A Daughter's Choice

by June Francis

  Katie was starting to feel bored with him but they were here now and she supposed she had to make the best of it. She smiled and said, ‘Why don’t you take off your hat and we can dance?’

  ‘I like my hat,’ he said defensively.

  Katie gave up on him and sat with her hands between her knees, waiting for Eileen to return. It was not long before she did. Katie wanted to ask her about the green-eyed youth but there was a tight expression on the Irish girl’s face which somehow put her off.

  As the evening wore on, the room became hot and crowded. The main band had a break and a younger group came on stage and eventually she got to dance because a bouncer ordered Dougie to take off his hat. As they jived Katie was aware of the green-eyed youth who had now taken to the floor with a girl whose hairstyle was startlingly like his. She wore a get-up much like the one waiting to see the light of day in Katie’s wardrobe and, oh, how she envied that girl as the green-eyed youth jived with her as if to the manner born! She found herself blushing as his gaze suddenly caught hers, and looked away.

  It was a relief when the last waltz was called and Katie glanced at her watch, wanting to dump Dougie as fast as she could. ‘It’s time we were going, I didn’t realise it was so late. I’m going to cop it!’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be a wet,’ said Dougie, suddenly coming alive again and pulling her into his arms. ‘We might as well stay to the end and have a smooch.’

  ‘But people are starting to leave.’

  ‘Let them.’ He was suddenly very forceful.

  ‘I’ll dance with you,’ said Eileen, flashing him a smile.

  He looked at her disparagingly and without a word dragged Katie on to the dance floor. ‘You could have danced with Eileen,’ she muttered. ‘That was unkind.’

  ‘She’s a gooseberry. Why did she have to come with us?’ he muttered, and pressing Katie against him, slobbered all over her neck.

  After that she couldn’t get out and home quick enough but to her dismay the queue at the bus stop was enormous. ‘I’m walking,’ she said. ‘You coming, Eileen?’

  ‘I’m coming too,’ said Dougie, draping an arm round Katie’s neck so she felt weighed down, much to her annoyance.

  They headed past the registrar’s office and the Hippodrome cinema towards Low Hill, accompanied by a stony-faced Eileen.

  They were not the only ones walking. Katie could hear snatches of conversation and songs from the hit parade.

  ‘Lollipop’ mingled with Perry Como’s ‘Magic Moments’, as well as a duet rendition of ‘Hopalong Cassidy’. She guessed someone was taking the mickey out of Dougie and hoped he would ignore it, but some hope! Although it took a ‘Where did you get that hat?’ to make him turn and tell them to shurrup.

  ‘The cowboy’s getting tough,’ said a girl’s amused voice.

  ‘He’s not a cowboy,’ added a male one. ‘He’s just pretending.’

  ‘You!’ said Dougie, clenching his fists. ‘I might have known it would be.’

  ‘Psychic, are you?’ said Green-eyes.

  ‘Perhaps he’s an alien if he’s not a cowboy?’ said the girl, whom Katie now recognised as the one wearing the satin blouse and tight skirt, the one Green-eyes had danced with. ‘You’d better watch it, Patrick. He might zap you.’

  ‘Emperor Ming, you think?’ Patrick smiled at Katie before his eyes came to rest on the youth at her side.

  ‘Oh, you’re so funny!’ said Dougie, taking a step forward. Katie moved in front of him, not wanting them to fight. He tried to dodge round her but she shifted with him. ‘Get out the way, Katie,’ he yelled. ‘I’m gonna punch him on the nose.’

  The other girl’s eyes widened. ‘Touchy, isn’t he? Will he remove his hat first?’

  ‘Shut up, Bernie! Can’t you see he’s got no sense of humour?’ said Patrick, eyes gleaming in the lamplight. He doubled his fists. ‘Katie, let me at him.’

  ‘No! You mustn’t fight,’ she said in a persuasive voice.

  ‘No?’ He dropped his arms and then unexpectedly caught her by the waist and swung her out of the way. ‘But he wants to fight me,’ he said. ‘And I’m not chickening out.’

  ‘But I’ll be in deep trouble if I don’t get home soon,’ she said, struggling to free herself, but he was strong and that gave her a thrill.

  ‘Where’s home?’ he said, breath fragrant with chewing gum.

  ‘That’s none of your business!’ yelled Dougie in a fury as he attempted to drag her out of Patrick’s grasp. The next moment Katie was on the ground and the two youths were trading punches.

  Katie got to her feet, rubbing her hip and glancing round. She noticed that Eileen had vanished and wondered what to do next, then decided there was nothing she could do. So she watched the fight, eyes sparkling. She really didn’t want the two of them to hurt each other, but what girl wouldn’t find a certain amount of pleasure in the sight of two fellas grappling over her? Because she felt sure she was what this was all about.

  Then a voice spoke and spoilt all her pleasure. ‘Katie, you’re not going to be allowed out for a week after this! Ma’ll have your life!’

  ‘Oh, hell!’ she muttered, facing Ben and catching sight of Eileen at his side.

  ‘He’s the one causing all the trouble,’ said the Irish girl, pointing at Patrick. ‘Be careful, Ben, he might have a bicycle chain under his collar.’

  ‘Don’t be daft!’ cried Katie, gazing at her in astonishment. ‘He’s not that kind of bloke. It’s an act.’

  But Ben had made his move and, seizing the pugilists by the back of their collars, forced them apart. For a moment their arms still flailed as their feet sought a securer hold on the pavement. ‘You bloody onions!’ shouted Ben. ‘Think you’re tough, do you? I’ll show you what tough is! Turning the other cheek and walking away. Now shake hands and act like gentlemen.’

  ‘You’re jokin’!’ said Dougie, managing to tug himself free. ‘He was trying to pinch my girl.’

  ‘One date does not make me your girl! So you can go home,’ said Katie, incensed. She turned on Ben. ‘Did you come looking for me?’

  ‘What do you think?’ he said.

  ‘Oh!’ she groaned. ‘Why can’t you accept I’m grown up?’

  ‘Because you’re not,’ said Ben, throwing his arms up in the air. ‘Doesn’t what’s just happened prove it?’

  Patrick combed back his hair and stepped forward. ‘It wasn’t her fault.’

  ‘I can believe that,’ said Ben, shaking his head as he looked down at him. Dougie had made his exit. ‘But the last thing she needs is someone like you around. Now, hop it.’

  ‘Ben!’ cried Katie, seizing his arm. ‘He didn’t do anything. It was –’

  ‘Go on, blame Dougie,’ said Eileen promptly. ‘You know you were flirting with this other fella.’

  Katie was flabbergasted. What had got into her? She stared helplessly at Patrick, who gave her a twisted smile. ‘I wish it was true and you had been flirting with me.’

  ‘Leave it, Patrick,’ called Bernie, who was standing a few yards away, huddled into her coat, ‘We’d best be going. You’re going to get in trouble as it is with the state your jacket’s in.’

  He nodded but faced Katie once more with his hands firmly wedged in his pockets. ‘Sorry, love. I didn’t mean for it to get out of hand.’

  She smiled. ‘I know. Perhaps some other time … I live at the Arcadia Hotel.’

  ‘See you around then.’ He returned her smile and walked away.

  Katie sighed.

  Eileen said, ‘Thank God for that. He’s trouble.’

  Katie turned on her and hissed, ‘And what do you know about anything, coming from the backwoods of Ireland? I’m really disappointed in you, I thought we were friends.’ She tucked her arm into Ben’s and said in forlorn tones, ‘Let’s go home. And if Patrick does come round, you won’t frighten him away, will you?’

  ‘I’ll think about it. But really, you’re too young, Katie, to be having boyfriends. Think of the Arca
dia. You’ve got enough on your plate there.’

  She nodded. But still hoped Patrick would call.

  Chapter Five

  There had been no more anonymous letters and Kitty was hopeful Celia had had second thoughts about what she had written. Even so during the first wet weeks of June she was all for Ben’s searching her out, which he was doing with the help of the Southport Guide. She needed to know what Celia was up to because not knowing was causing her continuous sleepless nights.

  Ben had sacrificed several of his Sundays so far but without any success. Near the beginning of the Guide it stated that Southport came into existence in 1792 when a small hotel called The Duke’s Folly opened. For his purposes it would have been better if the town had not grown so much since then. He ran a finger down a page, considering where to go next. He had never believed it would be easy tracing the hotel but neither had he thought it would be so difficult. From page thirty-seven to eighty-eight were listed hotel after hotel, and following on from those were the names of boarding houses.

  He had already tried several of the grander places such as The Clarendon in Hesketh Park – terms: seven and a half guineas weekly, sea and golf course at rear. Comfort our keynote, service our pride! His mother would have been interested in seeing what they had on offer. He had also visited The Prince of Wales which was situated on Lord Street and had four stars, was AA recommended and fully licensed. He had tried numerous smaller ones, walking the length of Lord Street which owed much of its charm to its Victorian architecture and leafy appearance, and tramping in the rain along Argyll Street and the Promenade.

  It was sunny for once as he walked up the drive of a hotel called the Seaview in one of the lesser roads. He went through its revolving doors and entered a quiet reception area carpeted in pine green with a gold leaf motif. Its walls were painted in eau-de-nil and white. Soothing and tastefully decorated, he thought.

  Behind a pale oak reception desk sat a middle-aged woman with her head bent so close to an open book that her narrow nose almost touched its pages. She did not look up as he walked towards her so that for a moment he wondered if she had dozed off, but as he reached the desk she said, ‘Look at that figure! Would you say it’s a five or a three?’

  Ben’s eyes followed her pointing finger. ‘Five,’ he said.

  Her brow knitted. ‘I thought it was three.’ She slammed the book shut and blinked at him and he noticed she had a faint moustache. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m looking for a Rita Turner. Does …?’

  ‘Is she a friend of yours?’

  Ben was so surprised at getting a positive response it took him several seconds to answer. ‘So she does work here?’

  ‘A Miss Rita Turner works here.’ She looked disapprovingly down her nose. ‘It’s her day off, though, and I don’t encourage followers.’

  ‘I’m not a follower.’ Ben’s smile had a singular charm. ‘Miss Turner knew my brother. He went missing during the war, was believed dead, and they lost touch. It’s a sad story, Mrs …?’ He paused.

  ‘Henshall. Mrs Jemima Henshall.’ She thawed slightly. ‘I’m a widow and life can be so difficult for us widows. I’ve often wondered if Miss Turner lost someone. I’ve tried to encourage her to talk but –’

  ‘She clams up?’

  ‘A crude way of putting it, but yes. In fact, one could say she’s downright secretive about her past.’

  Ben felt a stir of excitement. Miss Turner and Celia had to be one and the same. He had to have her address but would Mrs Henshall hand it over? Perhaps if he laid it on with a trowel …

  ‘My brother Mick was badly wounded and his mind affected after being afloat in a boat on the North Atlantic for weeks. He gets really down and I feel sure some of it’s due to losing touch with Ce—’ He caught himself up quickly. ‘Er, Rita. Could you give me her address?’

  Mrs Henshaw fixed him with an eagle-like stare. ‘I’m sorry, Mr …?’

  ‘Ryan. Ben Ryan.’

  ‘Mr Ryan, it is not my policy to give out the addresses of my staff, but I tell you what I shall do – I’ll inform Miss Turner that you called and then she can get in touch with you.’

  ‘I’d much rather you gave me her address,’ he said in what he hoped was a winning tone, but she was adamant.

  ‘I have to protect my staff. It is possible she no longer feels anything for your brother and your visit could be an embarrassment. Now, if you don’t mind, Mr Ryan, I have work to do. Good day.’

  Ben accepted his dismissal with a show of good grace and thanked her. If nothing else, when the woman told Celia about his visit it would probably put the wind up her. He just hoped she wouldn’t do a bunk.

  As he walked out by the revolving door Celia came out of the lounge with a duster in her hand. ‘Who was that?’ she asked. ‘There was something familiar about him.’

  ‘He’s no one you know, Celia,’ said Mrs Henshall dismissively, adding sharply, ‘Just because I’m giving you extra hours, it doesn’t mean you have to know everything.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Henshall. I’m going off now. I need to darn some stockings.’

  ‘Yes, yes! You go. You’re looking pale. Go along to the pier and get some fresh air. But I want you back this evening. Oh, I do so hate it when Rita has a whole day off! It constricts me and I don’t like being constricted. If you see her on your travels, tell her a man’s been here asking for her.’

  A man? Celia wondered who it could be as she fetched her outdoor clothes. She tied a chiffon scarf over her hair and thought about what Mrs Henshall had said about being constricted because Rita wasn’t there, and imagined a boa constrictor choking the life out of the woman. She had seen one at the zoo once and had never forgotten being told they could eat animals whole. It had fascinated even as it sickened her because she could not get out of her mind a picture of the animal dying all of a piece in the snake’s stomach, unable to get out.

  She walked towards the front and found Rita playing cricket with her landlady’s two children.

  ‘Throw it! Throw it!’ shouted the boy, Sammy, jiggling about on the sand as if he had ants in his pants.

  Rita sent the rubber ball sailing through the air in the direction of the wicket and he caught it and sent the bails flying. He crowed with delight and Celia clapped her hands. ‘Howzat!’ she cried. Rita glanced in her direction and waved.

  ‘It’s not fair!’ cried the boy’s sister, Marie, dropping the bat and plonking herself on the sand. ‘I’m not playing any more.’

  ‘That’s a relief!’ said Rita, collapsing on to a towel. Celia sat next to her and gazed at the children, thinking of Katherine. She had lost her nerve after sending that one note to Kitty Mcleod but now could not stop thinking about her daughter.

  ‘I hope you’re not here because you’ve a message from ol’ Hennie?’ asked Rita, pulling a cardigan about her shoulders.

  ‘She said a man’s been in asking for you.’

  ‘A man?’ The smile faded from Rita’s eyes. ‘You must have made a mistake. I don’t know any men who know where I work.’

  ‘Can I have a swim?’ said Marie, tugging at her frock. ‘I’m hot an’ sticky an’ I need a swim.’

  ‘You can’t swim here,’ said her brother scornfully. ‘The sea’s that far out, it’s disappeared!’

  ‘It’s too cold even if the tide wasn’t out,’ said Rita.

  Celia looked towards where the sea should have been and thought that was what made a mockery of the hotel’s name. More often than not there was no sign of the sea and that was something she missed. Just as she had missed her daughter growing up. Her gaze fixed on the little girl as she threw a handful of sand up in the air and dodged back. She said to Rita, ‘Wouldn’t you like children of your own before it’s too late?’

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe. If I could have them without a man.’

  ‘The things you do say,’ said Celia dispassionately. ‘How would you manage to keep them without a man’s wage packet coming in?’

&nb
sp; ‘Widows manage.’ Rita hunched her knees and wrapped her arms round them. ‘But I’m not going to waste my energies worrying about not having children. I have these two to play with and I enjoy my work, despite ol’ Hennie expecting far too much for the money she pays me.’

  ‘At least you don’t have to do two jobs. Don’t I wish I could win the pools!’

  Rita looked at her with interest. ‘I never knew you did the pools?’

  ‘I do a couple of lines, and I back the odd horse.’ Celia got to her feet. ‘My gran was a great gambler but so far her luck hasn’t rubbed off on me.’

  Rita smiled. ‘You’ll just have to keep on trying. See you tomorrow. Come on, kids,’ she called. ‘Time to get going. Your mum gave me the money for just one go on the fair.’

  ‘Hurray!’ shouted Marie, and Sammy did a somersault on the sand.

  Celia watched them a few moments longer and then hurried home to her lodgings to darn the hole in her lisle stockings and make herself some cheese on toast.

  She was back in the Seaview the next morning when Mrs Henshall almost leapt on Rita as soon as she entered the hotel. ‘There’s been a man here asking after you. Says his name’s Ryan and you know his brother.’

  ‘He’s having you on,’ said Rita, toying with a button on her green duster coat. ‘I don’t know any Ryans. What did he look like?’

  ‘He seemed very positive he knows you,’ said Mrs Henshall, glancing at Celia who had removed the bowl of flowers from the oval oak table she was polishing and was holding it in mid-air. ‘Don’t drop that!’ she said sharply. ‘Or it’ll come out of your wages.’ Then lowered her voice. ‘His name was Ben and he said he had a brother who was in the navy and you thought he was dead but he wasn’t.’

  Celia gave up all pretence at polishing and stared at Rita who was shaking her head. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

  Mrs Henshall looked put out. ‘Well, if you’re going to be secretive, I might as well be off! I’m meeting my sister and we’re playing bridge this afternoon. Telephone me if there’s anything urgent.’

  Celia said breathlessly, ‘Did Mr Ryan say what his brother’s name was?’