Fire

by Deborah Challinor

  And Agnes felt guilty, although she wasn’t about to admit that to anyone, not even Harold, Daisy’s father. If she had taken Daisy aside when her monthlies had started and explained to her about how these things worked—about how you could get into trouble so easily and that was why you shouldn’t tempt fate at all, at least, not until you were safely married—all this might have been avoided. But she hadn’t. She hated talking about that sort of thing almost as much as she hated doing it, which, thank God, Harold had finally accepted. So she had hoped, prayed even, that Daisy would be bright enough to just not get herself into that situation. But she hadn’t been. A part of Agnes wanted to take her little blonde Daisy in her arms and cuddle her and tell her it would all be all right, but then she didn’t want to touch her at all because she had been so…deliberately wanton.

  So she said nothing, just kept on with making the fresh pot of tea.

  ‘I’m getting the material for my dress today,’ Daisy said, feeling her mother’s hostility and wanting to say something—anything—to gain her approval. She shuffled her chair further under the table so her mother couldn’t see the firm lump of her belly. ‘And Terry said he’s happy to wear a morning suit. You can hire them from work, you know, really smart ones.’

  Agnes nodded in grim satisfaction. ‘No, I didn’t think he’d actually own one.’

  Well, how many people actually do? Daisy wanted to say. ‘He’s not that keen on the top hat, though,’ she added, and waited for the heavy scowling silence that meant her mother didn’t approve.

  But it didn’t come. Agnes sat down at the table. ‘They can be ostentatious, top hats, especially when the ceremony is only going to be in a small church. At St Andrew’s, perhaps, but you’re not getting married at St Andrew’s.’

  Heartened, Daisy said, ‘I thought we could start cutting out the material tonight. If we made space in the sitting room we could do it in there.’

  Agnes actually smiled, happy to be able to say something to Daisy that didn’t convey her disappointment and disapproval. ‘Yes, we could, couldn’t we? But you’ll have to come straight home from work because I expect it will take us half the night, with the amount of fabric in that skirt.’

  Daisy looked at her mother, feeling a tiny glimmer of hope that things might, after all, be all right. ‘Oh, I will, Mum, I’ll come straight home, I promise.’

  ‘Hurry up, sweetheart, you’ll make us late for work,’ Louise said to Susan, who was playing with her Weet-bix, shunting the last few soggy mouthfuls around her bowl.

  ‘Sir Edmund Hirraly eats Weet-bix,’ Susan announced.

  ‘Hillary, Edmund Hillary,’ Louise corrected as she put away the last of the breakfast things. ‘Come on, we have to go in a minute.’

  Susan scooped up her Weet-bix, shoved it in her mouth, swallowed and smiled. ‘See, I knocked the bastard off!’

  ‘Susan!’ Louise looked up as Rob came into the kitchen. ‘Did you hear that?’

  Laughing, Rob said, ‘I wonder where she got that from?’

  ‘Dad, probably,’ Louise said, smiling herself now. ‘He’s been saying it ever since Hillary climbed Everest.’

  Rob collected his lunch-box from the bench. ‘Are we right?’

  ‘Got to brush my teeth,’ Susan said as she climbed down from her chair. ‘Grandma says they’ll fall out like hers if I don’t brush them.’

  ‘They will, too,’ Rob said.

  ‘An’ then I’ll have to go to the murder house!’

  ‘Honestly, where does she get this stuff?’ Louise asked when Susan had disappeared into the bathroom.

  Rob shrugged. ‘You know what kids are like.’

  ‘I know what my father’s like. I’ll have to have a word.’

  Louise’s father, Neville Bourke, delighted in his small granddaughter. He took her for walks and to the park and down to the shops, and thought her three-year-old observations of other people and of life in general were hilarious. At the moment, he was teaching her the fine art of doing armpit farts.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, love. Susan thinks the sun shines out of him. And they have fun together. They’re OK.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Louise said grudgingly. ‘What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?’

  Although she caught the tram home after work because of Rob’s often late hours at the garage, he always took her into town in the morning on his way in, the pair of them dropping Susan off at Louise’s parents’ on the way. Usually she was first home, and tonight she was planning to cook Rob’s favourite meal because it was his birthday: mashed potatoes, peas and a nice piece of steak, with apple crumble and cream for pudding.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, his eyes twinkling. ‘Will there be something tasty waiting for me?’

  ‘There might be, if you’re good.’

  Rob grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him. ‘And will there be a nice tea as well?’

  ‘Oh, get away!’ Louise said, laughing and pushing him gently.

  ‘That’s mean, Mummy,’ Susan said from the doorway.

  ‘We’re just playing, love,’ Rob said, pinching Louise’s bottom as she turned away from him.

  She jumped, but kept a more-or-less straight face. ‘Have you got everything? Your spare pants? Peter?’

  Peter was Susan’s precious toy rabbit, once white and sporting pale yellow overalls, but now naked and almost grey from excessive cuddling and washing, despite frequent applications of Reckitt’s Blue in the rinse water.

  Susan held up her pink plastic satchel.

  ‘Good, let’s go then,’ Rob said, fishing in his pocket for the keys to his truck.

  Louise locked the back door behind them and five minutes later they arrived at her parents’ house. The truck idling, Rob waited at the kerb while she took Susan inside.

  Her little shoes making a racket on the lino, Susan pounded into the kitchen yelling, ‘Grandma, Grandpa! I knocked the—’

  ‘That’ll do, sweetie,’ Louise said as her mother appeared.

  ‘An’ I got a new Buzzy Bee at the Bundar & Jones picnic!’ Susan opened her satchel and held up the toy. ‘The wings go round and make a clackity noise, see?’

  ‘Isn’t that lovely,’ Marion said admiringly. ‘And it’s got a string. You could pull it up and down the path outside, couldn’t you?’

  ‘No, it can go on the floor as well!’ Susan insisted, putting the Buzzy Bee down and whizzing it around and around so that its wings clacked furiously.

  ‘I take it she enjoyed the work do, then?’ Marion said to Louise.

  ‘Had a great time, especially when Santa turned up. And she won the under-fives’ egg-and-spoon and got a little present for that as well.’

  ‘Well, that was a good haul,’ Marion observed, ‘accidentally’ standing on Buzzy Bee’s string to shut it up. ‘Will you be back at the usual time?’

  ‘Gran, you’re treading on Buzzy Bee!’

  ‘Ooh, so I am! Tell you what, let’s put him up on the table to keep him safe, shall we?’

  ‘It’s a girl bee.’

  Louise said, ‘I won’t be late. It’s Rob’s birthday, remember.’

  ‘All right, I’ll see you then.’ Marion gave her a peck on the cheek.

  Louise bent down to Susan, who was sidling up to the table to retrieve her toy. ‘Bye, sweetie,’ she said. ‘See you tonight, all right? Be good for Grandma.’

  ‘Bye, Mummy.’

  ‘Let’s go out to the gate and wave goodbye to Mum and Dad, shall we?’ Marion suggested.

  Buzzy Bee temporarily forgotten, Susan nodded vigorously. Waving was one of her favourite things at the moment: she’d been practising and practising for when the queen came to visit all the little children.

  As Louise and Rob drove off, Marion lifted Susan up and held her as she waved madly after the retreating truck.

  ‘Bye, Daddy!’ she yelled. ‘Bye, Mummy!’

  As Allie got off the bus then dodged through the traffic across to Dunbar & Jones, she wondered if Sonny w
as at work yet. She was very tempted to sneak around to the narrow lane at the back of the building to see if his motorbike was parked there, but decided against it. She would see him soon enough, she hoped.

  ‘Good morning, Sunshine!’ Ted Horrocks said, standing just inside the big glass doors and tipping his cap to her. ‘Another marvellous summer’s day and only four more left until we all get a nice bit of time off!’

  ‘That’ll be lovely, won’t it?’ Allie agreed. ‘Going away?’

  ‘Only up to Waipu, as usual,’ Ted said. ‘My brother lives up there and we’re always welcome. Lovely spot. And yourself?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think I’ll just wait and see what happens.’

  ‘Probably a wise move. See what that young man of yours is up to, eh?’

  Startled, Allie said, ‘How do you know about that?’

  Ted winked. ‘You don’t get to be commissionaire in a store this size without developing good observation skills. And I wish you all the best. Seems a nice lad, that Sonny.’

  ‘He is,’ Allie said, feeling a wide, silly smile spreading across her face. ‘See you later!’

  Ted tipped his cap again as she raced off towards the escalator, waving at the hosiery, scarves and cosmetics girls as she went. Alighting on the first floor she caught sight of Louise in lingerie, straightening the boxes of undergarments that lined the high shelves behind the counter. She waved but didn’t stop, knowing it would make her late.

  As always, Miss Willow was already at work in the dress department, putting out extra stock for the last, hectic week before Christmas. Rhonda was already in as well, following Miss Willow around, her arms piled high with skirts and blouses.

  ‘Good morning, Allie,’ Miss Willow said. ‘Recovered from yesterday?’

  ‘The three-legged race, you mean?’ Allie pulled the hem of her dress up to her knees, revealing a small, red graze. ‘I expect I’ll live.’

  ‘Well, at least we kept the trophy, so it wasn’t in vain. Beatrice and I enjoyed ourselves.’

  ‘Yes, it was fun, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Unfortunately, however, it’s back to work today. I’d like you to help Rhonda to finish putting out this stock, please, then we’ll have a look and see if we need to bring anything else out. I’m expecting us to be very busy this week, especially from Wednesday onwards while Her Majesty is in town, and I don’t want to be running backwards and forwards replenishing shelves and racks.’

  Allie tucked her handbag under the counter and got to work. At ten to nine, just before Ted opened the store’s doors to the public, Sonny appeared at the top of the escalator, making Allie’s heart leap when she caught sight of him.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart,’ he said.

  Rhonda heard, tittered and went pink.

  ‘Hi, Sonny,’ Allie replied, delighted to see him but very aware that she was supposed to be working.

  Sonny looked casually around, as though he had all day, then leaned on the counter.

  ‘Busy tonight?’

  Allie was very tempted to say no, but she was. ‘I promised Mum I’d help her do the mince pies for Christmas.’

  ‘Those ones with the fruit and all that?’ Sonny said. ‘I’m really good at those. D’you think she’d like some extra help?’

  Allie looked at him sceptically.

  ‘No, I am,’ he insisted. ‘I find that if you put in extra cinnamon, and brazil nuts as well as almonds, you can’t miss.’

  Allie could feel Miss Willow standing behind her, and she knew she was smiling.

  ‘Don’t forget about the suet,’ Miss Willow said. ‘If you don’t get that right, you might as well not bother.’

  ‘Too right,’ Sonny agreed, nodding like a jack-in-the-box. ‘Nothing worse than when the mince sticks to the roof of your mouth. It has to melt,’ he added, drawing the word out and doing a theatrical little flourish with his hand.

  Trying very hard not to laugh, Allie said, ‘All right then, come around if you like. But I warn you, Mum’s a bit precious about her mince pies. She might not take to you handing out advice like…like someone who makes better ones than she does. And anyway, where did you learn how to make Christmas mince?’

  ‘From my mate Willie, the battery cook in South Korea. And if your mum tells me to stick his world-famous recipe…back in my pocket, I will.’

  Allie did laugh then. ‘Will you be at morning tea?’

  ‘Nah. Me and Hori have to deliver a sideboard to Epsom at eleven, so we probably won’t be back ‘til lunch. But I’ll see you then, eh?’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Allie said.

  Sonny blew her a kiss, and it was her turn to go pink.

  ‘I just think it was a really mean thing to do,’ Daisy said, dunking her biscuit into her cup of tea and trying to keep her voice down so no one at the surrounding tables would hear. ‘I mean, I know Irene’s an awful flirt, but I never thought she’d, you know, go that far. Especially not with poor Martin right there!’

  Louise and Daisy had spotted Vince Reynolds lurking in the bushes behind the toilets at the Domain, and when Irene had swanned past them as they’d come out they’d put two and two together. Louise thought it was utterly disgraceful.

  ‘I don’t understand her,’ she said. ‘Martin’s a perfectly nice bloke. Well, he’d have to be, wouldn’t he, to put up with her shenanigans? So why does she have to carry on like that? And particularly with someone as revolting as Vince bloody Reynolds! What’s wrong with her? Lots of women would kill to have a lovely bloke like Martin.’

  Allie could see that Louise was really upset, and knew it was because she actually liked Irene—when she wasn’t behaving like a tart.

  ‘Do you think it’s because she’s dissatisfied?’ Daisy asked.

  ‘Dissatisfied?’ Louise snapped. ‘How the hell could she be dissatisfied? She’s got a good job with prospects, a freehold home, a car that doesn’t leak when it rains. It’s more than a lot of us have got.’

  ‘Well, she likes to be the centre of attention, doesn’t she, and maybe she isn’t, with Martin. Maybe she needs more.’

  Allie and Louise stared at Daisy, startled at the depth of her perception. It wasn’t like her at all.

  ‘Too bad,’ Louise said bluntly. ‘Nobody ever gets everything they want, do they? And she’ll have even less if Martin ever finds out.’

  After a long silence, Allie spoke up: ‘He already knows.’ And she told them about what he’d said at the picnic.

  Daisy’s eyes filled with tears. ‘That’s really sad. Poor Martin.’

  ‘And she knows he knows?’ Louise was appalled. ‘God, what a bitch.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Allie said. ‘And I think he’s too frightened to confront her about it in case she packs up and leaves him.’

  Daisy sniffed loudly. ‘He must really love her. That’s so sad.’

  ‘Oh, shut up, Daisy,’ Louise said, though there was no malice in it. ‘But you’re right, it is sad.’

  ‘But what can we do about it?’ Allie hated to think that everyone might not be as in love with life as she now was. ‘Shall we talk to her about it?’

  ‘No,’ Louise replied, lighting a cigarette. ‘We won’t. Because it’s none of our business, it’s for Irene and Martin to sort out. It’s their marriage.’

  Daisy looked up. ‘Shssh, here she comes.’

  Weaving her way through the cafeteria tables, Irene pulled up a seat, set her cup of tea and a cheese scone on the table, and sat down.

  ‘What?’ she said as she noticed the others looking at her. Except for Louise, who was pointedly staring in the opposite direction. ‘Have I got something stuck in my teeth?’

  ‘No,’ Daisy said hurriedly. ‘We were just, um, drinking our tea.’

  ‘You’re a hopeless liar, Daisy,’ Irene said. The moment she’d sat down she’d felt something, a coldness, coming from the other girls. No, not a coldness, more an air of, well, mistrust. ‘Right, what’s going on?’ she demanded.

  This was the las
t thing she needed. She had letters to type piled up to the ceiling on her desk, Martin had hardly said anything at all to her last night, just moped around with that wounded look he got sometimes but insisting that nothing was wrong whenever she asked—and on top of all that she felt guilty about what she’d done yesterday. And because she felt guilty she’d started doubting herself, asking herself whether she did actually deserve to have or feel anything good, and when that happened, as always, she needed reassurance. She hoped Vince would be around at lunchtime.

  ‘We saw you and Vince yesterday,’ Daisy blurted.

  The blood drained from Irene’s face for a second, then rushed back, staining her cheeks pink.

  ‘Daisy!’ Allie exclaimed, appalled.

  ‘I don’t like there being secrets,’ Daisy said, her voice wobbling. ‘We’re all supposed to be friends, aren’t we? Secrets ruin everything.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Irene said, and it sounded a particularly feeble denial even to her own ears.

  Louise angrily ground out her cigarette in the ashtray. ‘Oh, come off it, Irene, you do so. It’s not on. Flirting’s one thing, but having an affair’s another. And if we all know, who else does? Martin’s bound to find out. And you’ll lose your job.’

  Instantly on the defensive, Irene snapped back, ‘He’ll only find out if someone tells him. I suppose that’s going to be you, is it?’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ Louise said. ‘But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry if it bothers you, Miss High and Mighty, but it’s actually none of your business. Or yours, or yours,’ Irene added to Allie and Daisy, who leaned back in their chairs, shocked at the vehemence in her words.

  The people at the next table turned around and Irene lowered her voice.

  ‘Don’t you dare judge me! You’ve got no idea what it’s like going home to someone like Martin, sitting there watching him doing bloody paperwork night after night before he stumbles off to bed early, and then having to lie there listening to him snore his head off because he’s out for the count! Have you? I bet you don’t. It’s boring, that’s what it is.’ After a second, she added, ‘And it’s lonely.’