by Leah Fleming
‘I thought we’d agreed–no business on our honeymoon. Trust you to want to see cars,’ Gloria pouted. ‘I shall be bored.’
‘No you won’t. Think of all the famous people you’ll bump into there–film stars all dressed up. Wear your pretty wedding suit and hat and I’ll show you off to them,’ he cajoled her.
That was the trouble with Greg. It was business first, her second, along with his rally cars. He had all these enthusiasms, always reading and planning ahead, but she’d put a stop to that at bedtime. Who needed pages when she was ready and willing to entertain him? She threw a slipper at him.
‘Ouch! You devil woman!’ He turned and grinned, and she opened her arms to him again and he jumped on her.
‘Ouch! You’re heavy!’ she snapped.
‘Serves you right!’
‘Where do you want to start first, Aunt Plum?’ asked Maddy, examining the map of the South Bank Festival site in their souvenir programme. It was a fine June morning and the day was their own. Tomorrow she would be working at one of the fabric and textile design shows, representing the best of British designers. Although Mr Henry was a refugee from fascism, part French and part Hungarian, his best work was coming from his atelier workshop close to Cavendish Square.
Maddy looked up at the enormity of all the modern buildings set amongst the bombed ruins of Lambeth, the site rising like a concrete giant with flags flying and banners. It made her heart just burst with pride to see all the new buildings. Plum insisted on being country comfortable in her sensible shoes, floral dress and hand-knitted cardigan, standing and staring alongside her.
‘You choose first,’ she smiled, gazing at this strange Lion and Unicorn pavilion with its undulating roof. ‘That looks just like a corrugated iron roof to me.’
‘It says it’s made of oak and lamella on the roof, whatever that it is,’ Maddy read from the programme. ‘What’s lamella?’
‘Don’t ask me. Let’s find the People’s Pavilion and the Dome of Discovery. Oh, look up there. There’s the Skylon Tower…come on!’ Plum was racing ahead in front of her.
‘Hold your horses, I’m supposed to be the young one here,’ Maddy laughed, trying to catch her up. It was still quiet, but the crowds would be thronging the avenue soon. So there was time to stop and stare at the Epstein’s Youth Advancing sculpture.
‘Wow!’ said Plum. ‘What do you make of that?’
‘Not sure,’ replied Maddy. ‘I like my sculptures sculptured, if you know what I mean, but it’s interesting and so strong.’
‘Philistine!’
It was lovely to have Plum’s company. She was a good egg, full of Yorkshire common sense. Taking her to see the Henry Moore sculptures had been a great success. She had done her homework and prepared for her visit with diligence. It was more like a school outing in the olden days at Palgrave House School.
By the time they’d walked around for two hours, queued for the toilets, shuffled around exhibitions, waited for the toucans to pop out of the Guinness clock, the women’s feet were swelling and they were ready to collapse into the nearest café in the Homes and Gardens Pavilion with its wonderful mural dominating the food hall.
‘Can I take it you won’t be wanting the funfair?’ said Maddy, with a grin. This was turning out to be a lovely outing.
Plum raised her brows. ‘I didn’t think the site would be so huge, so grand. I’m whacked. If you want to wander off for a while, just let me be. I’ll be fine. I’d like to browse in the Homes and Gardens exhibits. We can meet up by the Skylon Tower if you like, about two thirty?’
Maddy nodded. There was so much to see that interested her. It wouldn’t do any harm to split up for a while.
Greg couldn’t wait to explore the Transport Pavilion but Gloria hung back, sucking on her Neapolitan wafer, which had cost three shillings! Her face was a picture, with chocolate, strawberry and vanilla ice cream in a smudge around her lips. She really was still a big kid at heart, a pretty redhead in an emerald-green candy-striped cotton dress and broad-brimmed picture hat with ankle straps on her high-heeled shoes. She’d never make it around the vast acres of the exhibition, but he daren’t tell her that.
The site was like being on another planet, a scientific fantasy Wonderland–so much to see, and only one shot at it by all accounts. Gloria wouldn’t come twice.
She loved the shops and restaurants and cinemas and making love. If he’d not known better he’d have wondered just what sort of things she had been up to with that Ken Silverstone, but had believed her assurances that their relationship was almost platonic.
There was something about her lovemaking that reminded him of some of the girls he’d had in the army. There was almost a desperation in her need to be desired and pleasured that puzzled him. It was something that he hadn’t expected. Now she was pouting at the thought of doing the Science Pavilion. So he’d given in and done the Homes and Gardens displays, and they had given him food for thought.
‘Look at that furniture!’ Gloria pointed eagerly to the neat square lines of the furniture, the curve chairs and blond woods of contemporary designs. He’d never seen anything like it.
‘We must get one of them lights,’ she screamed, rushing over to examine the sticks of light that sprung out like a spray of flowers. It was all very stylish, but Greg preferred the old oak stuff he’d grown to love at the Brooklyn, though his customers would want such details in their modern homes.
‘We could build that stone fireplace in our show house,’ he enthused. ‘York Stone bricks…I’ve got a good source for them. Everything is so modern and light…’
‘And expensive,’ added Gloria.
‘If we’re going to build new houses, then they must have everything up to date,’ he added, making for the fitted kitchen display. This was a grand exhibition.
‘You carry on, love,’ he said, hanging back. ‘I’m going out for smoke and I want to chat to some of these businessmen. They might be on the look out for an outlet in Yorkshire. There’s business to be had here. I’ll meet you by the café. You do your women’s stuff…in an hour?’
Gloria pointed to her watch and nodded. Greg was glad of a few minutes away from her incessant chatter. It had been a job to get her out of bed and into a taxi, but at last they’d found something to interest her and he promised her the funfair later to round off the visit. She could be tiring to be with when she got ideas fixed in her head, and stubborn with it. He had to keep finding new things to distract her. For one second he let comparisons with Maddy leach into his mind and then wished he hadn’t. Gloria loved him and that was all that mattered now.
His mind was racing. He’d acquired some prime building land on the outskirts of Harrogate. These modern shapes were the future. They’d need a show house and he’d build that for themselves on the best plot. A new house would keep Gloria occupied, choosing furniture and fittings.
Gloria got bored so easily, even in London. They’d done the waxworks, the Tower but she was not interested in history or art or buildings or anything with wheels. That made her eyes glaze over into murky green ponds.
The more time he spent with his wife the more he realised he didn’t know her at all. She contradicted herself now and again, just little things, but had let slip that she’d been sacked from the school, not resigned. That wouldn’t have bothered him much but why had she not been straight? Perhaps she was ashamed and scared.
The wedding had been a bit of rush, but that was his doing. He wanted no last-minute cold feet this time. He’d been disappointed that she’d not invited Sid, her brother, to their wedding, or asked Mrs Plum. Sid was doing his National Service, and Gloria refused to have any reminders of evacuee days either. She never mentioned Madeleine, for which he was grateful. He still couldn’t stop that girl drifting through his dreams.
He hadn’t intended to get wed so fast but it just seemed the right thing to do. He didn’t want to hang about, and he had fancied Gloria, but he wasn’t going to take advantage of her. When he got som
ething into his sights he just went for it.
Greg found himself staring up at a huge stone sculpture: two giant figures facing each other–a strangely intimate and moving placing of human forms, sort of balanced. He’d never seen anything like it before. The programme said it was by Barbara Hepworth. His eye roamed over the shapes, trying to understand them. But he stood back, bumping into someone also contemplating it.
‘I’m sorry!’ He jumped back and came face to face with Maddy Belfield. ‘Maddy!’ he gasped.
‘Greg!’ She stared at him with those grey eyes. ‘My God! What are you doing here?’ she stammered, her cheeks flushed with genuine delight as he reached out his hand instinctively.
‘Same as you,’ he said, trying not to shiver as he touched her gloved hand. ‘You look so…’ He didn’t know what to say. The very sight of her face stunned him; everything about her was so smart, so simple, so elegant. She was like a sculpture herself with soft curls around her face, the pretty purple dress falling to her calf, with a belt clinching her tiny waist. A rush of emotion flowed through him. ‘Maddy! It’s been such a long time…I heard you were in London. How are you doing?’ He tried to sound cold and indifferent but he couldn’t keep it up.
‘I’m fine, busy, but I’ve got Aunt Plum staying here. I managed to lure her out of Yorkshire at long last!’
His eyes instinctively looked to the ring finger, under her white lace gloves. There was nothing there.
‘Isn’t this wonderful? So cheering, so hopeful…I feel so proud to be British, don’t you? Have you come down for the day? I hear there’re special trains bringing folk from all over the country. Oh, do come and meet Plum. She’ll be so glad to see you.’
Greg stood in silence, just drinking her in. There was no time to explain as she took his arm and guided him back into the Pavilion, towards the café and the crowds queuing for seats as if all that had happened between them was some phantom of his imagination.
‘Look who I picked up in the street!’ Maddy almost pushed over the chairs in her rush to find Mrs Plum.
‘My goodness me! Gregory, what a surprise! “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”’ she mimicked the famous words from the film Casablanca. ‘Sit down. Find another chair, Maddy. How lovely to see a known face in all these crowds. How are you?’
Greg ought to have spoken there and then and told them he wasn’t alone, but the warmth of the welcome flooded over him like a wave of warm water, soothing him, reminding him of the old days at the Brooklyn. Once again he felt the granite in his heart melt into putty. This was his only family. Plum always made him feel special. Maddy was still his friend. Whatever tension there had been between them had long evaporated into genuine delight again. But Gloria ought to be here amongst them, sharing this special moment.
Suddenly he felt that granite again He didn’t want to share this with her, not just yet. If all had gone well, these two would have been his family now, his wife and her aunt, but he didn’t want to break the moment by telling them he’d married Gloria. Why not? Why ever not?
He knew why. He was ashamed of his new wife and it felt like a terrible betrayal even to think it. In those fleeting seconds of recognition he felt sweaty and moved to leave. ‘I’d better go. I’m supposed to be meeting someone.’
‘But you’ve only just got here. There’s so much to catch up on,’ said Mrs Plum, unaware of his panic. ‘Don’t go. Find your friend to meet us.’
He should’ve said it there and then, but his lips stuck together, and his tongue went dry.
It was Gloria who saw them chatting in a huddle from her seat by the door. A shaft of sunlight, bathed their heads; smiling, laughing as if she didn’t exist. How dare they ignore her?
Why was Greg smiling and waving his hands about, his cheeks beaming with delight! Then he glanced at his watch. He looked anxious. This was awful.
She’d got bored with all the furnishings and stuff–teapots, fancy goods, bed linen–and you couldn’t buy any of it, just take leaflets about suppliers. She’d come to the café early to rest her feet, to kick off her ankle straps, which were digging into her swollen feet.
Maddy still looked a million dollars in her fancy clothes. Even Plum had made an effort. Maddy never took her eyes off her husband. What a pretty scene. Time to spoil the party, Gloria smiled, striding across the room, trying to look relaxed.
‘Oh, there you are, Greg, love! What a surprise! Plum…Maddy? Well, what a co-incidence. I’ve never seen owt like it, have you? We’re so glad we came, aren’t we, darling?’ She sat down, took off her gloves and flashed her rings so everyone could see.
It was Plum who noticed first. ‘Gloria! You’re married to Greg!’
‘Of course!’ Gloria grinned. ‘We’re on our honeymoon, aren’t we?’
‘How delightful…congratulations to both of you,’ Plum continued.
Maddy nodded and jumped up. ‘I’ll get you some more tea.’
‘No, I’ll do it,’ said Greg nearly knocking his chair over. Clumsy boy! Gloria knew he hadn’t told them and she was furious.
‘I was working near Harrogate, we bumped into each other again, and the rest, as they say, is history.’ She grabbed his arm in a show of coupledom.
‘You dark horses,’ added Mrs Plum. ‘I’d have loved to have sent you a telegram and present, if I’d known.’
‘We didn’t want a fuss. Greg is so busy with his business. We were going to send a postcard to everyone from London, weren’t we? That’s why we came down, to get ideas from the Pavilion, to see all that Scandinavians’ stuff. It’s gorgeous, and the lighting–fancy having a kitchen with a built-in sink, oven and fridge. Greg wants to do the Transport and then we’re off to Battersea Funfair.’
No one was saying much and Maddy’s face was a picture. She was tight-lipped and cool, trying so hard not to look put out, the jealous cow! This news had popped her balloon and no mistake. Anyone could see she was still carrying a torch for Greg after all these years. This was one glorious moment of victory. He was hers now but she’d try to be generous in her triumph.
‘I suppose you’re still doing the mannequin shows?’ she asked, knowing full well that Maddy was now one of the best in the business.
Plum stepped in quickly. ‘She’s doing a big show tomorrow, part of the Festival of Britain in fashion.’
‘We’d better be on our way,’ offered Greg, slurping his tea and looking awkward. ‘So nice to see you both again.’ Everyone stood up.
‘But at least when you get home, please come and have some tea. I’d love to give you a little something for your wedding, and we’d all like to see the pictures! I can’t believe how we all bumped into each other so many miles from home. Isn’t it strange?’
‘Come on, Gloria, we need to get on if you want to see the Grotto and the Tree Walk,’ ordered Greg. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
‘I’d like to see those too…Let’s all go together,’ said Mrs Plum. ‘It’ll be fun, like old times. Is it far?’
Maddy followed behind, feeling sick, sad and as if living in some strange dream. It was as if the sun had gone in and now everything was grey and flat. Seeing Greg like that brought everything to the surface, all those emotions she’d held down since she’d stormed out of his life. It was such a shock to see Gloria wearing him like a trophy was on her arm. She didn’t understand. What had happened to Ken?
Greg appeared older, his eyes creased, and he’d scarcely looked in her direction. Why had he not bothered to tell them about Gloria being his wife when they met by the statue? He should have warned her what was coming. Not that it ought to matter now, but it did. No wonder he couldn’t look her in the eye when Gloria arrived.
They were all grown-ups now, and he had made his choice because she’d let him go. Why shouldn’t her friend step into the breach?
Then a terrible suspicion crept out of the shadows into her mind. All that advice Gloria had dished out…Surely not? She was her friend, surely she wouldn’t do suc
h a thing deliberately–make Maddy give him up for her own ends? Greg was not some prize to be fought over. He was flesh and blood and a good man. No, they must have met by chance long after she’d let him go. Good luck to them.
It was all over now and they lived in different worlds The pain of this would pass. She’d never have to meet up with them again. There were plenty of beaux down south. Some of the other models went out with racing drivers, actors, peers, Members of Parliament. Once, when she complained to them about their wages, Alannah had the cheek to laugh in her face, ‘Don’t be a simpleton. We’re not expected to live off these wages, darling. All of us have other patrons, don’t we?’ There was no response from the cabine.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Charmaine snapped. ‘Not everyone has a sugar daddy to rent them a flat like you!’
‘But she’s pretty enough to find other means of support, surely. Madeleine’s no different from any of us,’ Alannah sniffed. ‘No one gets rich on the pittance Scrooge hands out after a show.’
The meaning of it had shocked Maddy. She was not that type of girl, no matter what had happened in the past! When she gave herself in marriage it would be to a man who made her arms ache, her heart thud, her eyes brim with pride and love for who he was, not what he had. It would be to a man like Greg. There was always that terrible secret at the back of her mind, gnawing away at her sense of her own value. In hiding her labour from Dr Gunn, had she caused the death of her own baby in some way? If she had, she wasn’t fit ever to be a mother. If only she could remember what had happened that night, but what if Gloria hadn’t been straight with her? Had she planned this all along? No…this was her own jealous heart talking now.
But it was time that she was told where little Dieter was buried. Gloria owed her that, at least. It was terrible to feel so suspicious around her once good friend. They’d been so out of touch lately and now she knew why. Gloria held the key to her happiness–if only they could talk over things again so she could get it straight in her mind what had happened to his little body. Then she’d be free to get on with her own life again.
