Ryan looked at the poster. Then he looked at his watch. He let out a sigh. ‘You want to go in?’
‘Well, yes, but I don’t know about tomorrow—’
‘Tonight? We’ve got time.’
Dodie stared at him. ‘But you’ll hate it!’
‘Probably. I can always get a quick nap while you watch.’
‘Oi!’ Dodie slapped him but she wore a grin.
‘I won’t snore. Not loudly anyway,’ he added with a smile of his own.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, why not? If it means so much to you then I’ll give it a go. But you have to learn the offside rule in return.’
‘I already know the offside rule, I just pretend I don’t so you won’t go on about football all the time.’
It was Ryan’s turn to stare. ‘Is that true? Cheeky little mare!’
She let out a raucous giggle. It was nice; it felt like they hadn’t laughed properly in ages.
‘So are we going in or what?’ Ryan asked.
Dodie nodded eagerly. If there was a chance she might persuade Ryan there was some value in the old films she loved then she didn’t need asking twice.
Dodie had been in the cinema before though not as often as she’d have liked. It was a tiny place, almost like a living room, showing mostly art-house and independent films that rarely made it onto the screens of the bigger chains. The seats were wide and squishy like armchairs, and in the winter there was a faint smell of damp in the worn red carpets, but she loved the atmosphere of the place, how the staff had extensive and intimate knowledge of films and always had time to share recommendations and opinions. She loved how the popcorn was handmade and they had snacks made out of proper deli food prepared by an actual kitchen, and how the manager was sometimes also the projectionist. In any other town it would have closed down years ago, but somehow it had survived here, ploughing its own furrow, refusing to bow under the pressure of the mainstream film market.
‘When was the last time it was decorated in here?’ Ryan said, looking around the foyer, covered in flock wallpaper like some maiden aunt’s living room, framed film prints of classics in regimented lines along the walls. ‘1950?’
‘Quite possibly.’ Dodie nodded, taking her mittens off and stuffing them into her coat pockets. ‘I absolutely love this place and they show the best films.’
‘By best films you mean films that only ten people in the world have ever seen?’
‘No!’ Dodie laughed. ‘I mean classic pieces of cinematic history. Films that make you lose yourself, films that make you think and laugh and cry and feel that all is right with the world when you step out into it again. That sort of film.’
‘Like Terminator 2?’
‘As I’ve never seen any of the Terminator films I’ll have to trust your judgement on that.’
There was a handful of people at the ticket booth ahead of them, two couples waiting on sofas outside the screen to go in, and a lady who looked close to retirement age dressed in a striped uniform taking tickets, and that was about it.
‘They know how to party around here,’ Ryan whispered.
Dodie giggled. ‘Don’t be so mean. It was your idea to come in.’
‘I’m just saying. And I didn’t want to come in, you did.’
‘You offered.’
‘I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t.’
Dodie turned to the front as the knot of customers ahead of them cleared away and Ryan stood with his hands in his pockets as she bought the tickets. Then he followed her to the screen doors, head down as he tapped on his phone.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to turn that off when you go in.’ The woman at the doors nodded towards Ryan as she ripped their tickets and handed the stubs back to Dodie.
‘Right,’ he said, but he threw Dodie a look that told her he was less than amused at being chastised. ‘I’ll put it on silent,’ he added.
‘We prefer it to be off,’ the usherette said. ‘It’s the screens, you see. When they light up it can be distracting for other viewers.’
‘Whatever,’ Ryan sighed, shoving it in his pocket.
Dodie smiled brightly at the woman. ‘Don’t worry, everything will be turned off once the film starts.’
‘I’m not being funny,’ she said. ‘Just rules. And common courtesy, you know?’
‘Absolutely.’
The woman seemed happy with Dodie’s response, though she still eyed Ryan with the deepest suspicion. Then she turned to Dodie again. ‘Beautiful coat, by the way. Really suits you. Where did you get it?’
‘Oh, this?’ Dodie ran a hand down the heavy fabric. ‘It’s actually vintage. I have a shop nearby.’
‘It’s gorgeous. You can tell it’s quality, not like the tat you get in the shops nowadays.’
‘It’s definitely well made,’ Dodie agreed.
‘Where did you say your shop was?’
‘I didn’t,’ Dodie smiled. ‘But I can do better than that… here’s my card. The address is on there and if you pop in I’ll do you a discount.’
‘I might just do that!’ the woman said, looking at the card before throwing Dodie a grateful smile. ‘I’ll have to set a good hour aside for a rummage.’
‘You do that. And I’ll even have the kettle on for you.’
‘Lovely!’ the woman said. ‘I’ll see you soon then. Enjoy the film!’
‘Thank you, we will,’ Dodie said.
‘Well played,’ Ryan said as they left her to deal with the next customer. ‘Now that’s how you do business. I knew you’d get there in the end.’
‘That’s just chatting,’ Dodie said.
‘Networking. It’s all about the charm offensive. It’s how I get most of my work.’
Dodie could well imagine him charming the pants off bored housewives and lonely old ladies – he’d got more than a bit of the loveable rogue about him. He did have a good point, though; it was easy for her to wax lyrical about vintage clothes but perhaps she ought to blow her own trumpet a little more, or at least her shop’s trumpet. Ryan threw her a wink and she couldn’t help but smile, a new hope beginning to grow that perhaps their relationship was going somewhere after all. Perhaps this would be the night she’d look back on as the turning point, when they finally began to function as a couple who gave and took, who tried to understand each other even if they failed. A couple who respected each other’s differences and celebrated what set them apart even if they didn’t love it, who toiled as a team and supported each other in their bids to make a success of their lives. Perhaps this would be the night that changed everything.
‘I must look a mess,’ Dodie said, dragging a hand across her eyes. Lost in a fantasy land of monochrome celluloid, it hadn’t concerned her all that much that Ryan had fallen asleep shortly after the opening credits had rolled, although she should have expected it. He’d offered to take her in, though, and she had to keep remembering how important that part was.
‘Nah, you look alright,’ Ryan said. ‘You need a minute to go and fix your make-up before we head off?’
‘I suppose I should,’ she replied uncertainly. Was she supposed to take his suggestion as a kindness or a strong hint that she did, indeed, look a mess and he wasn’t prepared to walk the streets in her company until she tidied herself up? She paused. ‘So, did you see any of the film?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, but Dodie knew he was lying. Did it matter? He’d gone in and sat down with the intention of watching and that was progress, she supposed. He looked at his watch. ‘Not too late either. If we’re quick we’ll be able to fit a couple of cans in and a roll in the hay before bedtime.’ Nudging her, he gave a wide grin. ‘My reward for being a good boyfriend and taking you to see your favourite film, eh?’
Dodie nodded slowly but despite everything she still wasn’t convinced. Was that how it was supposed to work? What happened to getting to know each other better? Had tonight been simply about brownie points for sex? She wanted to believe it was more than that, but he wasn�
�t helping. And as for taking her to see her favourite film, they’d just happened to be passing and she’d paid for the tickets; it was hardly the most romantic gesture ever witnessed. But she forced a smile. ‘I’ll just pop to the loo then and we’ll go.’
Chapter Fourteen
Julia Fleet was tall and slender, but not the type of slenderness that comes from a natural tendency to keep off weight, rather from often refusing food. Brown hair with grey roots, nails bitten down to the quick, she was grasping her portly husband’s hand as if her very life depended on it as she entered the coffee shop where Dodie waited with Sally. She looked older than Dodie had been expecting, closer to her gran’s age than her actual seventy-three years. The first thing she did as she settled down at the table was to pull on an inhaler. Sally seemed not to notice the obvious distress the woman was in, while Julia’s husband patted her hand reassuringly and Dodie, not knowing what else to do, tried to give a bright smile.
Sally stuck her hand out. ‘Sally Chandra, from the Echo; we’ve been chatting on the phone. Lovely to meet you both at last. Did you have a good journey down?’
‘Not too bad,’ the man said, shaking her hand. Sally held it out for Julia, who took it limply and barely moved hers in reply.
‘And this is Dodie Bright, who found the letter,’ Sally added, while Dodie put her hand out to greet them both.
‘It’s good of you to come,’ the man replied, giving Dodie an amiable nod. ‘We weren’t sure you’d want to.’
‘I had wondered the same about you,’ Dodie said. ‘I imagine it was a nerve-wracking decision.’
‘Well,’ he said, shooting a glance at Julia, ‘we wanted to find out as much as we could about her real mum. We haven’t been married all that long but I know it hasn’t been easy for her to come to terms with her adoption, especially when her mother didn’t want to know her at all.’
‘You made contact in the past then?’ Sally asked, flipping her notebook open and beginning to scribble in it. Dodie wondered whether it was a trifle insensitive to launch straight into an interrogation but then, she supposed, that was the reason she was there. Julia’s husband, at least, seemed perfectly happy to volunteer the information.
‘About twenty years ago,’ Julia put in, her voice wavering. ‘I traced her through government documents and asked if we could meet, but she refused. She said she didn’t want to be reminded of old wounds.’
‘So you didn’t get to meet her?’
Julia shook her head. ‘She didn’t want me anywhere near her.’
‘I would have pushed it but I wasn’t on the scene back then,’ Julia’s husband said.
‘Trevor and I only got married two years ago,’ Julia explained, looking fondly at him. ‘My previous husband died… cancer. He always said if my mum didn’t care about me then I shouldn’t waste my time caring about her. He said I’d got a good adoptive mother who’d brought me up and loved me and that ought to be enough even if she wasn’t flesh and blood. I suppose he was right, but you can’t help but wonder, can you?’
‘And you had no idea about your father?’ Sally asked. ‘Who he was?’
‘There were no details of the father on the birth certificate the adoption services sent to me. Apparently it wasn’t allowed if the couple were unmarried and the father wasn’t present at the registration of the birth. Since my mother wouldn’t talk to me I didn’t know where to start searching for him, and… honestly, I didn’t know if I wanted to find him; I wasn’t sure what sort of man he might be to abandon me and my mother like that. I never thought…’ She pulled a tissue from her handbag and dabbed beneath her eyes.
Trevor patted her hand as the waitress came to take coffee orders from them.
‘How does it feel to discover he was a brave man who died for his country?’ Sally asked. The question was almost too eager, the hint of glee a little too obvious. She was in this for the story and she was getting one hell of a scoop, so it was no wonder she was pleased. She was probably already picturing the sensational headline, perhaps a journalism award or commendation – almost certainly a pat on the back from a grateful editor. She’d helped Dodie get a result and she was about to help Julia get answers, and although it was all good, none of it was out of the goodness of her heart.
‘I’m still getting over the shock,’ Julia said. ‘I don’t know whether to feel proud or sad for all the years I was robbed of, all the years I could have been getting to know him. My adopted father was a lovely man, but he was quiet and sensible and somehow we never really clicked. Growing up, I always felt there was a difference, something between us that we couldn’t quite bridge. I got the impression that my mother had wanted to adopt more than he did, and that he’d have been happy enough without kids. I used to wonder about my real dad all the time… When I say real dad, I mean my birth dad. Of course, my dad was my real dad, but…’
Dodie tried to give her an encouraging smile, but all she wanted to do was reach over and hug this poor woman, who had been through so much. And even at the end of it all, she still didn’t really have any answers apart from a weathered old scrap of paper marked with words of love from a father she’d never be able to meet and a mother who had abandoned her. Dodie almost wished she’d never started this, as if she was somehow responsible for Julia’s heartache. If not responsible, then she’d almost certainly helped rake up feelings that perhaps had been better off buried.
‘Would you like to see the letter?’ she asked, wondering if it was the best idea after all. Julia seemed so emotionally brittle that the letter might just break her. But the woman nodded and Dodie pulled the envelope from her bag. Julia’s eyes widened as Dodie handed it over.
‘Want me to open it, love?’ Trevor said, his gaze flicking to Julia’s shaking hands.
Julia nodded weakly and he took it from her. His eyes moved across the page as he removed the letter from the envelope and Dodie was tempted to snatch it from him and give it back to Julia. It was her father and she ought to be reading it first. But she resisted the urge and breathed a silent sigh as Trevor gave it back to his wife.
Julia began to tremble as she read, her eyes misting. After a moment she folded it carefully and pushed it across the table to Dodie.
‘It’s yours.’ Dodie frowned. ‘That’s what I wanted… to return it to its rightful owner. That’s you.’
‘Oh…’ Julia’s gaze went down to the letter, and although she stared at it she didn’t make a move to reclaim it.
Trevor reached out. ‘I’ll put it safe,’ he said, tucking it back into the envelope and placing it on the table in front of him.
There was a sense of almost palpable relief as Dodie watched the letter disappear from her life. It was odd, how it had become such a huge part of it since she’d made the discovery in the pocket of her green coat, how its contents had lodged in her thoughts so completely that there was barely a day she wasn’t occupied with it. But now she could get back to normal, whatever that was. She half wondered if she might wake up tomorrow morning and miss not having to think about George’s words of love.
‘Is there anything you want to ask me?’ Dodie offered, not knowing how else to break the strange, loaded silence that had descended over the table. Even Sally seemed subdued as they watched Julia wrestle emotions that looked set to overwhelm her. Julia gave her head a stiff shake.
‘Sally said you found it in a coat,’ Trevor said. ‘Margaret’s coat?’
‘I can only assume it was Margaret’s coat but I bought it in a job lot at auction so I have no way of knowing exactly where it came from.’ Dodie’s gaze flicked to the red coat she’d come in, relieved beyond measure that she’d had the foresight not to wear Julia’s mother’s coat to the meeting. ‘I mean, I could let you have the coat if you’d like it? If you wanted to have something of hers… Not that we’d know for certain, of course…’
Julia, thin-lipped, shook her head again. ‘No… thank you.’
‘Was there anything else?’ Trevor asked. ‘Any other pe
rsonal effects?’
‘Just the letter. I went through all the things in the lot carefully.’
Trevor nodded before reaching for Julia’s hand again. ‘Are you alright, love? It’s a big shock, isn’t it?’
‘He was a soldier,’ she said quietly. ‘How about that?’
‘Do you have a family of your own?’ Sally asked.
If possible, Julia suddenly seemed more agitated than before.
‘She has a son, but we don’t see him much,’ Trevor cut in. ‘It’s… complicated.’
‘We should be helping him,’ Julia said.
‘We can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped…’ Trevor’s voice rose slightly, and from the exasperation creeping into his tone, Dodie guessed this was a conversation they’d had frequently. He shot a quick, anxious glance at her and Sally and then smoothed his features again.
‘You have just the one child?’ Sally asked.
‘I thought I couldn’t have babies,’ Julia said. ‘It was so ironic that I’d been an unwanted pregnancy myself but the baby I wanted so badly wouldn’t come. I’d all but given up when it happened. I was thirty-nine; they told me I was an old mother but I didn’t care, I’d have still had him at forty-nine or fifty-nine. I was just happy to be a mother at last.’
‘It’s about time you forgot all that and started to put yourself and your needs first,’ Trevor cut in. ‘It was his decision to leave.’ He turned to Sally. ‘In the two years we’ve been together it’s always been about everyone else and never Julia.’
‘These things are never that simple, are they?’ Julia said, and she shot the briefest glance at Trevor that told Dodie more than a thousand words of explanation could. It was clear this was a line of enquiry that shouldn’t be followed, even to Sally whose next question returned to the letter.
‘What will you do now you know a little more about your parents?’ she asked. ‘Will you make an effort to trace more family? Perhaps try to find George’s?’
A Very Vintage Christmas: A Heartwarming Christmas Romance (An Unforgettable Christmas Book 1) Page 18
