At Home by the Sea

by Pam Weaver

  ‘Time they was taught a lesson, then,’ said Paul, his excitement mounting.

  Ray leaned back and put his feet on the table. ‘You really reckon it’s true that they’re raking it in there?’

  John nodded. ‘And the thing about Bonfire Night is that all the shops are staying open until late. It’ll be too late for them to go to the bank with the takings. The safe will be stuffed full of money.’

  Ray sat up, spat on his handkerchief and leaned down to wipe a scuff mark from his brand new brothel creepers.

  ‘So, while the Bonfire Boys are coming down the road we could be in there chucking money in the air like it was raining,’ Paul said excitedly.

  ‘The streets will be crowded,’ said John.

  Ray nodded. ‘But we’ll have a car, won’t we.’

  ‘Getting away should be a piece of cake,’ Paul chortled, enjoying his own pun.

  ‘I reckon we should park it up just around the corner, in Bath Place,’ said Ray. ‘Then, as soon as it’s done, we can head up Montague Street and make a clean getaway.’

  ‘Bonfire Night it is then,’ said John.

  ‘We’ll have to lie low for a bit,’ Ray cautioned. ‘We can’t go spending the money or everyone will know it was us.’

  ‘So how long do we have to wait?’ Paul wailed.

  Ray shrugged. ‘Maybe as much as a year.’

  ‘A year!’ Paul choked. ‘That’s too long. I want to buy a motorbike.’

  Ray slapped Paul’s head. ‘Don’t be so daft. You do that and the cops will come down on you like a ton of bricks.’ He put on an authoritative accent and added, ‘Now then, my lad, where did you get the money for that there bike?’

  John thought that was very funny. Paul scowled.

  ‘Anyway, we need to get that car first,’ said Ray.

  ‘And we need to do a recce to find out where the safe is,’ said Paul.

  ‘How are we going to do that without raising suspicion?’ said John.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes then Ray looked at John and said, ‘I can’t come to The Cave this week. My old lady and the old man are coming to Worthing to see me but next Saturday tell your chick you’re taking her out to tea the following week.’

  Paul lifted his little finger as if drinking tea from a posh cup. ‘More tea, Vicar?’

  John gave him a playful thump.

  ‘In fact,’ said Ray, ‘we’ll all take her to the café. That’ll give us all the chance to have a good look around.’

  *

  Izzie had had a letter from Esther. She would be back on the day of the bonfire celebrations but sadly too late to take part.

  I’ve learnt to drive, she wrote, and Dad says when I come home on leave, he’ll let me borrow his car.

  Izzie wrote back by return of post. How exciting! You drive somewhere and we’ll find a nice restaurant. My treat. She’d thought long and hard before penning the next few sentences. You remember I told you that my father had a stall in the market and he got sent to prison? Well, I’ve managed to piece together most of the story but I get the feeling there’s more. Is it possible for you, being a WPC, to find out exactly what happened? I know you can’t go looking at police records without a good reason, and I don’t want to get you into trouble, but could you ask around? Some old copper who’s been in the job for years might remember something. I would be so grateful, Love Izzie.

  *

  With a brand new Queen, who was to be crowned the following year, the country had entered what was called the New Elizabethan Age. For that reason, the council had agreed that the tumbling of the barrels, popular in Victorian Worthing, could be brought back to life as part of the town’s November 5th celebrations.

  There had been a lot of discussion about it in the local newspapers. Some were concerned that having lighted tar barrels trundling through the town would be too dangerous. However, in the end, the council had agreed to revive the old tradition. Provided the crowds were kept well back they would be perfectly safe. The barrels would come down Chapel Road and South Street on their way to the beach where a large bonfire would be lit at Splash Point before a public firework display on the pier. It promised to be an amazing spectacle.

  Bill had been away for a few days but Izzie had heard him coming in at around eleven o’clock the night before. To avoid yet another confrontation with her father, Izzie made a calculated decision to get up very early the next day. She planned to sneak out of the house as quietly as possible but, to her horror, as she opened the stair door he was already sitting at the table. She hurried to the bathroom without a word but he was still there when she came out.

  ‘Sit down,’ he growled.

  ‘Dad I have to get ready for work. I’ll be late.’

  ‘Sit down!’

  There was no getting away from it. Izzie lowered herself onto a kitchen chair and waited for the onslaught.

  ‘I want to know how long you have been seeing your mother,’ he said coldly.

  Izzie looked away.

  ‘She’s seen her loads of times,’ said Linda, coming through the stair door. She’d obviously only just woken up. Her hair was wild and her eyes pink. She yawned and added, ‘The pair of them are as thick as thieves.’

  Bill fixed Izzie with a malevolent glare.

  ‘You went against me to look for that woman?’ His eyes were bulging. She’d never seen him this angry before. Izzie suddenly felt afraid.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but she is my mother.’

  Her father’s eyes narrowed. ‘So where is she?’

  ‘Brighton,’ said Izzie.

  Her father thumped his fist on the table making the crockery rattle. His face was distorted with rage. ‘I told you to have nothing to do with her,’ he shouted, his spittle spraying the table cloth. ‘I won’t have it, I tell you. The pair of you can get out of my house.’

  The girls looked at each other in shocked surprise. ‘Get out?’ Izzie murmured faintly. ‘You can’t mean that.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ their father bellowed. ‘I don’t want you in this house a moment longer.’

  ‘I don’t see why you should take it out on me,’ Linda protested angrily. ‘It was all Izzie’s doing. I didn’t even want to see Mum.’

  Their father rose to his feet. ‘End of next weekend,’ he said, snatching his hat from the peg. ‘I want you out by Sunday.’

  ‘You’re joking!’ cried Linda. ‘You can’t just chuck us out. Where will we go?’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care,’ said Bill, struggling into his coat. ‘I’m going to ask Mavis to move in with me and I want the both of you gone.’

  Linda burst into tears. Izzie had been struck dumb. What he was saying refused to sink in. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d begged and pleaded with them to come home and be a family, and now he was kicking them out for no reason at all. She didn’t know whether to be angry or upset.

  ‘You haven’t given us much notice, Dad,’ she said, trying to sound calm and reasonable. She needed to take the heat out of this argument if she was going to buy them some more time. ‘We may not be able to find anything suitable by the end of this week.’

  ‘That’s your problem,’ said Bill, heading towards the door. ‘You’re out by Sunday.’

  ‘But that’s not fair,’ Linda wailed after him.

  As soon as he’d gone, Linda rounded on Izzie. ‘This is all your fault. If you hadn’t found Mother, this wouldn’t have happened. You knew he’d be angry. Why on earth did you tell him?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Izzie. ‘I can’t help it if he saw Arthur dropping me off at the door.’

  Linda threw her hands in the air in exasperation. ‘You idiot!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Izzie said, her voice thick with emotion. ‘It’ll be okay, I promise. Once he’s calmed down he’ll change his mind.’

  ‘Fat chance of that!’ Linda retorted and pushed past Izzie as she headed for the bathroom. As she slammed the door she shouted, ‘I hate you, Izzie Baxte
r. I hate you!’

  Izzie put her head in her hands. What a family. Why were they always at logger-heads with each other? Mr Semadini had said it wasn’t her quarrel. He’d told her to leave the pain behind and start afresh but how could she when they were all so bloody unreasonable. Now she had no time at all to find lodgings in a town with a desperate housing shortage. That would mean she would have to spend every spare minute she could traipsing around, knocking on doors, answering advertisements and looking up cards in shop windows. Oh, how could he do this to his own family!

  *

  The Saturday before the bonfire celebrations, The Cave was buzzing with the news that Ray and Mo had split up. Nobody knew the exact details but apparently he’d been having his leg over in her mum’s sitting room when Mo’s parents had come home early and caught Ray in nothing but his dangly bits, helping himself to some of her dad’s whiskey. Quite which of the two couples was the most shocked was open to suggestion but there had been a humungous row which ended with Ray being kicked out … literally. The next day, so the story went, Mo had been packed off indefinitely to her granny’s place in Cornwall.

  Linda’s heartbeat quickened when she saw Ray lounging on a chair near the coffee bar. Every time John asked her to dance she made sure she looked good but she was keen not to look too happy. She didn’t want Ray thinking she was stuck on John.

  ‘You feeling all right?’ John asked when she refused to do The Creep with him.

  ‘Just because I want a bit of a rest doesn’t mean I’m ill,’ she snapped.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ said John. ‘Keep your hair on.’

  When he set off to chat to a mate, she was glad to see him go. Now she could spend her time watching Ray. She was beginning to think that the old adage that if you stare at someone’s back long enough they turn around, was an old wives tale, but then he turned and their eyes met. Without breaking his gaze, Ray got out his comb and put it through his hair. Linda blinked dreamily as she struggled to look cool. It was just like the pictures. The rest of the room full of sweaty bodies and noisy people faded away and it was just Ray and her. Linda’s racing heart almost stopped as he put his comb back into his coat pocket and gave her a lazy smile. He blew a kiss. He was amazing. His hair looked especially good when it looked like it did right now with a few strands flopping over his forehead. Jet black, it glistened with Brylcreem. Tonight he was wearing a lurex waistcoat she’d never seen before and she couldn’t help admiring his luminous socks. When he slowly wet his lips with his tongue, Linda almost passed out with delight.

  Then John told her Ray wanted to take her to the Café Bellissimo and she could hardly believe her luck.

  ‘I was thinking of taking my auntie there for Christmas,’ Ray explained, his voice as smooth as silk. ‘People say it’s really nice, but I have to check it out for myself, see?’

  Linda gazed at him starry eyed.

  ‘They’ll let us in if I was with a nice girl like you,’ he went on. ‘You could pretend you’re my sister.’

  With Izzie working there, it would be impossible to pretend to be his sister, but Linda wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘I’d love to help out,’ she cooed.

  ‘Okay,’ said John, ‘so I’ll book a table for four.’

  ‘Four!’ Linda squeaked.

  ‘Yeah,’ said John. ‘Ray, you and me, and Paul’s coming too.’

  Linda nodded and smiled although she could have wept. She would much have preferred it to be just her and Ray. John looked around the room. ‘Oh there’s Paul,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and tell him it’s on.’ And he hurried off.

  Linda looked up at Ray. ‘When?’

  ‘When what?’ said Ray, brushing his finger against her breast.

  Linda could hardly breathe. ‘When are we going to the café?’

  ‘Next Saturday, if that’s okay?’ he said. ‘You off on Saturday?’

  Linda nodded. She wasn’t, but she’d make out she wasn’t feeling well on Friday and get Izzie to phone in that she was sick on Saturday.

  Ray leaned over her. She could feel his breath on her face. ‘Would have been even better if it was just you and me, wouldn’t it doll?’ She closed her eyes as he brushed his lips across her cheek and slid his hand over her bottom, squeezing.

  ‘I really like your durex waistcoat,’ she murmured.

  Ray threw back his head and laughed.

  ‘What?’ she exclaimed.

  ‘It’s lurex darlin’, not durex.’

  Thirty-Three

  All day long in the Café Bellissimo, Izzie did her work efficiently and with a smile, but she was all churned up inside. She was in shock. Fortunately, no-one seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn’t say anything and Mr Semadini wasn’t around. Apparently he’d gone away for a few days.

  Izzie had less than a week to find somewhere to live but it was proving to be extremely difficult. Esther once told her she could approach her mother if she ever wanted digs, but she could hardly expect Mrs Jordan to take in both her and Linda, could she?

  Worthing itself was undergoing radical changes. Some of the buildings in the High Street were ear-marked for demolition to make way for a new construction which was to be built once the Old Town Hall was demolished. There was a possibility that a condemned house might have rooms to rent for a short period but the only way she could find out was by doing some leg work. It wasn’t a very palatable proposition.

  Although Linda had pleaded with their father, it was no use. They had to go and that was that.

  *

  It was Carol who first noticed something was wrong. ‘You’re looking very pale,’ she said. ‘Are you worried about something, Izzie?’

  Izzie told her and swore her to secrecy but before the afternoon was out, Mr Umberto called her into the office. The café was running like a well-oiled machine and he had been left in charge while Mr Semadini was gone.

  Izzie’s first reaction was to be annoyed. ‘I asked Carol not to say anything!’

  ‘About what?’

  Izzie was suddenly embarrassed. ‘Nothing.’ So her friend hadn’t told him after all.

  ‘I asked you in here,’ Mr Umberto began, ‘because you are not your usual cheery self, Izzie. Something is wrong and whatever it is, I should like to help.’

  He listened very sympathetically as a tearful Izzie told him everything. Then he came round from his desk and stood over her as he handed her his handkerchief. For a second his hand hovered above her shoulder but he didn’t touch her. It felt too much like taking advantage.

  ‘I may not be able to help,’ he said, going back to his seat, ‘but I promise to try.’

  As soon as she’d left the office, Mr Umberto picked up the telephone. He had to be careful about this. He didn’t want anyone to misconstrue his request. Both his own and Izzie’s reputations had to be preserved at all costs. With that in mind, he tried various trusted friends and acquaintances but to no avail. In the end, he telephoned his parish priest.

  ‘She may not be a Catholic,’ he explained, ‘but this is a perfectly respectable girl who works for my cousin. Giacomo wouldn’t want to lose her. Do you know anyone who would rent her a room?’

  When he finally put the phone down, he told Izzie to go to a house in Queen’s Street to see a Mrs Noyles.

  *

  As arranged, Linda met John outside the fish and chip shop to talk about their forthcoming evening out. Paul and Ray were waiting too. As soon as she saw them, Linda burst into tears. The boys stared in embarrassment and at first they just wanted to shut her up.

  ‘If she’s going to make that racket,’ Paul said in a savage whisper, ‘I’m clearing off.’

  John put his arm around Linda’s shoulders.

  ‘Is she up the duff?’ said Ray, looking down his nose at John. ‘Have you been dipping your wick you mucky bastard?’

  ‘No I haven’t,’ John said indignantly.

  ‘Then sort it out,’ said Ray. ‘We’ll be in the chip shop when you’ve finished.’

/>   As soon as she and John were alone, Linda poured out her heart. John listened but there wasn’t much he could do. His mum would never allow Linda to doss down at his place, he told her. Never in a million years. Eventually, he persuaded her to join the others and said he would buy her some tea.

  They sat together in a corner near the back of the chip shop, a place where they couldn’t be easily overheard. John bought Linda a piece of cod and six-pennyworth but she only picked at her meal.

  ‘Her old man is kicking her out,’ he told his friends. ‘Come Sunday she’s got nowhere to live.’ Linda was pleased to see a measure of sympathy for her now.

  ‘I’ve got an uncle near Portsmouth,’ said Ray. ‘He runs a caravan park. I reckon I could get you a place there.’

  ‘A caravan?’ Linda squeaked.

  ‘Sure,’ said Ray. ‘He’s got plenty. No takers – winter time, see?’

  Linda gazed at him starry eyed.

  ‘We could use Paul’s car,’ Ray went on.

  ‘But I haven’t … ow!’ Ray had kicked Paul’s shin.

  Ray leaned over the table and patted Linda’s hand. ‘We’ll take you to my uncle on Saturday after we’ve had that meal.’

  Linda dried her eyes. ‘That would be wonderful!’ she whispered. She was feeling quite pleased with herself. She’d had no intention of finding a place of her own, and she knew her dad wouldn’t really kick her out, but the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of being with Ray. Far away from Worthing she could be his Judy and nobody could stop her.

  They arranged to meet her at four outside the Café Bellissimo.

  ‘Shall I bring my suitcase?’

  Ray seemed confused.

  ‘So that I can stay in your uncle’s caravan.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ said Ray.

  ‘But my sister might ask me why I’ve got it,’ she cried.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll think up an excuse,’ said Ray. ‘A clever girl like you.’

  After they’d eaten, Ray lit up a fag while Paul went to the toilet and John reached for his coat.

  ‘Thank you ever so much, Ray,’ Linda simpered.