Can Dreams Come True?

by Oliver, Marina

  To her relief the doorbell rang, and she heard the maid going to open it. She flung herself down in a chair, and gave what even to herself seemed like a highly artificial start when Robert entered the room.

  'Hello,' she said, her voice hoarse.

  He smiled, but to Daphne it seemed a slightly strained smile. However, he must be feeling nervous, and her own spirits revived. She stood up and moved towards him. She wanted to get away before her mother began to make polite conversation.

  He took her to a small, intimate restaurant which had a reputation for good food, but Daphne could not recall afterwards what she had eaten. She thought she had sent most of it back after a few mouthfuls. The dance floor was small, and the restaurant crowded, so they had to dance close, and the crush several times pushed Daphne even closer.

  He seemed distracted. It must be nerve-racking for a man, who had to make the first move, Daphne thought with a flash of sympathy. She tried to make lively conversation, and though Robert followed her lead he seemed, all the while, to have other matters on his mind.

  This restaurant was romantic in a way, Daphne thought, as he led her back to their table after a slow waltz. It was hardly conducive to intimate moments like a proposal, though. He'd be waiting until they were alone, in his car on the way home. Having looked forward so eagerly to this evening, Daphne now couldn't wait for this part of it, at least, to be over.

  'How is Paris? No problems at the factory?' she asked.

  'No. The manager seems very capable, and all the changes are in place and working. I won't have to spend much time there now.'

  'That's good. We'll see more of you in Birmingham.'

  'Yes. Though my father is unwell, I'll be busy here.'

  'He must be anxious to see you settled,' Daphne hinted, and then could have bitten out her tongue. It was too strong a hint. The time for that had not yet come, and she hoped it never would. If she had to, though, she would prompt Robert, but he had to be given a chance to speak of his own initiative first.

  'He'll be glad I'm at home more.'

  'Don't you long for your own house or flat? Rather than living with your parents?'

  'Too much trouble. Of course, when – if I – maybe I ought to look for something now I am back for good. Though if the international situation gets worse who knows? I might be joining the RAF.'

  'I'm sure the politicians will sort it out. All these gas masks and shelters are just sensible precautions. But don't let's talk about the threat of war. Have you been flying? You once promised to take me up.'

  'Did I? I haven't had much time recently.'

  At last he suggested they left. It was still early, but Daphne's optimism, which had fluctuated all evening so that she'd found it difficult to keep smiling and chatting, rose. They walked to his car and he carefully tucked in her skirt.

  'You don't want to get that dirty. It's a lovely dress.'

  It was his first compliment, and Daphne relished it. As he went round and got into the driving seat she could see his lips pressed close together. He was nerving himself to propose.

  Robert drove out of the city centre towards Edgbaston. He made no effort to talk. As they drew nearer, into wider, quieter streets, Daphne expected him to stop at any moment, but he didn't, until he halted in the drive of her house.

  'Thank you for a lovely evening,' he said quietly, and climbed out of the car.

  Was that all? Daphne thought fast as he came round to open her door. He helped her out and she stumbled, falling into his arms.

  'Ouch! I think I've twisted my ankle. Hold me, Robert, I can't put my foot to the ground.'

  Desperately she clung to him, willing him to embrace her. Instead he swung her up into his arms and carried her towards the front door. There he lowered her to the step and rang the bell.

  'I hope someone is still up, to help you,' he said, and Daphne could have cried with frustration. Then the door opened, there was a flurry of concerned questions from her mother, and Robert, after a few polite words, was gone.

  ***

  Chapter 11

  Maggie knew it was too good to last. She was leaving the factory one evening, with several of the women she worked with, laughing and joking together, when Sam fell into step beside her.

  'Maggie, me love,' he said loudly, and before she could dodge away he folded her into a big hug.

  'Sam, get off!' she hissed at him, and glanced towards the other women, who were looking on with amused interest.

  'You don't want me no more,' he said, still loud enough for them to hear. 'I'm told me lovin' wife's got a new man friend,' he said more softly, and took her arm to draw her away from the others.

  Maggie, her heart sinking, went with him. Had her new life ended? Would he force her to go back to him? She would refuse, but perhaps his violent friends would be enlisted to persuade her. She wouldn't let them. She'd find a way out.

  'I don't have a man friend,' she said angrily, jerking her arm away from his hold. 'How did you find me? And how long have you been out of gaol?'

  'What else do yer call a man what gives a woman a job an' takes 'er ter live with 'im?'

  'Have you seen the vicious bullies yer calls your friends? The ones that threatened ter rape little Jeannie?'

  She was watching him closely, and could have sworn his prison pallor went even paler.

  'I went straight ter find yer, knew yer'd be at work this time o' day,' he replied after a pause. 'They tells me yer left yer job. And yer'd left the 'ouse.'

  'I suppose they told you where I was working. It was George sent off your pals, and I'm renting a room in his wife's house. But you're not getting yer feet under the table there, Sam Pritchard. I've finished with you.'

  'We'll see about that. I want yer back, and me kids.'

  Maggie had been thinking fast. If she couldn't get rid of him she'd have to leave her job, move away, somewhere he and the thugs who'd threatened her before couldn't find her and the children. George would help. Perhaps he could find her a job in another town. He had lots of friends who would give her a job with a word from him.

  'Your pals want you more'n they want me,' she said as calmly as she could. 'They was looking for summat, when they came for me. They'll soon know you're out, and I doubt they'll help you bother me unless yer tells them where you hid what they were looking for.'

  Sam laughed, unconvincingly. 'They won't find me. They were give less time than me, lyin' tykes, but they'll have left Coventry theirselves be now. Too many people want them. No, Maggie luv, I've got other pals now, tough 'uns, and a couple of 'em got let out same day as me. They're spoilin' fer a fight. Tell your George ter look out fer hissen and his missus. Yer needn't fuss about the kids, these chaps aren't afraid of takin' on proper men, they don't bother wi' tiddlers.'

  He nodded and walked away, then turned and leant against a wall, arms folded, watching her. The other women had gone and the street alongside the factory was empty. For a moment she considered catching a tram into the city centre and trying to lose him there, but that would serve no purpose. He could follow her home any day, or follow George, or ask any of the women where she lived. They'd suspect nothing. Then he might go there when Sheila was on her own with the babies. She'd have to get away as soon as possible.

  She walked home, and to her immense relief Sam followed her no further than the end of the road. At least he didn't mean to create a scene today. Then she wondered if he meant to bring his new pals back later.

  Sheila clearly knew something was wrong as soon as she looked at Maggie, who was trying her best to appear normal.

  'What is it? You look as if you've seen a ghost. Come and sit down. I'll make some tea.'

  Maggie shuddered. 'I have. Sam,' she said, breathless. 'He knows where we are. Sheila, I'm so afraid! He could hurt you or your kids. I've got ter go away.'

  'Don't panic, Maggie. Wait until George comes home, and see what he says.'

  'He can't protect us all from Sam's pals. It's not just the ones who threatened
me before, Sam says he made friends in prison, and they're even tougher. And I couldn't stop him from following me here. He knows where we are. I must go!'

  'If he's threatened you we'll tell the police.'

  Maggie gave a bitter laugh. 'What can they do? It's not likely they'll guard us all for ever, is it? More likely ter tell me to obey me lawful wedded husband!'

  'No harm in letting them know, and then if the worst happens, which I'm sure it won't, they'll know who to look for. But from what you've told me about Sam I'd guess he's a coward. Did you tell him the other lot were after him?"

  'Yes.'

  'Then no doubt he'll vanish himself, to get away from them.'

  'He says they'll have scarpered by now, it's too hot fer them here. I think he's right, they've left us alone, and we'd not be hard ter find. Sam managed it OK.'

  'But they haven't, and by now they won't, like Sam said.'

  Maggie wanted to believe her, but couldn't. Sam might be a coward, but he was also mean and stupid. He'd want revenge, and would persuade himself that his old friends would leave him alone, or that he could dodge their enmity. She'd had a few months of happiness, of not having to struggle, but now it was all over.

  *

  Monday came at last. Robert had breathed a sigh of relief when he'd left Daphne. That had been a difficult evening, having to make polite conversation while wishing time to fly past. Fortunately there was work to keep him occupied all Sunday and Monday morning, but he left in good time to drive to Walsall, to reach Kate's gloving factory before she could finish for the day.

  He parked his car in Bradford Street. He didn't know where Kate lived, but that was far enough from her factory to be just another car if she happened to walk past, even if she remembered it from the one time she might have seen it. He'd decided not to approach her immediately, when she was likely to be leaving with friends or workmates, but to follow her home. There he would have a better chance of talking to her properly.

  He found a small café a little way along the street, and sat at a table in the window from where he could watch the factory entrance. For the first time he wondered how it was that Kate had come to this town if her family lived in Coventry. Had they all moved? And why she was working in a factory? Was it something to do with the man who had made her pregnant? Had she been pregnant? Or was this just a rumour?

  According to the waitress who served him a pot of tea and some cakes he did not want, but which would give him an excuse to linger, the factory would be closing within half an hour. It was, he thought after the twentieth glance at his watch, the longest half hour he had ever spent.

  Finally the door opened and a couple of women emerged. Robert picked up his hat, ready to leave when he saw Kate. But she was a long time coming, so long that he was beginning to despair.

  She finally came out of the door with another girl a few years older, and a man who walked away with them. She looked even prettier than he remembered, and his heart gave a lurch. She was an inch or two taller, he was sure. Her hair was longer, her face was a little thinner, and she was better dressed, wearing a good wool coat and a felt hat. She had a job, she wasn't destitute or in need, so far as he could tell. Some of his worst imaginings now seemed rather melodramatic. But he wanted to know all that had happened to her, and if possible, he meant to punish anyone who had hurt her.

  Robert pushed his speculations into the back of his mind. There was time for them later, when he had discovered the truth. He hastily left the café and followed. They went into the street which swept down from the church on the hill towards the George Hotel, walked down, and then crossed over into a narrow street going off it. Robert, feeling ridiculously guilty and conspicuous, followed. All the time he was wondering what the man, a handsome fellow his own age, with dark curly hair and a small moustache, meant to Kate.

  He had to keep well back, for fear of being seen, though there were quite a few people walking along. He was so much better dressed than them he was sure they were all watching him, wondering what he was doing in this part of the town.

  The trio in front of him halted suddenly, and Robert turned aside as though contemplating the wares displayed in the small window of a scruffy grocery shop. Looking sideways he saw Kate give a slight wave and move on while the others went inside one of the small houses which lined the street. He gave a sigh of relief. The man was nothing to do with Kate. He watched as she walked on past several houses, and then went into the corner one, by a small side street.

  The moment had come and he found he was trembling with nervousness. Would she welcome him? Would she even recognise him? It was more than a year and a half since they'd met. Taking a deep breath he went on and knocked on the door through which Kate had vanished.

  *

  Daphne waited all Sunday for Robert to telephone or call. At the very least he should be asking how her ankle did. She fretted alternately with fuming. What had gone wrong? She'd been so certain he'd begun to regard her more warmly than just a friend. Why had he been so cold? What had she done to offend him?

  On Monday, restless, she went into the city and tried to distract herself shopping. She was about to say she would take the coat she was trying on when she realised that having spent so much on the dress she'd worn for Robert she could not afford it.

  'Has Robert called?' she asked immediately she reached home.

  Her mother shook her head. 'He seemed distracted on Saturday,' she ventured. 'Had you quarrelled?'

  'I think he is worried about work,' Daphne said hastily. She couldn't bear more questions, even sympathy, from her mother. 'I'd better be getting across to the University. I've lectures this afternoon.'

  'If he calls I'll ask him to telephone you this evening.'

  Daphne nodded. What could she do? When Brian suggested they went to the cinema after lectures she snatched at the idea. It would be better than sitting at home, and if Robert did try to contact her he would see that she was not sitting waiting for him. Maybe, she thought hopefully, the idea of a rival might prompt him into speaking.

  Brian was becoming more interested in her, she realised. They went for a meal after the cinema, and he began to talk about his plans once he was qualified.

  'I'd once thought of being a surgeon,' he said, 'but now I think it would be more satisfying to open a general practice somewhere. I find I prefer my patients to be awake when I'm treating them. What do you plan to do?'

  'I haven't made up my mind.' If Robert did as she hoped, she would abandon her medical studies immediately. Being Mrs Manning would be sufficient for her.

  'Alternatively my uncle is a doctor in Wolverhampton, and he would like me to go into partnership with him. He's going to retire a couple of years after I'm qualified, there would be time for me to know the ropes, and then take over from him. I'd need a partner, of course.'

  He was looking at her significantly. She would finish two years behind him. Daphne considered the prospect. If there had been no Robert she would have liked the idea. She was fond of Brian, in a mild way, and working together would have been satisfying. But there was Robert.

  She temporised. 'I really don't know what attracts me most, yet. When I've had spell cutting people open maybe I'll discover whether I like that. I once thought I'd like to work with children. So many of them are malnourished, riddled with disease, and proper education through clinics for them and their mothers would be satisfying.'

  'My uncle talks of opening clinics for his own patients. He can afford to, they're expensive to run. But he'd need a woman to work in them.'

  'Maybe we'll all be needed in a different way if there's a war.'

  Brian shook his head. 'I doubt it'll come to that. They won't let it happen. Some sort of sensible compromise will be agreed.'

  It was late when she reached home, but there had been no telephone call from Robert. Suppressing her disappointment Daphne said goodnight to her parents. She was tired and had classes early in the morning, and took herself to bed. What should she do? Was it
sensible to fight for Robert, or should she encourage the clearly interested Brian? If she did the former, might she lose Brian? Somehow, she had to keep his interest until she was certain of Robert's feelings, but at the moment, until Robert contacted her, there seemed little chance of doing that.

  *

  Kate went to open the door. She was alone in the house because Mrs Breen, her landlady, was not at home yet. She worked in a shop in town and often had to stay late to tidy the stock and the displays. It was probably a neighbour, Mrs Winter, who was constantly asking to borrow a cup of sugar or a screw of tea, just until the weekend. But why hadn't she come in through the kitchen, as she usually did?

  Totally unprepared, Kate opened the door and stood, shocked. It couldn't be Robert! So often she'd imagined seeing him again one day, but she'd known it was an impossible dream. She blinked hard, and licked her lips nervously.

  'Kate?'

  'Robert? Is it really you?'

  'May I come in?'

  She stepped back, nodding, and he went past her into the narrow passage.

  'You live here? A relative? Or do you rent a room?'

  'I – yes, a room. But Mrs Breen won't allow visitors there. We can use the kitchen.'

  Suddenly shy, Kate indicated the door behind the narrow stairs. It led into a room where there was a huge iron grate on one wall, a big sideboard against the wall opposite, and crammed into the narrow space between a table covered with oilcloth, and four chairs. In alcoves to either side of the grate, where the embers of a fire smouldered gently, were two worn armchairs. It was far superior to the kitchen she'd known as a child, but Kate was suddenly aware how shabby it all was.

  'Would – would you like some tea?' she asked, swinging the kettle over the fire and picking up the poker to stir the embers into flames. She threw on a few lumps of coal from the scuttle, and then jumped nervously when Robert took the poker from her and, holding her hands, turned her to face him.

  'I've had enough tea, Kate. Sit down, please. I want to talk. How do you come to be living here?' Gently he pushed her into one armchair and sat himself in the one facing her. 'Tell me what's been happening to you, Kate. I have a horrid suspicion it was something to do with me, that's why you had to leave school, and if it was I can't say how sorry I am. I want to make it up to you.'