The Girls from Greenway

by Elizabeth Woodcraft

  ‘Hello Angie,’ Roger said, with a bashful smile.

  She was pleased to see him, she realised. He was so solid and familiar.

  ‘I thought I’d give you a lift home, or, if you like, we could go for a drink.’

  ‘Oh Roger. We said we wouldn’t see each other for a month.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. I just—’ He shrugged. ‘I just wanted to see you.’

  ‘I suppose you’ve heard.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Our dad’s run off with all that money.’

  ‘Oh my god, Angie. That’s terrible. Are you all right?’

  So he hadn’t heard, he hadn’t come to laugh or sneer or say ‘It serves you right.’ He’d come because he wanted to see her. He really was a lovely man.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s go and have a drink. You can tell me all about it. I’ll buy you a brandy.’

  ‘Make it a large one.’ Almost without thinking, she climbed on to the back of the scooter.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’

  ‘I don’t mind. Oh, let’s go mad. Let’s go to the Fleece,’ she said.

  They drove along Broomfield Road. Angie put her arms round Roger’s waist. It felt warm and comforting.

  They turned into Duke Street, past the bus station, under the bridge and down to the Fleece. As they were getting off the scooter, Roger unwinding his scarf and Angie straightening her coat, he turned to her. ‘I saw your sister in town the other day.’

  ‘Oh really? She was probably off to drown her sorrows.’ Angie smoothed her hair. ‘She owes more money than I do.’

  ‘Well, she obviously found someone to drown them with.’

  ‘Oh, not her friend Janice.’

  Roger lifted the seat of his scooter and put his gloves and scarf inside. ‘No. She was with that bloke from the boutique in New Road, near your cousin’s. Perhaps he’ll pay her debts for her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll . . .’

  ‘No, who? Who did you say?’

  ‘That bloke from the boutique, with the Italian name. What is it? Vino? Geno?’

  ‘Gene,’ Angie said shortly. ‘It can’t have been him, she knows he’s . . . he’s my . . . he’s married.’

  ‘Oh, and how do you know, Miss Know-it-all?’ He grinned at her. ‘I’m pretty sure it was him. That sheepskin coat of his. And I know it was your sister, because I’d recognise her red hair anywhere.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. They were pretty lovey-dovey.’

  Angie felt as if she had been picked up, turned upside down and shaken hard. ‘I feel sick,’ she said. ‘Take me home.’

  ‘Don’t you want a drink? You look like you need one.’

  ‘Take me home,’ Angie said. ‘I want to go home.’

  As they pulled up outside the house Angie said, ‘Don’t bother turning off the engine. You’re not stopping.’

  ‘Are you all right, Ange? Was it something I said?’

  She looked at his face. He was anxious, concerned. He’d been so happy when she said they’d go for a drink. ‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ she said softly. ‘I just don’t feel very well. It’s my time of the month, don’t worry.’

  ‘You should have said!’

  ‘Well, I’m saying now,’ she snapped. His face fell. ‘Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just not . . . I don’t . . . I’ve got to go in.’

  ‘See you in a couple of weeks?’ he said.

  ‘If I haven’t been locked up,’ she said.

  ‘Why? What have you done?’ He risked a smile.

  ‘It’s what I’m about to do,’ she said. ‘You go now. It’s cold.’ She pecked him on the cheek.

  ‘I love you, Angie,’ he said quietly. ‘Take care of yourself.’

  ‘You too,’ she said.

  *

  Mum was indoors watching the telly.

  ‘Where’s Doreen?’

  ‘Somewhere.’

  The kitchen door opened and Doreen walked in. She was humming the song ‘Personality’.

  ‘Been having a good time lately?’ Angie said.

  ‘Not particularly. Why?’

  ‘Just asking.’

  ‘Oh. How was your class? Was that Roger I saw just now, on his scooter? Is it all back on?’

  ‘I suppose you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’’

  ‘Girls!’ Mum shouted from the living room. ‘I can’t hear myself listen to this programme. If you want to have a conversation go upstairs.’

  Angie looked at Doreen. ‘Well, come on then. Let’s go upstairs.’

  ‘Oh, I thought we’d finished. You asked me about my life and I asked you about your evening. All very nice, thank you.’

  Doreen was being so cool. She was being so relaxed. Angie hoped it wasn’t true. ‘Come upstairs!’ she hissed.

  Doreen followed her into the hall. As they walked up the stairs Doreen stumbled, and grabbed the banister.

  Angie turned. ‘Careful you don’t break your neck. Or someone might do it for you.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Or is it guilt making you trip over your own feet?’

  Angie went into her bedroom.

  Doreen walked in and closed the door behind her. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘You! You and him!’

  ‘Who? What?’

  ‘Dad saw you. And now Roger saw you. You were with him. You were with Gene, all lovey-dovey.’ A terrible thought came to her. ‘And I saw you, didn’t I? That night Roger came round and ruined your Sloppy Joe. I saw you in town with him, by the cathedral, and you lied about it to me. How could you? How could you? He’s my boyfriend!’

  Doreen felt faint. She had known this day would come. She had wanted it to come in a way. Angie needed to know the truth about the type of man Gene was. Doreen had wanted to tell her, but she hadn’t had the nerve to turn and say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve had sex with your boyfriend.’ She needed to sit down but Angie was still standing.

  She looked at Angie. She could see that even now, if she denied it vehemently enough Angie would believe her. Angie would probably end up apologising for having mistrusted her. But if she lied now, if she denied it again, it would never end. There would be more denials, more made-up stories, more suggestions that it was Angie’s wild imagination. She couldn’t do that to her. Angie was her sister. ‘All right! All right. Yes, I was seeing him.’

  Angie’s face went white. She put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. Doreen wondered if it was Angie who was going to collapse. She moved towards her.

  ‘Get away! Get away from me!’ Angie stepped back. ‘How could you? How could you?’

  ‘Oh Angie. At first I didn’t know about you and him. You mentioned him that once and then never again till the night we went out for the drink. And then I only saw him once more I swear. And then I – I ended it.’

  ‘Oh, really? Just once more? Is that supposed to make it OK? You saw him, after you knew how much I really cared about him. And I don’t believe you it was just once. When was this? When?’

  ‘Angie!’

  ‘Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice. You knew what you were doing. He was my boyfriend.’

  ‘I was just . . .’

  ‘Just what?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s over now.’

  ‘Over? What do you mean? What was there to be over?’

  ‘For a while I saw him, and now I don’t.’

  ‘How often did you see him?’ Angie’s voice cracked. ‘How long for?’

  ‘Angie, I didn’t know. I swear . . .’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘How could you?’

  ‘Honestly, I didn’t know you were seeing him. But look –’ She spread her hands desperately. ‘I didn’t know, but we both know who did. He knew about you and he knew about me. We’ve both been had,’ Doreen said.

  ‘But I love him. And he loves me. And . . .’ Angi
e turned away, full of sorrow, ‘. . . I bought him a tie-pin for his birthday and I haven’t been able to give it to him.’

  ‘Oh Angie.’

  ‘Shut up! What am I going to do with it? I can’t take it back to the shop, I’ve rubbed the corners off the box, I’ve been carrying it around for so long.’ She lifted her tear-stained face.

  ‘Angie—’

  ‘I’ll ask him!’ she said. ‘I’ll ask him and see if his story is different from yours.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Doreen said. ‘He’ll say the same thing. Unless of course he lies, which I think we both know he’s capable of.’

  ‘I hate you!’ Angie said. ‘I hate you both. I feel so stupid. All this time. And I got so upset about the stupid jumper Roger ruined that night. I’m upset about a stupid jumper and you’re out stealing my boyfriend.’

  ‘Oh Angie,’ Doreen moved towards her. ‘You’re my sister and I am really, really sorry.’ She put her arms round Angie and Angie began to cry into her jumper, big heaving sobs. ‘If it’s any consolation, you’re doing a fairly good job of ruining this sweater,’ she said.

  ‘Good!’ Angie’s voice was muffled. ‘I’m just going to blow my nose on it.’

  Doreen sprang back. ‘No, you’re not. Have a hanky.’ She pulled out a handkerchief from her sleeve.

  Angie blew her nose.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was stupid. I should have told you.’ But not about the camp bed in the back of the shop. ‘And then you could have told me whether you were OK with it. I mean, if you were going out with Roger, isn’t it fair that someone else could go out with Gene?’

  Angie stepped away. ‘So you were going out with him! You were having a relationship with him!’

  ‘No, no.’ Oh God, why did I say that? Doreen thought. ‘I just meant, how did you feel having two people on the go? Roger and Gene. You didn’t think you were hurting Roger, did you?’

  ‘Oh, shut up. There’s no comparison and you know it. You’re my sister! And, oh God!’ She twisted Doreen’s handkerchief in her hands. ‘I thought he might be seeing other women, but I didn’t think he was seeing my sister! And I had to find out through other people. Through Dad, for God’s sake, the world’s worst human being, after you. And through Roger. How could you? How could you?’

  Because his arms were strong and he was gentle and good and he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.

  ‘Dad said you were all over him, Roger said you were lovey-dovey.’ Angie drew breath. ‘You’re never to see him, ever again.’

  ‘I know. I’ll try my best.’

  ‘You won’t see him.’

  ‘I can’t stop going into pubs. What if he’s in there?’

  ‘Walk out again.’

  ‘All right, all right, I will.’

  Doreen moved over to the door. ‘Oh Angie. Why don’t we all just go to Australia? Forget any of them ever existed? Dad, Gene, Roger . . .’

  ‘Nice try,’ Angie said. ‘I’m not going to Australia, but you’re welcome to.’ She turned away and fiddled with a hairbrush on her dressing table.

  ‘I’m going to bed now,’ Doreen said, softly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Just go,’ Angie said. ‘I’m too tired to think of any more horrible things to say to you.’

  ‘Tell me in the morning.’ Doreen crept out on to the landing and allowed her tears to fall.

  CHAPTER 28

  ‘HELLO DARLING,’ GENE SAID AS ANGIE walked into the boutique.

  ‘I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Well, that looks like a serious face. Can it wait? We’ve got a couple of customers.’

  Angie looked round. ‘One.’

  ‘All right, but every customer is an important customer.’

  Angie walked over to the man who was looking at shirts hanging on a rail, ‘Excuse me, I don’t think we have anything in your size.’

  ‘You don’t know what size I am.’

  ‘I know, but all our sizes are wrong. Everyone says so.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘What I mean is, could you leave? We need to shut the shop.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘For – for stocktaking. I’m sorry.’

  Gene was frowning but he said nothing.

  The man looked over at Gene. ‘They’re crap shirts anyway.’

  ‘And a very good morning to you, sir,’ Gene said.

  The man left the shop and Angie locked it after him. She turned the open sign to closed.

  ‘That serious, eh?’ Gene said. He came from behind the small counter and leaned against it with folded arms.

  ‘What’s going on Gene?’ Angie said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Angie threw up her arms. ‘I don’t know why I’m asking you. I know what’s going on.’

  He frowned.

  ‘An innocent expression isn’t going to do it this time. Nor will a bracelet. Or any smooth talk.’

  ‘What are you talking about, babe?’

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was so angry, so sad, so overwhelmed with shock. Finally she said, in a low voice, ‘I know about you and my sister.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  ‘Is that all you can say?’ She wanted him to rage, to deny it, to say it wasn’t true, it was all a big misunderstanding. She wanted him to hold out his arms and promise to never let it happen again.

  But he was silent.

  Tears of frustration and sorrow sprang from her eyes. She stood in the middle of the shop, sobbing.

  ‘Oh baby,’ he said. He came to her and wrapped his arms round her. ‘It was nothing. It was just a thing.’

  ‘Doreen said it was just drinks,’ she said, before he could say something different, something that would really break her heart.

  ‘Yes, yes, that was all it was. But it was stupid and I shouldn’t have let it happen. To be fair, I didn’t know she was your sister.’

  She jumped back. ‘Oh, so if it hadn’t been my sister it would have been all right! If it had been . . . been Janice, that would have been OK?’

  ‘Who’s Janice?’

  ‘My sister’s friend.’

  ‘Oh. Oh no, that’s not a name I know.’ He shook his head. ‘That name means nothing to me.’

  ‘You mean if I found another name, the right name, that might mean something to you! Mary, Gillian, Susan! Any of those mean anything?’

  ‘Oh, baby, no. Look – don’t get all worked up – I was stupid. I’m always stupid.’ He was still holding her tight. Gradually his arms relaxed and he was holding her in the secure, comforting, loving way she recognised and loved.

  ‘And now my dad’s run off with all the money he said he was going to share with us.’

  ‘Oh, baby, that’s terrible.’ He didn’t seem shocked. Perhaps in his world people did that all the time. Her heart sank. Perhaps Doreen had told him.

  ‘And I shan’t be able to keep my job at the College of Art because I shan’t be able to afford the train fare.’

  ‘Oh no! You love that job.’

  ‘So I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back.’ The tears returned and she sobbed into his sweater.

  ‘Oh babe,’ he crooned. He rocked her from side to side. ‘Don’t worry about that. We can deal with that later. Perhaps we can sort something out about the train fares.’ His hand went to his pocket.

  ‘I can’t take any more money from you! I shall be in debt forever. This is the most terrible time of my life. First my dad, then you, and now my job.’

  ‘Hey! Hey!’ he said. ‘Firstly, I haven’t run off and secondly, don’t worry about the debts.’

  She raised her head to protest.

  ‘Pay me when you can, even if it’s ten years from now.’

  ‘Ten years!’ She groaned.

  ‘Or ten months, or ten minutes. Whenever you get things sorted. Tell you what, seeing as the shop is temporarily closed, why don’t we go along to the Saracen’s – it’s
almost our place, isn’t it? – and we can have a coffee.’

  He was being so nice, she felt herself smiling. Then she remembered. ‘You’re not going to give me another bracelet, are you?’ she asked.

  ‘No, no, but I have got some news that I think will cheer you up.’

  ‘What?’ she asked in a flat tone. She was exhausted now, with the anger and the crying and the fear.

  ‘Let’s go and get that coffee, and I’ll show you the letter.’ He tilted her face up to his and kissed her on the nose. ‘I’ll get my coat.’ He went into the back of the shop and came out sliding his arms into a raincoat.

  ‘You look like Harold Wilson,’ she said, dabbing her eyes. She blew her nose.

  He unlocked the shop door and ushered her out. ‘I just need a pipe and I could lead the country,’ he said. ‘And you could be my Barbara Castle and do all sorts of good things for the workers of the world.’

  She knew he was being charming and soothing just to make her feel better, but it did make her feel better. She linked her arm in his and leaned into him as they walked towards the pub.

  Sitting in the pub with their coffee in front of them Gene drew out a letter from inside his coat. He handed it to Angie.

  ‘What is it?’ she said.

  ‘Open it.’

  She looked at the envelope. It was addressed to Gerald Battle at a street in London she’d never heard of. She’d never known his London address. There was a name in the top left hand corner and she saw the words Commissioner of Oaths.

  ‘Open it!’ he repeated.

  She drew out three or four folded sheets of paper. Slowly, she unfolded them, looking up at Gene from time to time.

  ‘Oh, the top one’s just the covering letter.’ He pulled it from her hands. ‘The next page is the one. There, look.’

  She felt it was exciting and important, but it was just a jumble of words. She saw his name. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s my decree nisi!’

  She looked at him, amazed.

  ‘I told you, I’m getting a divorce!’

  Her hand was shaking. ‘How?’

  ‘On the grounds of adultery.’

  Her heart almost stopped. ‘With me?’ She didn’t like the thought of it. She felt afraid.

  ‘No, silly.’

  ‘Not Reen?’

  ‘No, it was all done perfectly properly. I went to Brighton. I told you.’