by June Francis
Roberta did as Betty suggested but someone else had the same idea and they both arrived at the table as the girls stood up. Roberta stared at him, recognizing the fair-haired Nick from the library. She placed a hand on the back of a chair as the girls moved away and he did the same. They both watched the other as if waiting for them to speak. Then he nodded at her and pulled out a chair and sat down; she placed the knapsack containing the library book and her drawing pad and pencils on one of the unoccupied chairs and he put his knapsack on the remaining empty chair.
He picked up a menu card and began to study it. She read the reverse and then leaned back. She had only enough pocket money to buy a hot chocolate and so decided to wait and see if Thelma returned before ordering.
Several minutes passed and still he appeared absorbed in the contents of the menu. She decided that he was either avoiding looking at her or, like her, was delaying the moment when he would need to order because he was also meeting someone here. Maybe the friend she had seen him with last time in the library? Which reminded her of the book she had taken out for her mother. She removed it from her bag and placed it in front of her.
He lowered the menu a couple of inches and their eyes met and then he brought the menu up to his face again. She had an urge to giggle but managed to control herself by opening the book of Edwardian fashion plates. She intended picking out the outfit that she considered would suit her mother best.
She turned over a page, only to start when a voice from across the table said, ‘Aren’t you the girl from the library?’
Roberta glanced across into eyes the colour of treacle. ‘Shouldn’t you have blue eyes?’ she blurted out.
‘You’re not the first to say that,’ he muttered.
‘It’s usual with fair hair.’
He shrugged. ‘So what? Well, are you or aren’t you?’
‘You know I am, unless there’s something wrong with your eyes. That’s twice we’ve seen each other. I didn’t know you came here.’
‘Well, I do. What’s your name?’
‘Roberta Donegan, although I get called Bobby by my friends and Mam and Nan.’ She smiled. ‘I know yours is Nick because I heard your friend speak to you the time I saw you both in the library.’
He nodded. ‘Where d’you live?’
‘D’you know West Derby Road?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, off there. Where do you live?’
‘Prescot Road. My dad has a hardware shop. What about your dad?’
‘He was a sailor and was killed in the war. My mum’s a dressmaker.’
‘My mum’s dead.’ Nick glanced down at the menu.
There was a silence and Roberta was tempted to ask if his mother had died recently but she decided it might upset him.
‘Are you ordering anything?’ he asked abruptly.
‘I’m waiting for a friend, then I’ll order,’ said Roberta.
‘So am I. How long d’you plan on waiting?’
‘Probably half an hour.’
‘That’s two of us then.’
She looked down at the fashion book and turned a page.
He cleared his throat. ‘D’you often come here?’
‘When I can, I come straight from school in Grove Street early evening. I like to look at the paintings on the wall. You do know Betty the waitress painted them?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘They’re of Italy.’
‘I thought so.’ He rested his arms on the table. ‘I noticed you seemed to be drawing something in the library.’
She flushed but then decided he couldn’t possibly have seen the sketch she had done of him. ‘I was copying some pen and ink drawings from another book for Mam. She’s going to a wedding and she wants to make an outfit that’ll knock people’s socks off.’ She paused. ‘What were you writing?’
‘I was making notes for an essay on ancient Rome.’
‘Are you doing Latin for O level?’
‘I want to. I enjoy it. You?’
She grimaced. ‘I’ll probably drop it. I’m not that brilliant at languages and we have to make choices for GCEs soon. I have to choose between History and Geography. I prefer History, so I hope to do that. I also want to do Art, of course, as well as English, Maths, Chemistry, Biology and French.’
He smiled. ‘I’ll probably do technical drawing as well as the other subjects we have to do. I also like music and Dad has a fiddle but he never plays now.’
She thought he had a really nice smile. ‘I like music, too. How d’you feel about Frank Sinatra singing “Three Coins in the Fountain”?’
‘Prefer Frankie Laine as a singer. He has a really powerful voice.’
‘Have you ever been to Rome?’
‘Heck no! You?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I wish! The nearest I’ve got to it is the picture house. Quo Vadis, Roman Holiday and Three Coins in the Fountain.’
He laughed. ‘Have you ever been in the international library at the Central? It’s circular and in tiers, just like a Roman amphitheatre.’
‘I’ve looked through the doorway. I bet it’s not easy finding exactly what you need if you don’t know the name of the book you’re looking for in there.’
‘There is that but it’s divided into countries. Besides, I enjoy finding things out.’
‘I presume you don’t mean just trying to find a particular book but solving puzzles and mysteries, as well.’
‘Yeah, I enjoy a good whodunnit.’
The door opened suddenly and both their heads turned to see who entered. A girl came in. ‘Your friend?’ he asked.
Roberta shook her head. ‘I think I’ll just go outside and see if she’s coming. Will you look after my stuff?’
He nodded and picked up the menu card once more.
She went and had a look outside but the only person she could see was a man wearing a mackintosh and a black trilby. She found herself staring at him, reminded of the one whom she had thought had followed her from school. Since learning about Stuart Anderson she knew better. Even so she hadn’t forgotten the conversation between Lenny and Hester that evening about men who came to eye up the girls and sometimes expose themselves.
She went back inside, just as Betty approached their table. ‘Hi, Nick! Are you ordering?’ she asked.
‘I was waiting for Chris but I suppose I’d better order if I want to keep this table,’ he said. ‘I’ll have a coffee and a currant bun.’
Betty looked at Roberta. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ll have drinking chocolate.’ She placed a hand on Betty’s arm. ‘By the way, there’s a man outside watching this place.’
Betty frowned. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Would you believe me if I told you he was wearing a mackintosh and a black trilby?’
‘What!’ Betty hurried away.
To Roberta’s surprise, Nick stood up and went over to the window and peered out. Then he came back with a scowl on his face.
‘What is it?’ asked Roberta.
‘My blinking uncle! I was hoping he wouldn’t discover this place.’
‘You mean he’s followed you here? I thought I’d seen him before but you weren’t here that time.’
Nick’s scowl deepened. ‘He could have been hanging around outside school and I didn’t notice him. He’s always wanting to know what I’m up to. Let’s forget him.’
‘I would,’ said Roberta, noticing that Lenny had come out of the kitchen. ‘I bet a pound to a penny Lenny’s going to see him off.’
Nick’s expression altered and he stood up and went over to the window. He came back grinning. ‘He’s scooted.’
‘I bet he won’t be back in a hurry,’ said Roberta. ‘Lenny will warn him off and threaten him with the police.’
Someone put money in the jukebox and ‘Mambo Italiano’ flooded out. Roberta tapped her fingers in time to the tune and carried on turning the pages of the book. Nick took one from his haversack. She glanced at the dust cover as he opened it and
noticed it was slightly torn and that the title was The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie. Of course she had heard of the famous crime novelist but she hadn’t read anything of hers, preferring historical novels by Jean Plaidy because she felt she learnt from them. Somehow they brought history alive in a way that textbooks didn’t. She had also recently read Little Women by the American writer Louisa May Alcott.
She found herself thinking of her grandmother Graham being killed by a bear in the Rockies. It felt peculiar knowing that her own flesh and blood had survived the war, only to go all the way to America to be killed by a bear. She glanced down at the open page of a model in a gown that would have been fashionable when her dead grandmother had been young.
At that moment Betty arrived at their table. ‘Do you two mind moving your books?’ she asked.
Roberta put hers away but Nick did not even lift his head. Betty placed the mug of hot chocolate in front of Roberta. ‘There’s yours,’ she said. ‘Thanks for letting me know about that bloke. I don’t think he’ll be back.’
‘Good.’
‘I think I’ll tip Nick’s drink over his head,’ said Betty.
Immediately he looked up and smiled at her. ‘Sorry.’ He bookmarked his page and put the book away. Betty placed his order in front of him and the bills on a saucer in the middle of the table. ‘You know, I thought all you young people came here for the jukebox but you seem able to ignore it,’ she said.
‘I like live music,’ said Nick. ‘The jukebox is OK if all you want are the top of the pops but what if you prefer to listen to country and western or jazz? There’s not much of that, is there?’
Watching his earnest face, Roberta gave in to temptation and took out her sketching pad and pencil and turned over the pages and began to improve on her drawing of him.
‘I suppose it’s a thought.’ Betty glanced at Roberta. ‘What do you think?’
‘What?’ asked Roberta, without lifting her head.
Betty moved so she could look at what the girl was drawing and then shot a glance at Nick. ‘That shows promise,’ she murmured, then walked away.
‘What is it you’re drawing?’ asked Nick, looking across at Roberta.
‘Nothing!’ She closed the book and stuck it in her knapsack and reached for her drinking chocolate.
His eyes narrowed. ‘Rubbish is it?’
‘Yes,’ she murmured.
He rolled his tongue round the inside of his cheek. ‘You’re telling fibs. Betty said it shows promise. Why don’t you want me to look at it?’
‘It’s of women’s underwear,’ said Roberta glibly, taking a sip of her drink.
He flushed to the tip of his ears. ‘You’re kidding me!’
She smiled sweetly. ‘As if I’d do a thing like that.’ Reaching inside her knapsack she tore a page from her pad and passed it to him. ‘Nothing saucy but fashionable at the time.’
He looked at it and then grinned and passed the page back to her. ‘It reminds me of those bathing suits women used to wear to go swimming in the sea from bathing machines.’
‘That’s right.’ She dropped the page into her knapsack.
He bit into his bun and hesitated before asking, ‘D’you want half? You look hungry.’
‘No, you … you eat it all,’ she said. ‘I’ll save myself for my dinner. I don’t want to get fat.’
He eyed her. ‘You’re not fat. I’m always hungry. Dad says it’s because I’m growing so fast. I’m going to be much taller than him.’
Roberta took another mouthful of the hot chocolate, which was delicious. ‘I never knew my dad, but I know I don’t take after him. As it is I can’t say that I really miss him, although, of course, I’d have liked to have known him.’
‘I see what you mean.’ He took another bite of his bun and glanced towards the door. ‘Here’s Chris.’
She stared at the dark-haired youth who had just entered. ‘I’d better drink up if you want this table to yourself,’ she murmured. ‘It doesn’t look like my friend’s coming back.’
‘No, don’t rush yourself,’ said Nick hastily. ‘There’s room enough for all of us.’
Chris came up to their table and stared at Roberta. ‘Who are you?’ he asked bluntly.
‘Her name’s Bobby,’ said Nick.
‘Funny name for a girl,’ said Chris.
She stiffened. ‘My full name is Roberta. I’m named after my dad who was a war hero,’ she retorted, removing her knapsack from the chair next to her. ‘I suppose you’re named after Christopher Robin out of Winnie the Pooh!’
Nick grinned.
Chris smiled lazily and sat down. ‘Very funny. I was named after a saint if you must know.’
Roberta nodded. ‘Saint of travellers.’
Chris ignored her and rested his elbows on the table. ‘So how long have you been here, Nick?’
‘Not long. Dad had me not only carrying stuff backwards and forwards this morning but was wanting me to memorize the price of everything. He was showing me the account ledgers. Then my uncle turned up and he was in an ugly mood, so I left them arguing and then …’
‘What about?’
‘He’s lost his job and is in debt because he’s been gambling. Dad was hopping mad with him but at least my uncle has now agreed to move out of my grandfather’s house so it can be sold. Dad wants to plough his inheritance into the business. The only problem with a sale going through is that my uncle just might think he can move in with us,’ said Nick.
If only Mum had been so lucky as to be left a house instead of a jet necklace and earrings, thought Roberta, reaching out a hand for her bill. ‘I’d best be going,’ she said. ‘Bye, Nick.’
He looked up and smiled. ‘Tarrah!’
She went over to the counter where Betty was ringing up an amount on the till. When it came Roberta’s turn to pay, Betty surprised her by saying, ‘How d’you feel about coming along to my studio flat next Friday evening? You can have a look at my other paintings. You’ve never seen my earlier stuff, have you? You could ask your mum to come as well and to bring some patterns. I’m going to need some new clothes for Italy.’
‘I’ll see what Mam has to say,’ said Roberta, delighted at the thought. ‘It depends on Nan. What time do you want us to come if we can?’
Betty told her, adding, ‘Our Emma might also have some business for her. She’s been saying she could do with a couple more smocks and maternity skirts.’
‘Great! I’ll tell her,’ said Roberta.
When she arrived home it was to find Hester and Jeanette Walker there. Lynne had put in a lot of time on the wedding gown and Hester was having a fitting.
‘You look lovely,’ said Roberta, proud of her mother’s skill with her needle.
Lynne smiled. ‘I’m really pleased with the way it’s turned out.’
‘So am I,’ said Hester, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror with a wondering expression on her face. ‘I can’t believe it’s me. Although, I don’t know about my being lovely.’
‘You look beautiful,’ said Jeanette, slipping her arm around Hester’s waist and giving her a hug.
‘And once you have your headdress and veil on you’ll look like a princess,’ said Lynne.
‘You’ll certainly give Dorothy a run for her money on the day,’ said Jeanette. ‘You’ve met our famous actress, haven’t you, Lynne?’
‘We weren’t introduced,’ said Lynne lightly, bending to adjust a fold of the full-length skirt of the wedding gown. ‘But yes, I did see her.’
Hester and Jeanette exchanged glances but made no comment.
‘I think Nan would enjoy meeting her, what with her having worked in the theatre,’ said Roberta.
Lynne was about to say that Dorothy Wilson might not be interested in talking to an old lady when Hester said, ‘I’ll mention it to Dorothy when I see her next weekend. She and Sam are having a couple of days away in Whalley.’
Lynne felt a twinge of envy but made no comment as she helped Hester
out of her wedding gown. Then while Roberta made a pot of tea, she showed Jeanette the candy-pink taffeta she had purchased for the bridesmaid dress.
‘It feels lovely,’ said Jeanette, touching it lightly. ‘I can’t wait to see what I look like when it’s made up. How long d’you think it will take?’
‘Not long,’ said Lynne. ‘I’ll check your measurements and you can come for a fitting, say Thursday.’
‘Thursday will be fine,’ said Jeanette.
‘Will the family be seeing you then, too?’ asked Hester, buttoning up her blouse.
Lynne looked at Jeanette in surprise. ‘Are you going away somewhere?’ she asked.
Jeanette chuckled. ‘Yes, I’m leaving home to share Betty’s flat. I’ll be looking after it for her when she goes to Italy, so we both decided that I might as well move in earlier since Mam has persuaded Dad to help me with the rent and that it’s a good thing for me to have a bit of independence.’
Roberta was about to mention Betty inviting her and her mother to the flat but decided it was best to keep quiet about it until she had spoken to Lynne.
She brought up the subject after Hester and Jeanette had left. Lynne waited until she had finished before saying, ‘What about Nan?’
‘You can ask Her Next Door to keep her company,’ said Roberta, almost dancing with impatience. ‘It’s business, Mam, as well as me getting to have a look at Betty’s earlier work and hopefully what she’s doing now.’
‘OK, I’ll have a word with Nan and Her Next Door,’ said Lynne. ‘Now, did you get the book for me from the library?’
Roberta handed it to her and tore the pages of underwear from her sketch book and gave her them, too. Lynne glanced at them and smiled. ‘You are a clever girl, although I’m not sure I’ll be wearing that corset.’
Roberta perched on the arm of the easy chair. ‘Won’t you need to so you get the right silhouette?’
Lynne pulled a face. ‘We’ll see.’
‘You are excited about the wedding, aren’t you, Mam?’
‘Why shouldn’t I be? It’s ages since I’ve been places where I felt a need to dress up.’
