‘You’re making her grow up too soon,’ she accused Harry. ‘She’s too much indoors in the company of older people. She should have some friends of her own age.’
They disagreed over it time and again, Harry arguing that he had his job to go to and if Grace wasn’t at home to care for Elaine, the child would have to go with him. The arguments developed into rows and, although she would not admit it to herself, Grace resented the closeness developing between her husband and daughter. They had a way of closing ranks against her, which made her feel in the wrong and shut out. There she was, working her fingers to the bone to help provide a nice home for them all, and that was all the thanks she got. The resentment grew into animosity without either she or Harry realising that they were making their daughter the scapegoat for deeper, much more serious issues for which they had both stopped seeking a solution.
*
It was in the spring of 1960 that Harry was engaged to accompany Stella Rainbow on a series of broadcasts.
Grace could not understand her husband’s obvious excitement. ‘I’ve never heard of her. What a silly name. Who is she?’ she asked scathingly after he’d read the letter to her over breakfast.
‘She’s a singer. Her father was black American, a trumpeter with the Nat Gonella band. He married a white girl over here and stayed on. I know her slightly from when she sang with the band with two other girls a while back,’ Harry told her. ‘Did you see what Gerry says? It seems she asked for me specially.’
‘Why should she do that?’
‘I accompanied the girls a few times when they were rehearsing. Stella told me then that she was planning to go solo and we tried one or two numbers out together. It was me who recommended her to Gerry.’
‘Mmm. Is she any good?’ Without waiting for his reply, Grace got up and opened the kitchen door to shout up the stairs after Elaine. ‘That child will be late for school if she doesn’t get a move on.’ She looked at him. ‘Well, will you take the job with this Stella thingummy person?’
‘Yes, I think so.’ Harry smiled reminiscently and Grace asked: ‘What’s she like?’
‘She has rythym in her very bones, and a voice like smooth rich cream. You should hear her. I’m sure she’s going to make a big name for herself.’
‘Well, just as long as you get paid what you deserve.’ With one eye on the clock, Grace began to gather her things together. ‘And I shall have to get going or I’ll be late.’
The programmes were twenty minutes long. There were six of them. It entailed a week of rehearsals in a little theatre in Camden Town, after which the programmes went out live on Tuesday afternoons at four o’clock. It meant that Elaine had to go to her mother at the shop when she came out of school which she resented deeply. The draper’s shop with its bolts of material on one side and baby linen on the other, was a poor substitute for the excitement of a rehearsal theatre or a broadcasting studio.
Stella was twenty-three. She was tall, almost as tall as Harry, and her figure was willowy and perfectly proportioned. Huge dark eyes were set in a heart-shaped face whose complexion was honey-coloured rather than brown, and her hair, although raven black, was long, straight and as shiny as satin. Oddly enough it reminded Harry of Grace’s hair as it had been when he had first seen her in Easthampton, before she’d had it cut.
Stella’s voice was perfect for the songs she sang, bringing a special soft richness to Gershwin, Cole Porter and the newer songs of Bart and Newly that made up her programme. To Harry it was sheer pleasure accompanying her, listening to her — looking at her. She seemed to live the songs she sang, acting out the wistfulness of the lyrics — the love and the aching nostalgia — in a way that twisted his heart. He’d seen few other singers achieve the special and original effects she got from her material. He considered her wasted on radio and told her so one day as they finished rehearsing.
‘I can’t understand why Gerry hasn’t tried to get you some television. You’d get a wider audience that way. If they could see you as well as hear you, they’d go wild.’
Stella smiled. ‘Harry, what a lovely thing to say.’
‘No, I mean it. You’ve got a great career ahead of you. You just need handling the right way.’
‘So how about you doing that?’ Stella laid a hand on his shoulder. He could feel its warmth through the material of his jacket. Laughing uneasily, he said: ‘Me? I’m only an accompanist. You’ve got Gerry for that.’
‘You know, you underestimate yourself, Harry. You understand the business. You could do a lot for me. We could do a lot for each other, perhaps.’ She slid on to the piano stool beside him, slipping her hand easily through his arm. ‘I’ve got an agent, yes. What I really need is an arranger. And you’re the best accompanist I’ve ever had. I sing better with you than with anyone else. I knew that from the first time, with the band, remember? That’s why I asked for you again.’ She leaned forward to smile into his face. ‘So why don’t we give it a try?’
There was nothing flirtatious about her manner. She spoke to him as one musician to another. She was as guileless as Elaine; coaxing and cajoling, just as his daughter did when she wanted something badly. But in spite, or perhaps because of it, he felt the force of her sexuality more strongly than he had with any other woman. The fact that she was unaware of her seductiveness made it even more powerful and, with a sudden stab of guilt, Harry moved away from her to stand up.
‘It’s a lovely idea, Stella, but I don’t think so. There must be a hundred other people you could get, ten times better than me.’
The smile left her face. ‘It’s a pity you feel that way. I think we could make a great team.’
On the day of the last broadcast Stella gave him her address and telephone number. They’d gone out for a drink to celebrate the completion of the series and were sitting in a little pub when she pressed a slip of paper in his hand.
‘I’ve really enjoyed working with you, Harry,’ she said almost shyly. ‘And if you ever change your mind about becoming my arranger, just give me a ring.’
He looked at her. He had no idea what constituted a fashionable woman, but he did know that Stella always dressed in a style that was perfect for her. Today she wore a well-cut grey suit that fitted her slim figure to perfection. The jacket was open to reveal a vermillion blouse that complemented the honey skin and brought out the amber light in her eyes. Almost without knowing that he did it, he reached for her hand. Immediately the long, coral-tipped fingers curled round his and her eyes met his.
‘You’re good for me, Harry.’ she said softly. ‘You bring out the best in me. When you play, I feel I can sing anything.’
He laughed, pleased and flattered. ‘Nonsense! You’ve got star quality, Stella. You’re going right to the top. You’d sound good against someone banging tin cans.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s more than just your playing. You give me confidence. It’s a kind of magic.’ She laughed her soft, husky laugh. ‘Don’t ask me to explain it. Look...’ Thoughtfully she laced her fingers through his, totally unaware of the effect it had on him. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you about this, but Gerry rang me this morning. There’s an offer of a trip on the P&O ship, The Himalaya. It’s a world cruise. I don’t know about these things but he tells me The Himalaya is the flagship and it’ll be an important engagement — a good chance for me to be seen by some influential people.’ The amber-gold eyes looked into his. ‘I told him I’d only accept it if you came too, Harry.’
Stunned, he looked at her. ‘Stella, you know I couldn’t do that, don’t you? You’ll be fine who ever accompanies you. Don’t pass up the chance just because I can’t go.’
She looked like a disappointed child. ‘I’ve told you, Harry, no one brings out the best in me like you do. I’ve already told Gerry it’s all down to you.’
‘But I couldn’t. It’d mean — what — six months away from home?’ He shook his head but he was wavering and she saw it. A smile twinkled the golden eyes.
‘Four, actually. Sailing date is July 22nd. You’d be home for Christmas.’
‘That’s less than a month away.’ Harry shook his head, the temptation wrenching at him. ‘Much as I’d like to, I don’t see how...’
‘Do you mean that? Would you really like to, Harry?’ She looked intently into his eyes. ‘I won’t accept it without you, but it’s nice to know that you’d have liked to go.’
Just as Harry could never refuse Elaine when she was being sweet and reasonable, he found Stella’s wistful resignation irresistible. He squeezed her hand. ‘Look, how long before you have to let them know?’
Her eyes lit up with excitement. ‘I’ve still got a couple of days.’
‘Leave it with me,’ he said. ‘I can’t promise, but I’ll see what I can do.’
*
Grace was excited. That afternoon at the shop she’d had an unexpected visit from Mrs Chapman, the elderly owner, who had run the shop herself until her arthritis had forced her to give up. Mrs Chapman was not alone. Her companion was a woman in her early forties, smartly dressed in a black suit and white blouse. Grace noticed that instead of a handbag she carried a briefcase, and wondered if she might be some kind of rep’ who wanted to show them a new line. Mrs Chapman surprised her by asking if the three of them could talk in the back room, and if it would be possible for Grace to make some tea.
Somewhat puzzled she had left her young girl assistant in charge and gone through to the back with her visitors. Seated at the table that also served as a desk on which Grace did the accounts, Mrs Chapman came straight to the point.
‘Perhaps you won’t be surprised to know that I’ve decided to give up, Mrs Wendover. I’ve sold the shop to Mrs Bennett here and she’ll be taking over in a month’s time.’
‘Oh — I see.’ Grace’s heart sank. Was she to be out of a job?
For the first time Mrs Bennett spoke. ‘I’m sure you’ll be glad to know that Mrs Chapman would sell to me only on the assurance that I would offer you a job at the salary you’re getting now.’ Grace blushed with pleasure. ‘That’s very kind,’ she muttered.
‘That is, of course, if you want to stay on,’ Mrs Bennett continued. ‘You see, I have plans for this shop.’ She looked around the cluttered stock room with a hint of disapproval in her grey eyes. ‘With all due respect to Mrs Chapman, I feel that this kind of establishment has had its day. I plan to turn it into a boutique — subject to my getting the necessary planning permission, of course.’
Grace felt her interest aroused. ‘A boutique?’
‘Yes, exclusive dresses, costume jewellery and accessories — that kind of thing. The shop will have to be modernised and refitted, of course...’ Another look around at the dingy brown-painted cupboards and shelves. While she had been speaking, Margaret Bennett had been taking in Grace’s clothes and appearance. She’d pictured a little grey mouse of a woman whom she’d hoped would be put off by all the new innovations, but she was pleasantly surprised by Grace’s looks and efficient manner. With a little tactful advice she could probably be turned into quite a presentable asset. She decided it wasn’t going to be as difficult as she’d imagined.
When she left the shop that afternoon, Grace’s head was buzzing. Elaine had gone to a friend’s house straight from school. It was only three doors down the road and Grace picked her up on her way back. She was a little disappointed that Harry wasn’t home, but, unable to contain her news any longer, she threw off her coat and launched into her news.
‘Guess what?’
Elaine looked up from her homework. ‘Don’t know.’
‘Chapman’s is being taken over. It’s going to be a boutique — really modern and smart. And guess who’s got the job of manageress?’
‘You?’
Elaine’s casual guess somewhat took the wind out of Grace’s sails, but she continued: ‘Mrs Bennett, the new owner, will be there too, but she’ll be away a lot of the time, buying, so I’m to be in charge.’
Elaine looked up, chewing the end of her pen. ‘Does that mean you’ll be getting lots of money and we’ll be rich?’
Grace frowned. ‘Of course not. But Margaret — Mrs Bennett — is taking me up to Town after we’ve closed the shop for refitting, to buy something to wear in the shop. She suggests a smart black dress.’
The front door slammed and Elaine jumped up from her work with a squeak of delight. ‘Daddy’s home. Put the kettle on, Mummy. You know how he always wants a cup of tea.’
Grace looked ruefully after her daughter as she whisked out of the room, Those two. Still, she was the one with exciting news today. Wait till she told Harry about the boutique.
But Elaine had spiked her guns, telling Harry about the new owner of Chapman’s shop while he took off his coat. Not that he was listening very intently. He was too busy wondering how to break the news to Grace that he was thinking of going on the P&O world cruise as Stella’s manager and pianist. Over tea Grace told him about her new job in detail.
‘First I’m to organise a closing down sale. Then there’s to be advertising in the press. Margaret is taking me up to Town on one of her buying trips and we’ll be getting me a new business outfit at the same time.’
Harry nodded abstractedly, stirring his tea. ‘Grace — listen, love. There’s something I have to tell you.’
Harry’s solemn look stopped her in mid-sentence. ‘What? What is it? Is something wrong?’
‘No — well, not exactly. I’ve had an offer too today. It’s a good one, but I don’t know how you’ll feel about it.’
Grace’s heart turned to stone. She might have known it. They were going to have to move — just when she’d been offered this exciting new job. ‘Go on,’ she said dully. ‘Tell me the worst.’
‘It’s on a cruise ship. Pianist arranger to Stella Rainbow. It’s a really good chance. She’s going places, Grace. The only thing is, it’s a world cruise. I’d leave in July and I wouldn’t be back until just before Christmas.’
‘Oh, Daddy.’ The cry came from Elaine. ‘All that time? You wouldn’t be away for my birthday?’ She’d come to stand beside him and he slipped his arm around her and hugged her to him.
‘No, puss. I don’t sail till the 22nd. We’ll have a grand celebration. Tell you what, I’ll take you both out to dinner, somewhere posh, up West.’ He glanced at Grace. ‘That’s if Mummy agrees.’
‘Of course. I can’t stand in your way if it’s a really good job. I mean, it’s for all of us, isn’t it?’ She was trying hard not to show how relieved she was. It couldn’t be better. Harry obviously wanted this job, and with him away she would be able to give all of her concentration to the new job. Elaine’s friend Jenny lived close and her mother had said that Elaine was welcome there at any time. It couldn’t be better. She looked at Elaine’s crestfallen face and felt a sudden stab of guilt. ‘We’ll miss you, of course,’ she said.
Harry’s face broke into a relieved smile. ‘Well, if you’re really sure, I’ll get on to Gerry about it first thing in the morning.’
*
On the day that Harry sailed, Chapman’s closed for business and the shop fitters moved in. To Grace it was almost the most exciting day of her life. Elaine had clung to Harry tearfully when he left that morning, making him promise to send postcards from every port and write to her every day. For herself, Grace had felt a little impatient with the child’s emotional display, glancing at her watch as the minutes ticked by, itching to lock the house and get down to the shop. She and Harry had said their goodbyes last night. He had held her close, saying how much he was going to miss her. She told him — truthfully — that she would miss him too, and assured him that she loved him as much as ever; all the time uncomfortably aware that she was arousing him, inviting the intimacy she dreaded so much. She’d tried her hardest to pretend to want him, especially as it was his last night, but after their brief lovemaking was over and Harry had fallen asleep she lay for a long time staring into the darkness; trying to quell the waves of disgust and
revulsion that swept sickeningly through her.
Harry was a good man. He was a kind and considerate husband. Why couldn’t she respond to him as she should? Why, after all these years, did the horrific images still rise inside her tightly closed eyelids the moment he began to make love to her? It was all so long ago. Would she never be free of it? She needed Harry’s love so much — but Grace could only equate sex with hate, bitterness and betrayal, not love. The love she felt for Harry was pure and beautiful. It had nothing to do with those dirty, repellent acts. If only there were some way she could make him understand.
All that day she felt oddly bereft. And guilty too. She’d actually been glad when Harry had told her about the cruise. Her first thought, that for sixteen weeks she would not have to dread the thought of bedtime. But now she felt sad and uneasy about it. As the men worked and the dust of years rose from the dismembered shop fittings to cloud the air, Grace applied herself with vigour. At the back of one of the stockroom cupboards she found a box of corsets, circa 1920, and she and Margaret Bennett laughed at the bright pink calico monstrosities, with their uncompromising whalebone and torturous laces.
‘More like armour plating,’ Margaret laughed. ‘Did they wear them for their figures or to keep the men out? I think we’ll present them to the local museum.’
Thoughtfully, Grace watched the old shelves and counters being ripped out. She couldn’t help feeling that a part of her own life was being ripped apart too. For some time now she had felt the changes that were taking place all around her and she knew instinctively that it was a case of go with them or be left behind.
‘Everything’s changing, isn’t it?’ she said, speaking the thought aloud.
‘It certainly is,’ Margaret said cheerfully. ‘It’s a new era, a new decade. The sixties. Everything’s new. Anything goes. Exciting, isn’t it?’
Grace wasn’t quite so sure.
*
Stella had bought a whole new wardrobe of glamorous evening dresses for the cruise. She confided in Harry that she’d borrowed the money to pay for them. ‘It’s an investment,’ she said huskily, holding up crossed fingers. ‘I just hope it pays off.’
Wives & Mothers Page 5
