Winners and Losers

by Linda Sole

  ‘Alice . . .’ Dan sighed as she left the room. There was no point in going after her, because she wouldn’t change her mind. He wasn’t sure that things would ever be right between them again.

  Seven

  Sarah looked round the rails of good quality dresses and suits. It was her job to take them out one by one and brush away any dust that might have settled on them overnight. She quite enjoyed working in the classy dress shop in Ely High Street, and she was lucky because she got a twenty-five per cent discount on anything she wanted for herself. Her friends envied her because she could afford better clothes than they could; she had noticed that several of the girls she had known at school had started giving her odd looks when she met them at the club or the cafes they all frequented.

  Phyllis said it was because they knew she was engaged to Connor Searles. It hadn’t mattered when he was just one of the lads at the jazz club, but now he was on the radio and his records had been in the charts it was different. Phyllis and Ann were still her friends, but Janice hardly spoke to her these days, and a lot of the others sent some very unfriendly looks her way. Sarah knew that Connor was saving hard so that he could buy a nice house and things like that, but she couldn’t help wishing that he would go back to being just the good-looking boy she had fallen in love with at the start. She longed to walk into the club with him and let everybody see it was her he wanted and not the girls he had his photograph taken with.

  ‘Is something wrong, Miss Jenkins?’ Sarah’s employer came through from the back room. ‘I want those rails straightened this morning if you don’t mind – and I am thinking of having a sale.’

  ‘Everyone is having a sale,’ Sarah said as she started on the dresses. ‘We sold such a lot at Christmas that some of the rails are a bit thin until the new stock comes in.’

  ‘Well, the new lines will start coming at the end of January. To make room for them, we shall select anything that has a mark or was unpopular, and I think we’ll start our sale on Saturday – so that means we shall be busy for a few days. If we are lucky, we can make a clearance before the new stuff arrives.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Hines. Do you want me to put out anything that has been marked? I noticed yesterday that one of the good dresses has a lipstick mark. It is too good for the sale really, but the mark will need to be got off at the dry cleaner’s, I should think.’

  ‘People are so careless! Yes, put that and anything else you find on this rail here – I’ll take these suits to the back room, because they are fairly new in. We will make this the sale rail, Sarah. Put anything you find that you think needs to be discounted and I’ll have a look myself later and decide on the price.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Hines.’

  Sarah smiled as she began her task of tidying the rails. Some of these dresses were never going to sell for their full price, but she knew that Phyllis had her eye on a smart suit. She noticed that one of the better ones had a little thread pulled. It could easily be pulled back, but she would put it on the sale rail. If Mrs Hines reduced that, she would put it aside for her friend first thing on Saturday morning.

  She smiled as she worked, thinking of Connor’s passionate kisses when he’d driven her to a secluded spot the night he left. They had come closer to going all the way than ever before; she knew he had found it difficult to pull away at the last. A part of her wished that she had let him make love to her, but she was apprehensive – and not just because it would be her first time. Connor was becoming famous. She knew that a lot of girls followed the band from venue to venue, and she was afraid that the glamour and excitement of being a star would seduce him. He might fall in love with one of those beautiful girls he sometimes performed with on stage.

  And yet Connor swore that he loved her. She believed him when they were together, but when he was away the doubt set in. You read about the things famous bands did in the papers and when she saw Connor’s picture it made her feel that he was so far away – and not just in miles. She was just an ordinary girl. How could she be sure he wouldn’t find someone else?

  ‘Have you seen that little blonde who keeps screaming every time you blow a kiss?’ Terry said to Connor as they came off stage that night. ‘She can’t be more than fifteen but she dresses as if she were older – tight sweaters that cling . . . boy do they cling!’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed particularly.’ Connor yawned. ‘I’m whacked. Thank goodness we’ve got a couple of weeks at the recording studio to look forward to.’

  ‘I like being on the road,’ Terry said. ‘Aren’t you coming this evening? We’ve been invited to a party – there will be plenty of booze and grass.’

  ‘I don’t touch that stuff.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m not interested. I need some sleep.’

  ‘Suit yourself, but remember this won’t last for ever. If our next record bombs, we’ll be dropped. The rest of us are going to make the most of the chances we’ve got.’

  ‘Good luck to you.’ Connor grinned. ‘Go and get laid – I’ve got someone waiting for me at home.’

  ‘She need never know,’ Terry said. ‘I’ve got a girl at home – well, sort of – but that doesn’t stop me having fun. I don’t want to get married for ages. There are too many sexy girls around. I want to sleep with as many of them as possible.’

  Connor laughed. ‘Casanova rides again? Good luck, mate. I would join you, but I happen to be in love.’

  Terry shrugged and went off. Connor combed his hair. He was growing his sideburns and he thought they suited him. Sarah liked them and she was the one that mattered.

  He slung his leather jacket over his shoulder. He had bought it recently from a junk shop and it was a genuine RAF issue from the last war. He’d only paid a few bob for it, but the others had coveted it as soon as they saw it. He was wearing black drainpipes, a black roll-neck sweater and brothel creeper suede shoes as he left the theatre by the back door. He was walking to where he’d parked his car when the shadow came towards him out of the gloom.

  Connor was wary, because they had been attacked a couple of times by youths, but as the shadow moved into the light of the lamppost he saw it was a young girl. She was wearing denim pedal pushers with red high heels and a tight red sweater; her blonde hair was caught up in a ponytail. He thought she looked very young and slightly vulnerable . . . nervous.

  ‘What are you doing here on your own?’ he asked. ‘Do you know it is nearly midnight?’

  ‘I wanted to see you,’ she said in a rush. ‘I follow you wherever you go. I love you!’

  ‘No you don’t,’ Connor said, amused. ‘You love the man you see on stage, but that isn’t me, young lady. I think you should go home to your parents. It isn’t safe for a girl like you to wander about at this time of night.’

  ‘I only had enough money for the fare here,’ she said. ‘I do love you. I’ve bought your records and I have your picture on my bedroom wall. Please, just talk to me for a minute. I’ve been waiting for hours.’

  ‘It’s cold out here.’ Connor looked at her pinched face; she was shaking with cold. ‘This is silly. I’ll get you a coffee – there’s an all-night stand just down the road – and then I’ll give you the bus fare to get home.’

  ‘I want to be with you!’ She rushed at him, throwing her arms about his neck. ‘I’ll do anything you want – anything. I could come with you wherever you go. I love you more than anything in the world.’

  Connor carefully untangled her arms from about his neck. He smiled at her, because he was conscious that his suggestive movements and the way he talked to girls in the audience had brought this on. It wasn’t the first time a girl had thrown herself at him, but it usually happened when the other guys were around or on stage.

  ‘I’m honoured that you like me so much,’ he said. ‘But I have a girlfriend. I don’t know your name . . .’

  ‘Lisa. It’s Lisa . . .’ Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘You sing to me every time. The way you look
at me . . . you talk just to me. I know you do.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lisa, but I’ve never noticed you before this evening. I sing to all the girls like that, because it is good for the band’s image, but I’m in love with a girl from my hometown.’

  Lisa stared at him, her eyes darkening. ‘It isn’t fair. I spend all my money following you. I’m in love with you and you have been singing to me. I know you have.’

  ‘No, Lisa, that isn’t true. I sing for all the girls. Come on, I’ll buy you that coffee and then I’ll give you the money to get home. Where do you live?’

  ‘No!’ Lisa stared at him wildly. ‘It’s all a lie. You’re not what you pretend to be! I hate you!’

  Connor stared after her as she turned and fled into the shadows. ‘Don’t be silly, Lisa. Let me help you to get home.’

  There was no answer. Connor debated whether he should go after her. If she really had no money, it was dangerous for her to be on the streets of a big city like Liverpool alone at night. Anything could happen to her.

  She was probably lying. She had built a fantasy in her mind about Connor, and the story about having no money was probably just a part of all that nonsense. She had hoped he would take her back to his hotel – which any of the other band members might very well have done. Connor knew that his friends regularly slept with girls who came to the shows; they couldn’t understand why he didn’t grab the chances that came his way.

  Lisa couldn’t have been more than fifteen, Connor thought as he got into his car and drove back to the hotel. He had more sense than to go with an underage child, even if he’d fancied her. She was well developed for her age, but she wore too much make-up and he preferred the kind of clothes Sarah wore.

  He was still thinking of Lisa as he went up to his room. She was so young to be away from home. He wondered if her parents had any idea where she had gone. A tiny prick of guilt kept him awake for a while, but he was tired and finally he slept.

  Alice looked at the letter that had come from Frances that morning. She had written to say that she would like them to visit soon. It was written in a friendly tone, but in the light of what Daniel had done it felt almost like a summons.

  Alice had enjoyed her stay the previous summer. She would have liked to go down again, but she felt embarrassed. It was humiliating to know that Daniel had borrowed from his wealthy sister. Alice hadn’t minded that they were always short of money. She’d understood that things were difficult because of the bankruptcy. They had managed to keep the few fields they had because Daniel had put them in her name. He had cleared himself now, but she felt that the stigma still hung over them – and now he owed all that money to Frances.

  He had given five hundred pounds to that woman in the hairdressing shop! Alice wasn’t sure what made her angrier – the fact that he had a bastard son or that he had borrowed so much money from Frances.

  She had been so shocked and hurt when she saw the boy who looked like her own son, but if Daniel was telling her the truth, it had happened only once and a long time ago. That didn’t make it better, because she hated the thought that he had been with another woman after they got together. Yet she knew that the same thing had happened to so many women during the war; their men were away fighting and there were always other women around. She was fairly certain that there hadn’t been anyone else for Daniel, though he had worked with the Resistance in Greece until the Germans took him prisoner.

  She wouldn’t let herself think about that, Alice decided. She wouldn’t have minded so much about what happened with that woman if she hadn’t brought her son to Ely. Alice would hate it if Mary or one of her friends put two and two together and felt sorry for her.

  Alice had begun to regret shutting Daniel out of their bedroom. She missed having him beside her at night, and not just because it was so cold now that the weather had turned icy. The old house let in draughts and it was always cold in winter, even with fires in the kitchen and bedrooms. She didn’t keep a fire going overnight in the bedrooms, because it might be dangerous while they were sleeping, even though she kept the guards in place. Instead she piled more and more blankets on the bed. Her pride wouldn’t let her back down – at least for a while yet. She was still angry with him and she had no intention of visiting Frances until they could pay at least some of what they owed her.

  Daniel had started to take his milking herd to the market. He was gradually selling them off. He said he was going to plant more wheat and barley this year, though he was talking of applying for a larger allocation of sugar beet, but that was a matter of luck because everyone wanted to grow the lucrative crop.

  Alice knew how much Daniel wanted to work on the cars. He really needed a garage forecourt to sell them, because not many people would bother to ride into the fen to look at a second-hand car. If he’d had any sense, she thought angrily, he would just have told her about his bastard son and kept the five hundred pounds to start up the garage.

  Alice grudged that money. That woman didn’t deserve it, because from what Daniel said she’d thrown herself at him – and she shouldn’t expect him to pay for what had been an act of kindness.

  In her heart of hearts, though, Alice admitted that it must be hard to be left alone with a growing son to bring up, but she wasn’t going to feel sorry for that woman!

  She had her own family to think of; they didn’t exactly go without things, but it would have been nice to buy Danny a new bike instead of the second-hand one his father had done up for him. Not that Danny minded; he had been over the moon when Daniel gave it to him.

  Oh damn! Alice wished she’d never seen the young boy in Ely. She couldn’t help thinking about him and his mother. Why should she have that shop when Alice could have used the money for so many things? It just wasn’t right.

  Maura looked at herself in the mirror. She was still attractive but it didn’t do her any good, because she had a child to look after and men just weren’t interested in taking on other men’s sons. Her first husband had sworn he didn’t mind, but things had got worse and worse between them; then one night he’d simply walked out, leaving Maura to pay the bills. She had discovered they were behind with the rent and she’d had no chance of paying, so she’d packed some suitcases and moved on.

  After that Maura had moved from place to place for months, never staying long, finding work that was seldom sufficient to pay the bills. It was when she was feeling close to despair one night that she’d had the idea of blackmailing Daniel Searles.

  He had given her five hundred pounds, which was enough to start up her small shop in Ely. Maura was a good hairdresser and she had been lucky to find Shirley, who was looking to change jobs and had a core of loyal customers who had come with her. Maura was making more money than she’d ever had in her life, but still she wasn’t satisfied. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she knew she needed more – a bit of fun in her life. A new man.

  Maura still thought Daniel Searles one of the most attractive men she’d ever met, but she was under no illusions about his feelings for her. He wouldn’t touch her with a barge pole. But she was sure there must be others who would if she gave them the chance.

  Her son was sitting in the corner of their tiny sitting room reading comics. She got up and went over to him, ruffling his hair. He looked up at her, a hint of resignation in his eyes.

  ‘You don’t mind if I go out for a while, do you, love? You’ll be all right on your own?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ he muttered and scowled at her. ‘Don’t come home drunk, Mum.’

  ‘It was only once,’ Maura said, though she knew it had happened more than once over the months they’d been moving around the country. ‘I’ll give you some money for sweets in the morning.’

  David grunted but didn’t say anything more. Maura shrugged and went to put on her coat. The pub was only just round the corner. She would have a couple of drinks, see if there were any likely men, and if she didn’t strike lucky, she would come home.

  She went out of t
he sitting room, down the stairs and out the back door. David would be all right. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself for a few hours.

  Connor stood outside the recording studio. It had taken nearly four weeks of intensive work, but their first album was almost ready to be released. He had stayed on after the rest of the group had gone, because he’d become friendly with the guy who was in charge of the mixing. They had talked about various things that could be adjusted, and Connor had hopes that the album would be a success.

  It was harder to get a hit album than a single – at least that was what they had been told. He would have felt happier if one of their previous singles had gone to number one, but the last release had only reached number five. The record company was making noises and Connor sensed that the album was their last chance to make it with Moon Records. If the album flopped, they would be looking for a new label.

  ‘What are our chances?’ Connor asked when the others had gone.

  ‘I think two of your solos have a chance of being a hit,’ Steve told him. ‘I shall recommend that Moon puts one of them out as a single at the same time as the album and that should sell the album for you.’

  ‘You don’t think they were too sentimental?’

  ‘I think the mix of ballads and rock is just right,’ Steve said, looking thoughtful. ‘Have you considered going as a solo artist, Con?’

  ‘What makes you ask?’

  ‘I don’t think your backing group is good enough. If you want to get right to the top, you should make the break now. With a good group behind you, you could be mega.’

  ‘I’ve never thought of it,’ Connor said truthfully. ‘Terry took me into the band. I would never have started in the business if it weren’t for him. It would be a bit mean to let them down now.’

  ‘It’s just a suggestion. You will always work with the Bad Boys – if being on the road is what you want. However, if you want top billing at a theatre and a big recording career, you need to make the break – and you should think about a different label, one of the major companies. Moon Records are all right. They got lucky a couple of times, because they take untried bands and put them on contracts that mean they take most of the profits. Your aim should be to get on television, but I don’t think your group has what it takes. I think you could do well yourself, as a solo artist.’