heard it said that if you told one lie you ended up telling a lot more to cover the first one. She was finding out that the saying was true.

Stella was nodding now and smiling, pleased with her philosophy. ‘I do understand. But you can tell me, you know. I wouldn’t say a word. Not to anyone.’

Kathy doubted it, but she smiled in return, promising, ‘You’ll be the first to know.’

Placated, Stella was in a better mood for the rest of the day.

Kathy was at the restaurant on the Saturday evening by eight fifteen, hovering uncertainly on the pavement outside. Tony was never early, and rather than run the gauntlet of disapproving glances, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door of the restaurant. Menu in hand, the head waiter approached her. He smiled obsequiously and gave a little bow. ‘Good evening, madam? Have you booked?’

‘I – er – no. I mean, I’m not sure. I – I’m meeting someone.’

‘I see, madam.’ He raised his eyebrows in a question. ‘Perhaps your dinner partner has placed a reservation with us?’

‘Er – yes. Perhaps he has. It’s – it’s Mr Kendall.’

‘Ah yes, madam. Of course. I should have remembered you. I do apologize.’ He bowed again and ushered her towards a secluded table at the far side of the restaurant. He held out the chair for her to be seated. As she took her place, Kathy had the feeling that he’d remembered her very well, but that he was far too discreet to mention it. Perhaps he feared that Mr Kendall might well, by now, have transferred his affections elsewhere and that, for a man in his position, the head waiter would have been committing an unforgivable
faux pas
.

‘Would madam care to order a drink?’ he asked, shaking out the white napkin and laying it across her lap.

‘No – no, thank you. I’ll wait.’

‘Very good, madam.’ He bowed again and moved away, his sharp eyes raking the room, checking that everything in his domain was in order.

Holding her breath, Kathy now risked a glance around. She was so afraid there might be someone there who knew her. And even worse, the woman who’d been there before and had said such awful things about Tony. Slowly, Kathy let out her breath. There was no one she recognized, but then, that didn’t mean that there was no one there who knew her. Customers had an unfortunate habit of recognizing shop staff, whereas Kathy found it difficult to remember each and every woman who came in to the millinery department.

The minutes ticked by. Eight thirty came and went and the hand on the clock on the wall crept towards nine o’clock.

‘Are you sure I can’t get you something, madam?’ The head waiter was at her elbow once more.

‘No, really, I . . .’ She glanced up and breathed a sigh of relief to see Tony threading his way between the tables towards her.

‘Darling, I’m so sorry . . .’ He slid into the seat opposite her and took the menu the head waiter was holding out to him. ‘Thank you, Gregson. Have you ordered, darling?’

‘No. I was waiting for you.’

Swiftly, without deferring to her, Tony ordered for them both, but Kathy was quite happy for him to do so. She was just so thankful that he was here.

Eleven

They’d almost finished their meal and had been chatting amiably before the telephone call that Kathy had been half expecting all evening came. Gregson approached their table with an apologetic look on his face.

‘There’s a telephone call for you, sir.’

For a brief moment, Tony looked genuinely angry. Then he sighed, shrugged his shoulders and rose. ‘I won’t be a moment, darling.’

As he hurried away, Gregson leaned forward and refilled Kathy’s glass.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured as he moved away, wondering for the second time if there’d been a prearranged signal between them.

Kathy kept her eyes downcast and twirled the slender-stemmed wineglass between nervous fingers. She felt as if everyone in the restaurant knew what was going on but her. It was a foolish notion, of course, but it was how she felt.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said as soon as he sat down again. ‘It’s mother. She’s alone in the house and she’s frightened.’

‘Frightened?’ Kathy snapped, her patience beginning to wear thin. ‘What of?’

‘Of being alone.’

‘I see,’ she said shortly. ‘Then you’d better go.’

‘No, no. We’ll finish first. She’ll be all right for a little while. I’ve tried to reassure her and promised I won’t be late.’

They finished the pudding in complete silence and when their coffee had been served, Tony reached across the table and took her hand. ‘Darling, you’re so understanding about all this. No one else has ever – I mean – no one else would be so good. My mother is a sick woman and it’s very hard for her and for my father too. I – I feel I have to help as much as I can.’