The Girls from Greenway

by Elizabeth Woodcraft

  She went out onto the landing where Doreen was leaning against the banister, jingling her car keys. ‘What’s this?’ Doreen said, half laughing. She looked at Angie’s face. She blinked. ‘Is this what I think it is? Why is it in a dry-cleaning bag?’

  Angie handed it to her. Doreen put her hand under the cellophane. She looked at Angie again. She drew the sweater out of the bag. ‘Oh, Angie, Angie.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to tell you, but you’re being so nice. I’m sorry.’ She began to cry. ‘It was all my fault. I gave it to Roger to wear because he was so cold and wet, and then it got oil on.’ She sobbed.

  ‘Oh Angie. Come here. It’s just a jumper.’ Doreen put her arm round Angie. She took a deep breath. ‘Just a . . . jumper. How stupid we both are.’

  ‘Why?’ Angie’s voice was muffled. ‘What have you done? You can’t have done anything as stupid as me.’

  ‘Oh nothing. Everything. Come on, let’s go for that drink and you can tell me all about these jobs you’re being offered.’

  ‘Reen! You’re crying. I really am sorry.’

  ‘I know you are, lovely. Don’t worry.’

  CHAPTER 18

  THE NEXT DAY, IN HER LUNCH break, Doreen slid along New Street, past the bank, past the post office and the police station. How could this have happened? How could she have let it happen? Why hadn’t she known that Angie was falling in love with Gene? Why had she, Doreen, let him kiss her and make love to her? Just when everything should have been going so well, all the money they had now, all the lovely things that were within their reach. Gene was going to break Angie’s heart. And she would be responsible. She would speak to him, she would tell him that it wasn’t on. But her own heart might break a little too. She cared for him. It was true. He wasn’t just a one-night stand for her. She liked him, she liked talking to him, she liked his style, the way he was in the world, confident, loud, generous.

  She pushed open the door of the boutique so hard the bell rattled for what felt like a very long time. The shop was empty except for Gene who was standing behind the counter, pinning price tags onto the slacks in a pile in front of him. She pressed her back against the door and stared at him.

  He looked at her with a surprised expression. ‘Hello! Fancy seeing you here.’

  ‘What are you doing messing about with my sister?’

  ‘Your sister? Can you be more specific!’

  ‘Oh my god. How many women have you got on the go?’

  ‘Calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘My sister. Giving her bracelets! Raising her hopes.’

  Gene’s eyes widened and the colour drained from his face. ‘Is Angie your sister? How was I to know she was your sister?’

  ‘We have the same surname!’

  ‘Smith? Is your surname Smith? Well, I’m not sure I would have guessed even if I’d known.’

  ‘Oh Gene. How could you do it? How could you be going out with her and sleeping with me? Why didn’t you mention it on Monday?’

  ‘Because I didn’t know she was your sister. And it wasn’t really the moment.’ Gene grinned.

  ‘I thought you were free!’

  ‘I was free for you.’

  ‘But hasn’t she ever mentioned me? Little minx.’

  ‘Well, she said she had a sister Reen, which I assumed was short for Irene. Your name’s Doreen, unless I’m very much mistaken.’ He moved away from the counter.

  ‘For God’s sake! I think she’s falling in love with you!’

  ‘Is she?’ He stopped. ‘Well, love’s a wonderful thing.’

  ‘Not when the other person’s married and you’re sleeping with her sister!’

  ‘She knows what she’s doing. We’ve talked about it. We talked about Monday.’

  ‘Really? You’ve told her you’re seeing other people?’

  ‘She suspects, but she doesn’t care. She knows what the game is.’

  ‘It’s not a game for her. You gave her that bloody charm bracelet. She thinks you’re in love with her!’

  ‘Are you sure? Hasn’t she still got Reliable Roger in tow?’

  ‘But, but – you’re older! You know what you’re doing. She doesn’t.’

  ‘Really? Are we talking about the same girl? Angie wasn’t born yesterday. She knows her way around.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘She’s a bright kid—’

  ‘Exactly. She is a kid. And you definitely aren’t.’

  ‘Oh, thanks for that. Look, if it’s any consolation, Angie and I have not gone nearly as far as you and I have.’ He looked at her, smiling.

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ she said.

  ‘And it’s not for want of trying.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Doreen exploded. ‘You’re taking advantage of her!’

  ‘Not trying on my part! She’s the one. She’s forever on about it.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘She wants me to be her first. She likes the fact I’m old. Older. She wants me to show her how to do it. I’m the one saying, “Let’s take it slowly.”’

  ‘Really? You weren’t that restrained with me!’

  ‘Doreen, come on. You and I have been around. We know what we want. We take it. But are you sure you didn’t have an idea?’

  ‘If I’d had any idea, Monday night would not have happened. I can assure you of that.’

  ‘But Angie likes to talk. She’s told me about her sister. Reen says this, Reen says that. She really respects your judgment. I’m surprised she hasn’t talked about me.’

  ‘You mean you’re upset she hasn’t talked about you! Well, sorry, buster, she hasn’t. Not till yesterday. Of course, she told me about you kissing her that first day, just before Christmas, when she was in there buying a jumper for Roger. But I pretty much warned her off and after that she kept it secret.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why?’ she repeated, incredulous. ‘You’re married, you’re older, you’re from London.’

  He laughed. ‘I can’t help the London part. Or my age. What did you say when she told you yesterday?’

  ‘There wasn’t much I could say, was there? Not after Monday night.’

  ‘Monday night was good, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with it.’

  ‘You sure? Because maybe she’s not the one who’s got the problem. Maybe someone in this room is a bit jealous.’ He came towards her. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re gorgeous when you’re angry? Your eyes flash and your red hair almost catches fire.’

  ‘What!’ she said. He took hold of her arms and drew her to him. Then he was kissing her, his tongue tangled with hers. She moved against him. He ran his hands down her back and over the swell of her buttocks and pulled her hard towards him.

  She sprang away.

  ‘Christ!’ he said. ‘Just doing that reminds me what a good time we had. You know, Doreen, when you and me are together, whether it’s just a kiss or something else, there’s a reaction. A strong reaction. And you can’t deny it.’

  She was breathing heavily. He was right. For God’s sake, he was right. How could this be happening? ‘That’s hardly the point. What would Angie say? Or Cynthia for that matter?’

  ‘Well, Cynthia wouldn’t care and Angie’s not going to know, is she? I mean, you’re not going to tell her, are you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I should. She has a right to know.’

  ‘A right to have her happiness destroyed? A right to lose all her trust in you? She’s having a nice time with me, and I’m having a nice time with her. Why spoil everything? Look, I like your sister very much. I respect her. But here’s the thing – I fancy the pants off you. And I don’t want either of you to get hurt.’

  ‘And how are you going to manage that, Mr Fancy Pants? Who’s it going to be? Me or Angie?’

  ‘I think there are more than two options. There’s certainly a third option. And that is, I don’t finish with anyone and you and I keep o
ur mouths shut as tight as they can be. Except when we’re kissing.’

  She stared at him. ‘Are you seriously saying that you would quite happily go out with both of us? Is that what you’re saying?’

  The bell over the door tinkled and a young mod in a parka came in, his eyes roving round the shop. ‘Afternoon,’ Gene said, easily. ‘Thanks for that, Doreen. Ring me later, will you? It’s my birthday next week, we’ll do something nice. Anything you were looking for especially, mate?’

  Doreen stood gazing at him for a moment. She was trying to understand what he had said. Surely he couldn’t mean that he was prepared to keep both of them hanging on. She slipped out of the shop. Her mind was whirling. She didn’t know what to think. There was a real pain in her chest. Tears came to her eyes. She remembered everything about that night, his hands on her body, the lovely things he had said to her, his appreciation, the feel of him inside her. How could he? How could he?

  CHAPTER 19

  ANGIE AND CAROL WERE SITTING ON Carol’s bed, listening to ‘Comin’ Home, Baby’ by Mel Torme. Angie had brought the record over with her and now Carol had taken off the arm of the record player so the record played over and over.

  ‘Gene says I should listen to more jazz,’ Angie explained.

  ‘You don’t like jazz. And why are you listening to Gene after what happened the other night?’

  ‘Oh that. I think I got that wrong. I was in a state because I was so late. He really missed me that night. And look, he gave me this bracelet.’ She held out her wrist. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous? I almost think he might be in love with me!’

  ‘Oh, Angie, it’s beautiful.’

  ‘I know. Anyway, this record is sort of jazz, he said, and I like this. It’s a soft start.’

  ‘Why should you listen to more jazz?’

  ‘He says all I do, now I’ve got this money, is buy Motown and Stax and stuff, and I should include some jazz.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because it’s his thing and he wants us to have shared interests.’

  ‘That’s what he says. But really, jazz?’

  ‘He says I haven’t had a proper education.’

  ‘That’s not your fault.’

  ‘He doesn’t mean it like that. He means a musical education.’

  ‘Oh, what, and he’s going to give you one?’

  ‘Perhaps. But I don’t care. I like learning things from him.’

  The record began again. After the opening chords of the soft insistent piano and the beat of the drumsticks on the snare drum, they joined in with the backing singers, ‘Doo doo doo.’

  ‘Funny name, Mel Torme,’ Carol said. ‘I wonder what Mel’s short for.’

  Angie shrugged, ‘Melvin?’

  ‘CaraMel?’

  ‘EnaMel?’

  ‘Doo doo doo,’ they both sang.

  ‘So how shall we feel when we’re coming home from London?’

  Carol’s eyes widened. ‘London? When? Are we going to London?’

  ‘Yes, we are! I’ve got that job interview.’

  ‘So, what about English Electric?’

  ‘I’ve told them I don’t want the job.’

  ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘Oh yes I have. I’m pleased. It’s a relief. I talked to Doreen about it and she thinks I’ve made the right decision. Sometimes it’s good having a sister. So the plan is to stay on in Graham’s section till I sort out a London job. Because even if I don’t get this job, I’ll apply for another one. I can take my time now, with all this money. So, first stop, Hornsey.’

  ‘But it’s your interview,’ Carol said. ‘Where do I come in?’

  ‘You said you wanted to work in London too! You can have a look round, see what’s up there. I’ll go to my interview, you’ll go to a few employment agencies. And then we can meet up after and have a good time.’

  ‘I never thought it would happen.’ Carol sat back on the bed, grinning. ‘London,’ she whispered. ‘But what about work?’

  ‘Take the day off. Say you’re not well. That’s what I do.’

  ‘That’s because you don’t care if they sack you. Oh, I don’t know.’ Carol frowned. ‘What does Roger think about all this?’

  ‘Oh Roger. He doesn’t want me to leave Chelmsford. He thinks London is a den of iniquity. But he’s pleased I’ve got the interview. It’s the first one I’ve been offered and I’ve been trying for months. I know it’s a technician’s job. But I was thinking—’ Angie paused. ‘Because they do fashion courses there as well, I might have to help in the fashion department too. Then I might get talking to people and say I’m interested.’ Her eyes shone. ‘And then, who knows? Well, it’s a start, anyway.’

  ‘And it’s what you’ve always wanted.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I think it’s fantastic!’ Carol said. ‘I mean, I hate you for getting a job in London . . .’

  ‘Haven’t got it yet.’

  ‘. . . but it is fantastic.’

  ‘All right, don’t go mad. They might take one look at me and say, “Oh from Chelmsford. We’re not taking girls from Chelmsford. They’re far too mod.”’

  ‘How can you be too mod? That’s what fashion’s all about. You’ll be right up their street.’

  ‘Do you reckon? But it’s the Art department.’

  ‘You look arty.’

  Angie smiled. ‘Well, what shall I wear to the interview?’

  ‘Anything. You always look so – so cool. Look at you! That cardigan. And that skirt. And that’s just your everyday clothes.’

  ‘Too ordinary.’

  ‘All right. Well, definitely your suede. To show them you know what’s what.’

  ‘Do you think I should? Perhaps I should buy something fabulous and new. No expense spared, now we’ve got this money. I mean, it’s come in the nick of time. The pay that the college is offering is pretty low. I couldn’t do the job – even if they offered it to me – without the pools money. It seems you need to be rich just to get started in fashion. Once I’ve paid my fares and everything there’d be hardly anything left. Oh, wouldn’t it be great if I got the job?’ She hugged herself.

  ‘It would! So why don’t you buy something new and fab, just to make sure?’

  ‘Well, for a start my dad’s keeping the money very close to his chest. Oh, I forgot – he bought us all a new pair of stockings. They’re the wrong size and they’ve got seams, but it was something. Doreen took hers back. She said she needed the 5s and 11d they cost. She’s mad. But she’s right. These bank accounts Dad’s setting up are taking a bloody long time to come. And till I get the cheque book, I’ve got to rely on my own wardrobe.’

  ‘How about a big Sloppy Joe jumper? A black one maybe.’ They laughed.

  ‘Don’t,’ Angie said. ‘But she wasn’t angry at all. It was strange. Perhaps she’s getting calmer in her old age. But maybe I should buy a Sloppy Joe. That style is a bit beatniky, isn’t it? A lot of art students are beatniks, aren’t they?’

  ‘Probably. Or you could just wear your Marks cardigan done up to the neck. That’s sort of arty.’

  ‘I’ll see what the weather’s like.’

  ‘Doo doo doo,’ they both sang, looking at each other, laughing.

  ‘Right, so now we’ve got a plan,’ Angie said.

  ‘Have we?’

  ‘Yes! Next week, you sort it out at Britvic’s, get the day off. We go to London. I go for my interview. You go to an employment bureau, and then, and then . . .’

  ‘Our lives change forever.’

  They laughed. ‘Doo doo doo.’

  ‘But what have I got to offer?’ Carol said.

  ‘Anything. You’re good at organising. Sorting out offices.’

  ‘You mean filing. I can do that anywhere.’

  ‘Which means you can do it in London.’ Angie’s eyes roamed round the small room. ‘Or what about that?’ She looked at the guitar leaning against the wall. ‘Don’t say you haven’t thought about it.’

&nb
sp; Carol looked over at her guitar. She had been learning to play since Christmas.

  ‘You could take it into some agency somewhere and play them a song. It’ll be like a Tommy Steele film. And they’ll say – “Thank goodness you’re here, we need someone to step in tonight to play at the London Palladium. Dusty Springfield couldn’t make it.” And so you’ll go and there’ll be thousands of people and Brian Epstein will be in the audience and he’ll come backstage afterwards and say, “I want to be your manager. Please say you’ll come and join our happy family.”’

  ‘And I shall say, “Thank you, I will.” I just need to add a few Beatles’ songs to my repertoire.’ Carol laughed.

  ‘Go on, play us something,’ Angie said. She took the stylus off the record.

  The room was silent, then Carol, looking carefully at the fingers of her left hand, strummed the chords of ‘All I Have To Do Is Dream.’ Angie joined in and they harmonised as the Everly Brothers.

  ‘Gee whizz, we’re good!’ Angie said. ‘Brian Epstein is bound to pick you up. You can start, two weeks tomorrow.’

  There was a knock at the door. ‘Hello Angie.’

  ‘Hello Mrs Hart.’

  ‘Lovely as the two of you sound Carol, and you do, your brother Richard has to go to bed now. So, no more playing tonight.’

  ‘OK, Mrs Hart. But did you really think we were good?’

  Carol’s mum put her head on one side. ‘Not bad.’ She stepped back and closed the door.

  ‘So,’ Angie whispered. ‘We go to London next Thursday to seek our fortune.’

  ‘Yes!’ Carol said.

  ‘OK. And I’ll ask Gene to meet us up there, take us somewhere nice in the evening.’

  ‘Oh.’ Carol’s face fell. ‘Oh well, if Gene’s coming, I’ll come home when we’ve finished all the job stuff and you and Gene can go out and have a good time.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Angie said. ‘It’ll be good. He’ll pay. Actually, that’s a thought, I might ask him to lend me some money to buy a new outfit.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s so generous. He’s already lent me money to buy a table for my room, so I can put the sewing machine on it.’

  ‘A table? Couldn’t you have got it on the never-never from Woodhouse?’ It was a furniture shop on the High Street.