Rags to Riches

by Nancy Carson

  ‘Not half as sorry as me.’

  ‘But even if neither of us has got syphilis, it means we can’t have sex again for at least three months just in case we have…Three months without sex. It’ll kill me.’

  ‘Serves you right, Kenny Wheeler. That’s all I can say. I’m not sure I want sex ever again after this.’

  ‘But it ain’t my fault, Alice. And o’ course, my missus has chucked me out. I’m gonna have to ask Brent Shackleton if I can doss down with him. Mind you, I reckon he’d welcome a lodger.’

  ‘That’s up to him. I know what I’d welcome – a cigarette. Can I have one?’

  He felt in his pocket. ‘I thought you said you didn’t smoke.’

  ‘I think I just started.’

  Brent Shackleton possessed no spare bed, so Kenny Wheeler slept on the threadbare settee that had witnessed so much exotic sport between Eleanor and Stephen Hemming. Brent rose early next morning and, while he made bacon sandwiches for his houseguest and himself, he pondered Maxine Kite and how he imagined he had whet her appetite for him with a couple of stolen kisses.

  ‘Breakfast’s up!’ he called, taking two plates to the table.

  ‘Where?’ Kenny queried.

  ‘In here. I’m not waiting on you.’

  Kenny lumbered into the kitchen lethargically, rubbed his eyes and sat down. He looked at the sandwiches, lifted the top piece of bread from one and cursorily inspected the interior.

  ‘Have you put any sauce on?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t got any sauce.’

  ‘What, no brown sauce? Some bloody boarding house this is.’

  ‘It’ll do for you till we go off to Southampton and the Queen Mary.’ He rubbed his hands together at the prospect. ‘You’ll be able to have as much brown sauce as you like on the Queen Mary. You’ll be able to drown in the stuff. God, I bet you’re glad your wife kicked you out, eh, Kenny? Just think, if she hadn’t you wouldn’t have been able to go. Just think of all those beautiful rich women on that ship. All begging for it. I intend to have me some. That’s all they go for, you know – to get laid. Suit you down to the ground.’ He bit into his sandwich and they fell silent while they ate.

  Kenny had not told Brent that he’d been infected with a venereal disease. Nor would he. He would confess to nobody. The stigma was too immense. As far as Brent was concerned, his poor wife had learned of his encounter with Maxine’s sister because of the van being wrecked in the quarry. Perfectly feasible.

  ‘So,’ Brent ventured, ‘are you seeing Maxine’s sister again?’

  ‘Alice? I doubt it.’

  ‘Why? Wasn’t she worth all the trouble?’

  He shrugged, avoiding Brent’s eyes. ‘Depends how you mean. If you’re asking whether I would ever have got involved with the girl, the answer’s no. If you mean was she worth the effort for one night, the answer’s definitely yes.’

  ‘You had her, then?’

  ‘Course I had her. While me poor van was making its way into the blasted quarry.’

  Brent guffawed and the memory even raised a grin in Kenny at last. He was beginning to see the funny side. His affliction, though, was not providing him with much mirth at all.

  ‘I’ll be bedding Maxine soon,’ Brent remarked casually. ‘She was here yesterday. She didn’t object too strongly to being kissed…’

  ‘Bet you five pounds you don’t,’ Kenny said.

  ‘Okay. You’re on.’

  ‘Alice,’ Charles said, after he’d finished dictating his last letter, which she had taken down using her own concoction of squiggles and shapes that only she could understand. ‘I know you’re not given to perpetual smiles – which is a great pity, for when you do smile your whole demeanour improves – but these last few days you definitely seem to have been a trifle preoccupied and even worried. What’s bothering you, my love? I’ve never known you so distant. Can I help?’

  Alice tried to quell the tears that were ready to flood her eyes. She looked down at her shorthand notebook that was blurred through the haze and a tear trickled down her cheek unchecked. She screwed her eyes up, releasing more tears and Charles got up from his creaky leather chair and walked round his desk that was piled high with files, to hold her and comfort her.

  ‘What is it, my love? Please, you must tell me. A problem shared —’

  ‘Well, it’s a problem shared, Charles, and no two ways…’ she whimpered.

  ‘Tell me.’ He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his, placing her notepad and pencil on his desk. ‘Tell me what it is. I’ll help you all I can. You know I will.’

  ‘Oh, Charles!’ she cried in a great sob. ‘I don’t deserve your kindness. I never have. I’m a slut and I don’t suppose I’ll ever be any different. I have got somethin’ to tell you an’ you ain’t gonna like one bit. In fact, when I’ve told you I shall go…an’ you’ll never see me again. You won’t want to see me again – ever.’

  ‘So what is this calamity?’ he asked quietly, rubbing the backs of her hands affectionately with his thumbs, bracing himself for the worst his limited imagination could concoct.

  ‘I’ve got the clap…’ She shrugged her shoulders and sighed deeply to emphasise the hopelessness of her despair, while Charles looked at her with open-mouthed incredulity. ‘I’ve been with another chap and he gave me the clap.’

  ‘You’re not trying to kid me, are you Alice?’

  ‘Would I kid you about somethin’ like this?’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you would. So who is this chap?’ He let go her hands as if they were covered in oozing sores.

  ‘It don’t matter who he is, Charles. It’s done. You can’t change nothin’.’ She pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes.

  He got up from his knees and walked back to his chair. ‘That means I have it, too, I imagine?’

  ‘It’s a racin’ certainty.’

  He stood by his chair and faced the window, silent for a few seconds, trying to compose himself. ‘God, how demeaning. How damned embarrassing. You know, I thought it peculiar this morning when I got up and had a pee. Burned, it did. Awful. That explains it. Have you been to the doctor’s?’

  She nodded.

  ‘So it’s all confirmed?’

  She nodded again.

  A lorry carrying a load of coal trundled past the window and backfired. Charles barely noticed it, but Alice nearly jumped out of her skin.

  ‘Oh, well…That’ll put you out of action for a while, Alice. Serve you right, too. I always knew you had to be a bit on the wayward side, but I nurtured the hope that I’d offered you enough to temper your ways…Obviously not.’

  ‘I suppose you don’t want me workin’ here any longer, Charles?’

  ‘Well, it would make things rather…strained,’ he agreed.

  ‘All right, I’ll go. I said I would. I’ll go right away. I’ll just collect my things. Thanks for not getting angry about it. I thought you would.’

  ‘Not angry? Actually, Alice, I’m bloody seething.’

  Plans for the band’s season on the Queen Mary began in earnest, since the ship was due to sail on Wednesday 4th November. Everybody, with the exception of Maxine, had applied for a passport and Brent had to ensure that their dues to the Musicians’ Union were all fully paid up. He had confirmed to Seth Cohen that the band was available, although he deliberately failed to tell him that they would be only a six-piece by the time they embarked, even though the accommodation aboard ship was reserved for seven people. Brent was still hoping to persuade Maxine to join them. He had even considered having a quiet, man-to-man chat with Howard, to get him to release her from her promise to stay close to him. On second thoughts, though, he decided such a request would be hypocritical, since he didn’t like the man anyway and only spoke to him under sufferance. To seek favours from him at this late stage, especially favours that would deprive him of his woman, would seem inordinately cavalier, even by Brent’s standards.

  One rehearsal day, Brent invited
Maxine to the White Hart in Paradise Street at lunchtime in a last ditch effort to persuade her.

  ‘The band will be useless without you,’ he told her, in an earnest endeavour to appeal to both her vanity and her conscience. ‘The rest of them won’t have their hearts in it – and not just me. Our performance is bound to suffer. I know it will. I mean, I’ve never heard anybody play stride piano like you. How do you think we’ll sound without that? All that syncopation. There’ll be a big hole in the sound. And who’ll be able to sing love songs like you?’

  ‘Pansy,’ Maxine replied. ‘I told you.’

  ‘She can’t do it like you. I told you.’ Sitting side by side at a table, he took her hand and she made no effort to withdraw it. ‘I’ll be honest, Maxine, I’m inclined to call the whole thing off…’

  ‘No, Brent, that’s blackmail. I’m not going to fall for that. Besides, you can’t back out now. The contract’s signed. You have your passports and all that paraphernalia. And you certainly can’t let Seth Cohen down. You’d be blacklisted everywhere the moment you backed out.’

  ‘But there’s no point in us going without you.’

  ‘Yes there is, and stop being pathetic. I’m just one member of the band. One member you can actually do without.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Maxine. We can’t do without you.’

  She removed her hand from his. ‘I’ve given my word, Brent, and I won’t go back on it. I admit, I would love to go to New York, that it’ll be the adventure of a lifetime. If I was unattached I’d jump at the chance, you know I would, but I’m prepared to forego it all for Howard’s sake. I’m sorry, Brent. I’m not going to change my mind. Wouldn’t I be fickle if I did?’

  ‘So Sunday is going to be the last time you play with The Owls and the Pussycats?’

  ‘Yes…Unfortunately.’

  And before they knew it, Sunday 1st November had arrived. Howard did not accompany Maxine to the Gas Street Basin Jazz Club because of a diocesan meeting, but he was due to join her when it finished. It was a night of mixed emotions. The rest of the band were excited at the prospect of their Queen Mary adventure but sad that Maxine was leaving. She had made her mind up and was not going to be moved.

  ‘Oh, Maxine, we shall miss you,’ Pansy pleaded in the dressing room after they had finished. ‘I do wish you were coming with us. You’d be my room-mate on the ship. Just think of the lovely time we’d have.’

  ‘But you’ve got Toots,’ Maxine replied. ‘If I came, Howard would still be at home and I’d be miserable because I’d want to be with him. I’d miss him terribly, I know I would. It wouldn’t be any fun for me, Pansy, and I wouldn’t be much fun for you.’

  ‘You’ve got it proper bad, haven’t you, Maxine?’

  Maxine sighed and buttoned up the blouse she was wearing. ‘Yes, I admit it. But I can’t help how I feel. I’m happy. I’ve never been so happy. Howard is everything to me. And I’m everything to him. Do you understand why I can’t go, Pansy?’

  ‘Yes, I think I do,’ she answered quietly. ‘He’s lovely, is Howard, and I think you’re very lucky. I don’t blame you for wanting to hold on to him.’

  ‘I knew you’d understand.’

  ‘Well, wish us all the best of luck, eh, Maxine? I daresay we’ll need it.’

  ‘I do. You know I do. But it should be fun.’

  Pansy nodded. ‘Yes, it should be fun.’

  The two girls looked at each other, each certain that the other was going to burst into tears. They hugged each other in a sisterly embrace.

  ‘I wish you all the luck in the world,’ Maxine said over Pansy’s shoulder, her voice thin with emotion.

  ‘You too, Maxine. Look after yourself.’

  ‘I will. And don’t forget to send me a postcard from New York. I want to know everything that goes on.’

  ‘I promise.’

  They said their goodbyes and the others, in turn, all gave her a kiss on the cheek as they left her waiting for Howard. Except Brent. Brent stayed with her until Howard arrived. It had started to drizzle and the miserable autumn weather matched Maxine’s mood.

  ‘I shan’t see you anymore,’ Brent said poignantly as they stood outside on that cold November night.

  She felt tears sting her eyes again. ‘I hope we can keep in touch. After all, we’ve shared a lot together. We’ve been good friends, Brent. Very good friends.’ She took out her handkerchief to stem her tears. ‘God, why do I keep crying? I hate saying goodbye.’

  He put his arm around her to comfort her and drew her to him. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’

  She allowed his show of affection, resting her head on his shoulder, trying hard to stop herself weeping. His consoling gesture only induced her to weep more, however. It was such a sad moment leaving these friends she had got to know so well; these friends whose company she enjoyed, whose musical expertise she admired so much.

  ‘It’s breaking my heart to see you all go, Brent.’ She raised her head and looked into his eyes and, unemotional as he normally was, her sorrow seemed to touch him.

  ‘Come with us then,’ he pleaded.

  ‘I can’t. You know I can’t.’

  He unhanded her at the same moment that Howard’s car came into view, turning the corner from Broad Street.

  ‘Look, Howard’s here,’ she said. ‘Write to me, won’t you…Let me know how you’re getting on…Goodbye, Brent.’ She stood on tip-toe, gave him a brief kiss on the lips and turned to go. She boarded Howard’s car and waved to Brent as he walked away.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ Howard said, effecting a three-point turn. ‘But at least Brent’s been keeping you company, by the looks of it.’

  She looked at him to see if his face showed any resentment of the fact. But all she detected was a self-satisfied expression. Yet he must have seen her kiss Brent goodbye. Then again, Howard was not of a jealous nature.

  ‘Just saying goodbye, Howard…Oh, Howard, I feel so sad. I probably won’t ever see any of them again.’

  ‘You’ve been crying…’ He turned the steering wheel to enter Broad Street.

  She wiped her tears again. ‘I have. I’ll be all right in a minute.’

  ‘It’s always so hard to say goodbye to close friends. In any case, you’ll keep in touch, won’t you?’

  ‘I intend to. Who knows? I might even end up playing with them again when they come back – if they ever come back…’ She tried to compose herself. ‘So how did your meeting go?’

  ‘Oh, brilliant. Brilliant, Maxine,’ he said with a smile of self-satisfaction.

  ‘It must have done. I’ve never seen you looking so smug. So what was it all about? Can you tell me?’

  He slowed down to negotiate the junction at Five Ways. ‘Yes, I can tell you. I’m going to have to tell you, since it affects you. I’ve been offered a new living and I’ve accepted. I’m to become a vicar.’

  ‘A vicar?’ She turned to look at him, proud that he should have achieved this step-up so soon. ‘That’s brilliant, Howard. God, you must be thrilled to pieces.’ And didn’t it fall just nicely with the cessation of her jazz band activities?

  ‘I am. It’ll mean an increase in my stipend, a whole vicarage to live in – a whole new responsibility.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so proud of you, Howard. So how long have you known this was going to happen?’

  ‘A few weeks now.’

  ‘So why on earth didn’t you tell me before?’

  ‘I wanted to keep it a surprise until it was all cut and dried. Now it is. I must say, it’s all turning into a bit of a rush. I take up my new living a week today.’

  ‘So soon? You’ll have your work cut out getting everything ready. Still, I can help. It’s not as if you’re having to move a whole household. Just you and a few chattels.’

  ‘Even so, it’ll take a few trunks to get all my stuff packed.’

  ‘But you’ll get it all in your car. If not one journey, then a couple at most.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Maxine. A
nything I can’t take in the car will have to go by rail.’

  ‘By rail? Crikey, where are you going to, for heaven’s sake? Timbuktu?’

  He changed down a gear to negotiate the Crossroads at Bearwood. ‘Remember the fairground over there in Lightwoods Park I took you to, Maxine?’ he said. ‘The first time we went out together.’

  ‘Of course I remember, Howard…So where are you moving to? You haven’t answered me.’

  ‘Oh, sorry – Norfolk.’

  ‘Norfolk?’ she repeated incredulously. The very word was a dagger stabbing her in the heart, then twisting to aggravate the hurt. ‘But Norfolk is on the other side of England, Howard. Miles away.’

  ‘It’s not so far.’

  ‘Of course it is. How shall we get to see each other?’

  ‘Well, by train. You’ll come and stay whenever you can, I hope, until such time as we can think seriously about getting married…I assume we shall get married at some time. I hope so at any rate.’

  Contemplating marriage at some time in the future was all well and good, but this news did not augur well for their immediate love life.

  ‘And do you think your parishioners might not have something to say about a young woman staying at the vicarage from time to time with their new vicar? Don’t you think your housekeeper would talk? Don’t you think something might be said?’

  ‘Gosh, I hadn’t thought about that, Maxine,’ he responded naïvely. ‘Maybe you’d better stay in an hotel when you come.’

  They fell bizarrely quiet.

  The initial buzz of pleasure she’d felt at his news abruptly dispersed like steam in a wind. She needed to ponder this a few minutes more.

  They turned onto the Birmingham New Road. The factory chimneys of Oldbury slipped by on their right, still spewing columns of smoke that were denser than the drizzling night sky. What had brought about this discrepancy in their mutual hopes, in their dreams that were no longer synchronised? Maxine needed a second or two to translate what she was feeling into more coherent thoughts. But her first perceptions were that she felt unwanted, betrayed and apprehensive about their future.

  Five minutes later they turned into Gypsy Lane, the steep climb seemed endless by the feeble street lights. In another two or three minutes they would be at Willowcroft.