Dream a Little Dream

by Joan Jonker

  ‘Dad, we all were,’ Nigel said. ‘We were laughing so much all the people in the café were laughing too, even though they hadn’t a clue what was going on.’

  Agnes lifted the glass. ‘Given with a good heart, and accepted with a good heart. God bless yer, Mr Robert.’

  ‘By the way, Agnes, just out of curiosity. Who would you say the winner was today? You or Kitty?’

  ‘Good heavens, we don’t have no winners or losers! Kitty wins one day, I win the next. Mind you, I can’t see me winning tomorrow, there were sixteen bleedin’ letters in that word yer gave her. That’s going to take some beating.’

  ‘I’ll put my thinking cap on, Agnes, and see what I can come up with.’

  ‘I will too!’ Nigel offered. ‘I’ll have a look through the dictionary and write down any I find. But as you say, Agnes, sixteen letters is going to be hard to beat.’

  The housekeeper took a sip of whisky, then a sly smile crept across her face. ‘Make a word up, Mr Nigel. Kitty won’t know the difference.’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that to her, would you?’ Robert put on a stern look. ‘That would be cheating, Agnes Weatherby.’

  ‘Nah, I was only kidding. I wouldn’t do that to Kitty, she’s me mate.’

  Abbie put her arm across the housekeeper’s shoulders. ‘We’re your mates, too, Agnes, don’t forget. And because you’re like one of the family, I’m going to let you into a secret. I told you that Nigel and I had met up with our old schoolfriends, didn’t I? Well, they go dancing and they pulled our legs when we told them we couldn’t dance. So we’re going to have lessons and take them by surprise one night.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good, Miss Abbie! I used to dance when I was your age, but the old legs wouldn’t be up to it now.’

  ‘Old! Listen to me, Agnes,’ Robert said. ‘You’re a few years younger than me, so if you’re old I must be ancient!’

  ‘We’ll put your legs to the test, Agnes, when we’ve had a few lessons. I’ll waltz you round the kitchen until you’re dizzy.’

  ‘I’ll take yer up on that, Mr Nigel. When do yer start these lessons?’

  It was Abbie who answered. ‘We don’t know yet. But in college today I got friendly with a girl who told me she went to a dancing school in Queens Drive. It’s run by a man and wife, and they also give private tuition.’

  Robert chucked her under the chin. ‘So it wasn’t only squiggles you learned today, eh? Do you know where on Queens Drive the school is?’

  ‘I’ve done better than that, Dad, I’ve got a phone number. The girl at college had it written in her diary and she gave it to me.’

  ‘Then go and ring now to book a lesson!’

  ‘I was going to ask you to do it, Dad, because I’d go all shy and wouldn’t know what to say. So will you be an angel and ring for me?’

  ‘On one condition. While Nigel is waltzing Agnes around the kitchen floor, I will have the pleasure of being your partner.’

  Abbie was delighted. ‘It’s a deal.’

  ‘Come along then, let’s book your first lesson.’ Robert laid a hand on the housekeeper’s arm. ‘I’ll see you later, Agnes.’

  Abbie ran on ahead while Nigel brought up the rear. ‘Don’t make it for tomorrow night, Dad, because I’ve promised to give Bobby a driving lesson.’

  The housekeeper watched the door close on them. The tide was turning for those three people, and it wasn’t before time. Miss Abbie had always been a free spirit, but her enthusiasm for life had been kept in check by those two miserable, conniving women who were at that moment sitting in the drawing room probably pulling some poor soul to pieces. Mr Nigel had broken through the chains that had bound him to them, and was working towards living like any normal twenty-one-year-old. He’d grown closer to his father, too, which was a good thing. Abbie had always been her father’s daughter and never ceased to show her love for him. Now Mr Nigel was beginning to show the same love.

  A picture that had caused her much sadness over the last few weeks, flashed through the housekeeper’s mind. It was the dressing-room off the main bedroom. And in that dressing-room was the single bed she made up each day, and hadn’t mentioned to a living soul, even Kitty. That a man who gave so much to so many should be reduced to this by a wife who was cold and unloving, just wasn’t fair. If ever a man needed love it was Mr Robert.

  Agnes lifted her glass to the closed door. ‘To my family. May God bless them.’

  In the study, Robert put the telephone back on the hook and turned a smiling face to his two children. ‘Wednesday night, a quarter to seven, for a one-hour lesson. It’s the only time they could manage because the dancing school opens at eight. Their name is Ross and as both husband and wife are teachers you will each have your own partner. Oh, the fee will be one and sixpence each.’

  ‘Oh Dad, you really are wonderful and I love you to bits.’

  ‘Yes, jolly good, Dad.’ Nigel’s face showed he was apprehensive already. ‘I hope I don’t make a fool of myself. I have tried once or twice, when I’ve been to a ball with Victoria and her friends, but I was so clumsy I trod all over my partners’ feet.’

  ‘Nigel!’ Abbie scolded. ‘We are not to have any change of heart or doubts. This is something we have to be positive about, otherwise what will Milly and Bobby have to say? I’m determined to be at least as good as Milly, nothing else will satisfy me. So be strong and firm with yourself. Keep saying over and over that if Bobby can do it, so can you.’

  ‘Now you two are sorted out, would you think it rude if I asked you to leave? I’ve brought a few letters home from the office which I want time to read thoroughly before sending a reply.’ Robert was suddenly feeling the need to have some time on his own. The locket had brought thoughts of Maureen and he wanted to be alone with those thoughts. ‘I’ll see you later at suppertime.’

  ‘Yes, OK, Dad.’ Abbie linked her arm through her brother’s and as they left the room she was saying, ‘We’ll have to get proper dancing shoes tomorrow.’

  Robert waited a while before opening the drawer and taking out the black square box with the name Boodle & Dunthorne written in gold on the lid. He stared at it for several minutes picturing the dear, beloved face of the woman he hoped would like his gift and wear it always around her neck so he was forever in her thoughts. Then he opened the box and took out the locket. Rubbing a finger gently over the names engraved on the back, his longing to see Maureen was so deep it was like a pain in his heart. Only when he was in her company did he feel like a man who was loved. Oh, he was loved by the children, and many other people, but it was a different kind of love. On the night, all those years ago, when his wife had rejected him, the look of repulsion on her face as she did so had stripped him of his pride. He’d felt worthless; a man whose wife couldn’t even bear him to touch her. And it had taken a long time to regain his self-esteem. He’d been a man in his thirties, with red blood running through his veins, a man of passion. But he would never force himself on his wife, his pride wouldn’t allow him to do that. So twice, in desperation, he had sought the services of a prostitute. He knew many of the men who were respectable members of his club had a mistress or visited the homes of prostitutes, and he thought he could live with that. But he couldn’t, he found it degrading.

  Robert took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. Then he undid the studs at the front and back of his collar and breathed a sigh of relief at the freedom to move his neck without the collar rubbing away at it. Then he sat down, stretched his legs out under the desk and allowed his thoughts to wander. He so looked forward to his monthly visit to Maureen’s, but lately he was finding it wasn’t enough. Every day something would crop up and he’d think, I’ll have to tell her about this, or I wish I could ask her advice on that. She was his soulmate, and he needed to be with her more. And if he was, who would he be hurting? Not his wife, certainly, because there were times when she looked at him with such hatred it frightened him. She wouldn’t care if he died and she never had to set eyes on him
again.

  Robert leaned his elbows on the desk, and covering his face with both hands, he let out a long sigh. Whatever happened, whatever he did, Edwina had brought it on herself. Every man needed the arms of a woman to hold him, and her lips to kiss him. A woman whose eyes would tell of her feelings for him, as they sat on the couch holding hands. A woman who made him feel a complete man again, and would give him the contentment he desperately longed for. And for him, that woman was Maureen, who he knew returned his feelings. They’d been discreet for the sake of respectability, but what nonsense it was to waste so many years for fear of what other people thought.

  His resolve strengthened, Robert dropped his hands, placed the locket back in the box and returned it to the drawer. Then he reached for a sheet of notepaper from the wooden stand and laid it down in front of him. He didn’t have to think about what to write, he knew. He would be calling at Maureen’s on Thursday night about seven. She wasn’t to worry, there was nothing wrong, he just had a desire to see her. He then folded the letter and put it in an envelope and sealed it down. But he didn’t address it, for fear of prying eyes. He would do that tomorrow just before posting it.

  When Agnes knocked with his last cup of tea of the day, she found him sitting in his chair in his shirt sleeves, with his thumbs hooked on to his maroon braces. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair and his collar and tie were lying on the desk. ‘My goodness, Mr Robert, ye’re looking very free and easy tonight. Yer look like a man who’s shed his cares one by one. It’s a good job I didn’t come later when yer might have had even less on!’

  Robert grinned. ‘Had that happened, which is very unlikely, Agnes, I would have been more embarrassed than you. I admit my clothes are in a state of disarray, but as I’m comfortable, why worry? This study is my bolt-hole, away from yapping tongues and conversations spiked with spite and sarcasm. And in that comment I do not include Nigel or Abbie.’

  ‘You do what yer like, Mr Robert, it’s your bleedin’ house.’ The housekeeper tried to sit on the edge of the desk but her bottom kept sliding off, so she gave it up as bad job and settled for leaning against it. ‘I’ve a little bit of news for yer. Miss Victoria came to see me, and although it wasn’t an outright apology, it’s the nearest anyone will ever get from her. In fact, in a roundabout way, she practically said we were all at fault except her! We had misconstrued her words. Of course she didn’t expect me to see to the whole dinner party on my own, and we were all fools to have thought that was what she meant. Anyway, she’ll be happy for Jessie to help serve at table and she’ll leave everything in my capable hands.’

  ‘There was never any doubt about the outcome, Agnes – this party seems to mean quite a lot to her. I can’t for the life of me think why, but then my eldest daughter is a mystery to me in many ways. Did you come to an agreement, then?’

  ‘Not much point in doing otherwise. It’s a waste of time trying to talk sense with Miss Victoria, it’s like water off a duck’s back. She has a way of looking through yer, as though ye’re not there at all. I’ve got to say she gets on me wick sometimes, but we’ve all got our faults, I suppose. It’s just that she’s got more than others.’ The housekeeper’s eyes fell on the letter propped up by the ink-well. ‘D’yer want me to post that for yer tomorrow, Mr Robert?’

  ‘No thank you, Agnes, I need to root the address out first. You poppy off to your room and put your feet up. You work a very long day and you need to rest.’

  Agnes was about to say he could do with getting some rest, too, when she reminded herself of the situation. He seldom went into the drawing room these days, preferring the study, even though there wasn’t the same comfort. And that single bed upstairs was far too small for a man of his size, he couldn’t possibly get a good night’s sleep. How long did he think he could keep that up for? ‘Why don’t yer bring one of the armchairs out of the drawing room into here, Mr Robert? If ye’re going to work here, yer may as well do it in comfort.’

  Robert caught and held her eyes. He was well aware that she knew he and Edwina were no longer even sleeping in the same bed, and he was more than grateful that the housekeeper had never, by word or deed, mentioned it. He also knew that his affairs were safe in her hands; she would never discuss them with others. Even Kitty, her closest friend. ‘I’ll sort myself out eventually, Agnes, have no fear. But your concern for me is very much appreciated, I want you to know that. You are a good friend to me.’

  ‘It’s easy to be that, Mr Robert, ’cos ye’re one of life’s gentlemen. And the best boss I’ve ever had.’ Agnes straightened herself and smoothed down the front of her overall. ‘But just ’cos I like yer doesn’t mean I won’t try and beat yer at dancing. You just wait until Mr Nigel takes me for a waltz, yer won’t believe yer eyes.’

  ‘Are you that good, Agnes?’

  ‘I bet I’m the best baby elephant yer ever saw dancing. All I’m short of is a trunk.’

  ‘Come now, Agnes, I bet you dance like a ballerina.’ Robert stretched his arms over his head. ‘I think I’ll drink my tea, smoke a cigar and then have a stroll in the garden. I have a slight headache and the fresh air will do me good.’

  ‘I’ll leave yer in peace, then. Goodnight and God bless, Mr Robert.’

  ‘Goodnight and God bless, Agnes.’

  Robert saw the lights go out in the drawing room and looked at his watch. He’d wait for half an hour, to give Edwina time to prepare for bed, and hopefully be asleep before he went up. He had no appetite for any verbal exchange with his wife because it served no purpose and would most certainly bring back his headache. So to while away the time he opened the evening paper, seeking articles he might have missed earlier.

  However, he might just as well have gone upstairs, because Edwina was sitting up in bed waiting for him. As soon as he opened the door, she switched on her bedside lamp. He inclined his head, feeling the need to acknowledge her presence, then walked towards the dressing-room.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ Edwina said, bedclothes up to her chin. ‘I wish to talk to you.’

  ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I really am very tired.’

  ‘No, it can’t! I’m very angry that you never take Victoria’s side in an argument. You barely speak to her, yet seem to have plenty of time for Nigel and Abbie. You make it very clear that they are your favourites, but if you were a good father you would treat all your children alike.’

  ‘If I ever thought Victoria was in the right, then I would most certainly take her side. But unfortunately, to my mind she is never in the right. She seems to be under the impression we were all put on this earth solely for her benefit, and should bend to her will. And you are the one who has encouraged her to be so. You talk of favourites, Edwina, but Victoria has always been your favourite; she can do no wrong in your eyes. You couldn’t give a toss for Nigel and Abbie, and never have.’ He turned once more towards the dressing-room door. ‘And now you’ve said what you wished to say, I’ll bid you goodnight.’

  ‘There is another matter I would like to discuss with you. I would like you to return to sleeping in this bed. You are giving the servants something to talk about, and I imagine our neighbours are all aware of your peculiar sleeping arrangements.’

  Robert closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Had this woman no sense or feeling? She wanted him in her bed, not because he was her husband whose rightful place was by her side, but because she was afraid of what the neighbours might say. He wouldn’t be allowed to touch her, but he should be there to stop people talking about them. Not that he would want to touch her; even the thought turned his stomach.

  ‘You really are quite mad, Edwina. How would the neighbours know what our sleeping arrangements are? And would my sleeping in your bed really be a lesser evil than being a topic of conversation in the neighbourhood?’

  ‘Agnes makes that bed up every morning so is well aware of what is going on. And she is as thick as thieves with that Tilly Woods, next door’s housekeeper. You can’t tell me the
y haven’t had a good gossip about it.’

  ‘I’m not going to tell you what Agnes or anyone else talks about because I don’t know. I do happen to have more faith in her than you do, though, and I believe she is beyond tittle-tattle. But one thing I do know, and I’m very sure of it: I will never again sleep in the same bed as you. You may bear my name, Edwina, but in my mind you are no longer my wife. You chose the path you wanted to walk down, and I have no desire to join you on that path. Our marriage is a sham, so why pretend otherwise? I regret the chains that bind us, and if it was possible, I would break them. Now, I’ll say goodnight.’

  Robert didn’t look back as he closed the dressing-room door behind him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Edwina was awake early the next morning, having tossed and turned all night as her mind ranted against her husband. Why did he still feel it necessary to mingle with the working class, and behave like them at times? Couldn’t he have learned to move with the wealth they now had and leave the past behind? As she herself had learned to do. Never for one second did it occur to her that without the husband she had now come to detest, they would still be living in the two-up, two-down in Seaforth.

  The sound of a car engine starting up had her sliding her legs over the side of the bed and hurrying to the window. Nigel’s car was the first out of the gates, followed by Robert’s. It was a sight that heightened the rage boiling within her. Thanks to her husband, her son had changed so much he barely spoke to her. And why did they have to go out at this ungodly hour every day as if they had to clock on at a job where someone else was boss? The family owned the firm, for heaven’s sake! It was ridiculous for them to get there the same time as the employees. There was no one to tell them what they could or could not do. They could take the day off without having to explain themselves to a soul. But no, her husband preferred to think of himself as a worker, rather than the boss.