Rosie wanted Vanessa to accompany them to the club no more than her mother, so she said brightly, ‘Why the club? Look, our Angus, why don’t you take Van along to some place like Donovan’s? Now, that would be a night out, sort of celebration for her getting her job.’
‘Donovan’s.’ Angus cocked his chin in the air and repeated, ‘Donovan’s. Aye.’ He looked at Vanessa. ‘Would you like to go to Donovan’s?’
‘I’ve never been, I don’t know what it’s like.’ She glanced at Rosie, and Rosie said, ‘Oh, it’s posh is Donovan’s. That’s where all the rugby players get on a Saturday night. Angus used to go, didn’t you?’
‘Oh, well.’ He moved his head from side to side. ‘I’ve been a couple of times, but—’ he turned to Vanessa—‘I wouldn’t take you there on a Saturday night.’ Then bending towards her he added jocularly, ‘But this is Friday. We’ll go to Donovan’s, eh?’
‘Is it…is it evening dress or…?’
‘No, anything,’ he answered.
‘Your blue one,’ Rosie put in, ‘that he bought you for Christmas. That would do. It’s smart and warm and it’s your colour. You look smashing in it.’
Vanessa smiled at Rosie. When Rosie was kind to her, as now, she ceased to think, ‘If only you had been like this from the beginning I wouldn’t have done it.’
The shame of trying to take her own life was still with her. She felt that her action had been the admission of utter failure. She was like Brett. Brett had given her the child, then had taken his life because he couldn’t face up to the consequences. They were a pair, weak; nice, but weak. His weakness had created the child and her weakness had killed it. No matter what Doctor Carr said to the contrary, she would always feel that it was through her attempted suicide that the child had died. It had been shocked into death when on the point of coming alive.
‘You’re for it, aren’t you?’ Angus’s question brought her mind quickly to the present, and she answered eagerly, ‘Yes, yes, of course. I’d love it. That’s if we’re not too late. I’ve got to get ready and it’s after seven.’
‘Oh, places like those don’t get going until nine or ten.’
‘Well, don’t sit there,’ said Emily, energetically now. ‘An’ don’t you go on stuffing yourself.’ She nodded at Angus. ‘Else what’s the good you payin’ for a meal?’
As he got to his feet he bent towards her, saying, ‘I bet you a shilling that no matter what we pay it won’t be half as good as this.’ He was trying to please her in all ways these days. She was all right was his mam; he had always known it…
Half an hour later they were both ready, and Emily, looking at them as they stood side by side in the kitchen, thought that whatever difference there was underneath it didn’t show much when they were dressed up. She was proud of the way Angus was turned out; nothing flashy about him; he could have come from Brampton Hill itself. He knew how to dress, did Angus, and how to carry himself. He had been to Donovan’s before and mixed with them lot. Oh, she had no fear of how he would carry himself in that swell place.
‘Bye-bye,’ said Vanessa, looking from Emily to Rosie; and they didn’t answer as was usual with them, saying, ‘Ta-rah,’ but said, ‘Bye-bye…And enjoy yourselves,’ they both added.
‘Don’t wait up, mind.’ Angus turned from the door and Emily answered robustly, ‘Wait up for you? What would I wait up for you for? Go on, get yourself away.’
As they stood waiting at the corner of the street for a bus he looked at Vanessa and said, ‘There’s one thing missing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘A car. People don’t go by bus to Donovan’s. You can’t get near it for cars.’
‘Well, we can get off at the stop before and pretend we’ve left ours parked at the end of the road.’
He dug her gently in the ribs and jerked his head as he said, ‘You’ve got something.’
He was happy as he had never been happy before. The happiness banked down on that corner of his mind where were piled his worries.
In the bus she asked, with, excitement in her voice, ‘Is there a place to dance?’
‘Aye, a bit of floor, but…’ He drooped his head to the side to look full into her face. ‘Do you dance? Funny, I’ve never asked you; do you dance?’
‘I’ve had lessons.’ Her brows moved upwards.
‘But you’ve never been on a dance floor?’ He felt superior. This he could teach her, anyway, because he was a good dancer. Heavily made as he was, he was light on his feet.
‘Once,’ she said.
‘Once!’ His look and tone ridiculed her single effort; then he added, ‘If you stand on me toes I’ll yell the place down mind.’
When he laughed and looked down at his size ten shoes his happiness moved in all directions through his body; it made him want to grab her to him and hold her tightly, not do anything, just hold her tightly, like his Uncle Dick used to do to his Aunt Ann. They had been married for twenty years but he used to get hold of her and hug her, and she used to laugh up into his face. She was a little woman, round and fat, but there was something between them, a sort of something. He remembered it when he went to his funeral, that day he had met Van in the train. Lord, that seemed ten years ago. Did he ever think then that…? Blimey! He would have asked them to cart him away if he had even dreamed of it.
They got off the bus, and when they reached the hotel car park where the cars were spilling over onto the drive it looked as if it was a busy night after all.
‘We…we mightn’t get a table.’ His voice was flat. ‘I should have had the sense to slip out and phone when I got the idea.’
‘I don’t suppose it would have made much difference; you likely have to book up a day or so ahead. Anyway, we can always try.’ She smiled consolingly at him, and her eyes lingered on his face. She wasn’t ashamed to be out with him; that was something she was grateful for. Another thing she was grateful for was, he didn’t raise his voice outside. He could bawl and shout in the house; even in their room he shouted to her in ordinary conversation as if she was at the end of the street, but outside his manner was different. He tried, did Angus. Oh yes, he tried very hard. She wished he would let her help him. She had learned a lot over the past weeks about the man she had married. She knew, for instance, that he was in constant fear that she would leave him now that there was nothing to hold her, only a marriage that could be dissolved quite easily, it never having been consummated. She knew that he didn’t want her to go to work in case she would meet someone else. She was getting to understand all his little ways, his moods, but this did not alleviate the fear in which she held him, the fear that would be strengthened or erased completely when he began to make demands of her; and the time for that was very near. She knew it; she felt it; it was very near.
Having left their outer things in the cloakroom they walked side by side past the open cocktail bar, past the main bar, across the deeply carpeted lounge that was studded with small tables and groups of people, and towards the dining room. When they were almost there he stopped and said, ‘Would you like a drink first?’ He motioned towards one of the tables, and without looking at them she said, ‘No. No, I would rather not.’ She felt excited; nervous, and strangely more ill at ease than he was.
‘Good evening, sir. Good evening, madam. You have a table reserved?’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ said Angus. ‘We just came on spec.’ His voice sounded airy.
‘Ah!’ The head waiter looked straight into Angus’s face, and Angus said, ‘I’d be obliged if you could find us a table.’ The words were a promise and the head waiter said, ‘Well, sir, you’re lucky, there’s been a cancellation…and a very nice table. It’s in the alcove. Come this way. This way, madam.’
The table was indeed a nice table. It was screened from part of the main room by an ornamental partition, and the head waiter pulled out a chair that backed onto the partition for Vanessa, giving her a view over part of the dining room towards the space allotted for dancing and to the sma
ll platform where four musicians were seated.
When they were alone for a moment Angus drew in a deep breath and adjusted his coat, then said, ‘Nice?’
‘Lovely.’ She nodded across the table at him.
As the band struck up the wine waiter came to the table and handed Angus the wine list.
‘Well now.’ He looked at it, then across at her and asked, ‘What do you fancy?’
‘I’ll have a sherry,’ she said.
‘Dry or sweet, madam?’ asked the waiter.
‘Dry, please.’
Angus, after a pause said, ‘Make it two.’
‘And for later, sir; you’d like a little wine with the meal?’
‘Yes. Oh, yes.’ Angus looked at the wine list again. He knew nothing about wines. He could name any make of beer in the country, even the brands that were popular in the South, but of wines he was completely ignorant. He felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He saved it getting further by looking over the list and saying to Vanessa, ‘Have you any particular fancy?’
Intuitively she knew he needed help and she answered, ‘I would like,’ she paused as she was about to say, ‘a white wine.’ Instead she named it. ‘A Graves Supérieur or a Liebfraumilch.’ She looked at Angus, and the waiter looked at Angus, waiting for the final word. And Angus, taking a deep breath, gave him the final word, and he pronounced it almost as Vanessa had done. ‘Graves Supérieur,’ he said, nodding once. He couldn’t have attempted to pronounce the other tongue-twister.
‘Very good, sir. Very good.’
When they were alone again, he stared at her, without speaking now. She knew about wines. The space between them was marked again.
She leaned forward and said to him now, under her breath, and as if she had read his thoughts, ‘I only know about them because Father used to discuss them with Mother when people were coming for a meal.’ Her voice trailed away. She knew she had said the wrong thing. As far as she could remember it was the first time she had spoken her father’s name to him since they were married. This could spoil everything. She said quickly, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘What you sorry for? No need to be sorry because you know the name of a wine.’ He flapped his hand lightly at her, and ignored the fact that she had mentioned her father.
Then they were ordering dinner. He knew his way about here. This was safer ground; it wasn’t the first time he had ordered dinner. That was until he looked at the menu. ‘What about a shrimp cocktail to start with?’ He was bending towards her.
And she answered, ‘Lovely.’
‘Two shrimp cocktails.’
‘And the main course, sir?’
Again Angus looked at her. She was looking at the menu. It was mostly in French.
He too looked at the menu. He looked at it for quite a while; then he raised his eyes to the waiter and said coolly, ‘A steak for me, medium rare.’
‘Very good, sir. Very good, and you, madam?’
She did not say Chicken sauté à la Marengo but fried chicken in sauce, please.
When that was over they both relaxed for different reasons.
There were couples dancing on the floor now, and when she began to tap her fingers to the tune he said laughingly, ‘Now you’re not going to get up there and show them until you’ve had something to eat.’
She laughed softly across at him. They both looked across the room when a roar of laughter came from the direction of the cocktail bar, and as the band struck up a number of couples came through from the lounge and began to dance.
Angus, still looking across the room, said, ‘I didn’t think that was allowed; I thought the dancing space was only for the diners.’ He had the air of a regular patron.
As the noise and the laughter rose above the music, Angus commented, ‘They’re all high. Looks like a Saturday night after all.’
‘You used to come here on a Saturday night?’
‘Once or twice after we finished the game.’
‘I never knew you played rugby until tonight.’
There was a twisted smile on his face and he looked at her for a full minute before saying, ‘There’s lots of things you don’t know about me, Van.’
When she lowered her gaze from his he turned it quickly into a joke. ‘I’ve got a medal for life-savin’,’ he said; ‘I once dived into four feet of water and got a bairn up in the baths.’ When she gave a little splutter he said, ‘It’s a fact. There was a gang of lads together and someone shouted that their Willie or some such was drownin’ and I ran along and dived in, and it was nearly fifteen minutes later when I came round; I’d hit me head on the bottom.’
‘Was anyone drowned?’
‘I don’t know, I’ve never found out to this day.’ They were laughing openly now. ‘And that’s not all,’ he said. ‘You should have seen what I got for doing a good deed.’ He lifted the quiff of his sandy hair from his brow. ‘Have you noticed that?’
She looked at the scar and said, ‘Yes, I had noticed it, and I wondered how you got it.’
‘Oh, that was the payment for doing the good deed. I was on top of a bus and a woman was going to go down the stairs. She had a basket of groceries, a huge basket, an’ she was hanging on to the top rail. The bus was going round a corner so I said, “Give it here, missis; I’ll take it down for you.” I was a big brawny fellow of fifteen and she said, “Thanks, lad,” and she went down the stairs and me after her. Only I tripped, and it was the iron rail, you know the rail you hang on to, that stopped me falling into the road and, boy, I’ve never seen a basket of groceries go so far in me life. Talk about the three loaves and the five fishes.’
He had her laughing now, really laughing. Her shoulders were hunched and she had her hand across her mouth, and when she murmured, ‘Oh, Angus, don’t,’ he warmed to his theme. He was entertaining her; she was happy; it was the first time he had seen her really laugh. He said, ‘That’s nothing. I could fill a book. Every time I’ve done a good turn in me life I’ve got it slapped back straight in me face.’ Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this was a tactless remark, and at the same time some part of him was praying that this was one time in his life that he wouldn’t have his good deed slapped right back into his face, that life would go on from here and that she would never leave him.
‘There was Mrs Halliday’s fire,’ he said. ‘You know Mrs Halliday, five doors down. I was comin’ down the street one day and there was smoke comin’ out of her window, and she came out yellin’ that her gas stove had caught fire, and in dashed brave Angus Cotton. I couldn’t get near the stove. “Have you got any salt?” I yelled. Mam was always douching our fire with salt when the chimney caught ablaze, you know, and Mrs Halliday yelled back at me, “What!” and I yelled, “Salt!” She was a very methodical woman was Mrs Halliday and she kept a good supply of stuff in the house—everybody used to go and borrow from her. Anyway, when she pointed I picked up the jar of salt, only it wasn’t salt it was sugar, and I threw it on the fire. Believe me, we were nearly blown over the railway wall.’
Her head was down, her hands were joined tightly in her lap, her eyes were wet; she looked up at him from under her thick short lashes and asked, ‘What was the end to that?’
‘The fire brigade. Her whole kitchen was burnt down. Lord, I daren’t pass her door for months after that.’
Again she said, ‘Oh, Angus.’ He was nice. She had always known he was nice. He was trying to make her happy. Oh, if only he could…
The steak came medium rare, the chicken and its sauce were delicious. They ate everything on their plates, and then made their choice from a trolley of assorted sweets. Finally there was coffee.
‘Will you have it here or in the lounge, sir?’
They decided to have it in the lounge. They walked around the outskirts of the dancing couples, past the head waiter whom Angus thanked for an excellent meal and supplemented his thanks with a piece of folded paper, and they were again escorted to their seats.
Over the coffee
Angus looked at her and asked, ‘Enjoying it?’
‘It’s lovely, Angus, wonderful. Do you know,’ she twisted round to him, ‘this is the first time I’ve ever been out to dinner. I’ve never enjoyed myself like this before, never in my life.’
His eyes ranged over her face. All the tenseness had gone from it; she looked soft and warm and beautiful. There was nobody in here who could hold a candle to her; and she had to develop yet. In two or three years’ time she’d be a stunner; a little more flesh on her and she’d be something. Did she know that? Was she aware of how she looked to other people? He must keep her. By fair means or foul he must keep her. He knew now that all his life he had wanted her, and he had got her, but when she came awake could he keep her? Because the raw fact was, she wasn’t awakened yet, not to anything. She’d had a bairn but it hadn’t really touched her.
He got abruptly to his feet now and, buttoning up his coat, said, ‘We’re going into the fray, it’s a quickstep. Have you ever done a quickstep?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve done the twist. I can do the twist.’ She sounded confident.
‘Aw, the twist! That went out with the first programme of Top of the Pops. Quickstep’s back, à la ballroom dancin’; it’s all back. I even saw a young lad on the telly the other night in Top of the Pops put his arm round a girl’s waist when they were dancing. Do you know somethin’?’ He shook his head at her. ‘It looked quite indecent, it did really.’
He had her laughing again when they reached the dance floor. And there he put his arm around her and walked her gently backwards and forwards.
The Round Tower Page 24
