Joe snorted. ‘What about those glasses? Did they come orf the corpse, too?’
‘As a matter o’ fact, me cousin gave ’em ter me. ’E’s got a new pair.’
‘Well I fink yer attractin’ attention ter yerself, Den.’
Dennis became serious and he leaned forward over the table. ‘Look, Joe. I’ve gotta wear this get-up, as yer call it. Wivvout it I couldn’t come back ter the manor. I tell yer, I couldn’t stand livin’ in the sticks. It’d drive me mad. Besides, people were beginnin’ ter get nosy where I was. They don’t ask so many questions in Bermon’sey. Anyway, let’s change the subject. When am I gonna get ter see young Connie?’
Joe had been waiting for him to ask. ‘I told yer in the letter, Den. She’s left the street,’ he said. ‘An’ I reckon yer should leave ’er fer the moment, she’s got enough on ’er plate. An’ I wouldn’t like ter see ’er get ’urt.’
Dennis nodded. ‘Yeah, yer right, Joe. It wouldn’t do fer ’er ter find out about ’er ole man, would it? Not after all these years. She should ’ave ’ad the chance ter get ter know ’im when she was a kid.’
‘Yeah, well she didn’t did she,’ Joe replied, staring hard at his friend. ‘There’s too much water gone under the bridge now. I reckon it’s better ter let fings stay as they are.’
Dennis took a gulp from his pint. ‘Does she look that much like ’er muvver, Joe? Yer said she was a ringer fer ’er in yer letter.’
‘Lookin’ at that kid’s like seein’ Kate. She’s the spittin’ image.’
‘C’mon, Joe, drink up,’ Dennis said suddenly. ‘This pub’s beginnin’ ter give me the creeps.’
On Sunday lunchtime Billy Argrieves came back into the Dolphin with his mother holding on to his arm. She was walking slowly and wincing with every step.
‘What’s the matter, Flo?’ one of her neighbours asked.
‘I tripped down the stairs,’ Florence replied, holding her hip and grimacing with pain. ‘Me bleedin’ leg’s gorn black an’ blue. I should ’ave gorn ter the ’orspital wiv it really. It didn’t seem too bad when I left the ’ouse, but the pain’s terrible now.’
Billy led his mother to a seat and went to the counter.
Connie smiled at him. ‘Is that a Guinness fer yer mum, Billy?’
‘Yeah, an’ a pint o’ bitter fer me, Con,’ he said, fumbling awkwardly with a handful of coins.
When Connie put the drinks down in front of him Billy gave her a shy smile and carried the filled glasses carefully to where his mother was sitting. The pub was packed and both Connie and Jennie were kept busy. The young man sat with his mother, his eyes constantly straying towards the bar counter. The crowd had gathered in their usual spot and Connie noticed that Derek Angelo was with them. Presently he caught her eye and beckoned her over. Without taking his eyes from hers he ordered a round of drinks and, when she placed the glasses on the counter and handed the change to him, he leaned across the counter. ‘What yer doin’ ternight, Connie?’ he whispered in her ear.
‘I’m servin’ be’ind the bar,’ Connie answered quickly.
‘I mean after the pub closes,’ he countered.
‘I’m gonna get a good night’s sleep.’
‘Look, Con. I’ve bin workin’ dead ’ard lately, gettin’ me bomb damage sorted out, an’ I reckon I need a break. When I leave ’ere ternight I’m gonna get a cab an’ go up West ter that club I was tellin’ yer about. Now why don’t yer ferget yer early night an’ come wiv me? I told yer, all work an’ no play ain’t good fer anybody. Now what about it?’
‘No fanks, Derek. Like I said, I’m gonna get an early night.’
‘Well I’ll be back in ’ere this evenin’ an’ I’ll ask yer again. Fink about it. You’ll enjoy yerself, believe me.’
Connie turned away to serve another customer and her eyes met Billy’s. He was staring at her with a sad look on his flushed face. She looked away and gripped the beer pump hard as she pulled it towards her. It felt as though she was being forced into a corner. Why can’t they leave me alone? she asked herself. Why did it all have to be so complicated? Well, they were both going to be disappointed. They were not going to have the chance to get close to her. She was not going to let anyone get that close again – ever.
The lunchtime session was coming to an end and the customers were preparing to go home to their Sunday dinners. Billy and his mother had left suddenly and the crowd had become noisy. Occasionally Derek caught Connie’s eye, pressing his question. He did not speak to her again until Bill called time. As he left he looked over to her.
‘I’ll see yer ternight, Connie. Fink about it,’ he said, opening his eyes wide.
Connie watched him leave before going to help Jennie clear the glasses. The landlord had shot the bolts and was sweeping up while Dora went into the back kitchen and prepared to serve the Sunday lunch. When the usual chores were completed Connie joined the family around the table. She was quiet and thoughtful during the meal and later, when she and Jennie were washing the dishes, her friend turned to her.
‘Yer looked a bit miserable this mornin’, Con,’ Jennie said. ‘Was that Derek Angelo pesterin’ yer?’
Connie shook her head. ‘Not really. ’E wants me ter go up town wiv ’im ternight, to a nightclub.’
Jennie’s eyes widened. ‘Lucky you. Yer goin’, ain’t yer?’
‘I don’t fink so,’ Connie replied as she picked up the clean plates and set them down on the dresser.
‘Cor! Give me ’alf a chance,’ Jennie sighed. ‘It must be smashin’ ter go to a real nightclub.’
‘Get Steve ter take yer then. ’E promised to, didn’t ’e?’ Connie said sharply as she walked out of the kitchen.
It was cool and quiet in the attic room, and the partially drawn curtains kept out the sun. Connie spread out on top of the bed and closed her eyes. Maybe it was time to move on, she thought. The family were being nice to her and she was making things awkward for them with her black moods. Maybe she should try to get a room in Ironmonger Street. Ada Halliday had said she could rent her upstairs room any time she felt like it. There was a light tap on the door and Jennie called in.
‘You awake, Con?’
‘Yeah, c’mon in.’
Jennie walked into the room with her arms folded. ‘Mum an’ dad are snorin’ in the armchairs an’ I’ve read all the papers,’ she said with a smile. ‘Fancy a chat?’
Connie grinned and sat up on the bed. ‘Sit ’ere,’ she said, patting the counterpane.
Jennie sat down and crossed her legs. ‘Me an’ you are friends, Con. We should be able ter talk about fings, shouldn’t we?’
Connie touched her friend’s arm. ‘Of course.’
‘Well, I’ve bin worried lately.’
‘About what, Jen?’
‘You.’
‘Me? Why should yer be worried about me?’
Jennie traced a line on the counterpane and pursed her lips. ‘Well, yer drinkin’ a lot lately, an’ yer bin like a bear wiv a sore’ead. Are yer gettin’ fed up ’ere, Connie?’
Connie leaned back against the propped-up pillow and closed her eyes for a few seconds. ‘I s’pose I ’ave bin goin’ it a bit wiv the drink lately, but it’s the only fing that seems to’elp. When I get tipsy I can sleep well. I blot everyfing out. There’s no grief, no nufink.’
Jennie looked hard at her friend. ‘P’raps you should go out wiv Derek ternight. P’raps you should try an’ let go. Nufink’s gonna bring yer fella back, Con. Maybe I’m soundin’ ’ard but it’s true, yer know it is.’
‘I know that, Jen. I’ve gotta live wiv it, but it’s ’ard, it’s very’ard. It might be easier if I could cry over ’im, but I can’t. There’s no more tears left, just an empty space. I can’t fill that space. I can’t get near a fella wivvout makin’ comparisons. I’ad everyfing once. No one can take Robert’s place.’
‘P’raps that’s where yer goin’ wrong.’
Connie looked up from the bed. ‘What d’yer mean?’
&
nbsp; ‘Well, yer got a future ter fink about, Con. People our age can’t dry up an’ live alone. That’s fer older people. Let go o’ yerself. Yer no different from me. Yer need a fella jus’ like I do, even if yer don’t want ter get too serious. Jus’ grab any opportunities that’s goin’. Let a fella take yer out, an’ if ’e gets too fresh, tell ’im yer got an’ ’eadache, or yer comin’ on. I’ve faked the curse a few times.’
Connie laughed. ‘What, you an’ Steve?’
‘No, ’course not. Steve’s different. ’E’s older, an’ ’e can always get me goin’. Well, most times.’
Connie turned on to her side and rested on her elbow. ‘Are you two serious?’
‘We’re serious, Con, but I don’t wanna fink too far inter the future. I’m livin’ fer terday. Me an’ Steve’s got a good fing goin’, an’ I’m not lookin’ ter get married or anyfink like that. It suits me the way fings are. Besides, can yer imagine what me mum an’ dad would say if I suddenly told ’em me an’ Steve wanted ter get spliced?’
‘I can imagine what they would ’ave said if they’d found out about those pills yer took, Jen.’
Jennie grimaced. ‘I’ve learned me lesson. We’re very careful now. I told Steve straight. “Yer slipped yer braces over yer shoulder an’ I got pregnant. Yer better start wearin’ somefink from now on.”’
The gathering clouds hid the lowering sun and a breeze rustled the curtains. Connie suddenly swung her legs over the bed and went to the dressing table. ‘See this, Jen,’ she said, taking the little gold locket in the palm of her hand. ‘It was me mum’s. She always wore it. In fact I never see ’er wivvout it, unless it was in pawn. I always thought it was buried wiv ’er, but when me aunt died she give it ter me. Well the pawn ticket anyway. See the inscription inside?’
Jennie looked closely at the tiny etching. ‘Bonny? Was that yer dad?’
‘I never knew me dad, Jennie. Me mum would never speak about ’im. I thought that one day she would tell me all about ’im but she never did. She took the secret to ’er grave.’
‘’E must ’ave ’urt ’er bad, Con. It seems strange she never told yer about ’im. D’yer fink this Bonny is yer dad?’
‘I’m sure of it. Trouble is, I’ve come to a full stop wiv me search. Yer remember that ole man who come ter see me that night? Well, ’e used ter work wiv me mum at the sheet-metal firm in Ironmonger Street. ’E was tryin’ ter get some information fer me. I asked ’im if ’e ever ’eard o’ somebody called Bonny an’ ’e said ’e ’adn’t. I’m gonna tell yer somefink, Jennie. Not so long ago I was finkin’ of endin’ it all, but then I got ter finkin’ about me farvver. I got so mad when I thought about ’im leavin’ us. I knew then that I ’ad ter find ’im, somehow. I wanna face ’im, Jen.’
Jennie was staring down at the locket. ‘’Ave yer thought that ’e might ’ave bin killed in the bombin’?’
‘Yeah ’e could ’ave bin, but somefink tells me ’e’s alive. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve just got this feelin’. One day I’ll meet up wiv ’im, I know I will.’
Jennie reached out her hand and touched her friend’s arm. ‘Yer’ll find ’im one day, Con. I’m sure yer will.’
Connie smiled. ‘Fanks, Jen. You’re a good friend. I don’t know what I would ’ave done wivvout yer.’
‘Shut up, yer makin’ me blush,’ Jennie said, getting up and going to the door. ‘I’ve gotta do some ironin’. I’m goin’ out wiv Steve ternight. Look, Con. If yer do decide ter go out wiv Derek there’s a couple o’ decent dresses in me wardrobe. You can borrer one if yer like.’
‘Fanks, Jen. I’ll fink about it.’
The light was fading and a few spots of rain fell against the window panes. For a while Connie stared at the tiny locket, and then she lay back on the bed with her hands clasped behind her head. Maybe Jennie was right, she thought. Maybe she should think about going out. Billy seemed to be about to ask her, but that would be out of the question. He was too nice a lad. He would only end up getting hurt. Derek Angelo was different. He posed no problems, except for his desire to get her into bed. She felt she could handle him, but with Billy it was different. She had felt from the first a natural sympathy for him, and it seemed that somehow their suffering had made them familiar to each other. There could be no pretence with Billy. She was afraid that he would touch her heart and she would be unable to give him her love. She knew she must not weaken now. She must be strong, for both of them.
Chapter Forty-One
The Sunday evening session at the Dolphin was as hectic as usual and Connie noticed that Billy had not made an appearance. It was around nine-thirty when one of Florence Argrieves’ neighbours came in to say that the old lady had been taken to hospital after collapsing when she got home from the pub that lunchtime.
‘Billy was really upset,’ the neighbour said. ‘’E came running inter me an’ we got Doctor White in. ’E didn’t argue.’E sent fer an ambulance straight away. The poor cow was shakin’ all over an’ she was grey wiv the pain. If yer ask me I’d say she’s cracked ’er ’ip. I felt really sorry fer young Billy. ’E went in the ambulance wiv ’er an’ ’e’s goin’ back ter see ’er ternight.’
Dora went back into the saloon bar to tell her husband and then popped her head back into the public bar. ‘Jennie, don’t yer get chattin’ too much ter that mob an’ leave Connie short’anded. I can’t ’elp out in ’ere. We’re busy in the saloon ternight.’
The drinks were flowing fast on that warm evening. The customers had been generous and Connie was beginning to feel a bit light-headed. Smoke hung like a drifting blanket in the airless bar. The piano was playing and one or two elderly ladies were singing loudly. Connie had already served the crowd on two occasions and now Derek beckoned her over yet again. When she had completed the order and passed over his change he gripped her wrist firmly.
‘Well, Con, yer comin’ ternight, ain’t yer,’ he said. ‘I’m not takin’ no fer an answer. Yer’ll enjoy it, I promise.’
She smiled wanly and shrugged her shoulders without answering as she moved away to the other end of the counter. The drink was weakening her strength of will and her resolve was slowly crumbling. Jennie’s words rang in her ears and she chewed on her lip. It wouldn’t hurt any, she thought. It would be a new experience going to a nightclub, and Derek wouldn’t be too much of a problem.
Bill was calling for people to finish their drinks and Derek leaned over the counter, his face flushed. ‘I’ll be back wiv a cab in ’alf an hour, okay?’
Connie looked at him sharply. ‘I’ve gotta get cleared away an’ then get changed. I might not be ready by then.’
He grinned. ‘Okay, three quarters of an hour, ’ow’s that?’
Jennie was mopping up the spilled beer from the counter and she nudged her friend. ‘Good fer you. Get up an’ sort yerself out somefink ter wear. I’ll finish off down ’ere.’
Connie hurried up the stairs and went to Jennie’s room. She could feel her head buzzing and, as she opened the wardrobe and looked at the dresses, something told her she was making a mistake. She removed a blue dress and held it up against her as she looked into the long mirror. Her features seemed blurred as she studied herself. Connie laid the dress on the bed and selected another from the wardrobe. The red dress looks better, she thought, and she hurried with it to her room. As she was putting the finishing touches to her make-up Jennie came in without knocking. She was carrying an oatmeal-coloured jacket.
‘’Ere, Con. Try this on,’ Jennie said. ‘I usually wear this wiv that dress. It’s a three-quarter.’
Connie slipped the jacket on and swung round. ‘What d’yer fink, Jen?’ she asked.
‘Yer look real nice. Yer’ll ’ave ter fight ’im off ternight.’
Connie picked up her small clutch bag from the dressing table. ‘I don’t know if I’m doin’ the right fing, Jennie. Maybe I shouldn’t go.’
Jennie raised her eyes and gently pushed her friend towards the door. ‘It’s a bit late fer tha
t now,’ she said. ‘C’mon, on yer way or ’e’ll be finkin’ yer ain’t goin’.’
Connie reached the top of the stairs and Jennie called out. ‘Con.’
‘Yeah?’
‘’Ave a good time, but be careful, okay?’
Connie smiled and hurried down the stairs. Derek was waiting outside as he had promised. He leaned out of the cab and gave her a wolf whistle as she climbed in.
‘Yer look very nice – an’ on time, too.’
The cab drove slowly over Blackfriar’s Bridge and turned left along the Embankment. Derek broke the strained silence. ‘I asked yer out ’cos I was a bit concerned about yer, Connie,’ he said.
‘Oh, an’ why’s that?’ she asked, looking at him.
‘Well, I was worryin’ in case yer thought I took a liberty wiv yer at the party.’
‘I didn’t fink that at all,’ she replied, looking away from him. ‘I jus’ ’ad too much ter drink. I shouldn’t ’ave gone up ter yer flat anyway.’
‘We’re still friends then?’
‘O’ course.’
In the gathering darkness the tall buildings loomed up against the night sky. Soon they had skirted Trafalgar Square and had driven up into Charing Cross Road. Everywhere sandbags fronted the buildings and people in service uniforms strolled by. The cab made a detour around a huge pile of rubble and turned into Shaftesbury Avenue.
Derek sat smoking a cigarette, his eyes occasionally glancing at her. ‘We’re almost there,’ he said, throwing the cigarette stub from the cab.
Soon the taxi swung into Dean Street and pulled up. He helped her from the car and paid the driver. She looked around at the passing crowds, a strange feeling stirring inside her. The last time she had been up West was with Robert. She recalled those evenings she had spent with him in the little restaurant, and the night he had taken her back to the hotel. It seemed so long ago now and she sighed deeply.
They had gone down a flight of stairs and entered a foyer. The air was heavy with strong perfume and there seemed to be tinted mirrors everywhere. A pretty girl stood behind the cloakroom counter and a tall thin man in an evening suit approached them.
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