No Greater Love - Box Set

by Prowse, Amanda

  ‘Sorry, Mum, I’m a bit confused. Is the problem that she is a distraction to me here or that she is the daughter of staff?’

  ‘Don’t try and be clever, you know perfectly well what I mean. You are not a man of the world even if you think that you are. Girls like her will see an opportunity and grab it. She will look at you as the means to a very nice life and you must not allow yourself to get ensnared. By all means have fun, but nothing more. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘Not really, Mum and actually it’s a bit late for all that.’

  ‘What do you mean, a bit late?’ Vida’s hand flew to her chest.

  ‘I love her and she loves me and that is all there is to it, really.’ He clapped his hands together.

  Vida was silent for a few seconds before laughing loudly into her palm.

  ‘Oh, darling! My sweet boy.’ She composed herself. ‘I am glad that you are having adventures, I really am, but it is not love. It is not.’

  ‘But it is, Mumma.’

  ‘No, Solomon. It is not and even if it was, I would not allow it, I couldn’t.’

  ‘Not allow it? This is the 1960s not the 1860s!’

  Vida’s hand trembled in her lap; this was more dangerous than she had thought. ‘I am not prepared to discuss it further. It stops and it stops right now.’

  Solomon had never argued with his mother, there had never been the need, but on this point he was resolute. ‘No, Mumma, it doesn’t, it can’t. We want to get married.’

  ‘Married? Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Her voice was now a shout. ‘I do not want to hear such madness again! Marriage? Do you honestly think that would be an option for you and someone like her? Grow up, boy!’ His mother had slipped into the strong St Lucian accent of her youth, as if she couldn’t do angry and well-spoken at the same time.

  ‘I am grown up and that’s how I know that I love her and I will marry her.’

  ‘You will not! I can assure you that you will not!’

  ‘Is that right? How exactly will you stop me?’

  Solomon sat with his shoulders back and his spine straight. His chin jutted forward – he was a man and this was his choice, his life.

  Vida considered this for a moment. ‘There are ways, Solomon. Do you think your daddy got to such a position of power by being nice?’

  ‘Are you threatening us, Mum?’

  ‘There is no “us”! And I am not threatening you; I am telling you that this madness stops, and it stops NOW! Right NOW!’ Vida banged the arm of the sofa.

  Sol had never seen her lose control in this way. It alarmed him.

  ‘What in God’s name is all the shouting for at this time in the morning?’ Neither mother nor son had heard Colonel Arbuth­nott enter the sitting room in his leather-soled slippers and silk pyjamas.

  Vida took a deep breath and regained her composure. ‘Good morning, Abraham, do come and join us. Your son and I are having an absolutely fascinating discussion about why it might or might not be appropriate for him to marry the uneducated daughter of the local cook!’ She spat out the last few words.

  Arbuthnott Senior scratched at this stubble and rubbed his eyes. It was far too early to be having this debate. ‘But your mother was a cook…’

  Vida rounded on her husband. ‘Yes she was! And thank you for stating it so publicly! I know more than anyone what that means in certain circles and if you think that I have worked hard all my life to be accepted and become part of the mighty Arbuthnott dynasty just to have my only son take us right back there with one impetuous, misplaced gold band then you are very much mistaken! This is not what I planned for him and I will not tolerate it! I will not!’ Vida stood on shaky heels and swept from the room. ‘I shall take my breakfast in the morning room.’

  The two men stared at the space that she had vacated. Sol rubbed his eyes and scratched his scalp.

  ‘You okay, son?’

  Sol nodded, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I guess.’

  ‘She’s right though, Sol, a bit of fun is one thing, but you are far too young and inexperienced to be thinking about marriage.’ The colonel wandered across to the sofa and sat down, then ran his arm along his son’s shoulder.

  ‘But I love her, Dad, I really love her. She is beautiful and incredible.’

  He rubbed his son’s neck. ‘Son, if I married every girl I have ever fallen in love with, I’d have a harem – and if each one was half as much trouble as your mother, I’d be dead.’

  A torturous eight or so hours later, Sol was loitering at the end of Narrow Street. It was another hour before Dot appeared. He immediately wrapped his arms around her until he felt the knots leave her shoulders.

  ‘How are things at home?’ He almost dreaded asking. In the weeks since her row with her dad, things had become increas­ingly strained at Ropemakers Fields, she often had to wait and sneak out of the house unseen.

  ‘Still bad. Nothing’s changed.’

  Sol nodded and reached for her hands. ‘Well, if it’s any con­solation, my parents know too now and my mother has gone a little crazy, but I’m hopeful they will come round.’

  ‘No, it’s no consolation at all. I don’t understand why every­one is so against us. How can we be happy when what we are doing makes so many people miserable?’

  ‘That’s just the point, we aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s not us with the problem, it’s them!’

  ‘You make it sound true, Sol. But the reality is, no matter how loudly you shout at the sky that you don’t believe in rain, you are still gonna get pissed on eventually.’

  ‘Yes – but when we get pissed on in St Lucia it’s warm and soothing like a hot shower! We will weather the storm, swim in the rain and wait for the sun to reappear.’

  ‘It sounds lovely.’

  ‘It is lovely. Look, I don’t want us to be miserable – we can sit looking at miserable faces with our parents. We, however, are going to remain positive and confident that all will work out the way we want it to, okay?’ He pushed her chin upwards with his thumb.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘That’s my girl!’

  ‘I like being your girl.’

  ‘That’s good, because I am never going to let you go…’

  Back at work later that week, Dot unscrewed the plastic lids on the jars and shook the various-sized buttons into a little brass scoop before refilling the compartments in the drawer. She did this job automatically, pre­occu­pied with life outside the Haberdashery Department.

  ‘All right, Dot?’

  ‘No, Barb, not really.’

  ‘What’s the matter? You look like you’ve lost half a crown and found sixpence.’

  ‘Why did you tell your aunty about me and Sol?’

  Barb looked skywards, as though seeking the answer from above, then chewed the ends of her hair. ‘I dunno, I was just talking to her and me mum over a cuppa, we always talk about you, you’re my best mate! Did I do something wrong? I didn’t know it was secret!’

  Dot sighed, she couldn’t take her anger out on her friend. ‘No you didn’t. It’s not your fault, they’d have found out soon­er or later. I guess I was just hoping it would be later.’

  ‘Have they gone mad?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘What, cos he’s black?’

  ‘No, Barb, cos he wears odd socks! Whaddya think?’

  ‘All right, sarcy cow, don’t have a go at me! I really like him.’

  ‘Oh, I know, I’m sorry. God, I seem to be apologising to everyone at the moment. I never thought life could be this com­plicated. I wanted to fall in love and for everyone to be happy for me; I never thought it could lead to so much grief.’

  ‘You love him?’

  It was the only bit that Barb had heard. Dot nodded.

  ‘Oh my God! You do, don’t you?’

  ‘Yep, I really, really do.’

  ‘Have you done it?’ Barb asked, all ears.

  Dot remained silent, running her finger through the buttons.

  ‘You hav
e! I can tell, otherwise you would have said no. Did it hurt?’

  Dot shook her head and smiled. ‘No, it was lovely, he’s lovely.’

  ‘I’m pleased for you, Dot! Best offer I’ve had is six o’ chips with Wally, who used to work with your dad!’

  ‘Ooh, he’s a bit quiet, isn’t he?’

  ‘He may be quiet but he ain’t half a looker and you know what they say about the quiet ones!’

  Dot shook her head. No, she didn’t.

  ‘Well, anyway, going out with Wally is better than sitting in with me mum all bloody night while she moans about her corns.’

  ‘I guess.’ Dot realised how lucky she was to have the love of a man like Sol. Poor Barb. If the best she could do was a date with Wally Day, then she was to be pitied.

  ‘One favour though, mate, if my mum and dad ask, then I’ve been with you. I tell them I’m meeting you when I go to see Sol, d’you mind?’

  ‘No, course. It makes me feel like I’m part of this fabulous love affair! How exciting!’

  ‘It is, isn’t it!’

  The two girls giggled into the button trays.

  ‘D’you think you’ll get married?’

  Dot looked over her shoulder to make sure Miss Blight or any­one else wasn’t in earshot. ‘I don’t think we will, I know we will.’

  Barb gasped. ‘Has he asked you?’

  Dot nodded. It felt wonderful to be able to share the news that had been bursting to escape.

  ‘Oh my God!’

  Barb stepped around the counter and hugged her mate tightly. ‘This is mental! I can’t believe it. You’re getting married! It feels like minutes ago we were playing weddings up on the docks, do you remember? Taking it in turns walking up and down with a net curtain on our head, being the bride, and now you’re really doing it!’ Barb squealed and clapped her hands together. ‘Can I be your bridesmaid?’

  ‘Well who else? Of course you can!’

  Barb squealed again. ‘Right, we need to start planning this. She grabbed a spool of French lace and held it to her face. ‘I’m thinking lace-edged white silk, with back button detail and a large hat, like Britt Ekland.’

  ‘I don’t think I want a hat.’

  ‘Not for you, for me, you dozy cow! No, you need a head­piece with a bit of crystal and flowers to match your bouquet. Ooh and velvet, you know I love a nice bit of velvet.’

  ‘I was thinking something quite classic, fitted, with long sleeves and a bolero, and I have to admit, I fancy satin.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll go with satin, but you need a good girdle, it shows all your lumps.’

  ‘Good point. One thing I am fixed on is how I arrive at the church. I want to arrive in a horse and carriage. I want big horses with flowers up their reins and I want to be sat in the back of a big open carriage, looking like a princess.’

  Barb clutched her hands under her chin. ‘I can see it, Dot, you’ll look beautiful, just like a bloody princess!’

  Dot pictured Sol’s face turning and watching her walk up the aisle towards him. The truth was, if she was marrying Sol, she wouldn’t care what she wore.

  Dot walked slowly up Narrow Street and turned into Rope­makers Fields. The sky was bruised with purple clouds. People walked home with collars turned up and hats pulled down. She had loitered at work, offering to stay after hours and sort the stock cupboard. Next she had window-shopped her way along Oxford Street, unable to decide between the green knee-high leather boots that she couldn’t afford or the black patent leather ones that she couldn’t afford. Eventually she reached her bus stop; she let one bus go, but she knew she had to go home. Delaying the inevitable conflict was only making her stomach more nervous, it was probably better to get it over with. She wasn’t sure what to expect, possibly more insults fired in her direction. Her mum would fuss around the table, trying to make out all was well, and her dad would probably sneer at her from behind his paper. Well let him. Sol was right, when they were sitting on a beach in the sunshine, none of this would matter.

  ‘Evening, Dot, miserable night, innit?’ Mrs Harrison stood smoking, like the sentinel of Ropemakers Fields, puffing away up into the night sky.

  Dot nodded, lacking either the energy or the inclination to engage with her.

  The key eased into the lock, Dot slipped off her shoes and put them, heels together in the space under the stairs. She hung her mac on the hook next to her mum’s in the hall. It was then that she heard the unmistakeable sound of crying, more spe­cific­ally her mum crying. She threw her eyes up to the heavens. Here we go again… She wondered what the opening shot would be; her money was on shame – ‘Oh, the shame!’

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door to the back room. Her mum was sitting at the table, with Dee to her right. Her sister’s little hands fidgeted with the ear of a soft toy. Her dad stood with his back to the fireplace. His lower jaw twisted to the side when he saw her, his nostrils flared slightly.

  ‘Hello, everyone.’ She tried to adopt the right tone: warm, not too sarcastic and contrite enough for them to cut her a bit of slack.

  ‘Oh, here she is. You happy now?’

  Dot sighed. And so it began. ‘I am happy, actually, Dad.’ She had decided that defiant and confident was the only way to get through this, even though her stomach still flipped with nerves.

  ‘You are some piece of work! Waltzing in here all high and mighty. What did you do? Have a little word with your boy­friend’s mum? It’s low, Dot, even by your standards and who do you think will suffer the most? Not me or your mother, it’ll be Dee. You can forget Christmas, you can forget tea! How do you propose we keep a roof over our bloody heads?’

  ‘What?’ Dot sat down in the chair by the fire, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Joan removed the soggy hankie from her eyes, which were red and swollen. Her speech came in breathless stutters. ‘I… I… I’ve lost me… me… job. What am I gonna do?’ Her tears fell again.

  Dee placed her small hand on her mother’s arm. ‘S’okay, Mummy, I don’t want Christmas anyway and I’m not even a bit hungry.’

  This made Joan’s tears fall even harder.

  ‘What d’you mean you’ve lost your job? Why?’

  Joan slapped her palm on the table. Her voice was thin and reedy through her tears. ‘Why d’you think, you stupid girl? Four­teen years I’ve worked there! Fourteen years of my bloody life, scrubbing that massive bloody kitchen, cooking up what­ever was asked of me. Putting in the hours. I have never moaned, never put one foot wrong. I’ve had nothing but com­pli­ments on my work this whole time and then you… you whip off your knickers for five minutes of fun and I’ve lost me bloody job!’ Her face, distorted from crying, disap­peared behind her cupped palms.

  Dee giggled into her palm and whispered to her rabbit, ‘Mummy said “whip off your knickers”!’

  Dot felt winded, quite literally as though the breath had been knocked out of her. ‘It must be a mistake, Mum, I don’t understand…’

  ‘Neither do I! I don’t bloody understand. I don’t understand how I’m gonna pay the rent or put food on the bloody table. I don’t understand any of it, Dot.’

  Her dad stood with his chest heaving, containing whatever it was that battered his lips, probably because he didn’t want to say it in front of Dee. Dot smiled at her little sister, glad that she was there.

  Reg marched through the kitchen and they heard the back door slam shut. A fag might calm him down a bit.

  ‘I had no idea, Mum, I swear.’

  ‘That’s right, Dot, you have no bloody idea! You think life is some bloody game, where you can flounce around doing whatever you like, but this is the reality, we are now in real trouble. I don’t have the rent this month, cos I haven’t got a job and I haven’t worked till the end of the month so I haven’t been paid the full amount. And no rent means no house! And it’s all because of you!’

  Dot placed her shaking hand over her mouth. She felt sick. What on earth were they going to do?


  She couldn’t wait to get to Paolo’s, where they had agreed to meet that evening, as they often did. Partly she just wanted to get out of the house, but she also wanted to see if Sol could throw some light on the situation.

  Sol sat down and took one look at her stricken face. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked nervously.

  Dot stopped twirling the plastic tomato filled with ketchup and gave the man she loved her full attention.

  ‘My mum’s lost her job at the Merchant’s House.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean she’s been sacked, let go!’

  ‘Why?’ Sol shook his head in surprise.

  ‘I was hoping you’d know – well, I was and I wasn’t. I don’t know what to think.’

  ‘I didn’t know anything about it. Is she okay?’

  ‘What do you think? It’s her wage that keeps us afloat; I told you about my dad.’

  Sol exhaled loudly and went into solution mode. ‘Do you need money? I can help.’

  ‘No, I don’t need money.’ Dot drew her arms around her trunk; she was uncomfortable even discussing it. No matter how bad things got, she would never accept money from him. Pride was pride.

  ‘But when we get married, we’ll share everything and it will be irrelevant where it originated.’

  Dot stared at her lover. ‘To you maybe, and I do appreciate the offer, but trust me, it feels crap when you’ve got bugger all to share.’

  ‘Let’s go for a walk, walk off the worry!’ He smiled brightly.

  ‘No, I don’t think I’m up for a walk tonight, Sol. I’ll see you tomor­row, love.’ She kissed him softly on the cheek before she left.

  Dot knew this worry would be a little hard to walk off.

  Vida was on the sofa, reading by lamplight; the elegant room was bathed in a golden glow. The logs crackled in the fire - despite being mid-May, Vida felt the chill of the English weather. The record player spun its Motown beat into the room.

  Her bare foot tapped in time against the sofa and her silk and lace negligée pooled like liquid over the pale cushion. She chose to ignore her son’s entrance, even though his foot-stamping and door-slamming told her he was keen to announce his arrival. She wasn’t keen to have her peace shattered.