Friends and Lovers

by June Francis

  Downstairs she found Stephen reading the Daily Mail and eating cereal. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she said.

  Stephen glanced up, his expression was resigned. ‘About George I take it, not about work? We could both do with going in this morning but if you’re not able to I’m going to have to find someone temporary, Viv.’

  She nodded, accepting that was how it had to be. ‘I’m sorry to let you down. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

  He folded his newspaper. ‘I’ve been thinking too. Why don’t you phone your Aunt Flora? She does have a phone, I take it?’

  ‘Yes. But it’ll cost a lot of money.’

  ‘It’ll be quicker, though,’ said Stephen. ‘I think I can stand the bill if it means getting George out of the house quicker. It would be best for both of us.’

  Before she could say more than a couple of words of thanks he had pulled on his overcoat and with a ‘See you later’, left the house.

  Viv closed the door after him and rested her back against it a moment, her brows knitted. Then she went in search of her address book, picked up the telephone and asked the operator for her Aunt Flora’s number in America.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Nick had read the report of the dam bursting in France. A week later he returned home. As he let himself into the house Ingrid peered out of the kitchen doorway and called, ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Your long-lost brother,’ he answered, feeling a flood of affection at the sight of her. ‘Is the old battleaxe in?’

  ‘If you mean our mother, she’s out,’ said Ingrid, hurrying towards him. ‘I’m just icing a cake for our Kenny’s birthday tomorrow. I suppose that’s why you’re here.’

  ‘Partly. But I did get to wondering how you were all surviving without me.’ He hugged her and pecked her cheek. ‘Are you all okay?

  ‘Your money’s been missed.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t look too bad. A bit thinner. Kenny hoped you’d come. In fact I think I can honestly say that he mentioned you in his prayers last night.’

  Nick smiled. ‘It must be the first time anyone’s prayed for me for a long time.’

  ‘It goes to show, doesn’t it?’ she said, smiling. ‘There must be a God up there after all. Want a cup of tea?’

  ‘Thanks. Where’s Kenny?’

  ‘Upstairs wondering whether he should collect birds eggs any more,’ she drawled. ‘He’s suddenly worked out that if he didn’t take them out of the nests there’d be more baby birds around.’

  ‘Right,’ said Nick. ‘I’ll go up and see him.’

  Ingrid said, ‘Ask him about the budgie.’ Then she went back into the kitchen.

  Budgie? thought Nick. Then he shrugged and took the stairs two at a time. He entered his brother’s bedroom. The bed was covered in boxes containing birds’ eggs cocooned in cotton wool. ‘What a mess!’ exclaimed Nick.

  Kenny turned, his boyish face alight. ‘I knew you’d come! What d’you think I should do with this ostrich egg? It’s got the teeniest crack but d’you think I could still sell it?’

  ‘It depends if anyone’s desperate enough to buy,’ said Nick, finding a space on the bed.

  ‘I know someone who wants it but I don’t think he will if I tell him it’s cracked.’ He sighed.

  ‘Perhaps you could do a deal – lower your price?’

  Kenny nodded and placed the egg carefully in its nest of cotton wool. He looked up at his brother, face alight with pleasure. ‘Have you come back for good? I hope you have. Mam and our Ingrid argue more when you’re not around.’

  ‘Sorry, Ken.’ He ruffled his brother’s hair. ‘Where I live now is nearer to the site I’m working on. At the moment the weather’s put paid to work so things are dragging but when I get my own place you can come and stay with me.’

  ‘OK,’ said Kenny happily. ‘Did you bring me a present? If you haven’t, could you buy me a budgie?’

  ‘A budgie?’ Nick remembered what Ingrid had said. ‘What happened to the one we had?’

  Kenny shrugged his shoulders and looked uncomfortable. ‘It flew away.’

  There was silence.

  ‘That’s it?’ said Nick, a small smile playing round his mouth.

  His brother sat on the bed, avoiding his eyes. ‘I did try and catch it but I got stuck on the window sill outside. Didn’t our Ingrid tell you?’

  ‘No, she didn’t. You tell me.’ Nick’s curiosity was truly roused now. What was so important about an escaped budgie that Ingrid thought he should know?

  Kenny’s eyes met Nick’s. ‘A girl came. You knew her. She got the ladder and rescued me.’

  Nick stared at him. ‘A girl?’ he said carefully. ‘I presume she had a name?’

  He nodded. ‘Vivien. She was scared as well. She told me.’

  Nick felt a great leap at his heart while he tried to assimilate this unexpected information. ‘When was this? Where was everybody else?’

  ‘Ages ago. Mam and our Ingrid had gone out. Otherwise I wouldn’t have let the budgie have a fly. Our Ingrid’ll tell you. She and Vivien talked.’

  Nick smiled and held out a parcel. ‘Here’s your present.’ He took the stairs fast, picturing Viv up a ladder, guessing what it had taken for her to make such a climb.

  Ingrid was coming out of the kitchen with a tray. ‘I was just going to call you.’

  He blurted out, ‘Kenny said that Viv was here.’

  ‘That’s right.’ She smiled. ‘Came to see you, lover boy, but you weren’t here.’

  ‘When?’ he demanded.

  ‘Not long after you left. She gave me an address where you can get in touch with her. Apparently she left home too.’

  ‘Have you still got it?’

  ‘Somewhere. She said dancing with that bloke meant nothing.’

  ‘That’s all she said?’

  ‘What else did you expect her to say to me? It was you she wanted to talk to! What are you going to do?’

  ‘Find out what she wanted, of course.’

  ‘I told you – you!’

  Nick made for the door. Ingrid rushed after him. ‘Aren’t you going to wait for the address? And what about your cup of tea? And there’s a letter for you from our Mavis.’

  ‘Get us both while I drink the tea.’

  She did as he asked and he stared a long time at the name and address on the paper before cramming it with Mavis’s letter in his pocket and leaving.

  Nick banged on the knocker then stepped back and looked up at the house. Pre-war and in good nick. He was trying his hardest to keep his feelings firmly under control but it was not easy. If Viv answered the door that would be best. He would ask if they could go somewhere to try and sort things out between them. The last thing he wanted at the moment was a confrontation with this Stephen. He heard heavy footsteps and immediately knew that he was not going to get his wish. The door opened.

  ‘Yes?’ said the man standing in the doorway.

  He was different from the person Nick had imagined, younger and tougher-looking and definitely no sugar daddy. ‘Mr Martin? Stephen Martin?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Stephen, he eyes narrowing. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m looking for Viv.’ Nick held out his hand. ‘I’m Nick Bryce. I don’t know if she’s mentioned me?’

  Stephen’s expression immediately showed interest. ‘It would be a strange thing if she hadn’t,’ he said slowly. ‘The pair of you were engaged once.’

  ‘Briefly,’ said Nick ruefully as they shook hands. ‘Can I see her?’

  Stephen hesitated then said, ‘You’d best come in.’

  ‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘But you have.’ Stephen smiled. ‘And it’ll be more comfortable talking inside.’

  Nick followed him in, wondering if he was going to play the role of heavy uncle. They entered a back room, but it was empty.

  Stephen waved him to a chair. ‘You might as well sit down. I’ll tell you now Viv isn’t here.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t know if yo
u read about that dam bursting in France—’

  ‘George was involved,’ stated Nick, his hands balling into fists. He had wondered about that when he had read the report.

  ‘He was injured and Viv went to bring him home.’

  Nick took a deep breath. ‘So she’s in France?’

  ‘No. She and George left on the Sylvania the other day for New York.’ He opened a cupboard. ‘Drink? Whisky?’

  Nick felt like he’d been dealt a body blow.

  Stephen stared at him. ‘It’s not what you think – George is in a state of shock. He can’t talk so Viv’s taking him to his mother.’

  ‘I see.’ Nick breathed slightly easier.

  ‘She didn’t get that letter you sent in time to meet you, you know. Hilda put it behind the clock and forgot about it.’

  Nick’s mouth tightened. ‘That wasn’t what my mother told me. Her tale was that Hilda said Viv didn’t want any more to do with me.’

  Stephen handed him his drink. ‘Mothers! Jealous creatures when it comes to their young.’ He raised his glass. ‘Your health, Nick.’

  He murmured something and downed the whisky in one go – Stephen stared at him. ‘Take it easy, lad. That’s a waste of good whisky. I can give you Flora’s address and you can write to Viv explaining what happened if you like. She’ll listen.’

  ‘You think so?’ said Nick bitterly. ‘She’s with George and he’ll make the most of his opportunities. He hates my guts.’

  Stephen’s hand paused halfway towards Nick’s glass. ‘And mine.’

  ‘He’s jealous over Viv,’ muttered Nick, staring into the fire. ‘And it’s not right.’

  Stephen took Nick’s glass without his noticing and half filled it, adding ginger ale. He topped up his own as well. ‘Are you saying that George feels more than cousinly towards her?’

  ‘I’ve seen him kissing and hugging her.’ Nick gulped his second whisky. ‘I didn’t like it. I don’t think that – that cousins should come that close,’ he said firmly. ‘Anyway, you’ll have had a chance to see what they’re like together, surely?’

  ‘Yes.’ Stephen’s hand curled tightly round his glass. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Nick stared at him. ‘What do you mean, what am I going to do?’

  ‘Well, you’re not going to let him get away with it, are you? I mean …’ Stephen swallowed a mouthful of whisky. ‘They’ll have all those days on board ship alone – not that I think he could get up to anything at the moment – but Viv’s in a vulnerable position. She’s filled with pity and compassion for him because he’s been through a bad time … covered in cuts and bruises and suffering from emotional trauma. I remember hearing a doctor say that about my state in the war.’ He took another gulp of whisky. ‘I’d lost all my family and then I was almost blown apart.’ He laughed sharply. ‘War’s hell but love can be almost as bad.’

  Nick remembered how Viv had sprung to Stephen’s defence. He’s suffered, she had said, and he had shouted her down because of his anger and, yes, lack of understanding. He had never been able to relate to his own father so had not wanted to understand her need for a father figure. Now he considered Stephen’s words about her being filled with pity and compassion towards George. She was a compassionate person. He had to do something before she made a terrible mistake.

  Stephen said, ‘Well?’

  Nick lifted his head. ‘There’s regular flights across the Atlantic now, aren’t there? My sister mentioned it in one of her letters. They started up last year.’ He remembered the letter in his pocket and took it out. ‘I’ve got a letter here from her.’

  ‘Perhaps you can go and visit her? A plane would get you there quicker than a liner,’ murmured Stephen. ‘I can give you the name of the hotel Viv’ll be staying at in New York for the night. George’s stepfather is meeting them there.’

  The men’s eyes met. ‘Why are you so keen on me doing something?’ asked Nick softly.

  Stephen said nothing as he took Nick’s empty glass. Not until he had poured them refills, did he say, ‘Like you, I don’t believe in close blood relatives marrying.’ He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to you and Viv.’

  Nick smiled. ‘And closer ties between us all.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Viv stood in Washington Square looking up Fifth Avenue, noticing the way the Empire State Building seemed to loom over everything from where she stood. Snowflakes pattered down on her upturned face as she murmured, ‘I’m glad I’m not going up there.’

  ‘Pity,’ said her Uncle Mike. ‘It’s one of the wonders of the modern world and the view’s fantastic.’

  ‘There wouldn’t be much of a view today,’ said Viv, turning and smiling at him and considering that he had not changed much since she had waved him and his family off at the Prince’s landing stage. Perhaps there were a few grey hairs among the sandy ones now, but his snub-nosed face was still as warm and friendly as it had been that first time she had set eyes on him on her aunt’s doorstep more than ten years ago.

  ‘It’s the art galleries then,’ he said resignedly.

  ‘That’s right,’ she said in a teasing voice. ‘We might get some reaction from George when he sees pictures. Art is the love of his life, after all.’ She glanced sidelong at her cousin who still had not spoken a word.

  George slipped a hand through her arm and she let it lie there. She felt more relaxed in his company now that Mike was with them. It had been a difficult voyage in many ways. George had been overtly possessive in his manner towards her in company, especially when they were on the receiving end of curious stares. She had explained the cause of his silence to a few people but some had acted as if being mentally ill was a contagious disease so she had stayed quiet after that and the two of them pretty much kept to themselves.

  Mike had met them at the shipping terminal and taken George’s silence in his stride, but then he had seemed always to accept things as they were.

  Viv had expected to begin the long journey across America that morning but the weather had put paid to Mike’s plan. A blizzard had raged, closing the main roads out of the city. It had abated somewhat now but the roads were still in a dangerous condition and Mike said they should give it one more day. Viv was quite happy about his decision to stay longer in New York as it meant that they could see something of the city so often featured in films such as King Kong and The Bowery Boys. The soaring skyscrapers really did take her breath away.

  Mike roused her from her thoughts by saying, ‘Which gallery first, that’s the question? We’ve got America’s finest right up Fifth. There’s the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Frick Collection housed in Henry Frick’s original mansion. Now he was a rogue, but his pictures are worth seeing.’

  ‘Well visit the rogue’s gallery,’ she said, and linking her other arm in his, the three of them forged their way along snowy sidewalks that were busy with Christmas shoppers despite the weather. She paused to gaze at a pair of lions that sat outside the enormous bulk of the New York Public Library. They look more friendly than the ones outside St George’s Hall in Liverpool,’ she said, patting one on the head.

  At last they came to the Frick Art Gallery. The building was airy and beautiful and gave Viv almost the same awed feeling she experienced in a cathedral. She thought of Nick and felt a familiar ache.

  They began a slow wander, pausing when it felt right to spend more time viewing a picture. In the West Gallery where Rembrandt’s Polish Rider was displayed Viv noticed a change in her cousin. He stepped back several paces as if to get a better viewpoint.

  He stood there so long that Mike drawled, ‘I’m going to take root if we don’t get a move on.’

  They entered the South Hall and Viv noticed that there were more people here. Mike led them over to El Greco’s Christ Driving the Money Changers from the Temple. The Prince of Peace had a whip in his hand to chastise the polluters of the Temple. She exchanged looks with George. ‘Do you remember Sunday School?’

  He surprised h
er by nodding but before she could take it any further a voice spoke her name and she spun round, barely able to believe it.

  ‘I flew out as soon as Stephen told me where to find you,’ said Nick, his hands reaching out to her. ‘It seemed the right thing to do, especially when I’d just received a letter from our Mavis saying to come over.’

  ‘But how did you know where to find me?’ stammered Viv incredulously.

  ‘The receptionist at the hotel told me that you mentioned art galleries. Mavis suggested we try the Frick first because it’s smaller. I’m glad we did.’ His blue eyes were intense. ‘We’ve got to talk, Viv.’

  She could feel the controlled tension in him as his hands gripped hers firmly and her heart pounded with the strength of her own feelings. She had missed the sight of him so much! Her eyes searched his face hungrily. ‘Yes! We have to talk,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘I made a helluva mess of everything.’

  ‘So did I,’ she said softly, oblivious to anyone but him. ‘I should have been honest with you.’

  They stared at each other silently, savouring the moment.

  Mike cleared his throat and so did the woman at Nick’s side, who also pulled on his sleeve. He said vaguely, ‘Viv, this is my sister Mavis.’

  Viv forced herself to tear her gaze from Nick’s face to smile at the woman by his side who was carrotty-haired and freckle-faced. ‘You were having a baby last I heard.’

  ‘I had a boy.’ Mavis grinned. ‘Perhaps it’ll be your turn next? Nick’s going to be godfather tomorrow. You’re welcome to come along if you can.’

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Viv in a dreamy voice.

  ‘Not possible,’ drawled Mike, touching her shoulder. ‘What’s going on, honey?’

  Viv tried to pull herself together but it was Nick who answered for her. ‘It’s too long a story to tell now, sir. Viv can fill you in later. The pair of us have to talk, if you don’t mind?’

  Mike glanced at George. ‘Sure. I get the picture. George and I will be fine.’