Wives & Mothers

by Whitmee, Jeanne

  He showed her the tape deck and the library of tapes. There was the incidental music, labelled for each play, and the sound effects, mostly home made. Patrick made her laugh as he explained the odd ways in which some of them had been devised.

  ‘This one, the sound of running water, was Tom’s bathwater running, and this one — the dawn chorus — had me up at five a.m. hanging out of the window with a mike. It had to be in Toby’s room because it faces the garden. I could only get the sound of the early morning lorries on the by-pass from mine.’ He laughed. ‘Toby wasn’t best pleased, I can tell you, especially as he had his girlfriend staying for the weekend.’ He broke off as he saw her blush. ‘Come on, let’s go and sit down again, shall we?’

  Elaine was quiet as they sat side by side on the divan. She hated herself. It must look as though she disapproved. He would think her stuffy and naive — a silly kid. It was just that his remark had taken her by surprise and she didn’t quite know how to react. She wished her mother had brought her up differently, wished she was more with it. Grace might look fashionable and sophisticated to her customers and to outsiders but when it came to keeping up with the modern way of thinking she was way behind the times.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Patrick took her hand again. ‘Not tired?’ She shook her head. ‘No. I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘You’re fed up with my company, is that it? I don’t want to keep you from the fun — from mixing with the others.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said, quickly turning her face to his. ‘I’d rather be here with you than anywhere.’

  His blue eyes smiled at her. ‘What a nice compliment.’ How fresh she was. As yet she hadn’t learned to hide her feelings. Those expressive brown eyes revealed everything. It was like the feeling he got looking at a new, untouched canvas that challenged him to paint a masterpiece. In a year or two she’d have learned to keep her reactions to herself — to tease and flirt and play a man like a fish on a hook — especially with those eyes, those looks. But for now she was sheer delight. He felt his heart melt with tender anticipation.

  ‘Do you have a regular boyfriend, Elaine?’ he asked, taking her hand.

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve been too busy working.’

  ‘I’m glad.’ He smiled. ‘How old did you tell me you were?’

  She frowned. She didn’t actually remember telling him. Seventeen sounded such a baby. ‘Eighteen, umm, soon,’ she said hopefully.

  ‘Eighteen, eh? Just three years younger than me.’ His voice was soft as his face came closer. Elaine could feel his breath on her cheek. She felt the anticipation of his kiss stir something, some magic, deep inside her.

  ‘Just right.’ His lips brushed hers experimentally and he felt her quiver. She was like a butterfly. So delicate and fragile; alive with vivid transient colour. He drew her closer. Her lips were soft and moist — almost childlike under his. Her arms wound softly around his neck and he felt her supple body curve instinctively against him. For a moment he held her, rubbing his cheek against the soft, springy hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her. Then he kissed her again.

  ‘Hey, maybe we’d better go back now,’ he said softly after a moment or two. ‘People will be thinking I’ve spirited you away.’ She was arousing him even more than he had anticipated and he knew instinctively that this one was not to be hurried.

  Walking back through the yard, her hand swinging in Patrick’s, Elaine thought she had never been so happy, but he’d said nothing about another meeting. Surely it wasn’t going to end here? She must see him again — she must. As he stepped in front of her to open the door she whispered: ‘Patrick — when — when will I see you again?’

  He stood looking down at her, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders. ‘You really want to see me again?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, yes, I do.’

  He bent to kiss her lightly on the mouth. ‘We have all summer ahead of us, sweetheart,’ he whispered. ‘And it’s going to be the loveliest summer I’ve ever known. I can feel it in my bones.’ Elaine could feel it in hers too.

  *

  ‘I think there is some cake in the tin.’

  Elaine was jerked out of her reminiscent dream by her mother’s voice. ‘Sorry. Cake?’

  Grace was pushing her empty plate aside. ‘In the tin. I think there’s some left.’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Elaine fetched the cake tin and cut two slices. ‘Did Mrs Bennett come last night?’ she asked. ‘If she stayed, you must have been quick changing my bed again.’

  ‘She didn’t stay,’ Grace said shortly. ‘She had to get back to Stanmore. An appointment or something.’ She looked at her daughter thoughtfully. ‘Elaine, you are happy here, aren’t you? You don’t still miss Stanmore?’

  Elaine laughed. ‘Good heavens, no. I love it here. I wouldn’t change the flat or the shop or anything, not for the world. I’m looking forward to working with you in the shop in the holidays, like you said I could. I can, can’t I?’

  ‘Yes, love, of course.’ Grace sighed. How long would it last, she wondered. What would next month — or even next week — bring?

  *

  As it happened Grace didn’t have to wait long to discover whether she still had a job and a roof over her head. The following day when they had had their Sunday lunch Elaine announced that she and Alison were going for a walk, then back to Alison’s house for tea afterwards. Grace was glad of a chance to put her feet up and look at the latest fashion magazines. She was just leafing through the August edition of Vogue when there was a ring at the flat bell. Sighing she put down the magazine and swung her feet to the floor, padding down the stairs in her stocking feet to answer the door. To her surprise Bryan Bostock stood on the step, an apologetic, almost hang-dog look on his face. ‘Grace, my dear, I’m sorry to arrive unannounced like this. Can I have a word with you?’

  She held the door open for him, her heart sinking. Now that the moment of truth had arrived she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know. ‘Come upstairs, Bryan,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful. ‘I was just going to make myself a cup of tea. I expect you’d like one too after your drive.’

  ‘I would indeed.’ He lumbered up the stairs after her, looking for all the world like a dejected bloodhound.

  In the living room she poured tea and handed him a cup. He spooned three sugars into it and stirred morosely.

  ‘What can I do for you, Bryan?’ Grace prompted.

  ‘Maybe you’ve seen Margaret,’ he said, his eyes searching her face. ‘Maybe she’s already told you.’

  ‘She was here on Friday for the monthly look at the books.’

  ‘Say anything else, did she?’ Bryan looked up at her with bloodshot eyes.

  In spite of the sour note on which they had parted Grace still felt reluctant to break Margaret’s confidence. Taking a deep breath she shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Well, you’re bound to hear sooner or later. We’ve decided to go our separate ways,’ Bryan looked up at her. ‘I thought if she’d told you, you might be worrying about how you stood. That’s why I’m here.’

  Grace sighed. ‘It was good of you to think of me. I’m sorry, Bryan.’ She looked at him fearfully. ‘What are you planning to do — about the shops, I mean?’

  ‘As the sitting tenant, I shall give Margaret the chance to buy ‘Margot’s’. I imagine she’ll take it. God knows she ought to have enough cash put away,’ he added bitterly.

  ‘And this one?’

  ‘At the end of the present quarter the option to rent will be yours,’ Bryan told her. ‘If you want it, ‘Style ‘n’ Grace’ will be your business, with your name on the rent book from the beginning of the next quarter. But of course you’re under no obligation. If your loyalty to Margaret will make things awkward for you, or you’d rather fit in with any plans she might have, I shall quite understand.’

  Grace could feel herself turning pink with excitement. Her shop. Her own business. It was like a dream come true. She could almost have hugged Bryan. She took a deep breath
, deciding to put her cards on the table and tell him the truth. ‘As it happens, Bryan, Margaret and I have parted company too,’ she said. ‘I’ll admit now that she did tell me briefly about your quarrel — though not in detail. She was in a very bad mood and she said some nasty things that I couldn’t forgive.’ She sighed. ‘I’m afraid I had to ask her to leave. I’ve had a very worrying two days since then, Bryan.’

  He reached across to pat her hand. ‘I’m so sorry about it all, Grace. It’s not fair that you should suffer because of the mess we’ve made of things. You’ve always been a good worker. You’re bright — a good businesswoman. Between ourselves, I’ve always felt that Margaret underpaid you. She was on to a good thing with both of us, if you ask me.’ He held her hand in his large fat paw, stroking its back absent-mindedly with his thumb. ‘You deserve to get on and now’s your chance. I’ll rent the shop to you as reasonably as I can and the running of it will be up to you. I know you’ll make a go of it.’

  He would have stayed on, in fact he gave every indication of settling down for the evening, but Grace discouraged him by saying that she had to do some stock-taking. She felt mean for turning him out when he had driven over specially to take a load off her mind. He’d been so kind to her too, over the rent. But for a reason she couldn’t quite name she never felt completely comfortable in Bryan’s company, and being alone with him was a definite strain. As he was leaving he turned suddenly, almost bumping into her in the narrow passageway.

  ‘Oh, I’ve just remembered. I’ve got tickets for a Sunday charity concert. It’s next month, at the London Palladium. Dozens of stars appearing. I was going to take you, Margaret and Elaine as a little treat. Now there’ll be a spare ticket. Would Elaine like to bring a little friend, do you think?’

  Grace hesitated. His large face looked so pleased with the idea — so expectant — that she hadn’t the heart to refuse. ‘Thank you, Bryan,’ she said. ‘I’m sure we’d all love to go.’

  *

  Alison and Elaine sprawled on the rug in the sunshine on Parker’s Piece.

  ‘Come on then — give. I was too sleepy to prise anything out of you when we got to bed, and there were too many people milling around at breakfast yesterday.’

  Elaine opened one eye and looked up at her friend. Alison was sitting up looking down at her expectantly. ‘What do you mean — give?’

  ‘Come off it. You know what I mean. You and Patrick, of course. Everyone noticed the two of you were missing — for absolutely ages too.’

  ‘He was teaching me to work the puppets over in the barn.’

  Alison snorted. ‘Pull the other one — it’s elastic. Come on, Ellie, I thought I was your best friend.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘So...?’

  Elaine sat up. ‘Alison, what do you want me to tell you?’

  ‘What happened, of course.’ She gave her friend a sly glance. ‘I must say, I never thought you had it in you. They say the quiet ones are the worst.’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding. You spent all that time alone in the barn — with Patrick — and you expect me to believe nothing happened?’

  ‘I told you — he showed me the puppets and all the things backstage. He let me try one of them.’

  Alison laughed. ‘What else did he let you try? Don’t tell me he didn’t even try to kiss you...’ Alison saw the faint flush that deepened Elaine’s colour and pounced: ‘Ah, he did. I’m right, aren’t I?’

  ‘Well, all right. One kiss. That’s nothing, is it?’

  Alison shook her head and threw herself down on the rug again. ‘All right, if you’re going to be cagey about it, I won’t pry any more.’ She closed her eyes, silent for a moment. Then she said: ‘Do you fancy him?’

  ‘He’s nice.’

  Alison rolled on to her stomach and gave Elaine a gentle punch on the shoulder. ‘Elaine Wendover, you are the most irritating female I’ve ever known. I know Patrick is nice — everyone knows he’s nice. That’s not what I asked you.’

  ‘I think he’s good-looking too. Quite handsome, in fact.’

  ‘Getting better. And what about when he kissed you? Did it give you butterflies?’

  Elaine giggled in spite of herself. ‘What do you think? Anyway how about you?’ she countered. ‘After we came back from seeing the play, you just vanished. Where were you?’

  ‘That’s no secret. Jake and I went upstairs to have a sneaky drag.’ She looked at Elaine’s puzzled expression and raised her eyes to the sky. ‘Dear God, you’re such an innocent — to smoke pot.’

  ‘Is that what those cigarettes were made of — the ones that smelt funny?’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘Does your Aunt Zoe know?’

  Alison shrugged. ‘No idea. It’s okay anyway. Perfectly harmless. All the kids smoke it. It makes you feel great.’

  Elaine frowned. ‘It’s still — well — drugs, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘So what? You don’t have to get addicted unless you’re a stupid twit.’ Alison breathed in deeply and spread her arms. ‘It was a great party though, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Alison — you and this Jake, did you...?’

  ‘Of course.’ Alison grinned up at her impishly. ‘Oh, don’t look so shocked. Not all the way — just snogging.’ She shook her head at Elaine. ‘You’ve got an awful lot of catching up to do, sweetie. Time you persuaded that mum of yours to let you off the lead a bit more.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Hey, look at the time. Mum said five o’clock and it’s ten to already. No wonder I’m starving. Shall we go?’

  As they walked back to Alison’s house Elaine was silent, busy with her own thoughts. A lot of catching up to do. Alison had said. Sometimes her friend made her feel such a baby; years younger, slow and simple-minded. All the same, she wasn’t sure she wanted to catch up with all of it too quickly. There was an awful lot she still didn’t really understand. She couldn’t ask her mother. She knew from experience that Grace found talking about such such things extremely distasteful. As for asking Alison, she’d die of shame rather than admit her ignorance; even though they were best friends.

  ‘Are you seeing Patrick again?’ Alison asked as she pushed open the front gate.

  Elaine shrugged. ‘I might,’ she said. And her heartbeat quickened. It’s going to be the loveliest summer I’ve ever known. The words sang inside her head like music. Suddenly the sky was bluer; the air sweeter; the sun warmer than it had ever been before. Happiness and the sheer joy of existence made her feel she could do anything — walk on water — sing like an angel — fly to the moon...

  ‘Come on, dreamy.’ Alison grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. ‘Mum’s been baking. I can smell fresh bread and fruit cake. If we don’t hurry up, the greedy pigs will have eaten the lot.’

  Chapter Eight

  Grace was serving a customer when the young man came into the shop. He stood by the door, a suitcase in his hand, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere than where he was. He was tall, almost six feet, with clear hazel eyes and a lightly tanned complexion. His tousled brown hair curled over the frayed collar of his blue denim jacket. Elaine stepped up to him.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I — er — I was rather hoping for a word with the owner, or — er — manageress.’ His voice was soft and musical, with a hint of the Welsh hills in its vowels.

  ‘That’s my mother,’ Elaine told him. ‘If you’d like to wait, she’s with a customer at the moment.’ She looked at his case and immediately took him for a sales rep’. ‘Perhaps you’d like to wait in the back?’

  He nodded eagerly and smiled at her. The smile was disarming; it revealed strong white teeth and lit his rather ordinary face, completely transforming it. Picking up his case, he followed her through to the back room, eager as a stray puppy. Elained offered him a seat and, as an afterthought, asked if he would like a coffee.

  ‘Oh, thank you. That’s really kind of you.’

  He looke
d grateful, as though he needed that coffee badly, Elaine took the electric kettle and went through to the kitchen to fill it. The young man puzzled her. He was tall and well-built — quite good-looking in a way, especially when he smiled. But there was something about him — an odd vulnerability that sat incongruously on his broad shoulders. He was clean and well turned out and yet there was a slightly down-at-heel look about him. He looked as though he could use a good meal and someone to mother him.

  ‘I forgot to ask your name,’ she said, coming back into the room.

  ‘It’s Owen. Morgan Owen.’

  Elaine put the cup of coffee on the table in front of him. ‘I’ll tell Mum you’re here, Mr Owen,’ she said.

  Grace heaved a sigh of relief as she showed her customer out. There were certain women who only patronised ‘Style ‘N’ Grace’ during the sales, and although more often than not they tried on everything in the place and then bought nothing, Grace made sure that they were treated with the same courtesy as her regulars. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to keep the smile glued to her face as they tossed aside garment after garment as though they were at a jumble sale. Out of the corner of her eye she had seen Elaine take the young man through to the back. He wasn’t one of the regular reps. Maybe he was new — or a student, filling in during the vac’. Going through the curtained archway to the stockroom she nodded to Elaine.

  ‘Take over for me for a while, will you, darling?’ She looked enquiringly at the man sitting at the table. Can I help you, Mr — er...’

  ‘This is Mr Owen, Mum,’ Elaine told her.

  Instantly Morgan was on his feet, taking the hand that Grace offered. ‘Morgan — Morgan Owen.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m Grace Wendover. What can I do for you, Mr Owen? I don’t think we’ve met before. Let’s see now — you’d be from...?’

  ‘From?’ He looked puzzled. ‘Oh, I see what you mean. No, I’m not from anywhere. I’ve got some — er — merchandise to show you.’