Tara

by Lesley Pearse

  'Doesn't it look wonderful?' Tara waved her hand towards the new shop front. It was the same maroon as the one in Bethnal Green, but instead of circles painted on the glass this double-fronted shop had round windows and wide double doors with brass fittings. Inside it was still chaos; clothes-rails erected but as yet unfilled, boxes of stock strewn all over the newly fitted carpet.

  'It's a nice place to live.' Harry looked across to Barker's, the big department store down opposite the crossroads. This part of Kensington had all the big stores and countless elegant small shops. 'I'm glad for you, sweetheart, but Paradise Row won't be the same without you.'

  Harry had told George the truth about what had happened that night of the robbery, but they had kept it from Tara. At George's suggestion he'd kept away from both the house and the market and taken a job on a building site out at Ealing.

  Ginger had disappeared. If anyone knew where he was, they weren't talking, but leather coats were appearing all over the place, and just about everyone had been taken in for questioning.

  Harry had been pulled, as had both Needles and Tony soon after the old man died. They had all stuck to the same story about drinking in the Regency, and been released. But he knew the case was far from closed.

  Time and again Harry had been on the point of going into the nick and admitting to his part in the robbery. Each time he thought of that old man, he felt lower than a slug. But he shouldn't feel guilty, he hadn't used the gun. Until he could find Ginger and force him to own up, he wasn't going to put his head on the block.

  Tonight was his last night in London. First he wanted to see Tara settled in her new home, then he was going to find that slag once and for all. The police were closing in now the coats were being pushed out, and it was only a matter of time before Harry's face was in the frame.

  'Come on, then!' Tara slapped at his arm. 'Heaven only knows where your mind is tonight, but I want my stuff moved in.'

  'Slave driver.' Harry pulled himself together. It had been hard enough driving here with Tara firing questions about where he'd been, why he wasn't helping George any more, whether he had a new girl. He didn't want her prising a confession out of him.

  She unlocked the shop door and together they unloaded everything from the van. She had a great deal more than the small rucksack she'd arrived with two years ago – a record player, her own electric sewing machine, a dressmaker's dummy and four huge cardboard boxes of clothes. On top of this was all the stuff Queenie had given her – lamps, bedding, china and saucepans.

  'It's up two flights of stairs,' she warned him as she re-locked the shop door behind them. 'Wait till you see it, Harry! It's so big!'

  Harry smiled. She was like a puppy, gambolling around full of excitement. In jeans and an old T-shirt, with her hair tied up in a pony-tail and no make-up, she looked just the way she had at fourteen.

  They took a box each and Tara led the way out through the back of the shop.

  'That's the stockroom.' She waved one foot towards an empty room, behind a curtained doorway. 'That's the staff room.'

  This part of the building was neglected compared with the shop, with dirty cream walls and bare wood stairs leading up to a square landing with three rooms off it.

  'That's going to be my workroom.' She nodded towards the first empty room right across the front of the shop. 'The other two I don't know about. But upstairs is my place.'

  The stairs from then on were carpeted and the walls marginally cleaner, and sunshine flooded in through the front windows.

  'This is my room!' She ran forward into the front room, dropped her box and flung her arms wide. 'Isn't it wonderful?'

  Harry put his box down and as he stood up arranged his face into the sort of gleeful expression she expected.

  'Yeah, it's wonderful,' he agreed.

  It was a big room, just like the one beneath it, but the ceiling was lower and the two sash windows smaller. It looked very bare to Harry, who was used to cluttered places. It contained just a single divan, a fitted grey carpet, a small table and two upright chairs, but it was newly painted white.

  'You just wait till I've got pictures up, lamps and stuff.' Tara leaped over to the windows and opened them wide to let out the smell of the new carpet and paint. 'I'll invite you round for supper, Harry, that's if you can tear yourself away from your villainy.'

  'Who's been filling your ears with stories?' Harry caught hold of her arm and pulled her round.

  'No-one.' Tara was surprised by his harsh tone. 'Why? Is there something to tell?'

  Harry let go of her arm. He felt daft now, he knew if Tara had heard any whispers she would've told him.

  'No, of course not.' He forced himself to smile. 'Over-reacting, that's all. People are always spreading rumours about me.'

  'I was only teasing, Harry. I don't really see you as a gangster. Now let's get the rest of the stuff up.'

  She found Harry hard to fathom sometimes. There were great areas in his life he never opened up about. He liked people to think he was shallow, that the side he showed the world was all there was. But Tara knew better. He was a deep pool and it would take a very deep plunge to reach the bottom of him.

  'Come and look at the kitchen and bathroom,' she said, wanting him to show a little more enthusiasm. 'Look, isn't it great? A brand new suite all for me.'

  Harry did smile right from the heart at the bathroom. Not so much at the pink suite, but because he knew that she had a quirk about bathrooms, stemming from the days when she didn't have one.

  'It's fantastic.' He slung an arm round her shoulder.

  'It was disgusting the first time I came here.' She wrinkled her pretty nose in disgust. 'It was all cracked and stained and it smelled awful. I don't think Josh really wanted to go to all that expense, but he had to.'

  'He isn't thinking of moving in downstairs, is he?' Harry asked guardedly.

  'No.' Tara gave him a sideways look. 'He took on the lease of a really smart place in Brompton Road just a short while ago. He wouldn't want me cramping his style. Come and see the kitchen!'

  Like the bathroom this was at the back, overlooking the gardens of the big houses in Palace Green. It had new lino on the floor, a sink unit and cooker, and again the walls were painted white.

  'I'm going to put shelves up there.' She pointed to the wall next to the cooker. 'And I'll have to get some cupboards and things. But look at the view!'

  Harry looked out of the long narrow window. Trees obscured the backs of the houses straight ahead. Kensington Palace Hotel stood out to his right, and up here on the second floor he couldn't even hear the traffic above the sound of bird song. All he could think was 'If only'. Tara was setting out on a bright new road, while he was stuck in a hole of his own digging.

  He was silent as he carried up the last few boxes.

  'I'll have that one in here.' Tara came out from the kitchen as he came in with some groceries. 'I've put the kettle on for some tea, or shall we go along to the pub?'

  'Tea, please,' he said, putting down the box. 'You shouldn't be drinking so much, either. You aren't old enough.'

  Tara frowned, turning to look at him.

  'You can talk,' she retorted. 'You were getting legless when you were sixteen. Besides, I'm eighteen and quite old enough.'

  'And I'm a good example of what happens to people that get into 'eavy stuff too young,' he snapped. 'You can get sucked in, you know. Sometimes you get known by the company you keep.'

  He was worried about her living alone. He imagined the other girls in the shop encouraging her to have wild parties up here, and men taking advantage. Back home with Queenie and George she toed the line and came home at a respectable hour, but here it could all change.

  'Are you trying to tell me something?' Tara went over to where he stood at the top of the stairs.

  He was wearing ancient jeans, almost threadbare in parts, and a tight black T-shirt. She could see an inch or two of hard smooth flesh between them and she had an almost irresistible urge to
touch it.

  'I suppose so.' He turned his head away from hers defiantly and in profile his face was beautiful. 'You've changed since you went to work for Josh, you've got very ambitious and kind of hard. I remember the sweet, gentle kid you used to be and it makes me sad.'

  Tara felt a little uncomfortable. She wasn't sure if he'd heard something about her, if he was anxious about her moving in here, or if she really had changed.

  'I'm the same inside. Look at all the things that have happened to me. I had to grow up fast, remember?'

  'Yeah, I know.' Harry put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. 'I suppose I haven't any right to criticise, especially when all you're doing is bettering yourself. I'm just sliding downhill so fast I'm burning a hole in the seat of my pants.'

  'What have you done?' she whispered, aware that the sadness in him wasn't caused by her at all. She had an urge to put her arms round him and hold him tightly, the way he used to do to her.

  'I can't tell you,' he said softly, his blue eyes burning right into hers. 'I'll tell you when it's all straightened.'

  She could see a nerve twitching in his cheek, a look of guilt and sorrow in his eyes.

  'But wouldn't sharing it with me make you feel better? You're like a big brother. I want to help.' She reached out and put her hand on his cheek.

  He sighed deeply, his eyes dropping from hers.

  'I don't feel like big brother any more.' He caught hold of her hand on his cheek and pressed it with his. 'I haven't for some time, Tara, that's partly why I don't come home much.'

  A quiver ran down her spine, she felt the warmth of his hand on hers coursing through her body.

  'You didn't come home because I was there?'

  He nodded, as if the admission were difficult.

  'I wanted you from that day you walked in the gym. I thought if I waited it would pass, but it never did. I watched you going out with other blokes and I hated them. But worst of all was listening to you. talking about Josh. Once he used to envy me because I was bigger and stronger, but now it's the other way round.'

  Tara was shocked. Harry had never ceased to be important to her, especially after the way he handled her affair with Simon. He'd soothed that ache inside her, washed away the dirty feeling with his understanding. Then there were all the people he'd introduced her to, taking her dancing with his friends and showing her around. It had never occurred to her that his visits home had become less frequent because of her.

  'Oh, Harry!' Flashes of that passion she'd had for him when she was fourteen were shooting through her brain. 'Why are you telling me this now?'

  'I don't know.' His voice dropped and his arms moved, his hand going round her waist. 'Maybe just because I'm afraid I won't get another chance.'

  His lips were moving towards hers, those lips she'd once drawn from memory and dreamed of kissing. A light touch, then they moved away, only to come back again, burning against hers with a fierce hunger. One hand lay against the small of her back, holding her tightly against him, the other was on her head, as if he were afraid she would back away.

  There had been many other kisses since Simon, many memorable ones that with the right opportunity might have led to lovemaking. But no man had ever created the all-consuming heat she felt now. Her nipples tingled, her belly contracted and her tongue moved against his.

  It was Harry who drew back first, leaning back against the banisters at the top of the staircase, his hands still on her arms. His blue eyes seemed more brilliant than ever before, his lashes longer, his lips more desirable.

  'You are the most beautiful girl I ever saw,' he said softly. 'I'll be back for you.'

  She reached out and held his face between her hands, a feeling of exquisite tenderness welling up inside her.

  'Are you trying to tell me you're going away?'

  Harry felt the softness of her hands on his cheeks, he could still taste her mouth on his and smell her fresh talcum powder smell. He wanted to imprint every last detail of her on to his mind, so he could recall it if things got bad.

  'I've got to.' There was deep sorrow in his eyes. 'I can't promise anything. I can't even tell you what's happening. Just promise me you won't run off and marry Josh or anyone else?'

  She knew then that he was in serious trouble. Something about him, this conversation, tweaked cobwebs of old memories. Family history was repeating itself and she knew to her cost what came of giving your heart to a man who was in trouble.

  'Promise me, Tara?' he repeated.

  She wanted to, but she knew what it would mean. Putting her life on hold until he reappeared, worrying, wondering.

  'I can't.' She looked him straight in the eye. "There isn't anyone else, but I'm not making promises I don't know I can keep.'

  He kissed her once more. His hard, lean body seemed to merge into her own, his breath become hers and she knew then he would be hard to put aside.

  'Does that look the business or what?' Josh sat up on the counter, a smug smile on his lips.

  It was all ready for opening the next morning. Pressed garments hung on the rails, the windows held wonderful displays of mini skirts and velvet jackets in jewel colours. There wasn't so much as a stray tag on the deep carpet; even the till was ready with a float.

  Otis Redding was singing 'My Girl' on a tape of soul music Josh had prepared, coloured lights flashed on and off round the outside of the windows, creating an almost Christmassy feel, and inside spotlights played on garments displayed on the walls.

  'It's brilliant,' Tara chuckled. 'But I've told you that a hundred times already.'

  Josh had seemed very different in the last few days as they worked together here alone; warmer, and more fun. They had eaten supper together at the pizza place around the corner, laughing about so many things.

  'I hope you're right about girls wearing skirts that short round here,' Josh said.

  'The mini is going to be a sensation.' Tara put her hands on her hips defiantly. 'OK, so most people are only daring to show two inches above the knee so far. But this is Kensington, a place full of show-offs. I don't look ridiculous in mine, do I?'

  Josh grinned. Tara looked wonderful in the short black and white skirt, but then she had perfect legs, and those boots she wore with it gave him a hard-on. But not all girls shared her perfection. She had overcome his qualms by insisting he stocked some of the new tights, in case girls fought shy of revealing so much leg. But he couldn't quite believe mini skirts were going to fly out.

  'You look great,' he said. 'At least they don't take much fabric.'

  'Well, if you've finished admiring everything – ' 'Tara tossed over her shoulder as she made for the door through the back – 'I've got some designs to show you. They're in my room. Come on up and I'll make some tea.'

  Josh halted in surprise as he stepped into the room. Two days ago it had been bare, but already she'd made it homely. A Spanish rug in shades of blue and green covered the bed and she'd draped two lengths of green and gold fabric around the window rather than putting up curtains. Somehow she'd managed to persuade the carpenter who'd fitted out the shop to put up some shelves in here without charging anything extra, and a collection of odd little knick-knacks, from old inkwells to perfume bottles and fans, was arranged on one. The table was covered in more turquoise material, but he could barely see it, or the floor, for several different dresses in various stages of being made up.

  'I didn't expect you to start this soon!' Josh shouted out to her.

  'I had to,' she shouted back above the noise of running water. 'I kept having ideas as I saw people walking past the shop.'

  Josh picked up the sketches from the floor and smiled. The top one was of a trouser suit, the jacket like a Regency frock-coat, trousers flared out at the bottom. Then there was a mini dress, a diamond shape cut out at the navel, a party dress trimmed with a feather boa, and several different short tops, all trimmed with beading, clearly meant to be diaphanous. Tara appeared with two mugs of tea.

  'Well! What do you
think?'

  Josh had already noticed the climate here was very different from Bethnal Green. The girls were tall and leggy, not a bit like the small mods he'd started his career catering for.

  'I like them all,' he said cautiously. 'But aren't they a bit – ' He paused, not knowing the right way to describe them. 'Well, girls can't wear things like this to work!' He sat down on the bed.

  'I don't think girls who shop in Kensington are looking for work clothes.' Tara put the tea down on the floor. 'I've been watching people and they all seem to go for way-out stuff. We won't last long unless we attract the outrageous girls.'

  Josh picked up a gold chiffon bodice and held it up, frowning.

  'Where did you get this material from?'

  'Barker's.' She grinned. "That's the beaded top in the sketch. I knew you wouldn't go for anything so expensive, but I thought I might twist your arm if I made it up for myself.'

  She took it from his hands and held the unfinished top to her chest.

  'Look, it's going to have long, floaty sleeves, and beading to hide all the rude bits. Can't you just imagine it?'

  Josh shook his head.

  'Not for us, too much work,' he said. 'Besides, it would be spoilt with a bra showing through it.'

  'I don't think girls round here worry about bras.' Tara giggled. 'Besides, they sell tops a bit like this one in that shop called Top Drawer, the man in there told me they can't get enough of them, and they're nearly twenty quid.'

  Josh whistled.

  'Anyway, the beading comes in strips,' she carried on. 'It doesn't have to be sewn on by hand. We could try just a few!'

  'I'll reserve my judgment till I've seen it finished.' Josh frowned. 'Don't get carried away, Tara. We need bread and butter lines.'

  To his surprise she didn't argue, just sat down on the floor, picked up the blouse and began pinning the sleeves in.

  'How's Angie?' she asked.

  'OK.' Josh shrugged his shoulders. 'She's taken on a new girl called Rose, they seem to be hitting it off.'