Her Last Promise

by Kathryn Hughes

  ‘Leave this to me, Tara.’

  The jeweller drummed his fingers on the glass case, then searched his drawer for a pad and pencil. He lifted the pencil and dabbed the nib onto his tongue, before scribbling some figures down. He frowned then gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Twenty-eight, but I’ll engrave a message on the back for free.’

  Alf extended his hand. ‘Done.’

  ‘Alf, I can’t afford that much.’

  ‘Just give me the ten, Tara. I’ll make up the rest.’

  ‘But it’ll take me months to pay you back.’

  ‘Tara, you pay me back every single day. You and yer mum have brightened up my life no end. Just hearing the two of you laughing together, or Violet singing in the bath, it’s a treat, I can tell you. The acoustics in that bathroom, well, it’s like she’s singing at the Free Trade Hall.’ He patted his stomach. ‘And look at this. I’ve put on at least a stone since I’ve been eatin’ proper like. It’s no fun cooking for one.’

  The jeweller cleared his throat. ‘Erm, if I may interrupt for a minute.’ He thrust the note pad across the counter. ‘If you could just write down the message you’d like engraving on the back.’

  ‘Go on then, Tara,’ urged Alf. ‘Before he changes his mind.’

  22

  The morning light sneaked through the gap in the curtains, casting a dagger of sunshine across the carpet. The open window allowed the blackbird’s song to intrude on his thoughts. Larry hated the dawn chorus, but she liked to sleep with the window open and he would do anything for her. He clamped the pillow over his head but the birds seemed to compete with each other and the resulting crescendo had him leaping out of bed to close the window on the irritating avian choir.

  She stirred under the covers as he crept back into bed beside her. She had her back to him but he curled his body round hers, moved her hair to one side and kissed the top of her shoulder. ‘Morning, beautiful.’

  She reached behind and tugged at his hair. ‘Mmm . . . what time is it?’ Her voice was thick with sleep, giving it an even more seductive edge.

  He ignored the question and instead traced his finger down her spine.

  She wriggled under his touch and turned to face him. ‘Oh, Larry.’

  He eased her onto her back and climbed on top, her body pinned helplessly beneath his as he kissed her neck. ‘Larry, we need to talk.’

  ‘No, we don’t, Carol. Please not now.’

  She gripped his shoulders and spoke more firmly. ‘Larry, stop it.’

  He propped himself up on his hands and gazed down at her flushed face. ‘I knew you’d come back, Carol. I always knew it.’

  ‘Larry,’ she whispered. ‘Last night was a mistake. I should never have come round.’

  He flopped back down to his side of the bed, the satin sheets twisted around his legs. ‘But you did, Carol, you did come round and more to the point you’re still here.’ He reached for her hand. ‘And what we had, it’s all still there, isn’t it? Nothing’s changed. You may wear my brother’s ring but it’s me you love.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Carol? It’s me you love, not Martin.’

  She sat up, swung her legs out of bed and placed her head in her hands. Larry crouched beside her hunched form. ‘Carol?’

  Yesterday’s mascara framed her eyes. ‘It shouldn’t have happened, Larry. I was upset. Martin said some terrible things but he does that when he’s been drinking. And I’m not completely blameless myself. I know which buttons to press to get him riled.’

  He glanced at the empty champagne bottles on the bedside cabinet, the two crystal glasses, one still adorned with Carol’s red lipstick. ‘But I thought . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry, Larry.’ She reached for the sheet and wrapped it round her naked body. ‘What time’s your ferry?’

  ‘What? This evening, but I’m not going now, not after this.’

  ‘This . . . this isn’t anything, Larry. We’re over. I’ve moved on and so have you.’

  ‘Violet? She’s nothing compared to you. You’re the one I love, always will.’

  She leaned back on the pillow, reaching for her cigarettes. She spoke to him through the haze of smoke. ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘I want to know . . . really.’

  He took a long drag of her cigarette. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Is she beautiful?’

  He passed the cigarette back and forced himself to think about Violet. Her hair a mass of dark bouncy waves, her skin as smooth as an eggshell, her waist the diameter of a Barbie doll’s. Her infectious laugh never far from the surface. ‘Yes, she is.’

  Carol blew out a puff of smoke, tapping some ash into an empty champagne glass. ‘Does she make you happy?’

  ‘Not as happy as you make me,’ he said, sliding his hand under the sheets.

  He knew Violet deserved better. He’d made her all kinds of promises he couldn’t possibly keep, but how was he to know she would fall for him? He’d used her as a distraction, a mechanism for getting over Carol which had almost worked. Except Carol was now lying naked in his bed.

  23

  ‘Right, have we got everything?’ Violet scanned her list and began to rattle off the essentials in rapid succession. ‘Passports, money, toothbrush, sunglasses, sun cream.’ She picked up the Ambre Solaire and unscrewed the cap, thrusting the bottle under Tara’s nose. ‘Ooh, smell that, our Tara. It’s like sunshine in a bottle, that is. I can’t wait until I’m pegged out on me towel, skin all glistening with oil, turning a lovely golden brown.’

  ‘Mmm . . . like a sausage on a barbecue, you mean.’

  Violet regarded her daughter’s wan face. ‘It wouldn’t do you any harm to get some colour into them cheeks either.’

  ‘Will it be really hot, do you think?’

  Violet stuffed another bikini into her case. ‘Yes, of course it’ll be hot. Like it was here a couple of years ago, hotter probably, but at least we’ll have the sea to go in. We won’t need to rely on a paddling pool in the back garden.’

  ‘Do you think Alf’ll be alright on his own?’

  Violet stopped folding a t-shirt and let it drop to the bed. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, love. It’s only three weeks and he was OK before we came along.’

  ‘But what about when we get back? Do you think Larry will finally ask us to move in with him?’

  Violet absently rubbed at the third finger of her left hand. The excitement caught in her throat and her reply came out as a girlish squeal. ‘I really think he will, Tara. Won’t that be fantastic though? You’ll have your own bedroom, perhaps even your own little lounge if we can persuade Larry to shift his pool table. Oh, don’t look so glum, Tara. You’ll be able to get a record player, have your mates round and Tom of course. It’ll be fun, the three of us living together. We’ll be a family.’

  ‘But I’m not sure he likes me, Mum. There’s something weird about him.’

  ‘Stop it, Tara,’ Violet snapped, picking up the t-shirt and making a haphazard attempt to fold it. ‘I’m not listening to this nonsense again. Larry adores you. He wouldn’t be taking you on holiday with us if he didn’t.’

  A hesitant tap at the door made them both turn around.

  ‘Come in,’ said Violet.

  Tom stuck his head round the door. ‘Need any help with your cases?’

  ‘Ooh, you’re a good lad, Tom.’ Violet closed the lid on her bulging suitcase and sat down on top of it. ‘Tara, do the catches up, will you?’

  They waited out on the street, the early morning sunshine not quite strong enough to have any impact on the temperature.

  Alf clutched his arms across his chest. ‘Brrr . . . it’s a bit nippy for May, in’t it?’

  ‘You go in, Alf,’ said Violet. ‘No need for you to wait out here catching your death.’

  ‘Erm, I’m good for a few years yet, Violet Dobbs, thank you very much. And anyway, I want to wave you off.’

  Tom took hold of Tara’s hand and pull
ed her to one side. ‘I’ll miss you.’

  She managed a smile. ‘Good, you better had.’

  He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face towards his. ‘Bye, Tara.’ He landed a soft kiss on her lips, lingering there for so long she was sure Violet and Alf would have felt compelled to avert their eyes in embarrassment.

  ‘Bye, Tom.’ She hugged him hard, burying her nose in his freshly laundered t-shirt, absorbing every detail of him and committing them to memory, terrified she would forget him.

  Violet bounced on the balls of her feet like an impatient toddler. ‘Where is he?’ she asked for the umpteenth time. ‘He should be here by now. It’s not as if there’s much traffic at this time on a Saturday morning.’

  ‘You’ve plenty of time, lass,’ said Alf. ‘Your ferry’s not ’til eight o’clock tonight.’

  Violet stared down the empty street. ‘I hope he’s not had an accident.’ Her voice rose in panic at the sudden realisation that this was exactly what must have happened. ‘He’s half an hour late, Alf, he must be dead.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Violet! There are numerous other explanations. Don’t assume the worst.’

  She faced Alf, arms akimbo, challenging him. ‘Like what?’

  He shrugged. ‘I dunno, do I? Flat tyre, overslept, couldn’t find his passport, forgot to cancel the milk and that’s just off the top of me head.’ He tutted and turned to Tara. ‘Have you ’eard this?’

  ‘Alf’s right, Mum, calm down. He’ll be here.’

  At the sound of a distant hum of an engine, Violet told them all to shut up, even though nobody was actually talking. ‘Do you hear that?’ Her fingers covered her mouth as she waited for the car to come into sight. ‘It’s him,’ she squealed, picking up her case. ‘Tara, get your stuff, he’s here.’

  Larry brought the car to a smooth halt and flicked on his hazard warning lights, as was accepted practice if you parked on double yellow lines, although some traffic wardens didn’t agree. He stepped out of the car and clapped his hands. ‘Who’s ready for a holiday?’

  Violet’s feet felt welded to the pavement, like she was wearing concrete boots. She dropped her case, the impact causing it to spring open and spill her clothes onto the street. ‘What . . . what’s this?’

  Larry frowned. ‘What are you talking about, Violet?’

  ‘The car, Larry. Why’ve you come in this one?’

  ‘Err . . . because it’s a soft-top, Violet, and we’re going to the continent, you know, where it’s hot.’

  She walked over and hissed in his ear. ‘It’s only got two seats, Larry.’

  He laughed. ‘Well how many do we need?’

  She jerked her thumb at Tara. ‘Three, obviously.’

  He opened his mouth to speak but his brain was clearly having difficulty catching up. ‘Oh . . . did you . . . did you think Tara was coming with us?’

  The fact he seemed to find this amusing did little to quell Violet’s simmering fury. She clutched his bicep, resisting the urge to dig her nails in, and steered him round to the other side of the car. ‘You said she could come with us.’

  ‘When? I’ve never said she could come with us. Why would I want . . .’ He stopped. ‘Why would your daughter want to come away with her mum and her boyfriend?’

  Violet rubbed her forehead and tried to recall the conversations they’d had about the holiday. They’d talked about it freely in front of Tara but there had never been an explicit discussion which involved taking her with them. Violet had made a huge assumption. She sneaked a look at Tara, who was hanging onto Tom’s arm but staring down at the pavement. ‘I can’t go away for three weeks and leave her behind, Larry. It’s not fair, she deserves a holiday too.’

  ‘Well, I suppose I could go and get the Rover.’ His words were hollow, no conviction.

  Tara stepped forward. ‘It’s alright, Larry. I was never that keen on spending three weeks with you anyway.’

  ‘Tara! Don’t be so rude. Larry’s just said he’ll go and fetch the other car, now apologise at once.’

  ‘Honestly, Tara,’ Larry relented. ‘It’s a genuine mistake. I feel awful about it.’

  Alf stepped in. ‘Come on, Tara, he’s said he’s sorry.’

  Tara looked at Tom who nodded his agreement.

  ‘Please come, Tara,’ implored Violet. She bent down and scooped her clothes back into the case. ‘I’m not going without you so you’ll spoil it for all of us if you don’t say you’ll come.’

  Tom nudged her arm. ‘Go on, Tara.’

  She let out an irritated sigh, dropping her shoulders in defeat. ‘Oh, alright then.’

  ‘Hurray, that’s wonderful. Isn’t that wonderful, Larry?’ Violet stared at him for confirmation.

  ‘Y . . . yes, it certainly is.’

  Everybody but Tara was fooled by Larry’s response. Her mum stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, Tom clapped him on the back and even Alf shook his hand. They were all so busy fawning all over him that they hadn’t seen him bite down on his bottom lip and roll his eyes skywards. She was not welcome on this trip and in spite of what he said, his body language spoke only of disappointment. Tara picked up her case and turned towards the shop. ‘No need to go and get your other car, Larry. I’ve changed my mind.’

  Violet threw her arms in the air. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Tara. Are you doing this just for attention? Stop being such a spoiled brat.’

  Larry seized his chance. ‘Well, if she doesn’t want to come . . .’

  ‘Shut up, Larry. I’ll handle this.’

  Tara was already heading back to the shop, her case weighing heavily in her hands. She pushed open the door and hefted the case onto the counter. Violet rushed in behind her and started to speak but Tara silenced her with a raised palm. ‘Don’t say anything else, Mum. I’ve made up my mind.’ She opened her case, ferreted under a pile of underwear and brought out a small gift-wrapped box, the red bow on top now flattened. ‘I want you to go on holiday with Larry and I want you to have a great time.’ She passed the box to Violet. ‘Don’t open it until your birthday.’

  Violet took the box and gingerly fingered the bow, trying to tease it back to life. ‘It won’t be the same without you, Tara.’

  ‘No, it’ll be better,’ Tara smiled. ‘You don’t need me around, playing gooseberry. I’ll be fine here with Tom and Alf.’ She stepped into Violet’s arms and gave her one long last hug. ‘I love you, Mum. Now go. Go and have the time of your life and don’t forget to send me a postcard.’

  Violet pressed her lips to Tara’s forehead, then clasped her face between her hands. ‘I’ll miss you, Baby Girl.’

  Later, as she lay on top of the bed, her arms and legs spread out wide, taking advantage of the space, Tara knew she had made the right decision. Something did not feel quite right and no matter how much she tried to isolate it, she could not grasp what it was.

  24

  The temperature hadn’t climbed high enough to merit driving with the top down, but Larry needed to feel the wind in his face, the sound filling his ears, blocking out everything else. He snapped a glance at Violet beside him, her hair flying in all directions as she peeled off the strands which had stuck to her lipstick. They’d driven in silence for the past two hours. Competing with the wind made conversation difficult but that suited Larry. It gave him plenty of time to think.

  Violet squeezed his forearm. ‘Can we stop at the next services, Larry?’

  He nodded, manoeuvring the car from the fast lane in preparation for the exit. He laughed to himself. Moving from the fast lane to the slow one was exactly how his life was panning out. He flicked on the indicator and pulled onto the slip road. ‘Five minutes, OK?’

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  ‘I’ll just stretch my legs here.’

  He watched as she hurried into the building, her short skirt revealing the imprint of the leather car seat on the back of her legs. He rested his head on the steering wheel, his furred-up tongue a physical reminder of all the champagn
e he had drunk the night before. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to think about Carol. She’d left him in no doubt that she wouldn’t be returning. His future lay with Violet, she’d said. But Carol was wrong. Once Violet realised the extent of his duplicity, there would be no future for them beyond the next three weeks.

  Violet rubbed her hands together in an effort to dry them. No paper towels, no toilet paper, a floor which was so sticky she’d had to walk on tiptoe, it was no wonder Larry had preferred to wait in the car. She spotted a payphone on the wall near the exit and hesitated, wondering whether to call Tara. She could see Larry through the glass doors, leaning against the car, kicking at a stone. The episode with Tara had meant he’d been quiet the whole journey. It had given her time to think, though, to see things from his point of view. Why would he want her teenage daughter tagging along? She stopped then as the realisation hit her, the force so sudden she might as well have walked straight into the glass door. He was going to propose. God, it was so obvious she couldn’t think why she’d been blind to it for so long. She’d almost ruined everything. Violet Valentine. She liked the sound of that. There was a fancy word for it . . . alliteration or something. She walked towards him, smiling, holding out her hands.

  He lifted his head. ‘What are you looking so pleased about?’

  ‘I love you, Larry.’

  ‘Oh, well . . . that’s nice.’

  ‘Nice? It’s customary to say it back, you know. You’re such a tease, Larry.’

  He was trying to throw her off, she knew that now, but she’d go along with it. It would all be worth it when he placed that ring on her finger. And she knew just when he was going to do it. On her birthday.

  ‘I feel really bad for saying this but I’m glad you didn’t go, Tara. I’m sorry, I know that makes me a selfish sod but . . .’

  Tara finished counting out the pound notes for the float. ‘I’ll let you into a little secret, Tom. So am I.’ She glanced towards the back of the shop where Alf was busy pricing up a new delivery of paint stripper. ‘I wasn’t happy leaving him to be honest. Oh, I know he was alright before we came along and all that but he’s used to having us around now and that Judith is as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike.’ She closed the drawer on the till a little more savagely than she’d intended. ‘And imagine having to spend three weeks with them two pawing each other.’ She shuddered. ‘No, I’m best off here with you and Alf.’