‘Who would think of doing such a thing?’ said Clara, round-eyed.
‘Someone utterly ruthless and heartless. Which is why you need me, dear ladies. I do hope you can afford to pay the full amount this month. After what you’ve just told me, you can’t risk any more bad luck, now can you? Oh, and I’d change the combination on that safe, if I were you. Now, let’s think of a more complicated number this time. When are your birthdays?’
‘Oh, Kenny,’ Annie fluttered. ‘What would we do without you?’
They handed over the money sweet as you please. It was really ridiculously easy.
Dena decided to hold a fashion show in the spring. Apart from being good for business, she thought that it might be good for her too. It would give her something else to think about besides Carl.
The misery of losing him was tearing her apart.
Of course, she should have realised from the start that it couldn’t possibly work between them. They’d never been anything but at odds since they’d first met years ago. Just because they’d taken a shine to each other in the excitement of a New Year’s Eve dance didn’t mean they could hope to have any sort of future together. They’d have been at each other’s throats in no time.
All the same she missed him dreadfully, missed his wry smile, the dangerous excitement of his kisses, and the tender way he held her in his arms. Dena couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind. The only way she could cope was to devote every waking minute to making clothes for a spring show. That way she’d be so exhausted at the end of the day, she’d at least get some sleep.
The January afternoon was quiet, most folk having spent up over Christmas and she and Winnie were taking it in turns to mind the stall. This was Dena’s afternoon for duty while Winnie had volunteered to do some baking and catch up with the ironing.
Dena had no idea what her mother found to do all day, beyond sit in her room and read magazines. It certainly never seemed to occur to Alice to help with any of the chores. Even Dena’s request that she might sometimes mind Trudy, had been met with a strident refusal.
‘It’s not my place to baby-sit bastards.
Dena had nearly bitten her tongue off in her efforts to keep quiet after that remark, but was determined not to fall out with Alice. A part of her resented her mother’s presence, feeling it was too late for them to mend fences. She’d preferred it when there’d been just herself and Winnie and Trudy in the house, living companionably together. But then Dena would be filled with guilt. She really shouldn’t feel this way about her own mother. Wasn’t this the perfect opportunity for them to get to know each other better and learn to be friends, as she had always wanted? It would just take a little time, that’s all.
Dena settled herself in a corner with a notepad and pencil and began to make plans for her fashion show.
She could hold it at the co-operative rooms. They wouldn’t charge too much, surely. She’d need to make posters, of course, and stick them up all around the market. That wouldn’t be too difficult. The biggest problem would be finding girls to model the clothes. Now who did she know who was still speaking to her? Besides Gwen, that is.
So many of her old friends had drifted away. Some had married while others simply ignored her. Not that she allowed herself to worry about that. She had her regular customers, the ones who came time after time to buy her skirts and dresses. A thought occurred to her. Why not ask a few of them to act as mannequins? At least they liked her stuff.
Although there were times when Dena pondered on how different life could have been if she’d never got involved with Kenny Garside, in the main she was content with her lot.
She’d seen him only once since the evening he’d come round trying to bully her into going to the pictures with him to see Jayne Mansfield, one of his favourite actresses apparently. And didn’t she know why? Dena had thought she’d managed to put him off for good, but no. He turned up again like a bad penny, just a few nights later.
This time she’d been sensible enough not to let him through the door, and, in the end, hearing voices raised in anger, Winnie had come to stand beside her to offer support. Arms folded across her plump little body, she’d given him a mouthful.
‘Your problem lad is that you don’t know how to take no for an answer.’
‘You keep your face out of my business,’ Kenny rudely responded.
‘Don’t talk to Winnie like that.’ Dena scolded. ‘I’m not coming out with you, not now, not ever. No matter how much you might try to convince yourself otherwise, I’m not your girl, and that’s final.’
Winnie jabbed a finger in his chest, just below his Dodge city string tie. ‘So don’t start with your threats, you, or come round pestering Dena any more, do you hear? Or we’ll have the polis on you for harassment,’ and she’d slammed the door in his face. ‘That’ll larn him,’ she’d remarked, deep satisfaction in her tone.
‘I very much doubt it.’
Now Dena chewed on her pencil, worrying over whether he had indeed learned to take no for an answer. Kenny Garside seemed to have a knack of only hearing what he wanted to hear.
By the time the market hall clock struck five, she was pulling down the shutters and snapping the padlocks into place. She’d had a most profitable afternoon, if not in custom, at least with regard to plans for her spring show, and she felt quite excited and optimistic about the future.
She’d spent hours browsing through a new pile of magazines from Abe’s stall, sketching new styles, as well as going over plans for the show itself.
It had been hard at first to keep her mind on the task in hand as it kept straying back to Carl, and she’d often find herself staring into space, drawing nothing, seeing only his face. In the end she’d made a vow not to allow herself to think about him, nor to dream of him any more. Her relationship with both Garside boys was over, never to be referred to again.
Making this decision brought immense pain. Just the thought of not seeing Carl again tightened her chest, leaving her breathless. Right now, if she let her mind dwell on him too much, she could weep for what she’d lost.
She gave no sign of her distress, however, when she called out goodnight to Molly Poulson, to Alec Hall, and to the Higginson sisters. At least she could hold on to her pride.
Most of the other traders had already packed up and gone home, Dena noticed, even Barry Holmes. The outside market was deserted, but then it was far too cold to hang about waiting for customers, who, if they’d any sense, would be snug by their firesides on a bitterly cold day like this.
She gave a cheery wave to Lizzie Pringle who was locking up her chocolate cabin just as Dena left the building.
‘Bye, Lizzie.’
‘Bye Dena. Take care.’
In her basket she’d got half a dozen crumpets to toast for their tea and she set off down the street with a spring in her step, if not quite in her heart.
It was as she passed the last empty stall that she heard the snap of a footstep on ice behind her, and realised she was being followed.
She swung about, alarmed.
‘Oh, Carl, I didn’t realise it was you behind me. You scared me half to death.’
‘I’m sorry, only I needed to see you, to speak to you.’
‘What about?’ Dena managed to calm herself, wanting to keep her manner slightly cool. After all, he’d made it very plain that he was no longer interested in her, and she’d vowed never to think about him any more.
‘It occurred to me that maybe I’d been a bit dismissive of you earlier by not even allowing you to explain.’
‘Really?’
He smiled, not seeming in the least put off by her icy tone. ‘I got to thinking that it is my brother we’re talking about here, and I, more than anyone, should understand how ‘persuasive’ he can be. Beneath that gentle charm, he’s really something of a bully.’
Dena couldn’t help but return the smile. ‘You could say that.’
‘So can we talk?’
‘All right. Why not?’
What did she have to lose?
Chapter Forty-Two
They sat in the corner of a coffee bar sipping espresso steam frothy coffee out of glass cups. Carl offered to buy her a sandwich or slice of cake but Dena really didn’t feel like food right now. Her heart was too full, the fear inside too hard to bear. Would he forgive her for going out with Kenny, or would he use the date as further proof of her loose morals?
The Sieberg juke box was playing Ronnie Hilton singing No Other Love and Dena’s stomach clenched. In her heart she felt that to be true of herself and Carl. She’d been so certain they had something special between them, although he may think differently.
His first words, therefore, were a delicious shock. ‘I thought we had something special, you and me.’
‘Oh Carl, that’s just what I was thinking!’ He still wasn’t smiling though, and Dena took a deep breath. ‘Will you let me explain now? It will have to be quick, they’ll be expecting me home.’
Carl agreed, and before she’d got half way through retelling Kenny’s tale of abuse, his mouth had tightened to a thin line, jaw set rigid, every muscle of his face taut with anger. ‘I should’ve known. I should have realized that something was badly wrong. He seemed to change for no reason when he was about nine or ten, suddenly withdrawing into himself and going all quiet and peculiar. He was only a young lad and we thought he was simply going through a difficult phase.’
‘Oh, Carl. I’d forgotten that Kenny had kept it a secret from you. But you can surely understand why. He feared that it might get worse if he told.’
‘Did he say who it was, which of Mam’s many man friends did those terrible things to him?
Dena shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. But by the time he’d finished relating what was obviously a painful story for him, I didn’t have the heart to refuse when he suggested we go out for a meal to celebrate getting these horrors out into the open at last. That’s how he described it. Why he now feels free and cleansed.’
‘Poor Dena, I can see it would be very difficult for you to refuse after that. But then you’re too soft hearted for your own good.’ Carl touched her cheek, cradling it in the palm of his hand and she leaned into it.
‘Do you forgive me?’
‘How could I not? Dena, you know what this means, don’t you? I simply can’t tell him about us, not just yet. He’ll think you’ve deserted him because of what he’s told you, and the guilt of it will hurt him even more.’
‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.’ Dena was mortified. The situation seemed to go from bad to worse. ‘But I still don’t want to go out with him.’
‘Of course you don’t, and you mustn’t. All I’m saying is that he needs to be let down gently. You must go on saying no, explaining that it’s got nothing at all to do with what he told you, but that you can’t change your mind just because of something that happened to him years ago. So long as he doesn’t see you with anyone else for a while he’ll soon grow bored and take up with one of his old flames again.’
‘I wouldn’t bank on it.’
‘Course he will. And once he’s done that, we can tell him the truth about us.’
‘Does that mean I won’t see you in the meantime?’ The record had finished, to be followed by Tab Hunter and Young Love.
Carl groaned. ‘How could I bear it? There’s no way I could stop seeing you. ‘We’ll just have to keep our meetings secret. We can manage that for a few weeks, can’t we? I’ll try to encourage Kenny to start seeing other girls, Jenny or Jeannie, or whoever. Once he has another girl dangling, then we can confess and he won’t feel quite so let down. You know what a show off he is.’
Dena was so relieved that he still liked her, that he still wanted to see her, she didn’t bother examining the details of the plan too closely. Something warm and delicious was unfurling inside her. He did still care for her, after all. She hadn’t lost him.
‘Oh, yes, Carl. I’m sure everything will be fine. We can keep our feelings secret for a little longer.’
Winter continued to bite and a stroll in the park or along the canal towpath was, of necessity, short, and fraught with the fear of discovery. But no matter what the risk, they had to see each other.
The very thought that Carl might pop over to the fabric stall to chat with her between customers left Dena feeling constantly sick with anticipation. She only had to see his familiar figure striding towards her for her heart to start performing emotional somersaults.
And Dena was so often tempted to find any lame excuse to linger by Carl’s stall, eager to share a few precious moments with him. She felt so alive when they were together, as if a part of her was singing.
She could only hope and pray that Kenny would be too busily occupied selling burglar alarms to notice.
These precious stolen moments brought pleasure to them both. The two lovers would always have to be well wrapped in woollies and coats, scarves and hats on their long walks, more often than not accompanied by Trudy. Fortunately she was too young to reveal their secret, but her presence allowed little opportunity for love making beyond a few lingering kisses.
It was all most frustrating.
Dena needed only to touch his hand to feel an ache of yearning fire up inside. Even the touch of his warm breath on her cheek would make her instinctively turn to him, her mouth moist and ready, eyes dazed with longing. She longed to have him love her but knew that if ever they started to kiss, they would surely never be able to stop.
Dena strove to be content that at least they were together, and Carl really seemed to have taken to Trudy. He would tickle and tease the little girl, bounce her up onto his broad shoulders and give her piggy backs, galloping along, making her laugh out loud in delight.
Sometimes, of an evening, Carl would call at Winnie’s place to see how she was, although he never came in as it didn’t seem quite right that he should when it wasn’t Dena’s house. Dena too was nervous of her mother spotting him, perhaps because she and Alice had more than sufficient grounds for argument and confrontation already, and she really didn’t want to give her the excuse for any more.
They would stand at the door chatting, huddled together against the cold as they sneaked a few kisses and exchanged a few whispered words of love, Carl constantly glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were unobserved.
Dena was running out of excuses to keep Kenny at bay, had refused countless offers to go with him to the pictures or to a dance, and both herself and Carl knew that this situation couldn’t go on for much longer.
Kenny too would often stroll over to the stall, interrupting when she was trying to help a customer choose a dress pattern or fabric, or else chatting in a big loud voice while she measured out a curtain length. It was so annoying and he paid not the slightest attention as she tried to shush him or make him go away so that she could concentrate.
He would appear at her side when she was least expecting him, often insisting on walking her home, even the few yards down the street from the market. When, on one occasion, Dena told him that she really didn’t need an escort, the next day she became aware of him trailing some distance behind her, which was even more disturbing.
Following this experience, she plucked up the courage to carefully and tactfully remind Kenny that while she appreciated being the one he had chosen to confide his troubles to, nothing, in fact, had changed between them. Just in case he hadn’t been paying attention the last time she’d explained all of this.
‘No, of course nothing’s changed, Dena. You’re still my girl,’ was his stubborn response, and he continued to speak of their ‘fresh start’, of how much she’d helped him to shake off the troubles of his past.
‘Oh, Kenny, if only you would listen. You wouldn’t want me to go out with you simply out of pity, would you? It really is time you found yourself someone new, someone who can love you as you deserve to be loved.’
But he just laughed and shook his head, then with a sly grin casually reminded her that she was, after all, the mother
of his child. Dena came close to hating him in that moment.
Being confined to the house with her mother’s constant presence became something of a problem. Alice’s habit for caustic remarks had not diminished in the slightest and she would constantly find fault with Winnie, let alone Dena. Either it was too warm in the house, or it was too cold. She couldn’t see to read her Woman’s Own, or the overhead electric light was hurting her eyes. She considered having an indoor bathroom a great boon, claiming it was what she’d come to expect after living with her brother in Chorlton, but really didn’t care for the green linoleum.
‘Blue and cream is so much more sophisticated.’
‘Why didn’t you stay at your brothers then?’ Winnie asked. ‘Since his lino is so much better than mine.’
And when Winnie bought a new Cannon cooker for her tiny kitchen, Alice said it was a waste of money and refused to touch it.
It was true that even Winnie was having problems with it. She would put a pan on one of the twirly rings and they’d all sit waiting for their supper to cook before realising that nothing was happening because she’d switched on the wrong ring. Or they’d suddenly smell burning because Winnie had again underestimated how much quicker electricity could cook a stew in comparison with the old solid fuel kitchen range, and had turned up the heat too high.
And then she burned her hand on the hot hob and Alice claimed that the new cooker was therefore a dangerous piece of equipment which should be removed from the house immediately.
‘It’s my house, my cooker, and I think it’s glorious,’ said Winnie stoutly. ‘I’ll fettle the damn thing, don’t you worry. Marguerite Patten says it’ll take a twenty pound turkey, what more could you ask for?’
Dena had to giggle at this. ‘I don’t think we’ll ever need to cook a twenty pound turkey, Winnie.’
‘That’s not the point,’ Winnie said, grinning nonetheless. ‘And it’s so much cleaner than all that dust we used to suffer, so we must just get used to it. All of us!’
‘Good gracious me! You can’t possibly expect me to cook,’ Alice said, looking shocked.
Putting on the Style Page 33
