‘Because you don’t like me.’
‘Because you’re Helen’s brother.’
‘And that means?’
‘You’ve taken me by surprise.’
‘So I have to start slowly. I have to work tomorrow – a small part in a play being broadcast on the radio.’ He couldn’t resist the boast. ‘But how about the pictures on Tuesday? Roman Holiday is on at the Carlton,’ he added as an incentive, recalling that he had once overheard Lily tell his sister that Gregory Peck was her favourite film star.
‘I’d like to see it,’ she confided shyly, ‘but I’d have to ask Auntie Norah.’
‘So that’s a “yes” if your aunt agrees.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll call and ask her permission, if you think it would help.’
‘It might.’
He closed his hand round hers. ‘The view is better out there.’ He pointed into the bay where two or three small yachts were circling buoys. ‘One of my friends has a boat. We took it out last weekend. It was glorious.’
‘I’ve never been in a yacht.’ She wondered if the friend was the one who’d torn Helen’s dress. ‘Only a boat on the lake in Singleton Park and once in Roath Park in Cardiff.’
‘Then I’ll have to wangle you an invitation next time we go. When would be the best time to meet you on Tuesday?’
‘If my aunt agrees.’
‘If she agrees. How about when you leave work? We could have coffee and cake in the Kardomah and fish and chips on the way home.’
‘A proper date.’
‘A proper date.’ He smiled. ‘I know Mrs Evans and Constable Williams are old-fashioned but I hope you don’t expect this to be the beginning of an old-fashioned courtship.’
‘I don’t expect it to be the beginning of anything, Joe.’
‘You haven’t been out with many boys.’
‘I haven’t been out with any boys.’
‘And I haven’t been out with a girl quite like you before, so this is going to be a new experience for both of us.’
Jack Clay was staggering down the path, bent double under the weight of a monstrous iron umbrella stand, when he saw something move in the garage next door. Not wanting to believe his eyes, he dropped the stand and craned his neck. Helen was sitting on a crate just inside the door. Running to the garden wall, he scrambled over it, landing slap in the middle of John Griffiths’ prize-winning dahlias. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he cried, rushing into the garage and grabbing the enormous knife Helen was using to saw her wrist.
‘Jack!’ She leapt to her feet, only to sink back on to the crate.
‘I’m not surprised you feel faint.’ Grabbing her hand, he probed the cut with his fingers. ‘You’re lucky you haven’t cut anything vital.’
‘And you’d know about that,’ she muttered weakly.
‘Boys were always doing stupid things like this in Borstal. Here.’ Pushing her head between her knees, he wrapped a none-too-clean handkerchief round the wound.
‘I haven’t cut a vein?’ she mumbled.
‘No, you haven’t. And you’re a fool for trying. Why on earth are you trying to kill yourself?’
‘To put my family out of their misery.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to run away from home?’ Holding one end of the handkerchief between his teeth, he knotted it firmly into place.
‘It would if I had somewhere to run to.’
‘There’s always somewhere.’
‘Not for me. Not after last night when half the people in Swansea saw me naked. My mother says I’ve blighted my brother’s life as well as my own.’
‘He looks like the type who’ll survive.’
‘You don’t know him. He’s in university. He mixes with all sorts of smart people, important people ...’
‘Like the bastard who tried to jump you.’
‘I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue but I didn’t see you – not after they took me to the police station. I wanted to but ...’
‘Fat lot of good I did both of us.’
‘That boy, he would have ... he wouldn’t have stopped if you hadn’t hit him.’
‘And he got away with jumping on you and tearing your dress to shreds, and I nearly got charged with assault. That’ll teach me to try to save girls from the crache. In future I’ll let boys in dinner suits do whatever they want.’
‘I tried to tell them what happened. How you helped me.’
‘If you hadn’t they’d have probably locked me up and thrown away the key,’ he acknowledged grudgingly.
‘I’m sorry. I behaved like an idiot.’
‘Not as much of one as now.’ Relinquishing his hold on the back of her neck, he tossed the knife on to a workbench behind them.
‘Haven’t you ever felt like giving up?’ She struggled to sit up.
‘Never.’ He grinned cheerfully. ‘It’s too much fun annoying people.’
‘I wish I could think like you.’ Unable to keep her emotions in check a moment longer, she burst into tears.
Wretched, with red eyes and nose, in grease-stained pedal pushers and cotton top, her face streaked with dust and tears and devoid of make-up, Jack found Helen more appealing than in all her painted glory and expensive frock. He had earned more clips round the ear from his father for bringing home starving cats and stray dogs than he had for stealing. Upset, abandoned, Helen needed someone and, as her family had so obviously rejected her, that left him.
Conveniently forgetting his promise to Martin that he wouldn’t touch her with a septic barge pole, he put his arm round her. She turned and sobbed on his shoulder as though her heart was breaking.
‘Hey, nothing’s worth this,’ he protested, embarrassed by her flood of emotion.
‘But don’t you see, my mother’s right, no one will ever want to go out with me. Not after what happened last night. I may as well die; I have nothing left to look forward to ...’
‘You kidding. A girl like you? Anyone would be proud to have you for a girlfriend.’
‘No, they wouldn’t,’ she wailed.
‘I would.’
‘Really?’ She stared at him, her tears distorting his face, making it wobbly and fuzzy around the edges.
‘Really,’ he echoed. And then he kissed her.
‘Do you have to go home right now?’ Joe asked Lily as they followed Katie and Judy along the beach. ‘If you don’t we could go back to the café ...’
‘Back?’ She looked at him in surprise.
‘I saw you there earlier,’ he admitted.
‘Why didn’t you come in?’
‘I could buy you a coffee, and Judy and Katie,’ he offered hastily, not wanting to admit that he’d half expected her to rebuff him. ‘Or another raspberry ripple if you want one. Then I could drive you home. I left the car at the Pier last night.’
She couldn’t help smiling. He must have watched them in the café for a while to note exactly what they’d been eating. ‘I’m sorry, Joe, but Auntie Norah expects us back for tea and Katie wants to help her brothers. They’re moving into our basement and they asked her to give them a hand to clean it after they’ve cleared out the rubbish.’
‘Next Sunday, perhaps.’
Sensing he was reluctant to go home, she said, ‘You could come to tea if you like. Auntie Norah wouldn’t mind.’
‘But she’s not expecting me.’ He knew how his mother would react if he brought home one of his university friends without warning, giving her no chance to stock up on food or arrange the dining room to its best advantage.
‘She always makes too much food.’
‘I could buy some ice cream on the way as my contribution,’ he suggested, wanting to make a good impression.
‘It will melt. Aunt Norah doesn’t have a fridge.’
‘Lily?’ Judy turned round. ‘You catching the train?’
‘If you walk to the Pier I’ll give you a lift.’
‘And if I walk to the train stop I’ll save myself a quarter
of a mile.’
‘Lazybones,’ Joe teased.
‘It’s all right for those who are used to parking themselves on their rear ends all day in university,’ Judy retorted. ‘Try being a hairdresser. We don’t get a chance to sit down all week. I’m on my feet from breakfast until teatime, Monday to Saturday.’
‘Poor Judy.’
Picking up a clump of seaweed, Judy threw it at him. He laughed as he pulled it out of his hair, refusing to be riled in front of Lily.
‘Well, I’m for the train, next one’s leaving in ten minutes.’
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll go back with Judy, Lily. My brothers will probably be ready for my help by now.’
‘Lily?’ Joe asked, clearly hoping she’d opt to walk to the Pier with him.
Lily looked from Joe to her friends, realising the decision was more momentous than a simple choice between whether to walk and drive, or take the train.
‘As I sit down all day too, I could do with the exercise so I’ll go to the Pier with Joe. Do me a favour, Katie, tell Auntie Norah I’ll be along shortly and I’ll be bringing Joe to tea.’
Judy raised her eyebrows.
‘Come round after tea,’ Lily invited in an attempt to play down the implication of her staying back with Joe. ‘You can inspect Katie’s outfit for tomorrow.’
‘And give me some advice on my hair,’ Katie pleaded.
‘If you like I’ll wash and set it for you,’ Judy offered.
Lily waved and turned back to Joe. He held out his arm. She hesitated for the barest fraction of a second before taking it.
‘I must look a mess.’ Helen smoothed back the hair that had come loose from her ponytail.
‘Killing yourself is a messy business.’ Jack wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs.
‘You making fun of me?’
‘You’ll get used to it.’
‘I’ve heard about you, Jack Clay, and your tarts. You might have saved me – twice – but that doesn’t mean I’ll go out with you.’ Even as her anger burned she found herself wishing that he wasn’t quite so good-looking.
‘You could be the tart if you like.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘What I said.’
‘Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?’
‘There’s a vacancy.’
‘For how many?’
‘I only go out with one at a time. More gets complicated.’
‘And you’d know how complicated, I suppose.’
‘Let’s say I’ve tried it without much success. Would another kiss help make up your mind?’
‘No.’ She left the crate. Catching her hand, he pulled her back.
‘You’d be getting a good-looking boyfriend, unlimited motorbike rides and ...’ He bent his head to hers again.
Summoning all her strength, she tried to push him away but he held her wrists in an iron grip. ‘No more kisses,’ she remonstrated, as he grazed her lips with his.
‘Why?’ He moved on to nuzzle the nape of her neck.
‘Because it reminds me of that horrible boy last night.’
‘Give me a chance and I’ll help you forget him. So how about it?’ Raising his head, he gazed into her eyes. ‘Me and you?’
‘My mother would kill both of us if she found out. She went berserk when she discovered it was you who rescued me last night.’
‘Ten minutes ago you wanted to kill yourself to get away from her.’
‘You don’t understand ...’
‘Yes, I do, you’re ashamed to be seen with me.’
‘I’m not. But I couldn’t bear any more rows at home. You’ve no idea what it’s like.’
‘I can imagine,’ he murmured drily.
‘But we could see one another secretly. No one ever comes down to our basement. We could meet here without anyone being any the wiser.’
‘Sneaking around isn’t my style.’
‘It will only be until I leave home. I’m starting work next week. As soon as I save enough I’m moving into a bedsit. Then we can go wherever we like.’
‘Together?’
‘Anywhere you want. Rub my mother’s nose in it.’ She sensed him wavering. ‘Look, you can see my bedroom window from here. It’s on the second floor, the one on the left. We could have a signal. If it’s safe for you to come to the basement I could put something on the sill.’ She thought rapidly. ‘A candle.’
‘You expect me to hang around the back lane every night in the hope that you might be able to put a candle in your window? I may not have a girlfriend at the moment but I do have a life. Skiffle group practice, overtime ...’
‘It’s not going to work, is it?’ She shivered, sensing her only chance of living any kind of a life until she left home slipping away from her.
‘How about pinning a number to the back of your curtain? Eight o’clock means you can meet me down here at eight, nine at nine ...’
‘And once I’m here, I can lock the basement door from the inside so no one can get down from the house.’
‘I’d prefer a girlfriend I could take out and show off.’
‘And I’d prefer to be taken out and shown off, but I’m in disgrace.’
‘Not with me.’ Leading her back into the shadows he kissed her again, only this time she was prepared. As his mouth closed on hers, she met his lips. His hands were warm on the small of her back, as he pulled her even closer. Her limbs grew weak as his hands slid downwards over her hips.
‘Jack! Jack! Where the hell are you?’
He drew away from her. ‘Marty and I are moving into the basement next door and it looks like he can’t do without me for five minutes.’
‘So it appears.’ Her voice grated, oddly hoarse.
‘I have skiffle group practice tomorrow. I won’t be in until ten. That’s too dark to see anything.’
‘If the house is empty I’ll come down to the garden and wait for you.’
‘Ten o’clock, you’ll hear my bike engine.’
‘I’ll be here if I can.’
He kissed her again.
‘Jack!’ Martin’s voice sharpened in exasperation.
‘Your gate to the back lane locked?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I’ll climb the wall.’
‘What will you tell Martin?’
‘The truth. That a mate needed help. Until tomorrow.’ Hauling himself up on his hands, he swung himself over the wall that backed on to the lane. A few minutes later she heard the garden gate open next door.
‘I could hear you in Mansel Street, Marty, What’s the problem?’
‘Where the hell have you been? This fire could have got out of control.’
‘But it didn’t. I built it too well for that.’
‘You still left it. Where have you been?’
‘Helping a mate.’
‘With everything that needs doing here!’
‘He only needed a hand for ten minutes ...’
‘You’ve been gone more like half an hour. You’re holding us up. A shed-load of rubbish needs shifting from the passage.’
‘I’m there.’
As Jack’s voice grew faint, Helen hugged herself. She had a boyfriend. A secret boyfriend. First thing tomorrow she’d start on the basement. Shift the furniture round in the room with the biggest window, make it cosy and comfortable, clean it until it shone spotless. Take down her record player; make some pictures for the walls. She would explain that if she was going to be locked up for six months she’d need her own sitting room. Her mother wouldn’t care unless she thought she was enjoying herself. She would have to learn to keep the miserable expression on her face and that wouldn’t be too hard in front of her parents. From now on all her smiles would be Jack’s. She really, truly wasn’t alone any more. And it felt wonderful.
‘Helen.’ Joe was in the hall as she reached the top of the stairs. ‘What’s this?’ He held up the note she’d written earlier.
‘I was going to run away.’ She h
id the knife behind her back.
‘It reads more like you were thinking of killing yourself.’
‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘And now?’
‘I decided I had nowhere to run to.’ She darted into the kitchen.
‘You won’t do anything stupid?’ he asked earnestly.
‘Not any more,’ she answered blithely, sliding the knife back into the drawer.
Chapter Nine
Norah checked the hem of Katie’s skirt, pulling it first one way, then another. ‘Turn round, Katie, slowly mind.’
Katie rotated in front of the full-length mirror in Norah’s workroom.
‘You look every inch the successful secretary.’
‘You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?’ Katie studied her image in the glass. The costume Norah had made her had wiped out her entire savings plus all the birthday money her mother had scrimped together and she needed reassurance that it was worth it.
‘No, I’m not just saying it, you look wonderful, so grown-up.’ Norah brushed away a tear as she stroked the fine charcoal-grey wool of Katie’s jacket. ‘It’s a pity your mother isn’t here to see it on you.’
‘I’ll wear it when I visit her on Wednesday, but if I don’t get this job it will be a complete waste.’
‘As your mother said when she chose the material, you had to have a birthday present. And even if I do say it myself, that jacket fits as well as any I’ve seen coming out of a bespoke tailor’s. Lily’s hat, gloves and bag complement it perfectly.’
Katie continued to eye herself critically and decided Mrs Evans was right. The mid-calf-length full skirt and tight-waisted jacket skimmed her thin figure, emphasising her tiny waist yet adding inches where she needed them most on her bust and hips, and the sheen on the wool was one that came with quality. Her white cotton blouse was bleached clean, freshly starched and ironed, the plain black clutch bag, bracelet-length cotton gloves and black pillbox hat businesslike. The only problem was she didn’t feel in the least bit like herself.
‘You’ll get the job,’ Lily said from the doorway.
‘You came.’ Katie beamed.
‘Told you I could take an hour off.’ Lily looked Katie up and down. ‘You’re perfect, apart from the hat.’
Swansea Girls Page 14
