by Sandy Taylor
‘Joe?’
‘I hope not.’ I wasn’t ready for a letter from Joe.
‘Have you heard from him?’
‘I think he’s too hurt and angry to ever get in touch again.’
‘I suppose you can’t blame him.’
I didn’t want to talk about Joe. I didn’t want to think about Joe. I felt sick at the thought of what I had done to him.
I went upstairs to my bedroom, sat on the bed and opened the letter. It was from Peter. I started reading.
Dear Dottie,
As promised, I contacted the friend I mentioned and he is happy to see you. They are a small but up-and-coming literary agency based in Kemp Town. He can’t promise anything, but I have a feeling that if he likes you, he may take you on. I have of course praised you up to the nines, so don’t let me down. We all miss you here at Trend, even Miles. The editor’s name is Tom Brown. He’s a nice guy. I think you’ll like him, I know he’ll like you. I’ve put his phone number on the top of this letter. He is expecting to hear from you.
Let me know how you get on and do pop in and see us if you are ever back in London.
All the best,
Peter
I read the letter again. Oh my God, the chance of a job with a literary agent and a local one at that! I had been so worried that I would end up in a factory or back at Woolies. I ran downstairs and told Mum.
‘Ring him, Dottie, ring him now before he changes his mind.’
‘He hasn’t made his mind up yet, Mum. He hasn’t even met me.’
‘Well you know what I mean. Strike while the iron’s hot.’
‘Have you got any pennies?’
Mum rooted around in her old brown handbag and gave me a handful of coins.
‘Off you go then,’ she said.
The phone box was on the corner, opposite the park. I went inside and dialled the number on the top of the letter. After only two rings someone answered. I pressed button A, and the pennies clanged down into the box. There was a young girl on the end of the line.
‘Tom Brown agency,’ she said. ‘How can I help you?’
‘Could I speak to Mr Brown?’ I said.
‘May I ask who’s calling?’
‘Dottie Perks, he’s expecting me to call.’
‘Please hold while I put you through.’
I had butterflies in my tummy, which disappeared as soon as Tom Brown started to speak. His voice sounded warm and friendly on the other end of the line. ‘Dottie, I’m so glad you called. Peter has spoken very highly of you.’
‘That was kind of him.’
‘So I think we should meet, that is if you’re still interested, of course.’
‘Oh I am.’
‘Then shall we say… Hang on, let me just check the diary. Tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow would be fine,’ I said. ‘And thank you for seeing me.’
‘You are more than welcome. About elevenish?’
‘Eleven is fine. Where exactly are you?’
‘Of course, sorry. Let me pass you back to Millie – she’ll give you directions. Until tomorrow then.’
‘We’re over the top of the bookies, next to the bank,’ said Millie. ‘The stairs are around the back but be careful, they’re a death trap.’ I thanked her and put down the phone.
I liked the sound of Tom Brown. I wondered how many people had asked him what his school days had been like? I really hoped he liked me. I really hoped there was a job. I really hoped that this was the start of better things to come.
25
We started off slowly, Ralph and I. We were both fragile, both still ashamed of the ways in which we’d treated the people who had loved us. It was worse for Ralph. He’d almost married Fiona. He’d let her dream of a future with him. And poor Fiona hadn’t only lost Ralph but Peggy too. As for me, I couldn’t even bear to think of Joe and what I’d done to him. I tried my best to put him out of my mind, to convince myself that he hadn’t really loved me, and what I had done to him wasn’t that bad, but I wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all myself.
The only person who really understood what I was feeling was Ralph, and the only person who could completely empathise with him was me. Our guilt pushed us closer together. We didn’t pick up where we had left off – it was completely different this time, more intense. It was so intense that I wanted nothing more than to be with him, to be close to him, touching him, feeling him close to me, holding his hand and listening to his voice, waiting for the next kiss, but at the same time using so much emotional energy was exhausting. I had to fill myself up with him so there was no room for doubt, no room for guilt, no room to think about Joe. And I know that it was the same for him.
‘I still can't believe it,’ he said to me over and over. ‘It feels like a dream. It feels as though any minute I’ll wake up and find that you’re gone again.’
I’d have to reassure him and tell him that I was here to stay, and that I wasn’t going anywhere unless he was beside me.
We were walking on the beach one day, the pebbles turning beneath our feet and the little frothy waves foaming where the sea met the shore. His arm was about my shoulder. I leaned into him and put my arms around his waist. I could hardly believe it either – that we were back together, that not everything was lost, that there was still the chance of a future, that the love between us had been strong enough to survive all the damage that had been done to it.
He turned to face me and we stood there, at the edge of the sea, with the gulls screaming overhead and the sound of the waves breaking and, more faintly, music from the pier, and we pressed our bodies together. My cheek was against his chest, his mouth was close to my ear, and I could feel his breath and his heartbeat, and honestly we were so close, it was difficult to know where I ended and he began.
‘I have to go,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘To pick up Peggy. I promised my mum I’d be back in time for tea.’
‘All right, I said.
‘You could come with me.'
‘No, I have to get back too. My mum’s cooking for me.’
We drew apart and began to walk the other way, back down the beach.
‘Dottie,’ Ralph said, ‘how we are now, it’s lovely, but we need to talk about where we go from here. It’s not like we’re teenagers any more.’
‘When?’ I said.
‘Meet me tomorrow, after work.’
‘Okay, where?’
‘How about the café?'
‘Our café?’ I nodded. ‘Why not.’
I hadn’t been to the café since Mary had died, and I was feeling anxious about it, but it was the only place I could think of where we could relax and be together, just the two of us.
Ralph was sitting at our table when I walked in. The place had hardly changed at all. The jukebox was still there in the corner. I guess the records we used to play were long gone. The football table still needed a paint job, and even the plastic tablecloths were as I remembered them. I wasn’t sure whether the familiarity of the place was a good thing or not. I half expected the girls from the sack factory to waft in bringing their smell of fish with them. Or Mary fussing with her hair or her lipstick in case Elton walked in. Or Elton himself playing on the football table or leaning against the jukebox, slicking back his hair and looking slightly dangerous. The café was full of ghosts.
Ralph smiled at me as I sat down. ‘Here we are again,’ he said. ‘Are you okay with this? We could go somewhere else.’
‘No, it’s fine. It hasn’t changed much, has it?’
‘I just wondered if it brought back too many memories for you.’
‘I’m going to have to deal with them, so I might as well start here.’
‘We’ll make new memories, Dottie, happier ones.’
‘That’s the trouble. The memories I have are happy ones. It might be easier if they weren’t.
‘Where’s Peggy?’
‘She’s at my mum’s house.’
‘I hope that she
comes round soon, Ralph. I’m beginning to feel like the wicked stepmother.’
Ralph concentrated on stirring his coffee then said, ‘How would you feel about moving in with us?’
I knew that this was going to come up – of course it was. I’d thought about it a lot. I had tried to imagine living in the flat with Ralph and Peggy, but every time I thought about it I saw Mary sitting on the couch, pale and sick and unhappy. I couldn’t live there. I couldn’t. It was hard enough just visiting.
‘I want to be with you Ralph, and I want us all to be together but not there. It would be like going backwards, and I don’t think it’s what we should be doing. The flat holds bad memories for me. I could never be happy living there.’
‘I thought that might be your answer,’ he said. ‘And I do understand. I suppose I was just thinking of the easiest option. I want us to be together. I want to see you every day. I want to wake up beside you every morning and go to sleep with you every night.’
‘And that’s what I want too, but I want it to be in a place that we choose together.’
Ralph held my hand and smiled. ‘That’s what we’ll do then, Dottie Perks.’
‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. I shall set to work immediately and build us a nice little house up on the Downs.’
‘Or a two-bedroomed flat?’
Ralph grinned. ‘Okay, a two-bedroomed flat it is.’
‘Coffee?’ said Ralph, getting up.
‘Please.’
I stared out of the window. There used to be a hairdresser’s just across the road. It had a big mirror in the window, where we would all go to fix our make-up and do our hair. It was a bicycle shop now. I wished the hairdresser’s was still there. I wished Mary was still here.
Ralph came back with two coffees and set them down on the table.
‘So how’s the job hunting going?’ he asked, spooning sugar into his cup.
‘I’ve got an interview.’
‘Already? That’s great! Where, when?’
‘Tomorrow morning. It’s at a literary agency in Kemp Town.’
‘I’m really proud of you, Dottie Perks.’
‘I haven’t got it yet.’
‘They’ll love you.’
‘You’re prejudiced.’
‘Guilty as charged, but I still think you’ll get it. From now on, whatever lies ahead of us, we will deal with it together. We owe it to each other to make this work.’
‘And we owe it to Peggy,’ I said. ‘I want her to like me.’
‘She will, and once we’re all together in a new place, things will be better.’
‘I hope so, Ralph. I really hope so.’
The next morning I was up with the larks, trying to decide what to wear for the interview. I plumped for a pale blue shift dress that I had bought in Carnaby Street with Polly. I wondered what Polly’s new flatmate would be like. Maybe they would become best friends and visit Mrs Dickens together. I wasn’t sure that I wanted Polly to have a new best friend, but I didn’t want her to be lonely either.
I could smell bacon frying as I went into the kitchen.
‘I thought I’d make a good breakfast to set you up for the day,’ said Mum, emptying a tin of beans into a saucepan.
I smiled at her. I’d been looking for signs of her being ill again ever since I’d come home, but she looked the picture of health, and that made me happy. Mum had a thing about setting us up for the day, which is probably why I had ended up being the fattest kid in the school.
‘I’m not really that hungry, Mum.’
‘Of course you are. You’re a growing girl.’
‘I hope not,’ I said, grinning at her.
‘Maybe not,’ she said, smiling. ‘It’s just nice to be able to cook for you.’
Dad came flapping down the hallway in his slippers and came into the kitchen.
‘Something smells good,’ he said, smiling at Mum.
‘Dottie’s off for her interview this morning. I just wanted to make sure she had something in her stomach before she goes rushing off.’
‘And what could be better than one of your Mum’s fry-ups,’ said Dad, smiling at me.
‘I think you might have to eat mine, Dad. I’ve got an attack of nerves.’
‘I think I can do that,’ he said. ‘And don’t you be nervous, girl. They’ll be lucky to get you.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
I managed to eat a piece of toast, kissed Mum and Dad goodbye and walked to the bus stop.
I took the bus into Kemp Town and followed Millie’s directions to the agency. I was feeling pretty nervous as I climbed the steps at the back of the building. Millie was right – the steps were a death trap. I could feel the rickety wooden structure moving beneath me as I gingerly made my way up to the office. I pushed open the door. There was a young girl sitting behind a desk. She had blonde hair and a sweet face.
‘You must be Dottie,’ she said, grinning at me.
‘You were right about the steps,’ I said.
‘I make the sign of the cross every morning before I go up them.’
‘What about when you go down?’
‘I hold my breath.’
I was going to like Millie. Perhaps we could be friends. I needed a friend right now.
‘He won’t be long,’ she said. ‘Do you want a coffee while you’re waiting?’
‘No thanks, I’m fine.’
‘Nervous?’
‘I feel like I’m about to throw up.’
‘You’ll be okay. Tom’s a lovely guy.’
‘He sounded nice on the phone.’
‘He is, and he’s got the patience of a saint. He’s got an author with him at the minute who thinks she’s Virginia Woolf. She’s good, but she’s a right pain in the butt.’
Yes, I was going to get on with this girl.
Just then the door opened and a woman swept out. Tom made a face at Millie.
‘Don’t worry about the cover, Celeste. I will get on to the publisher right away.’
‘Well I sincerely hope you do, Tom. I am a serious literary writer. That cover looks as if it just fell off the front of the Beano.’
She nodded to Millie as she went out the door. ‘Millie,’ she said.
‘Celeste,’ said Millie.
Then in unison both Tom and Millie shouted, ‘Mind the steps,’ to her disappearing back.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Tom, coming towards me with an outstretched hand. ‘They’re not all that bad. Most of our writers are lovely. I’d get rid of her, but the woman knows how to write. Should I be telling you that? Probably not. Come on into my office, and we can have a little chat. Coffee on the go, Millie?’
‘Fancy one now?’ said Millie, looking at me.
I nodded. My nerves were settling down. I followed Tom into his office.
‘So Peter tells me you are relocating to Brighton?’
‘It’s my hometown; I’ve only been in London for four years.’
‘And now you’ve come home.’
I nodded.
‘For good?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s just that I don’t want to train you up and have you running back to the bright lights.’
‘I’m not going to be running anywhere. I’m here to stay.’
‘Okay, so you’ll want to know what this job entails?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘It will be up to you to find me the diamond in the rough. The little gem amongst all the rubbish. The manuscripts that come in the post almost every day from writers who don’t have an agent. I will read the agented manuscripts in the hope that they’ll already have been weeded out as having publishing potential. How does that sound?’
‘Exciting.’
‘Millie assures me that it can be mind-numbing.’
‘So we’ll both be doing the same job?’
‘Not exactly. She is also my girl Friday. She answers the phone, she keeps me supplied with coffee, she chases up the publishers. She also protects m
e from the divas.’
‘Divas?’
‘Oh we get plenty of those. You’ve just seen one of them. I put up with that one because, as I said, the woman can tell a decent story. It’s just a pity she’s such a pain in the arse.’
I giggled.
‘She really is. So Millie needs some help, and she’s delighted that you have come along. Another part of the job, which would entail the odd evening, is the book launches. They’re generally good fun – you just have to pass around the wine and look jolly.’
‘I can do that, and I’m happy to work evenings.’
‘Good. So shall we give it a whirl?’
‘I’d love to give it a whirl.’
‘When do you want to start?’
‘I have to find a flat.’
‘Shall we say four weeks then?’
‘That will be perfect.’
Then he held out his hand. ‘Welcome to our little agency, Dottie,’ he said smiling.
26
That evening I went round to Ralph’s flat. I ran up the concrete steps and rang the doorbell. Peggy opened the door and stared at me.
‘Hello, Peggy,’ I said. ‘Is your daddy in?’
She didn’t answer, she just continued staring. Oh, Peggy, why can’t you like me, even a little bit? I thought. I smiled at her. ‘Can I come in?’
Nothing.
Then I heard Ralph calling from inside the flat. ‘Who is it, Peggy?’
Ralph came to the door, wiping his hands on a tea towel.
He smiled at me then looked down at Peggy. ‘Well aren’t you going to let Dottie in?’
Peggy gave me a sour look and pushed past Ralph and into the flat.
‘What can I say?’ he said, kissing me on the cheek. ‘She’s five going on fifteen.’
He was making it sound as if Peggy behaved like this with everyone, but we both knew that wasn’t true. As far as she was concerned I’d taken her daddy away from Fiona, and she was angry with me. I wanted the three of us to be a family, and that wasn’t going to happen while Peggy felt like this, so I had to find some way to get through to her.
Ralph took my hand as we walked into the front room.
