by Lucy Gordon
At that moment Joe Parsons signalled for Mark to join him in the sitting room. Sylvia went too and, when they were safely out of earshot, Helen said, ‘If she thinks I’m letting her be alone in that room while he’s here-well! That’s all I can say.’
There was no need for her to say more. Her suspicions stood out brilliantly.
‘You think he’d-you know-?’
‘Not now, he won’t,’ Helen said with grim satisfaction.
‘He’s very good-looking, isn’t he?’ Dee ventured.
‘Hmm. Handsome is as handsome does.’
‘Mum! It’s not his fault he’s handsome.’
‘Did I say it was? But they’re the ones you have to watch, that’s all. Now, go and lay the table.’
Over tea, Mark told them about himself. He was twenty-three and lived on the other side of London in a hostel for respectable young men. His father had died when he was six and he’d been reared by his mother alone.
‘She had no family, and my father’s family had disapproved of their marriage, so I don’t think they helped her much. She died a couple of years ago.’
‘So you’ve got nobody?’ Helen asked with a touch of sympathy.
‘Not really. I trained as a mechanic because my father was one. Luckily, I took to it and now I’m only happy with a spanner in my hand. I had a good job in a garage. At least I thought it was a good job, but the owner lost all his money, the garage was sold to someone who brought his own workforce in, and I was fired.’
‘How did you get that motorbike?’ Joe asked in a voice full of envy. ‘Don’t they cost a fortune?’
‘Yes, they do,’ Mark agreed, ‘so I had to use rather unusual methods. It belonged to the son of the man buying the garage. He wanted to sell it because he was getting a new one. I couldn’t afford even the second-hand price, so I bet him he couldn’t beat me at cards.’ The gleam in his eyes had a touch of charming wickedness. ‘And he couldn’t.’
‘No,’ Joe breathed in awe. ‘You’re a bit of a devil, aren’t you?’
‘I hope so,’ Mark said, sounding comically shocked. ‘What’s the point otherwise?’
‘Hmm!’ Helen said disapprovingly.
‘I didn’t cheat, Mrs Parsons,’ Mark assured her. ‘I just-tempted him a bit further than he’d meant to go.’
‘That’s what the devil does,’ Dee said triumphantly, and was rewarded with his blazing grin that seemed to fill the room.
Helen frowned, disapproving. Sylvia looked as though she was struggling to keep up.
Afterwards, the men retired to the garage while the girls helped their mother in the kitchen.
‘If you ask me, he’s a bad lad,’ Helen said.
‘Why, Mum, whatever do you mean?’ Sylvia asked.
‘I mean he’s the sort who goes around telling the world he’s there all the time, like he did tonight. You watch out, my girl. Don’t you go getting yourself into trouble.’
‘Mum,’ Dee protested, ‘that’s not fair. Sylvia’s a good girl.’
Sylvia said nothing.
‘Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t,’ Helen said. ‘I’m taking no chances, not with him looking like he came off a cinema screen.’
‘He is handsome, isn’t he?’ Sylvia said eagerly.
‘Yes, he is-too handsome for his good or yours. That’s why Dee’s going to be with you in your room tonight. I don’t want any of your nonsense.’
‘Why, Mum, I don’t know what you mean,’ Sylvia said, earnestly enough to fool anyone who didn’t know her.
‘You know exactly what I mean, young lady. You behave yourself.’
Behind her mother’s back, Sylvia made a face, but gave up arguing. Nobody won against Helen and they all knew it. When it was time to go to bed, she drew Mark aside in the hall, signalling for Deirdre to go on ahead.
Dee hesitated, mindful of her mother’s orders to keep a strict eye on them. But Helen herself was only a few feet away in the kitchen and surely one little goodnight kiss couldn’t do any harm?
‘Go on,’ Sylvia said urgently, jerking her head to the stairs and at last Dee obeyed, trying to sort out her thoughts.
There was another reason for her reluctance to leave them alone; one she couldn’t admit to herself because she didn’t fully understand it. It made no sense. After all, Mark was Sylvia’s property.
Wasn’t he?
Upstairs, she undressed slowly, trying not to let her mind dwell on the two lovers enjoying a tender embrace. In bed, she read for a little while, waiting for Sylvia to appear, but nothing happened.
When she could stand it no longer, she crept out into the hall and listened to the soft sounds coming from the bottom of the stairs, trying to picture what they would be doing.
Dee was a child of her time. At seventeen, she’d never known a passionate kiss, or even a non-passionate one. Nor had she seen one, unless you included Robert Taylor kissing Greta Garbo in the film of Camille. Apart from that, her knowledge of men and women was gleaned from her studies as a nurse, technical information that told her nothing of the passionate reality. About that she was as ignorant and innocent as any other respectable girl.
But tonight something had changed, making her aware of feelings and sensations that had existed beyond her consciousness. Mark had smiled at her, and he’d sat opposite her at the table, where she could see his face all the time. And nothing was the same. Now she was all avid curiosity to explore, but how could she? Mark was off-limits, and no other man existed.
From downstairs came a soft gasp followed by smothered laughter and a murmuring sound, telling of pleasure enjoyed to the full. Dee closed her eyes, her heart pounding, her breath coming in long gasps. She wanted-what? She couldn’t tell. She only knew that she yearned for something above and beyond anything she’d known before.
From the kitchen came the sound of Helen banging pots and pans about, letting them know she was still there and they’d better stop what they were doing. Next moment Dee heard footsteps approaching and hurriedly retreated into the bedroom. By the time Sylvia came in, she was huddled down under the covers.
‘Hello,’ she murmured in a carefully sleepy voice. ‘Have you said your goodnights?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Sylvia sounded pleased with herself. ‘What do you think of him?’
‘He’s all right. That motorbike is amazing, though.’
‘Oh, the bike!’ Sylvia said dismissively.
‘I thought you liked it. It must be wonderful to ride with him.’
‘Well, it isn’t. I thought I was going to die. Of course I didn’t tell him, he’s so proud of it. You should hear him talk! He’s just as bad about cars.’
‘You don’t sound as though you have much in common,’ Dee observed casually.
‘You wait until I get to work on him. He’ll do anything for me. I’ll have him just the way I want in no time.’
Dee didn’t answer this, but something told her Sylvia was wrong. Beneath Mark’s easy-going charm, she suspected a stubborn will to have his own way.
And yet, how could she tell? she wondered. What did she know of him, except that he was more good-looking than any man had the right to be, that he could make her laugh, and that his mind had a link with her own. At the table they had shared the ‘devil’ joke, which Sylvia hadn’t understood, and that had been the sweetest moment.
More than sixty years later, it still lived in her mind.
I didn’t know what had happened to me that night. I thought you were wonderful, but I had no idea of falling in love with you because I didn’t know what love was. I only knew I was happy because you were going to stay with us for a few days. You dazzled me, and I didn’t think there could be anything better in the world. That’s how naive I was.
What is it, darling-are you restless? That’s it, curl up against me and go back to sleep. That noise downstairs is them clearing up after the party. I suppose I ought to have offered to help, but I just wanted to be with you and think of all the things that have happened to
us.
So many things-so many tears, so much laughter. So long ago, and yet not really a long time at all. I woke up next morning feeling so happy…
She had to be up very early to start work at the hospital and the day was still dark as she left the house, yet the world was mysteriously flooded with light.
At the bottom of the street was a bus stop, from which she could just see the front of the house, and the room that was normally hers. While waiting for the bus, she watched the window and saw it raised and Mark’s head come out. He noticed her and waved. She waved back, feeling that the day had had a perfect start.
When she returned in the late afternoon, she saw Sylvia walking Billy in the street.
‘I had to get out of the house,’ she said crossly. ‘Mark’s spent the day in the garage with Dad and now neither of them can talk about anything but engines. Honestly! You’d think I didn’t exist!’
‘I suppose he has to think about engines some of the time,’ Dee said mildly.
‘Yes, but not when I’m there.’
‘He’s probably trying to impress Dad so that he can take this job and be near you.’
‘Yes, that must be it,’ Sylvia said, slightly mollified. ‘But I’m going to find a way to get him out of the house tonight and have him all to myself.’
They had reached home by now. There was no sign of Mark, and Sylvia went looking for him. When she’d gone, he appeared so promptly that Dee was sure he’d been avoiding her.
‘Is she still annoyed with me?’ he whispered.
Mischievously, Dee nodded. ‘You’ve been talking about engines all day, and that’s a terrible crime.’
‘Do all women find it boring?’ he asked.
‘Mostly, I suppose.’
‘What about you? Doesn’t a hospital need machines of some sort?’
‘Yes, we do, and I’m learning how to work them, but I suppose it’s more interesting if you’re doing things yourself rather than just hearing about them.’
He pulled a face full of good-natured resignation, spreading his hands as if to say-what was he supposed to do?
‘I keep getting it wrong,’ he sighed. ‘Sooner or later I always annoy women.’
She was about to tell him not to talk nonsense when she connected with the teasing look in his eye and in the same moment she was invaded by a sweet warmth that shook her to the soul.
‘I can believe that,’ she said in a voice that trembled slightly. ‘In fact, I can’t imagine how any woman puts up with you.’
‘Neither can I,’ he chuckled.
‘Mark, are you there?’
Sylvia’s voice brought them both back to reality. Dee thought she spotted a brief look of exasperation on his face, but it vanished at the sight of her, smiling again and so lovely that Dee knew she herself was forgotten.
Supper was a cheerful meal. Joe was warm in his praise of Mark’s abilities. The job offer was confirmed, and it was understood that he would stay with them until after Christmas, when he could start looking for a place of his own.
Afterwards, Sylvia announced that she and Mark were going to the cinema. ‘There’s that new film at the Odeon, A Christmas Carol. Mark’s longing to see it.’
‘Why, what a coincidence!’ Helen exclaimed. ‘Dee’s been saying how much she wants to see it. You can all go together.’
‘Mum, I can go another time,’ Dee muttered, appalled by this blatant manipulation.
‘Nonsense, you go now. You’ve been working hard. Clear off, the three of you. Have a good time.’
Sylvia seethed at having a chaperone forced on her. Dee was ready to sink into the ground at the suspicion of what Mark must be thinking. But when she dared to meet his eyes, she found them alive with fun.
Of course, she thought. He must have been in this situation a thousand times. The world was full of mothers trying to shield their daughters from his looks and charm.
She felt better. And the thought of an evening in his company was blissful. It was Sylvia who sulked.
CHAPTER THREE
IF MARK was annoyed at Dee playing gooseberry, he didn’t show it. At the cinema he paid for her seat, placed her so that he was sitting between them and bought her an ice cream. When the lights went down, she sensed that he slipped his arm round the back of Sylvia’s seat and turned his head in her direction.
After a while a woman in the row behind tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Do you mind not leaning so close to your girlfriend?’ she hissed indignantly. ‘You’re blocking my view.’
He apologised, and after that he behaved like a perfect gentleman.
When they left the cinema the lovers were in dreamily happy moods, but Dee was disgruntled.
‘It was awful,’ she complained. ‘Not a bit like the book.’
‘It’s a film,’ he objected mildly.
‘But the book is by Charles Dickens,’ she said, as though that settled the matter. ‘And they changed things. The Ghost of Christmas Past was played by a girl, they cut out Scrooge’s fiancée and-oh, lots of things.’
‘Did they?’ he asked blankly. ‘I didn’t notice. Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters,’ she said urgently. ‘Things should be done right.’
‘Never mind her,’ Sylvia said, peevish at having the romantic atmosphere dispelled. ‘She’s always finding fault.’
Mark grinned, his good temper unruffled. ‘Hey, you’re a real stickler, aren’t you?’ he challenged Dee.
‘What’s wrong with that?’ she demanded.
‘Nothing, nothing,’ he said with comic haste. ‘Just remind me not to get on your wrong side.’
Still clowning, he edged away from her, but added, ‘I’m only joking.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t be,’ Sylvia put in. ‘People do get scared of Dee because she’s always so grim and practical.’
‘I’m not grim,’ Dee said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice, but failing.
Perhaps Mark heard it because he said quickly, ‘Of course you’re not. You just like to be precise and correct. Good for you. A nurse needs to be like that. Who’d want to be nursed by someone who was all waffly and emotional? I’ll bet when you were at school, your best subjects were maths and science.’
‘They were,’ she said, warmed by his understanding.
‘There you are, then. You’ve got what my father used to call a masculine mind.’
The warmth faded. He considered her precise, correct and unemotional, practically a man. And she was supposed to be flattered. But then, she thought sadly, he had no idea that his words hurt her. Nor did he care. He’d merely been spreading his charm around to avoid an argument. She pulled herself together and answered him lightly.
‘You don’t have to be a man to appreciate scientific advances. That film we saw tonight was in black and white, but one day they’ll all be in colour.’
‘Oh, come on!’ Sylvia exclaimed cynically.
‘No, she’s right,’ Mark said. ‘They’re making a film of Gone with the Wind right now, and I’ve heard that’s in colour.’
‘Yes, important films, with big stars,’ Sylvia agreed. ‘But they’ll never make ordinary films like that. It’s too difficult and expensive. There are limits.’
‘No, there aren’t!’ Dee said at once. ‘There are no limits. Not just in films but in anything. In life. No limits.’
‘You’re just a little girl,’ Sylvia said dismissively. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes, she does,’ Mark said. ‘She’s right about that. You can’t live life to the full if you set limits on everything.’
From Sylvia’s expression, it was clear that she didn’t know what he was talking about and was simply exasperated with the pair of them. Mark slipped his arm comfortingly about her, but at the same time he gave Dee a wink that was…that was…she struggled for the right word.
Conspiratorial, that was it; a look that said they shared a secret knowledge that Sylvia couldn’t understand.
Her heart soared again and she began to make plans for when they got home. She would lure him into a discussion about great matters-knowledge, life, no limits, and the mental bond they shared would grow firmer.
But, once inside, he yawned and said he was tired, which Dee didn’t believe for a moment. There was no high-flown discussion, only a time of lying in the darkness knowing that Mark and Sylvia were downstairs, sharing a passionate goodnight. Mental bonds were all very well, but they couldn’t compete with Sylvia’s curves or the come-hither look in her eye. It was a painful lesson in reality.
Christmas was getting closer. Mark started work in the garage, Sylvia was deluged with customers in the dress shop, but the one with the longest hours was Dee. Coming home late from the hospital one night, she fell asleep on the bus and woke to find Mark shaking her.
‘When the bus came I could see you inside, fast asleep. You’d have been carried on, so we had to jump on and rouse you.’
‘We?’ she asked sleepily, looking around.
Then she realised that Billy was there, too.
‘We went for a walk,’ Mark explained. ‘I saw the bus in the distance and I knew you were due home soon, so we waited at the stop.’
‘What’s that creature doing ’ere?’ the conductor growled. ‘He’s dangerous.’
‘He’s not dangerous and we’re just getting off,’ Mark said, rising and pulling the cord.
‘Not until you’ve paid your fare.’
Then things became comical because Mark had come out without money, and Dee had to pay for him. They descended onto the pavement, hysterical with mirth.
‘I guess I’m not cut out to be a knight in shining armour, rescuing a damsel in distress,’ he said. ‘I’d leave the sword behind and have to borrow hers.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ she protested. ‘You didn’t know you were going to need money when you came out. I expect even Sir Lancelot was short of four pence sometimes.’
‘Which one was he?’
‘The most famous one who sat at the Round Table. He flirted with King Arthur’s wife Guinevere, and was banished in disgrace.’
