by Anne Bennett
Connie had been wondering for days how to talk to her mother, whose unhappiness was almost palpable. Despite this, she was still surprised to see Daniel waiting for her when she left the library in her lunch hour. ‘Daniel, what are you doing here?’ she blurted out, tripping over her tongue in surprise, feeling a blush tinge her cheeks. They might be family friends, but she was only fifteen, and Daniel was a very good-looking boy in his twenties. Connie could see other young girls giving him a second glance and felt proud that he had sought out her company, even if she didn’t quite understand why.
‘Waiting for you,’ came Daniel’s easy reply, his smile hiding the way his heart beat just that little bit faster the moment he saw Connie.
‘You know our respective parents wouldn’t like us to meet like this?’
Daniel shrugged. ‘Then let’s make sure they never find out,’ he said.
Connie continued to look at him warily. It had been a long time since they’d seen one another, and he supposed, to her, he had appeared as if from the blue. Best to lay all my cards on the table, he thought. He continued, ‘Look, Connie, my dad is going around like a bear with a sore head, and I would hedge a bet your mother is just as upset as he is?’
Daniel saw understanding settle in Connie’s large, soulful eyes, and he carried on: ‘I thought, together, we might be able to make them see sense. I have to say, my dad’s attitude is making living at home almost unbearable at the moment.’
‘Oh, I don’t know …’ replied Connie, cautiously. ‘I agree with you, my mum is not herself at all at the moment.’
‘It’s worth a try, don’t you think, Connie?’
‘I suppose.’
Taking her arm, Daniel led Connie to a nearby café. ‘Come on, let’s have some lunch while we talk?’
Going out to lunch was a treat Connie wasn’t accustomed to. Especially with a boy. Usually, at dinnertime she tucked herself away in the staffroom with whichever title she’d selected from the shelves to read that day, and buried her head in her book whilst munching on sandwiches from home. But there was a cold wind biting the air that afternoon and the thought of lunch in a warm café with Daniel was one that Connie suddenly found she didn’t want to argue with. But however nice a change it was from homemade sandwiches, afterwards Connie found she couldn’t really remember what she ate. Her mind had been too preoccupied with puzzling out what had happened between Stan and her mum. Looking at it all ways, neither she nor Daniel could think of any way to heal the rift between their parents, when they were confronted by the fact that neither would agree to meet the other, let alone talk.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Connie finally said in exasperation. ‘Do you?’
Daniel shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘The situation seems as bad as ever. Worse, if I’m honest.’
‘Yes,’ Connie agreed. ‘Mammy is definitely worse, and it all started again the morning she got up even earlier than she does when she cleans the pub. I didn’t think anything of it until I spied her out of the window. She had the clothes on she wears for Mass. She wouldn’t clean the pub dressed like that!’
‘So you asked her, but she refused to tell you?’
‘Not a word.’
‘This recent business can’t have anything to do with Dad,’ Daniel said. ‘To my knowledge, they haven’t met for years.’
‘Yes,’ Connie said, ‘it must all be to do with that quarrel they had years ago. Must have been some argument, that’s all I can say. After all this time, instead of coming to terms with it and sort of burying the hatchet, if anything their differences, whatever on earth they are, have become more entrenched than ever.’
‘Yes,’ Daniel said in agreement, then he paused for a moment and then went on, ‘mind you, I understand how humiliated Dad was, initially.’
‘What do you mean?’ Connie said. ‘You mean you know what the quarrel was about?’
‘Sort of.’
‘You know, and haven’t said after all this time?’
Daniel sighed. ‘I didn’t know if it was just that …’ he went on. ‘Look, I knew my dad truly loved your mother, and I advised him to tell her. I mean, she’s an attractive woman and could be snapped up by another.’
Connie nodded, remembering her mother’s mad period with a certain chap called Eddie McIntyre, whom she hoped she’d never see again.
‘Anyway,’ Daniel went on, ‘that day we came to dinner and we went for a walk to see the canal and barges and that.’
Connie nodded again and Daniel continued, ‘Well, that day Dad told your mother things he’d held in his heart for years …’
‘And?’ Connie asked.
‘Your mother couldn’t say anything back. Dad said she just shuddered at the thought,’ Daniel said. ‘Dad had obviously totally misread the way your mother felt about him. I often wished I’d kept my big mouth shut, because it was my urging that made him do it.’
‘But,’ Connie said, confused, ‘I can’t imagine any words Stan could say to make Mammy act like that. It was a cruel thing to do, and Mammy isn’t cruel – not to anyone, and certainly not Stan. He was – is – so special to her.’
‘It sounds to me,’ said Daniel, ‘that you need to ask your mother for her side of the story. Dad would hardly lie about such a thing.’
But Connie knew she couldn’t do that, because then she would have to confess to seeing Daniel.
‘Connie, it’s been so good to see you,’ Daniel said. ‘I’ve been so worried about my dad, and you were the only person I could talk to about it. I’m glad we can continue to be friends.’
‘My mum would have a heart attack if she thought we were meeting up,’ replied Connie cautiously. But as she thought of Daniel, she realised she had missed him more than she had thought she would. Whatever had happened between their parents shouldn’t be allowed to affect the friendship between her and Daniel.
He agreed, but said, ‘Think about it. We are suffering the fallout from something that happened between our parents years ago, that we had no hand in. That’s not remotely fair – so would you like to go out with me?’
Connie didn’t have to think too hard before saying, ‘Yes, Daniel. I would love to meet up with you.’ She knew Angela wouldn’t be happy, but seeing Daniel had been so unexpectedly lovely, she was already looking forward to their next outing.
‘Will you tell your mother?’
Connie thought, and then shook her head. ‘She might forbid it.’
Daniel paused and then said, ‘All right, don’t mention it yet, but she must be told soon. I don’t like the idea of skulking round as if we were doing something wrong, running the risk of being spotted by someone who tells your mother.’
‘That would be bad,’ Connie agreed. ‘But trust me. I know my mother well and I will know when the time is right to tell her.’
‘I’ll leave it to you then,’ said Daniel with a smile. ‘So, as we are in the town anyway, how about we see if there’s a film we might both like to see?’
‘Oh yes!’ Connie cried, thinking it quite daring to be going to the cinema with a man her mother disapproved of, and without asking her permission.
It was like a proper date as well. Not just a casual walk in the park, where they could almost have accidently bumped into one another. Going on a date was something Connie had imagined she wouldn’t do till she was much older, and she was incredibly excited.
‘The Thief of Bagdad is showing at the Gaumont,’ Daniel said. ‘I’ve heard it’s quite good. Have you seen it?’
Connie shook her head. ‘Haven’t managed it yet. Some of the girls from school have been and they said it was great.’
Daniel smiled. ‘My friends said the same and I haven’t seen it either,’ he said. ‘Shall we remedy that for both of us?’
‘Yes please,’ Connie said and took hold of Daniel’s outstretched hand for the first time. She stilled her conscience by telling herself Daniel was not responsible for the actions of his father, just as she was not responsib
le for the actions of her mother. She felt her heart flip as he gently squeezed her hand. Daniel smiled at her, a smile that suddenly seemed to have the power to make her feel weak at the knees, and a tingle of excitement began in her toes and travelled up her body as they neared the cinema.
They thoroughly enjoyed themselves there and Connie thought Daniel incredibly good company. They laughed at the same things, and Connie remembered their genuine friendship of a few years ago, which they had now rekindled with ease. She could barely remember ever being so happy.
On their way home Connie listened attentively as Daniel told her what his father was doing now to help the homeless in the Black Country – all those who had lost their homes, shops and businesses in the Great War when the bombs dropped from the Zeppelins had destroyed them.
Connie was astounded. She hadn’t been aware of bombs dropping through the air and killing or maiming innocent people. That some of these had reached the outskirts of Birmingham was even more upsetting. Yet she said to Daniel, ‘I thought your father already had a job in the shop.’
‘Well, yes he has,’ Daniel said. ‘I mean, he’s in charge and everything, but when he enlisted for the war, he employed a woman called Sadie Bradshaw to take his place when her own husband joined the army. She lives down one of the nearby yards and was known to be respectable and honest and had two young children. However, her husband was listed among the many who did not return from the war, and Dad was reluctant to tell her to go when she needed a job so badly, so she stayed on for a while. When he heard of this scheme to renovate bomb-damaged properties in the Black Country, he talked to Sadie and she has agreed to come back. Her children are grown up now, so she has more time and was at a bit of a loose end, and she said she will stay for as long as it takes. I have told Dad I’ll give him a hand too.’
‘What about your teaching job at the school?’ asked Connie, who knew just how much Daniel enjoyed his profession.
‘Well, initially I said I could help only through the coming Easter holidays,’ Daniel said. ‘I’m starting on Monday.’
‘I could do the same. I’d love to be able to help out.’
Daniel was totally unprepared for Connie’s reaction and answered cautiously, ‘Yes, you could. But you’d really better ask your mother.’
Connie thought about asking her mother but rejected the idea almost instantly. It would mean telling her about meeting Daniel, and the mood Angela was in at the moment, she might forbid Connie to take any part in the whole thing. What if she banned her from seeing him? All of a sudden Connie knew that that didn’t bear thinking about. She hadn’t seen Daniel for so long, but now that she had, she realised just how much she was looking forward to seeing him again.
She shook her head. ‘Not a good idea to tell Mammy just yet,’ she said. ‘Let’s get started on it first, and then I’ll be able to give her a better idea of what it involves.’
Daniel really didn’t feel comfortable about that idea. He wanted any friendship with Connie to be completely above board. ‘Wouldn’t your mother wonder where you went if you disappeared every day?’
‘Not really,’ Connie said. ‘She’d think I was at the library, because it’s where I usually work through the holidays. She’s used to me not being at home.’
‘Well, the library then,’ Daniel said. ‘You’d better let them know your change of plans for these Easter holidays, or they might worry.’
‘Yeah, I will.’
‘Even so …’ Daniel said, ‘… in fact, the more I think of involving you, the more I think you must tell you mother what you intend to do, before you begin.’
‘No!’ Connie cried. ‘What if she was to say I couldn’t do it?’
‘If she did, it would only be because she would be worried about you,’ Daniel said. ‘Not that it’s meant to be dangerous – just hard work, I should imagine. I’m sure if you explained it to your mother, she would understand.’
‘Well, I’m not sure she would understand, not at all sure, and I am not prepared to risk it. I’ll tell you one thing I am sure of, though. My mother, when she was little older than me, made shells in a factory, six days a week. That was hard and dangerous work, all right, and though her mother, my granny, worried about her, she realised that she had to do it. Now this is something I need to do, but Mammy treats me like a hothouse flower. No, Daniel, I am not going to risk telling her, and if she finds out some other way … Well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
Daniel still felt a little uncomfortable, though he had to concede Connie did have a point. ‘Look, Connie,’ he said again. ‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’
Connie nodded her head vehemently. ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘Now, are you taking me with you to help, or not? Because I’ll tell you now, you could argue from now till doomsday, and not change my mind.’
Daniel held up his hands in surrender and gave Connie a rueful grin. ‘All right, then. Point taken. See you on Monday morning at New Street Station at eight o’clock, and from there we’ll take a train to Walsall.’
‘I’ll be there bright and early,’ Connie promised, giving Daniel a wave as she made for the tram, a wide smile lighting up her pretty face all the way home.
THREE
It was cold and draughty standing on the station platform the following Monday, and Connie was glad that she had not worn the skirt and jumper she usually wore to the library. Leaving them folded on the chair by her bed, she had instead searched in the cupboard under the stairs for the dungarees her mother had worn during the Great War when she worked at a shell factory. Sadly, there was no sign of her rubber boots, which would have been useful, but regardless Connie put the dungarees on, as well as an old wind-proof jacket. She surveyed herself in the mirror, satisfied that she looked ready for a hard day’s work, but also that the style she’d tied her hair in was both practical and flattering. She chided herself to stop thinking about Daniel and keep her mind on the job in hand. She was suddenly immensely glad her mother never got up before she left for the library where she usually spent her holidays, for if Angela had had one glimpse of how Connie was dressed that morning, she would have known she was not intending to go to the library, or anywhere else remotely respectable, dressed in such a way.
Connie, however, thought the dungarees were comfortable, practical and eminently suitable for the job she was going to be involved in that morning. She was glad they covered her legs, because it really was very draughty on the station platform, and she was walking up and down as fast as she could to keep warm whilst wondering where Daniel was. The station master said the train was on time, which meant there were just two minutes to spare. Connie was annoyed, because if Daniel missed the train, so would she, because she could hardly go without him. She wondered for a moment what she was doing, heading off to Walsall, a place she had never been to before, with Daniel on some harebrained scheme of his. She knew that had her mother known what she was about to do, she would be more than a little concerned. Would she have been worried enough to try and stop her going altogether? Connie thought she might well try to, at least till she found out what it was all about and what it entailed, and Connie couldn’t enlighten her much about that. She imagined her asking Connie what she thought she knew of work like that. The answer would be, nothing at all, and for the first time she wondered if she would be any earthly use. Daniel had told her that machinery wasn’t used – at first, anyway, because heavy lifting gear could damage the whole unstable structure or further demolish buildings that could be reclaimed. Instead they relied on manpower to earmark those that needed attention.
And what do I really know of work like this? Connie asked herself. If the lifting proves too heavy for me, won’t I be more of an encumbrance than any sort of help? Might she be better going home to change and setting off for the library as usual? She was sure they’d have her back if she said she was available. And she really did love her job. Daniel was right when he said the librarians would be wondering where she was when sh
e didn’t turn up. They were lovely ladies, who had been so kind and generous with their time when Connie started working at the library.
Connie also loved some of the regulars that came into the library. There were some that came in almost every day, perhaps sometimes for the company as much as to exchange their books, Connie thought. Many of the children that came in were particularly fond of Connie. She had such a lovely way with them, as well as a real knack for recommending books that they really loved reading. There was one young girl in particular, called Chrissie, who always looked out for Connie. She idolised the older girl, and they’d spent a lot of time together, firstly talking about books, and then all sorts of things. Connie got the sense that this little girl didn’t have any other friends, so she always went out of her way to say hello or put a particular book to one side on reserve if she thought Chrissie would like it.
The more Connie thought about it, the more she regretted not mentioning her new job to the librarians now; but she had hesitated because she would have hated it if word of what she was going to do somehow got back to her mother before she had a chance to mention it. She actually began to walk towards the exit when she saw Daniel hurtling at breakneck speed down the platform towards her as the train thundered into the station, grey smoke billowing out behind it as it began to draw to a halt with a squeal of brakes and a hiss of steam.
‘You cut it fine,’ she said to Daniel as he reached her and they boarded the train together. ‘If you left it a minute or two later, you’d have missed it.’
‘I know,’ Daniel said, looking sheepish. ‘I overslept.’ And then he took in Connie’s appearance and said, ‘You’re dressed for the part, anyway.’
‘My mother’s dungarees for when she worked in munitions during the war,’ Connie explained.
