by June Gadsby
But it wasn’t Walter. It was Dr Craig. Mary focused on him and fixed her gaze firmly so that she could see no other person. Thankfully, her confidence returned, and with it her voice.
‘My own …’ she sang as sweetly as she knew how. ‘Let me call you my own…’
The hall erupted as the song ended and even the band stood to applaud. It was such an emotional moment she might have wept had she not been surrounded by the other contestants as they waited nervously backstage for the results.
While Jack Langley and his panel of judges conferred, the band played a medley of songs, and cups of tea were passed around each table. Mary caught sight of Helen hurrying her grandmother to the ladies’ lavatory and hoped they would be back in time for the announcement. Now that her song was over, her knees had stopped knocking, but she was still burning with excitement. Later, she might give Walter a piece of her mind for not turning up, but right now she wanted to enjoy the feeling of achievement. They had actually liked her singing. Dr Craig had liked it too, she was sure. She didn’t know why that should be important to her, but it was.
Five minutes later Jack strode back on to the stage, a sheet of paper in his hand. He placed himself in front of the microphone and waited until a hush descended.
‘Well, here we are, ladies and gentlemen. I have the results of our wonderful talent competition here in my hand. Only a slight change of plan …’ He glanced over his shoulder, nodding to someone in the wings. ‘As you know, Dr Gordon was to present the prizes this evening, but there’s been a slight technical hitch.’ There was a murmur of disappointment. ‘Apparently, Mrs Hutchinson has decided to give birth before her time, so the good doctor has been called to assist. However, at no expense spared, we have his deputy on hand and willing to do the job for him. Please give a big hand and a warm welcome to Dr Alex Craig … or should I say Captain Craig!’
Mary felt a stirring deep within her as hands met in a thunderous applause when Alex Craig walked on to the stage, not in his civilian clothes, but in an Army uniform that bore the insignia of captain in the Medical Corps. He looked very smart and very handsome, standing there, acknowledging the standing ovation. Mary could see Dr Gordon’s wife desperately wiping away tears of emotion and something tugged at her own heartstrings.
All the contestants were given small token mementoes of the occasion in the form of a certificate. The children received sweets and a bar of chocolate. Mr Dolan received a bottle of Newcastle Brown ale for his courage and audacity, rather than for his clackety spoons and everybody roared with laughter when he announced that he wouldn’t drink the contents of the bottle until the last all-clear was sounded.
‘And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,’ Jack told them, his face lighting up. ‘The prize for the best act here this evening. It wasn’t difficult, was it? It goes to Felling’s own little nightingale … Miss Mary West!’
Mary gulped and took half a pace backwards in her surprise, before eager hands pushed her forward and there she was, the grand winner, but what was the prize? She looked from Dr Craig’s penetrating gaze, which she found rather embarrassing, to Jack Langley’s smiling face and waited. Jack held up his hands for silence.
‘The prize, ladies and gentlemen, is a cheque for ten guineas, generously donated by Dr Gordon, and presented by Captain Craig. Go on, sir, and give the girl a kiss too. It might be your last opportunity before you go and look after the sick and the wounded in this damned war.’
The hall erupted yet again. Mary felt her mouth drop open with astonishment. Well, that was a turn up for the books, she thought, and serve Walter right if he had just arrived and saw it happening. And, oh, what were her mam and dad thinking right now? And what about Mrs Craig, that haughty female with the bad temper and the cold eyes?
‘Congratulations, Mary,’ Dr Craig placed his hands on her shoulders and she felt the warmth of them penetrating the soft fabric of her dress. Beneath the warmth her skin suddenly tingled, and as he smiled down at her and lowered his head towards hers, the tingling spread throughout her rigid body.
It was only a chaste kiss on the cheek, but it did something to Mary that no kiss had ever achieved. If only, she thought, Walter’s kiss would make her feel like this. She wouldn’t be keeping him waiting. She would be marching him down the aisle before he could say Jack Robinson.
‘Thank you,’ was all she could say, her voice croaking deep in her throat.
For an instant, their eyes met and in that one small passage of time something passed between them that Mary would remember for the rest of her life.
‘And now, ladies and gentlemen,’ Jack was continuing, ‘I’m going to ask all the contestants here on stage to join hands and sing with the band …’ He shaded his eyes, then pointed in a swinging arc into the crowd. ‘And all you servicemen out there can come up and join us. If you can’t sing, whistle.’
Mary felt her hand being clasped. Dr Craig was still there at her side, holding her hand so tightly that she could feel the bones of her fingers crunch, but she didn’t mind. She didn’t mind at all. On the other side of her Iris sidled up, linking arms with her.
‘Lucky beggar,’ her friend whispered, and Mary guessed that Iris was referring to Dr Craig’s kiss rather than her success with the talent competition.
As regimental-issue booted feet clumped up on to the rostrum, the band struck up with the poignant song that they heard so much these days. ‘Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye, cheerio, here I go on my way …’
Mary could hear Dr Craig’s rich baritone voice next to her and although she sang her own heart out with a smile, not a tear, she had a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach mingling with a strange excitement. She found herself squeezing his hand back and wondering again where his wife was and why she wasn’t here supporting him, loving him, crying for what he was about to do.
After the last notes of the song died and the audience pulled the place apart with their applause, couples immediately took to the floor and danced the foxtrot. Mary smiled shyly at Dr Craig and made her way back to her table, where the West family were ready to congratulate her with hugs and more kisses.
The evening continued with a full programme of dancing, including some hilarious demonstrations of the American dances they had all heard of but had never seen, other than in flashes on the Pathé newsreels at the cinema.
‘What is it they’re doing, our Mary?’ Old Mrs West prodded Mary with a crooked finger and waited while the laughter died down so she could hear Mary’s response.
‘It’s the jitterbug, Gran,’ Mary told her. ‘The Americans invented it.’
‘Jitterbug! I thought that was a creepy crawly that you stamped your foot on.’
‘Well, it certainly has people stamping their feet,’ Mary laughed, feeling her whole body react to the fast, cheerful music.
But even the jitterbug couldn’t hold Mary’s concentration for long. Her thoughts were too distracted, swinging between Walter and Dr Craig, and that kiss. And Walter still wasn’t here, as he should have been. And neither was Alex Craig’s wife. And Alex was sitting there at the other side of the hall, all alone at a tiny table for two, staring into his empty glass. She looked across at him, her heart thumping hollowly in her chest, her emotions tying themselves into knots.
‘Eeh, Mary, love!’ Jenny reached across the table and tapped Mary’s hand. ‘Just look who’s here at last.’
And there was Walter, apologetic and flushed, making his way clumsily through the dancers on the floor. She gave him a wave, wondering why she should feel so flat, but put it down to the fact that she was not exactly pleased with him for letting her down like this.
‘Where have you been, Walter? The night’s almost over.’
‘Sorry, pet, but I met up with some of the lads and we got talking, and …’ Walter took a deep breath. ‘I’ve decided to join up.’
‘You’ve what? Mam! Dad! Walter’s going to join up.’ Mary turned back to Walter and caught a whiff of stale beer on
his breath. ‘You’ve been drinking, Walter Morgan!’
‘Aye, I have. Just a couple of pints.’
‘Oh, Walter! What’s your mam going to say when she finds out?’
‘That’s the reason I’m so late. I went home first to tell them.’ Walter took out his handkerchief and mopped his perspiring brow. ‘Dad was all right about it, but Mam nearly had kittens. It’s taken us all this time to calm her down. I think she might have liked it better if I’d joined the Royal Air Force, but you know me and heights. Those planes fly very high.’
Mary blew out her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what to say, what to think.
‘I won the talent competition, Walter,’ she said and he looked at her as if she had spoken in Chinese before it registered.
‘Oh, I forgot about that. You won it? Well done, pet. What did you get as a prize?’
‘Ten guineas and …’ she hesitated, ‘and a kiss from Dr Craig.’
‘Oh!’ Then his heavy brows came down as he studied her closely. ‘Mary, now that I’m probably going to be sent away overseas … well, away from the north-east, anyway ….how about us getting married? We can get a special licence and …’
‘What? Oh, Walter, I don’t know … I …’
Mary had never felt so flustered, or so pushed into a tight corner. She stared at him, her tongue flicking in and out, as she tried to moisten her dry lips.
‘We can get hitched before I have to go to Catterick training camp. Come on, lass. We’ve waited long enough.’
Mary glanced around the table, glad that nobody else had heard. They were all too busy watching the gyrations on the floor, laughing hysterically at the antics of some folk who threw themselves around and called it dancing.
‘Not here, Walter … please …’ Mary said as the music changed and Jack Langley was introducing the last waltz. ‘Let’s dance, eh? It’s the last waltz and I haven’t had a dance all evening.’
‘Aw, bloomin’ heck, Mary. Give over, will you.’ Walter pulled his arm away from her grasp as she tried to haul him up on his feet. ‘I hate dancing. You know that. Why don’t you get up with somebody else, eh?’
‘Who do you suggest, Walter?’
She hadn’t spoken the words too loudly, but one or two heads turned and she felt her cheeks burn. However, it wasn’t the head-turning that she found disconcerting. It was the fact that Dr Craig was standing right beside her. In fact, she had bumped into him, rather heavily as she stood up. He gave her that enigmatic smile of his that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he was looking at Walter.
‘Would you mind,’ he asked Walter, ‘if Mary danced the last waltz with me?’
‘Aye, go on then,’ Walter said, after a moment’s hesitation, then he added the word ‘sir’ on seeing the doctor’s army rank.
The short walk between table and dance floor was completely lost on Mary. She couldn’t remember how her legs had carried her the distance. It was as if she had been magically transported. One minute she was trying to persuade Walter to dance and the next, well, here she was whirling in the arms of Dr Alex Craig who looked so good in his captain’s uniform and danced so well. And she was determined to enjoy the experience, since it might be the last time she would ever see him.
‘You dance as beautifully as you sing, Mary,’ he said, his warm breath wafting across her forehead, stirring stray tendrils of hair that she had tried in vain to straighten and capture in a blue slide to match her dress.
‘Thank you,’ she said, thinking that she sounded like a star-struck little girl, and feeling exactly like that. ‘So do you, Dr Craig ….er … Captain Craig …’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘I’d prefer it if you dropped all titles and called me Alex, since it’s my last night here.’
‘Oh, but …’ She raised her eyes to his, conscious of his arm tightening around her and again the firm squeeze of his hand. Goodness, was he flirting with her? No, she was sure it wasn’t that, but … ‘Shouldn’t you be dancing with your wife … Alex?’
A cloud came over his face. A dark, unfathomable cloud. She thought she must have said the wrong thing and he was angry with her, but when he spoke, his voice was soft, almost like a caress.
‘My wife prefers to be elsewhere, Mary. I’m being selfish, but please, just humour me for the rest of this dance.’
The rest of the dance was too short by far. Mary wished with every step that it would last for ever. And in the same breath, she told herself how stupid it was to feel like this about a man she hardly knew, and could never have.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘EEH, when we all stood up and sung ‘Auld Lang Syne’ I wept buckets!’
Jenny West was chattering merrily about Saturday night’s benefit as she and Mary dished out the Christmas Day lunch for the family gathered about the table in the living-room. The old table had been extended as long as was possible and everybody was squeezed in, elbow to elbow, but they didn’t mind. It was Christmas and they were all putting the war on hold and enjoying themselves.
‘You weren’t the only one, Mam,’ Mary said, spooning sage and onion stuffing on each plate as her mother sliced off more turkey. ‘There were quite a few tears and not all of them were from women either.’
‘A bit more stuffing on your dad’s plate, Mary,’ Jenny said, inspecting the row of plates that were lined up on every available surface in the scullery, which was full of steam and the succulent smells of roasting meat and boiling vegetables. ‘And give him an extra roast potato. He needs building up with all the extra work he’s doing these days. I don’t know. In the pit all day, patrolling the streets at night. He’ll knock himself up.’
‘He’s wiry, Mam. He’ll be all right. Anyway, I’m sure it makes him feel better, knowing he’s doing his bit for England.’
Mary’s father had been one of the many veterans of the First World War to stand to attention with tears welling up in their eyes as the band had played the very last tune of the night at the benefit. Mary herself had found it hard to get the emotional wobble out of her voice as she sang the words to ‘God Save the King’.
As she sang, she had turned and found Alex Craig’s brooding eyes on her. Something in his expression touched her heart, reaching into her innermost being. She felt a deep sorrow for all the men and boys who were going out to fight for their country in a foreign land. Many of them, she knew, would never come back. But what she felt for this young doctor was something she could not explain, except to say that when she regarded Walter, that special feeling wasn’t there.
‘And you say Walter’s not going to join us today, pet?’ Jenny asked for the umpteenth time. ‘There’s nothing wrong between you and him, is there?’
Mary blanched, picked up two plates without looking her mother in the eye, and headed for the table.
‘Of course there isn’t, Mam,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘He just felt he should spend his last Christmas with his mother before going off to Catterick.’
‘Here, come back. You’ve forgotten the sprouts.’
She went back for the missing vegetables and saw her mother looking at her in an oddly wise and penetrating way.
‘What’s up with you, our Mary?’ Jenny said. ‘You’ve been acting funny ever since the benefit. I know you were a bit put out because Walter came so late and then wouldn’t dance with you, but … No, there’s something else, isn’t there? You’re not getting all het up over that Dr Craig, are you?’
‘Mam! You do say the daftest things.’
‘Do I?’ Jenny was wearing her concerned mother’s expression. ‘Maybe it’s daft, maybe it’s not, but I saw the way he looked at you on Saturday night.’
‘Oh, Mam, stop it. He was just being pleasant.’
‘Aye, and you were lapping it up, my girl. I don’t want any daughter of mine going out of her way to flirt with a married man. Do you hear me, Mary?’
‘Yes, Mam, but you don’t have to worry. Anyway, Alex comes from a very different background.’
�
�So, it’s Alex now, is it? And never mind the different background. Men are men the whole world over and if a girl shows herself to be willing, well … you know what can happen. Just look at that Sadie Hurst. What a disgrace. Saddled with a bairn and no man to support her because he was already married with a family of his own. Just you think about that, hinny.’
‘Yes, Mam.’ Mary felt her cheeks burning hotly. ‘Is that it? Can I take these plates in now before everybody starves with hunger?’
‘Oh, go on with you.’ Jenny tapped her daughter’s behind as she walked away. ‘I know you’re a good girl, really. You’ll always do the right thing.’
‘I hope so, Mam,’ Mary muttered under her breath as she handed out the plates and went back for more to shouts of ‘Where’s mine?’ and ‘That Walter doesn’t know what he’s missing, the daft begger!’
Mary joined them at the table as they pulled their crackers, donned silly paper-hats, blew on plastic whistles and generally acted like children. She enjoyed the fun, but her mind kept wandering. She didn’t think that Walter would ever excite her the way Alex Craig had in that briefest of moments. And she couldn’t suppress the burning desire to do something more challenging than keeping the ledgers up to date at the War Pensions Office. Both issues would have to be addressed, and soon.
In the Graham household the atmosphere wasn’t quite so jovial. Alex did his best to pretend that all was well, but he wasn’t fooling anybody, least of all himself. A part of him couldn’t wait to leave. The sooner he removed himself from his flawed marriage the better. He regretted leaving his uncle in the lurch, alone to cope with a busy practice; and Aunt Maggie was like a second mother to him. Neither of them wanted him to go, although they said very little on the subject, which meant they probably understood more about his situation than he had given them credit for.
Fiona had said little to him, other than ‘Brave old you!’ when he told her he had enlisted. They hadn’t spoken of it again in private. In the company of others she tended to keep her own counsel and replied to enquiries on how she felt with a resigned shrug and an acquiescent smile. At a guess, she would be glad to see the back of him. There was already someone waiting to slip conveniently into his shoes – in fact, already had, if Alex’s suspicions were correct. Fiona hadn’t admitted to having an affair, but it didn’t take a genius to work out what was going on.
