Wait For the Dawn (17 page)

After the madame, the chairman introduced the act called
Two for Tea
, the star of which was a lithe, not-so-young man who, before Lydia’s eyes, assembled from items he took from a box a large doll, a rather sinister replica of a curvaceous blonde-haired young woman who, with her purple dress, red lips and black-lashed eyes, looked to be no better than she should be. He then proceeded to dance around with the doll and sing to her, and to Lydia’s gaze it was the most wonderful thing, for the way the man moved the doll around it was as if she were absolutely real. The way he was able to make her arms and legs move about was no less than amazing. The act earned the man much warm applause.

After this came the final act, Arthur Beaning and the Four Beans. This was a father and his four sons, their ages ranging from nine to fourteen. The act consisted of Arthur Beaning trying to tell the audience a joke – which of course he never managed to finish until the very end, for all the time he would be interrupted by his sons. It was very entertaining, with songs and dances and lots of comical dialogue. The audience roared their approval.

And at last the final curtain came down and the show was over.

Lydia could not believe that so much time had passed by.

‘So, what did you think?’ Guy leaned towards her as he spoke. Around them the other spectators were moving out into the aisles and making their way to the stairs. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

‘Oh, it was wonderful!’ Lydia breathed. ‘I didn’t want it to end.’

It was after ten-fifteen when they came out on to the pavement, and Guy asked her if she would care to go for a drink before she returned to her lodgings, but she said she thought she had better start to make her way back. ‘Shall I call a cab?’ he said, and she replied no, she would prefer to walk.

So they set out together, walking a yard apart, through the city streets, heading for Little Marsh Street and number 15.

When they reached it, Lydia took her latchkey from her bag and turned to Guy. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I shall wish you goodnight – and thank you again, for everything.’

‘It was a pleasure.’

‘Thank you. It was a most wonderful evening.’

‘There can be more,’ he said. ‘If you want.’ A moment, and then, ‘I’d like there to be more.’

She hesitated and then said, ‘Yes.’ It was a very small sound, just a little word, but inside her breast she could feel the beating of her heart.

‘I’ve got appointments tomorrow,’ he said, ‘but perhaps on Friday you’d like to come out. We can go somewhere for dinner, if you’d care to.’

‘Well – yes,’ she said, ‘that would be very nice.’

He took her right hand then, the hand holding the key, and impulsively put it to his mouth and kissed the back of
it. As he released her he said, ‘I’ll call for you on Friday, at seven, if that’s all right?’

‘Yes. I’ll be ready.’

After bolting the door behind her, Lydia climbed the stairs. Her steps seemed to fall on the treads without weight. Her whole being felt light.

Later, she lay in her bed looking up towards the darkened ceiling, just visible in the faint light that crept in from the moon. She would not be seeing Guy until Friday. How could she survive till then? She thought back over the evening, seeing herself once again in the theatre, with Guy sitting at her side. She had been so conscious of his nearness, of hearing his every little laugh and chuckle at the goings-on before them.

She was still thinking of him as she fell asleep.

On returning from the store the following day she was surprised to find two letters waiting for her. One was from her father, and the other was from Ryllis. In her father’s short letter he wrote that he would expect her on Saturday, and added that he was coming down with a slight cold. Ryllis’s letter was a little longer. She wrote that she had received Lydia’s letter, and of how nice it had been to see her on the Sunday. She went on to say that it had been a great pleasure meeting Mr Anderson, and was pleased to hear that Lydia had taken to Thomas. ‘Isn’t he splendid?’ she said, and then added, ‘I’m afraid he was a little out of sorts when you met him – due to a troublesome tooth.’

After supper that evening, Lydia did little other than sort out items of laundry and take them to a washerwoman who lived nearby. She could pick up the items, washed and ironed, on Saturday, she was told. Afterwards, she walked on to the Victoria Gardens and strolled on the pathways
between the herbaceous borders. All the time she thought of Guy as he had been walking at her side.

At breakfast the next morning she told Mrs Obdermann that she would be going out for supper, and would not need any provided in the house. The landlady asked if she planned to be back late, indicating with her tone that she didn’t want to make a habit of leaving her lodgers to bolt the door. No, Lydia told her, she expected to be back before half past ten.

‘I don’t want you to think I’m overly fussy, Miss Halley,’ Mrs Obdermann said, ‘but we have to have rules, and I find it hard to sleep when I know the house isn’t locked up.’

‘Of course. I understand perfectly.’

There came a knock at the door at five minutes to seven that evening. Mrs Obdermann, knowing that it was almost certainly Lydia’s caller, did not answer it herself, but started up the stairs to fetch Lydia. Lydia, however, had heard the rapping, and was already out on the landing as Mrs Obdermann reached it.

‘Your caller, I think, Miss Halley,’ the landlady said, and Lydia thanked her. She moved past her on the landing and went down into the hall and opened the door.

Standing on the step in the small porch, Guy tipped his hat and said, smiling, ‘Good evening. Am I too early?’

Lydia returned his smile. ‘No, not at all. I’m quite ready.’ She stepped back into the hall to check herself before the mirror, touching at her hat and smoothing down her jacket. Then, as satisfied as events allowed, she moved back to the foot of the stairs, where she called up to the landlady, who still hovered on the landing, ‘I’ll see you later this evening, Mrs Obdermann.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ the older woman called back down. ‘I hope you enjoy yourself.’

Lydia crossed back to the front door, closing it behind her, and Guy turned and led the way up to the front gate, beyond which the familiar horse and carriage waited. He helped Lydia up and then climbed beside her and took up the reins. As the carriage started off, Guy said: ‘I thought we’d drive a little into the country and find a place to eat. Get away from the town for a while. I thought it was safe to bring the trap again; it looks promising to stay fine.’

The place they eventually decided on was the Crown and Hare, an inn about a mile out of the city. Guy said he had eaten there on an earlier occasion, when he was once home on leave from his regiment.

Leaving the horse and carriage in the care of a stable boy, Guy led the way into the inn. The interior was quite crowded, and the landlord, after greeting them, asked if they would like to sit outside. ‘It’s such a beautiful evenin’, sir,’ he said, ‘and you’ll be away from much of the noise.’

Guy and Lydia agreed, and the landlord showed them through the room and out of a door to a courtyard where three tables were placed. Two were occupied by people who sat eating and drinking, while a third, set in a small alcove, was vacant. Led to the empty table, they sat down on tall-backed benches facing one another. Would they, the landlord asked, like something to drink while he fetched the bill of fare? After briefly consulting Lydia, Guy asked for some wine, and the man went away, saying it would be brought to them.

‘He’s found us a nice spot, don’t you think?’ Guy said, looking around.

‘Oh, yes, indeed.’

Beyond the flagged area on which the table stood lay a lawn with herbaceous plots. Just a few feet from where they sat grew roses and nasturtiums and pansies, and their scent rose up in the evening air and hung there, sweet and fragrant. A small dog came to them, stopping
beside Lydia, and she patted him a couple of times before he moved on in search of attention elsewhere. Lydia took off her gloves and put them in her bag on the bench. She was filled with the same sense of excitement she had known on going to the theatre. It was another new experience. In just a few days, it seemed, her whole life was taking on a different hue.

After a little while a young maid came to them with a white cloth which she spread over the table. That done she set down cutlery, and a jug of wine which she poured into glasses. When she had gone, Guy lifted his glass. ‘Here’s to you – Lydia.’ She held up her own glass and he touched it with his. Then he drank a little of the wine and smiled at her over the glass’s rim. ‘Taste your wine,’ he said, and watched her as she sipped at it.

‘It tastes delicious,’ she said. ‘It tastes of fruit and summer.’ She sipped again. She was unaccustomed to wine. Only on three occasions had she ever tasted it before, and that was when visiting Evie’s house at Christmas time. Three stolen occasions, and not one of them known to her father – like this glass in her hand, like this whole evening.

The landlord appeared beside the table, holding a slate from which he read off the bill of fare. They chose smoked fish, followed by roast beef and vegetables. The man went away again and they were left there in their little silence, touched only by the voices from the other tables and the laughter and murmuring from inside the inn. After a while, Lydia could hear music. ‘Can you hear?’ she said. ‘Someone’s playing a violin.’ The melody was some vaguely familiar tune whose title at that moment escaped her. It didn’t matter; she loved the sound. Guy, appearing content, gave a little sigh of pleasure and from his jacket pocket took a cigarette case and a box of matches. Lighting a cigarette he blew the smoke out into the soft summer air, and Lydia watched it curl and drift away.

When their food was served they ate slowly, enjoying the fine tastes and textures. The landlord came to them again when the beef was finished and from his offerings they ordered fresh strawberries and cream, and Lydia thought again of the fruit that had spilled over the flags that day, and of how Guy had helped her to gather them up. Now, as they ate, the sound of the violin drew closer, and then there the man was, suddenly at their side, the sweet sounds of the instrument floating out. He began to play
Only Come!
When he had finished playing a chorus a man at the next table took up the song and sang along to the violin’s accompaniment. He was thickset and in his forties, with an unromantic appearance, but his voice was the warmest baritone and was sweetly in tune with the strings of the violin.

Come, when dawn first climbs the hills
To light the sky;
Come when the shadows on the rills
Show day must die;
Come, when the last faint evening chime
Is hushed and dumb; hushed and dumb;
Come in spring or wintertime;
But only come. Only come
.

The song ended and the singer inclined his head to the violinist and sat down to a little burst of happy applause. As the violinist moved away to another table Lydia said to Guy, ‘That was beautiful. The playing and the singing.’

Guy smiled. ‘Perhaps just a fraction sentimental?’

‘I don’t care,’ she said. ‘I love it.’

The strawberries were eaten, Lydia drank a little more of the wine, and then coffee was served. Taking a sip from the thick cup, she tasted the coffee – a little strong – and thought, I shall never sleep after this.

‘What are you thinking?’ Guy said.

‘I was just thinking,’ she replied, ‘that I mustn’t forget the time. I mustn’t be late. I told Mrs Obdermann I’d be back by half past ten.’

‘What would happen if you’re late?’

‘Well, nothing drastic, I suppose. I’ve got my latchkey, so I can get in all right. She won’t have bolted the door against me, but I’ve no doubt she’ll be listening for my return. I have to bolt the door when I get in.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll get you back.’ He took a drink from his coffee cup and then gave a deep, heartfelt-sounding sigh of pleasure. ‘Oh, Lydia, I’m so glad you decided to come to Redbury that day – and that you and your sister missed one another.’

Unable to meet his steady gaze, Lydia lowered her glance and took refuge in taking up her wineglass and gazing down into it. She held it with both hands, and looked down into the ruby glow. It was like gazing into the heart of some precious gem. All the time she could feel Guy’s eyes upon her and and then she felt her fingers enclosed as he reached across the table and wrapped his hand around hers. She almost flinched. She did not move her hands however, but remained as she was, and closed her eyes, conscious of the very sound of her breathing and the touch of his strong fingers on her own.

‘Oh, Lydia,’ she heard him whisper across the table, but she did not open her eyes, and still did not move her hands.

Then she felt his fingers gently remove the fingers of her right hand from around the glass, and draw her hand towards him across the table. She wanted to open her eyes and see what was happening, but she could not. She sat there and allowed her hand to be carried to him, and, as she discovered a moment later, it was carried to his mouth, for she felt a softness upon her fingers and realised that it was the softness of his lips.

She opened her eyes then and looked across the table at him. He sat leaning forward slightly, his eyes steady upon her own, his right hand holding her own right hand to his mouth. Her own mouth formed a little O, but still she did not withdraw her hand, and she watched as, still with his eyes upon her, he moved it and kissed her fingers again, pressing his lips upon her fingertips, her knuckles. She could feel her hand trembling under his touch, and was sure that he must be aware of it too. There was nothing she could do to prevent it, however, her trembling; and it was nothing to the fluttering that was going on about her heart.

‘Oh, yes,’ he said, raising his head, ‘I’m so glad you came to Redbury that day.’

Now, after another moment, she moved to withdraw her hand, and felt him reluctantly release her. She put down her wineglass and looked vaguely around her at the summer evening scene. She heard herself say, ‘I shall have to go,’ and gave a little sigh.