Follow Your Dream

by Patricia Burns

  ‘Your hair looks lovely, Susan. Now, shall Pam and I get our dresses on now? And then we can help you with yours. And perhaps you’d like your mum to get ready now, too?’

  ‘Yes. Yes. Mum, I told you to get dressed half an hour ago,’ Susan said between clenched teeth.

  ‘P’raps you’d like a hand, Mrs Kershaw?’ Lillian suggested.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ James volunteered. He was all ready and looking heart-breakingly handsome in his hired morning suit.

  Order emerged from the confusion. Susan looked wonderful in the elegant dress she had made herself, Lillian and Pam were pretty in pale pink and Mrs Kershaw striking in raspberry-pink with a veiled hat. Everything went like clockwork, exactly to Susan’s masterplan. They all got to the church in time in cars arranged by James who, in the absence of a father, was giving his sister away. The service went without a hitch and soon Bob and Susan were marching down the aisle, man and wife. As they all lined up for the photographs, James leaned to whisper in Lillian’s ear.

  ‘I reckon we did a good job there, eh?’

  ‘We did,’ Lillian agreed, looking at the shining faces of the bride and groom. ‘For all their planning beforehand, they would have fallen apart if we hadn’t been here.’

  ‘What a team.’

  ‘Yes, we’re the best.’

  But, even as she said it, she was crying inside. They were a perfect team, she and James. If he could see that, why couldn’t he see her as a potential girlfriend? She pulled her face into a smile for the camera.

  At the reception, the wedding party were no longer separated from the guests. James’s girlfriend marched straight up to him and slid an arm through his, claiming him assuredly as pinning a badge on him marked hands off. For a while, Lillian kept herself busy handing plates round and making tea and pouring drinks. Her mother was sitting on a chair looking unwell, Mrs Kershaw was still in a flap and Wendy was too pregnant to help, and of course Susan was the bride and had only to stand and be congratulated by everyone, so Lillian organised Pam and the two of them hurried round making sure everyone had a full plate and glass.

  Before the cutting of the cake, Frank, as best man, made a short speech with several off-colour jokes that nobody laughed at. Then James, in his role as replacement father of the bride, spoke fondly about his sister as a child and as a young woman, and how she and Bob were perfectly suited to each other. Lillian dragged her eyes away from him to glance at his girlfriend. She was gazing at him with pride on her face, as well she might. He looked and sounded confident and at ease, a man to be admired and relied upon. No wonder she kept close to his side. Perhaps she was hoping to be the bride at the next wedding. Lillian felt tears thickening her throat.

  ‘Hear, hear!’ she called, to stop herself from crying in front of everyone.

  James smiled straight at her, as everyone clapped his speech.

  ‘A toast—to Mr and Mrs Robert Parker—may their marriage be a long and happy one!’ he said.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Robert Parker!’ everyone chorused.

  The cake was cut, Lillian and Pam took the pieces round, more tea was made. James and Maggie were standing side by side, eating cake from the same plate. Lillian went to speak to her sister.

  ‘Bit different from your wedding, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah,’ Wendy agreed.

  ‘Not a patch on ours, eh, doll?’ Terry said.

  ‘No,’ Wendy agreed.

  ‘No band, no champagne, nothing but a few measly sandwiches—’

  Terry elaborated on the shortcomings of Bob and Susan’s arrangements for some time. Wendy just stood there agreeing with a faraway expression on her face. Lillian almost suspected that her sister was secretly wishing that her wedding had been a cosy home-made do like this. But she dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred. Wendy had adored the razzmatazz of her big day. She had been treated like a film star. Diana Dors herself couldn’t have asked for more.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Lillian asked.

  ‘Oh—not so bad now—’ Wendy ran a hand over her expanding belly. ‘It’s very lively. I can feel it kicking.’

  Unbidden, the picture of Brenda lying unconscious and bleeding on the pile of newspapers slid into Lillian’s mind. The contrast between her poor broken body and Wendy, beautiful and blooming, was almost too much to bear. Lillian gave her sister a hug.

  ‘You look after yourself,’ she said.

  Terry gave her a hard look.

  ‘What you say that for? She’s got me to see after her now, ain’t you, doll?’

  ‘Yes,’ Wendy agreed.

  ‘See?’ Terry said.

  ‘I was only saying,’ Lillian said, and left them to it.

  Once the cake had been eaten, Susan and Bob disappeared upstairs to change into their going away outfits. Then everyone went outside to wave them off as James drove them to the station to catch the train up to London and on to Bognor for their honeymoon. After that, the party petered out. James came back and picked up Maggie to take her home and, in ones and twos and small groups, the rest of the guests departed.

  ‘Hmm, that’s that, then. What a lot of fuss. Put the kettle on, Lillian,’ Gran ordered, and retreated to her room to watch the television. Lillian’s dad went to join her. Frank went out. Lillian’s mum hauled herself to her feet. She looked exhausted.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go and have a lie down. I’ll come down and help with the clearing up later,’ she said.

  Lillian, Pam and Mrs Kershaw were left standing in a room littered with debris.

  ‘Well, I guess it’s just us,’ Lillian said.

  She felt almost cheerful. She had known all along that she would be left with this task. To have two people to help her was a big bonus. She took tea up to her mum, who was lying on top of her bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling.

  ‘You all right, Mum?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, dear. It’s the usual, you know. I’ll be better soon.’

  As far back as Lillian could remember, her mum had been tired.

  ‘You have a little sleep. We’ll get cleared up downstairs OK.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her mother’s voice was a faint mumble, as if she hadn’t the energy even to speak properly. Lillian left her to rest.

  Downstairs, she handed out aprons and the three of them got busy, chatting about how well the day had gone as they worked. They were about halfway through the washing-up when James reappeared.

  ‘Sorry to leave you in the lurch, but I had to take Maggie home. Can’t expect her to help; she’s not family, is she?’

  Lillian felt a great lift of hope. Maggie wasn’t family. She turned a bright smile on James. ‘You’re right. It’s best with just us.’

  When everything was put to rights, they all sat down with yet another cup of tea and a plate of leftovers.

  ‘That was a job well done,’ James commented.

  ‘Yeah, bully for us,’ Pam agreed.

  ‘It’s been such a lovely day,’ Mrs Kershaw said with a sigh.

  Lillian looked at them as they all sat with their feet up, munching sausage rolls and sandwiches with aprons over their wedding finery. She felt far more at ease with the Kershaws than she did with her own family. Pam and Mrs Kershaw asked questions about her life as a dancer and listened attentively as she told them about it. They seemed genuinely interested in her. She talked more about herself to them in half an hour than she had ever done to her lot.

  ‘How long are you home for, Lindy?’ James asked.

  ‘A month. That’s if they renew my contract.’

  ‘A month! That’s good. Tell you what, why don’t we go to the Kursaal one evening? I can show you how good I’m getting at dancing.’

  ‘Oh—!’ A shaft of pure delight lit Lillian’s heart. ‘Yes—yes, that would be wonderful.’

  ‘Right, we’ll do it. How about Wednesday?’

  ‘Wednesday would be fine.’

  The sun had come out on her time at home. She looked ahead
to a month of days rimmed with gold.

  After the upheaval of the wedding, life at Sunny View settled down into the usual routine. Lillian caught up with Ja-nette and the rest of her old school friends, but most of her time was taken up with doing the housework so that her mother could have a much-needed break. That would not have been so hard if it hadn’t been for Gran inspecting her work every half hour or so. After a week of it, Lillian had had enough. The fact that she was going to escape again gave her courage.

  ‘Why can’t we have a proper washing machine?’ she demanded.

  Gran looked at her with amazement. ‘We’ve got a copper,’ she pointed out.

  ‘Yeah, a copper and a mangle, for all those sheets and stuff! No wonder Mum’s worn out.’

  ‘It was good enough for me, so it’s good enough for you,’ Gran told her.

  ‘It was all right when there wasn’t anything else. People have got machines now. You can fill them up with a hose and they whirl the clothes round, then after you’ve got them out and wrung them and rinsed them, the water pumps out all by itself into the sink. Just think what a blessing that’d be for Mum!’

  Gran snorted. ‘And just how much does one of these wonderful things cost?’

  ‘Sixty-five pounds,’ Lillian admitted. She had looked at the ads in the local paper.

  ‘Sixty-five pounds! You’re off your head, girl. Where am I going to get money like that?’

  ‘You can get them on the never-never for five and seven a week.’

  Gran gave her a withering look. ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be,’ she quoted, and stalked off.

  ‘How about a vacuum cleaner, then?’ Lillian asked her retreating back. ‘You can get one of them for only six guineas!’

  Gran did not deign to reply.

  Disgruntled, Lillian picked up the dustpan and brush and went to clean the stairs. If ordinary housewives had these wonderful aids, why shouldn’t her mother have them to help her run a guest house? She had ten times more to do than someone like Susan or Wendy. Wendy didn’t even have fires to light and clean out, as the flat above the amusement arcade had lovely warm, clean electric fires, and on top of that she had every electrical gadget known to womankind.

  Not that she was going to be in the flat for much longer. In a fortnight’s time, she and Terry were moving into a big detached house in Thorpe Bay with five bedrooms, three living rooms, a huge kitchen, a separate bathroom and toilet and, luxury of luxuries, another toilet downstairs—not an outside one, but a proper tiled indoor one with its own wash hand basin!

  Lillian spent a couple of days with her sister trailing round furniture stores looking for suitably ornate pieces to put in this palace. Wendy kept exclaiming over sofas and dining tables and elaborate cocktail cabinets but, whenever Lillian suggested she bought something, she always said that she would have to ask Terry. Even equipment for the nursery had to be referred to him.

  ‘But why can’t you buy a cot for the baby?’ Lillian asked. ‘It’s your baby.’

  ‘It’s Terry’s money, though,’ Wendy told her.

  ‘What about “With all my worldly goods I thee endow”?’

  ‘What?’

  Wendy seemed really dozy. It was difficult to have a sensible conversation with her.

  ‘The wedding service,’ Lillian prompted.

  ‘Oh—that.’

  ‘Yes, that. Doesn’t he give you any money?’

  ‘I’ve got housekeeping.’

  Lillian could ask as many questions as she liked, but nothing could change the fact that Wendy could look but not buy. Terry held the purse strings. It made Lillian anxious, as did her mother’s ill health and her lack of household equipment, but nothing could cloud her joy at spending time with James.

  The first evening at the Kursaal was followed by evenings at various pubs featuring up-and-coming rock’n’roll bands. Lillian was in heaven as they danced to the compulsive beat, their two bodies in perfect harmony. She couldn’t remember ever having been so happy.

  They didn’t go out more than a couple of nights a week, as he had to spend some time with Maggie, plus he was busy with an increasing work load and often worked well into the evening. Lillian went round to Kershaw’s Auto Repairs one evening to see what it was all about.

  ‘So this is your kingdom,’ she said, standing in the entrance. All she could see of James was two feet sticking out from under a big blue car.

  ‘Lindy!’ The feet moved and James emerged, lying on a board with castors under it. He smiled up at her, his teeth white in his dirty face. ‘This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve heard so much about this place. I wanted to see it for myself.’

  She breathed in the smell of grease and oil. It brought back those days when she’d cycled home from school the long way round just to go past Dobson’s when he worked there.

  ‘Not a lot to see, really,’ James said.

  Lillian didn’t explain that that wasn’t the point. She needed to be able to picture where he was and what he was doing when she wasn’t with him.

  ‘No, but it’s nice to see what there is. Are you busy? Can I help?’

  ‘You can make us some tea.’

  As she waited for the kettle to boil, the phone rang. She answered it, relayed the message to James and wrote the customer and his requirements into James’s work diary. Then she passed him various tools that he needed for what was turning out to be a more difficult job than he had anticipated. By the time he had finished, her hands were almost as oily as his and there were black smears on her jeans.

  James was apologetic. ‘Look at you! You’ve ruined your clothes.’

  Lillian shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s only what I wear to do the housework. Not that Gran likes me wearing jeans, but she has to lump it. You’re not going to see me in a flowery pinny.’

  James laughed. ‘No, that’s not your style, is it? But even so, it’s going to be hard to get that grease off. Maggie won’t come within a hundred yards of this place in case she gets dirty.’

  Lillian hated it when he referred to his girlfriend. For long stretches of time she could forget that Maggie existed, but then, just when she was enjoying herself, her name would come up again.

  ‘Well, I’m not Maggie, am I?’ she said.

  ‘God, no. You couldn’t be more different.’

  She wasn’t sure whether this was meant as a compliment or not but, before she could ask, James had changed the subject.

  ‘You’ve been a real help this evening, Lindy. The bloke’ll be round to collect his car in ten minutes and I wouldn’t have got it done in time if you hadn’t been here. Look, are you doing anything on Sunday afternoon? Maggie’s out for the day visiting relatives so I’ve got some free time. We could go up the pier or something.’

  Lillian went through a painful roller coaster of emotions in the course of a few seconds—pleasure at being considered a help, anguish at being second choice after Maggie, delight at the prospect of an afternoon with James.

  ‘That’d be lovely,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been up the pier since I left the show.’

  ‘That’s settled, then. I’ll call for you at two. That OK?’

  It was more than OK. Lillian was walking on air for the rest of the week.

  Sunday was cold with a wet wind gusting off the sea, tipping autumn over into winter. But nothing could dampen Lillian’s spirits. She raced through clearing up the Sunday lunch, looked out her winter coat and put on the red woolly hat and scarf she had knitted backstage during the summer in intervals between appearances.

  ‘Sure you still want to go?’ James asked when he arrived at Sunny View.

  ‘Of course! I’ve been looking forward to this,’ Lillian told him with masterly understatement.

  They marched up the mile and a quarter of timber walkway with the wind buffeting their faces and seagulls crying overhead.

  ‘It’s good to be out in the fresh air,’ James said, taking exaggerated deep breaths. �
�Gets all those petrol fumes out of your lungs.’

  ‘It’s glorious!’ Lillian cried, intoxicated just to be out with him. She skipped around, her arms wide to catch the wind. ‘Come on, race you to the next hut!’

  They pounded along, dodging families and older couples and occasional groups of young people all out to walk off their Sunday lunches. James caught up with Lillian well before the little shelter they were heading for, grabbed her arm and swung her round. Shrieking with laughter, Lillian broke away and ran off again. They collapsed, panting, on the bench seat of the shelter.

  ‘It’s fun being out with you,’ James said. ‘You know how to enjoy yourself.’

  It was easy to enjoy herself when she was with James. She had been happy simply passing tools to him while he’d worked under a car.

  ‘It’s fun with you too,’ she said. ‘Everything’s fun with you.’

  The pressure to open her heart was suddenly almost too much to bear. She yearned to tell him how much she had missed him while she had been away, how much she longed to be with him every minute of the day, but she was terrified she might spoil everything if she did. She jumped up.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘it’s about to rain. Let’s get to the end before it catches us.’

  They spent a happy afternoon wandering round the pier head, playing the machines on the amusement arcades, marvelling at the tropical fish in the aquarium, laughing at their reflections in the hall of mirrors. Then James bought them both tea and buns in the café and they sat looking out over the grey water of the estuary.

  Lillian asked about his plans for the exhaust business and James told her all about it—how he was looking for new premises so he could run both businesses in tandem until the exhaust one took off, how he needed to advertise heavily so that people knew he was there and saw the point of a while-you-wait specialist fitter, how he would be taking on staff but didn’t need fully qualified car mechanics to do just one task, and how he would have to run up a credit account with the suppliers until he got the business off the ground.

  ‘The whole thing’s a great big gamble. If I get this wrong, if no one comes, then I’m going to be in big financial trouble.’