Follow Your Dream

by Patricia Burns

  Lillian flushed. ‘Thank you,’ she said. But it was a bittersweet compliment. A sister was how James thought of her as well. She bit her lip, thinking of that last time they had been alone together. She had not seen him since the funeral.

  ‘It’s not just this prison visit that’s worrying you, is it?’ Susan asked.

  It came as a shock to find herself so easily read. Had James been talking to her? Did she know? Susan’s sympathetic expression led her on. She desperately needed someone to confide in

  ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘It’s—’

  She was a breath away from confessing just how she felt about James. But somehow it was too precious to talk about. Deep inside was the fear that if she admitted it to James’s sister, the whole thing would be somehow diminished. She sidestepped into the other thing that possessed her thoughts.

  ‘It’s…well…everything, really. I look ahead and I can’t see my way…’

  She paused. It sounded feeble, put like that.

  ‘You mean, what you should do next?’ Susan prompted.

  ‘Yes. You see, I always had this dream of becoming a dancer, ever since I was a kid. It probably looked pretty impossible to other people, but I did it, I became a real professional dancer and I did all those pantos and summer shows and tours and there was always something new, something happening. And then I came back home and made Gran have Sunny View done up and looked after Mum, and now she’s gone and…well…I don’t know what comes next. It’s like…like a fog. There’s no way through. All I can really see is sticking here and looking after Gran and Dad and trying to keep Sunny View going.’

  It was a depressing prospect. Even if she wanted to run Sunny View, it was like swimming against the tide. Fewer and fewer people wanted a guest house holiday, not in Southend. They came to the town for day trips, not whole weeks.

  ‘And you don’t want to do that?’

  Lillian shook her head.

  ‘Bob and I were talking about this the other day. He thought you ought to stay and look after your gran and your dad, but I said that wasn’t fair, why should it always be you that your family leans on? You have your own life to lead.’

  Lillian just stared at her. It was the second time that day that Susan had taken her by surprise.

  ‘Th-thanks,’ she stammered.

  ‘So what would you like to do? Go back to dancing?’

  That was just it. She wasn’t sure whether she did want to dance any more. So much had happened since last she’d performed that it seemed like a different world, one that she could hardly imagine going back to.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.

  Lying awake in bed that night, she felt better for having aired her problem, felt closer to Susan after having spoken to her about something so personal, but knew that she had got no further forward. Here she was with the rest of her life to live, and she didn’t know what to do with it. She was adrift. And the one person she really wanted to confide in, the one who could put the meaning back, had not spoken to her for over a week.

  And then, a couple of days after her conversation with Susan, he phoned.

  ‘Lindy, are you all right?’ he asked.

  All right! She was very far from all right. But just hearing his voice again jolted her out of her listlessness. She couldn’t have said whether it was more painful or pleasurable to speak to him, but there he was, on the end of the phone, and she felt alive again.

  ‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘No need to worry about me.’

  ‘But I do worry about you,’ he said.

  Her heart twisted in agonising hope.

  ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I need to see you urgently. I’ve just had a call from Susan, about Wendy.’

  The hope plummeted.

  ‘Wendy. Right.’ She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  ‘Of course, I want to see you as well,’ he added hastily. ‘But I’ve got the beginnings of a plan, and I thought we ought to get it all in place for when Wendy changes her mind and says she wants to get away from that bastard.’

  ‘Right,’ Lillian said again. She gave a great sigh. Talking to him about Wendy was better than nothing. ‘OK. This evening then, if it’s that important. It’s not as if I’m doing anything much.’

  They agreed to meet at a coffee bar.

  It was a relief just to get out of the house for the evening. She managed to get a parking place right outside and, as she went in at the door, there he was waiting for her, the man she loved, smiling at her in welcome. Her chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe. This was the first time they had met since the funeral. Just how were they going to react to each other?

  ‘Here—’ He pushed a coffee across the table towards her. ‘It’s hot. I’ve only just arrived.’

  Lillian concentrated hard on stirring the froth into the brown liquid.

  ‘So,’ she said without looking at him, ‘what’s all this about, then?’

  Wendy, he explained, had been round to Susan’s that afternoon. She had been in a very emotional state, and had finally confessed that Terry beat her. What was more, he was now threatening to take the children away from her if she tried to get away.

  ‘I was surprised when Susan said she’d told her. I thought you said she didn’t want anyone to know what was happening,’ he concluded.

  Lillian sighed. She leaned her head against one hand and continued playing with her coffee with the other.

  ‘I suppose it’s because of that big row with her up at the hospital,’ she confessed. ‘She was going on about how much she loved her precious Terry and how he loved her and she’d never leave him, so I said she’d better not come to me next time he hit her.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Yes, you said something about not talking to her at…at the funeral. That explains it. Well, she can be pretty annoying, the way she keeps changing her mind.’

  ‘Annoying! She’s infuriating. She drives me mad. But I guess I shouldn’t have shut the door in her face like that, so to speak. She is my sister, after all, and we ought to stick together.’ Guilt over rejecting Wendy was another thing that added to the weight on her mind. ‘The family’s getting like that song we used to sing as kids—you know, Ten Green Bottles? First Frank, then Mum, and now Wendy’s sort of tottering, about to fall off. And it makes me feel so—so powerless. What can I do about it? That’s why Wendy makes me so angry. She won’t be helped.’

  Despite herself, there was a catch in her voice and the hand gripping the teaspoon shook a little. This was dreadful. She mustn’t break down in front of him.

  ‘It is frustrating, I know. I feel just the same. Maybe I shouldn’t have rung you. Susan said you had quite enough to worry you without taking this on as well.’

  But at least he was here, talking to her. If it hadn’t been for Wendy, and then Susan, maybe he wouldn’t have broken his silence.

  ‘’s all right,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I have been thinking about it, and I’ve had this good idea about where Wendy and the children could run away to.’

  ‘You have?’ James said. ‘So have I. If she does go, she’s got to get right away, to somewhere Dempsey will never find her.’

  ‘Yeah, or there will be hell to pay, for her and the person she goes to. That’s why I thought I’d ask—’

  ‘Aunty Eileen,’ they both said together.

  Their eyes met and, for the first time that evening, something of the old spark kindled between them.

  ‘Great minds,’ James said with a laugh.

  And from then on it was easier. They were conspirators, planning a break out. It all had to be thought out, down to the last detail, so that nobody was implicated. Neither of them wanted to be responsible for Terry Dempsey’s wrath to be visited on anyone near to them. They agreed on a list of things to do.

  That done, there was an awkward pause. James was looking at her. She knew he was weighing his words in his head.

  ‘Look, Lindy…’ he began.

  Lillian stood up. Now that things were
a little mended, she couldn’t bear to break it all up again.

  ‘I better be getting home now.’

  He caught her hand. ‘About what you said—’

  Terrified of losing what they had regained that evening, she snatched her hand away. ‘Just leave it, right? I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it. Please.’

  ‘Lindy, wait—’

  She hurried to the door.

  James followed her out into the winter’s night. ‘Don’t go like this,’ he pleaded.

  The Traveller was waiting for her just outside. She unlocked the door. ‘Please,’ she repeated, with desperation in her voice. ‘Just forget it.’

  She got in, slammed the door, started the engine and drove off, leaving James on the pavement, staring after her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ‘I SAW you, you bitch, out there in the garden, giving him the glad eye. What d’you think I am? An idiot? Do you think I don’t see?’

  Wendy cowered before Terry’s anger, her stomach churning with fear.

  ‘I was only passing the time of day, Tel, honest.’

  She knew as she said it that it was useless to reason with him. She had only been chatting over the fence to the man next door, but Terry didn’t see things the way other people did.

  Crack! His hand smashed into the side of her head, making it ring. Through the noise, she could hear Coral wailing.

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’

  ‘I’m not! I’m not lying. He’s our neighbour, Tel. I have to speak to him. I can’t just ignore him.’

  ‘You say good morning and that’s all, d’you hear me? All. You—do—not—lead—him—on—Gottit?’

  Wendy wrapped her arms round her head, trying to ward off the blows. ‘Yes—yes—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—’

  ‘So you bloody well should be. You’re my wife, and don’t you ever forget it!’

  As if she ever could.

  ‘I won’t, Terry, I won’t. I promise.’

  ‘You’re not to go out to the garden while he’s there, d’you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Terry. I do. I hear you.’

  ‘Good. You just better.’

  Wendy remained where she was, crouched on the floor of the kitchen, as he marched out of the house. She heard Coral’s sobs and felt her small arms go round her neck and gathered the child to her, seeking comfort from her soft little body.

  ‘It’s all right, darling,’ she said automatically. ‘It’s all right now. Mummy’s got you.’

  They clung together as Wendy listened for the front door and then for the car starting up. It wasn’t until she heard it go out of the driveway that Wendy allowed herself to relax. He was gone. Now there would be an interval of peace. Until the next time. Painfully, she straightened up. At least this time it hadn’t gone on for long. Just a small outburst really. Nothing at all. She heaved Coral onto her hip, put the kettle on and took some aspirins for her thudding head. Then she sat down with tea and cake and thought it through out loud.

  ‘What am I going to do, darling? I can’t leave him, can I? He does love me, really. And he loves you and Terrance. But I don’t know how—it’s like a prison. Now we can’t even go in the garden when he’s around.’

  Coral was still looking shaken. ‘Don’t like Daddy shouting.’

  ‘I know, darling. I know. He doesn’t mean it, not really.’

  But he did mean it. If he caught her speaking to their neighbour again, there would be hell to pay.

  ‘Uncle James says he can take us away, somewhere safe, but we couldn’t do that, could we? Leave our lovely home?’

  The house she had always wanted, in the best part of town, with everything in it new and expensive. Except that she had got it right the first time—it wasn’t a home, it was a prison. A dangerous prison.

  She went listlessly about her day’s tasks. Mrs Riley still came to clean, but with the bigger house and the babies around, there was more for Wendy to do. And they very seldom ate out together now. Wendy made a meal each night but usually ended up eating it on her own.

  It was Mrs Riley’s day for scrubbing out the kitchen so, to keep out of her way, Wendy went upstairs and started tidying the bedroom. Like the rest of the house, the furnishings had been shiny and new when they’d moved in. There was spindly white and gold French-style furniture, a white carpet, fur rugs and gold satin sheets and bedspread. When first she had moved in, she had adored it all, spending hours sitting at the kidney-shaped dressing table, doing her face and hair and nails and moving the triple mirrors to study herself. Now she sat down on the padded stool with her back to the mirrors and stared at the range of wardrobes. They were full of clothes, expensive clothes that Terry had bought her. If she had to go, what would she take with her? Her fur coat. She couldn’t leave her fur coat behind. But what about all her lovely ballgowns? She got wearily to her feet and opened the wardrobe in the corner. A rainbow of dresses hung there, satin and chiffon, full and straight and fishtail, trimmed with lace and sequins and crystals. Neatly arranged below them was a row of stilettos, dyed to match the gowns. Wendy stroked the fine fabrics, enjoying the sensuous feel.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she sighed, ‘I don’t know.’

  From Coral’s room she could hear the little girl playing. She was talking to her dolls. Wendy gave up trying to make a decision and padded along the landing to peep in at her daughter. Coral plonked a toy teacup in front of one of her teddies.

  ‘There. Nice cuppatea.’

  Wendy smiled painfully. She sounded just like Susan.

  But then Coral pounced on the bear and snatched it up, shaking it with frightening fury.

  ‘You stupid bitch! You broke it! You bad, bad stupid bitch!’

  Holding the bear with one hand, Coral punched it repeatedly with the other, before throwing it down on the floor and stamping on it. Frozen to the spot, Wendy just gaped at her, horror trickling through her veins. It was only when Coral dropped the bear, flopped down on the floor beside it and started to cry that she managed to go to her on shaking legs.

  ‘There, darling, there,’ she murmured, gathering the child into her arms. Together they sobbed amongst the scattered toys.

  Who could she tell? Who could she confide in? If she spilt it to Lillian, she would only nag her to leave Terry. She had no real friends left, only the wives of Terry’s colleagues, and she couldn’t possibly speak to them. And now that her mum was gone, she didn’t even have the excuse of going to visit her. Not that she’d ever said anything to her either, but at least it had been a reason to get out of the house. Even Terry couldn’t stop her going to see her sick mother. She lit upon Susan. Terry didn’t mind her going there. She decided to try to set it up while Terry was still in his calm phase.

  ‘I thought I better go and see Susan,’ she said next morning over breakfast. ‘Only I haven’t seen her much since the funeral and everything.’

  She held her breath. You just never knew with Terry which way he might take something. He grunted as he swallowed a mouthful of fried egg and bacon.

  ‘All right, doll. I’ll run you over there this afternoon. The other car’s in dock.’

  It wasn’t quite what she wanted. She would rather have just pushed the children over to Southchurch in the pram. But she knew better than to make any objections.

  ‘Oh. Thanks, Tel. That’d be lovely.’

  When it came down to it, she found she couldn’t tell Susan about Coral’s behaviour. She just couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. It was too horrible. But it was soothing just to be in Bob and Susan’s home. Compared to hers, it was small and shabby. Some of the furniture was second-hand, they only had a little rented TV and you could hear the children next door when they pounded up and down the stairs. But there was so much love and contentment in the place that it calmed Wendy’s wounded heart just a little.

  ‘You’re so lucky,’ she said to Susan when Terry turned up at the door to pick her up again.

  ‘I know,’ Susan said. She kissed
Wendy and stood for a moment, holding her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes. ‘If there’s anything I can do—you know? Anything at all—’

  Wendy could hardly trust herself to answer.

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered, and tottered down the short front path with Terrance in his carrycot in her hands and Coral clutching her skirt.

  She put the carrycot on the back seat and sat beside Terry with Coral on her lap.

  ‘Crappy place, that,’ Terry commented as they drew away.

  ‘Mmm,’ Wendy agreed.

  ‘Not like ours, eh, doll?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nah, we come a long way, we have. But not as far as we can go. Oh, no, not by a long chalk. I was thinking of something bigger. In the country, maybe. Might even have a pool. What d’yer think of that, eh, doll? Fancy a place with a swimming pool?’

  ‘That’d be lovely, Tel.’

  But inside, she quailed. Live in the country? She really would be cut off from everyone then.

  Halfway home, he drew up outside a tobacconist’s. Without saying anything, he got out of the car and went inside the shop. Wendy expected him to be out within a couple of minutes with some cigarettes, but he was gone some time. Coral got bored and slipped out of her arms, climbing between the front seats into the back of the car.

  ‘Don’t wake the baby,’ Wendy said.

  Coral was quiet in the back and Wendy sank into a reverie, going over and over her impossible situation in her head. It suddenly struck her that Coral was a bit too quiet and she peered round to see what she was doing. The child was tugging at something that was stuck down the back of the seat. Something long, black and metallic.

  ‘Mummy help?’ she asked.

  Wendy stared at what she was holding, unable to believe her own eyes. She twisted round and reached into the back of the car. She was not mistaken. It was the barrel of a shotgun.

  ‘Put it back!’ she squealed.

  She stretched further into the car, prised Coral’s hands away and pushed the horrible thing back into its hiding place. Coral began to howl with annoyance at having her toy taken away. Wendy hauled her back into the front seat, sat her on her knee and opened her handbag.