The Glowing Hours

by Marina Oliver

  He hadn't even been able to face a weekend with her. Frowning, he knew he'd been afraid. He'd never had a girl, and the very idea that he might not know what was expected of him, or be able to go through with it with sufficient poise, terrified him. Briefly he'd contemplated buying the information with one of the professionals who haunted the back streets near New Street station, but he shrank from the dreadful possibility that he might be recognised. Somehow he had to educate himself to be ready for Kitty, but as yet he couldn't think how.

  Grimly he set about mastering the document, and had managed to grasp the main import before his father returned from a meeting.

  During the next few days Tom was too busy to think much about Kitty. But he'd planned to take a few days' holiday in August, during the week Kitty would be in Blackpool. He'd been afraid the threatened miners' strike would prevent him from going to Blackpool, but now that was averted and he could go to be with her. And, he thought with rising excitement, once there he would surely be able to find a girl willing to initiate him into the mysteries of sex, a girl he would never see again. Then when he presented himself once more to Kitty he would not be petrified of disappointing her with his inexperience.

  *

  At the end of the first week, filled with triumph at their success, Andrew organised a party after the last show. Declaring that the theatre wasn't big enough he booked a room at a nearby hotel, where he had stayed that week, and invited all the artistes, the management and the backstage staff.

  'I've asked the theatre critics on all the local papers in Manchester and Liverpool and all the towns round about,' he said, grinning. 'We've already had good reviews, but this should make them eager to come and see us when we get to their towns.'

  Nell had no desire to go. Each night she'd crept back to her room and huddled into bed, clasping her misery to her. Somehow she'd found the courage to move through the day without breaking down, and give of her best at each performance, and she prayed no one else had an inkling of her true feelings. But if she refused to go there would be comments and questions, and they would be worse than enduring the party.

  By now she had several party dresses, but she pulled out the first to hand and took it with her to the theatre ready to change after the show. It was a delicate green silk, reflecting the colour of her eyes and emphasising them against the pallor of her face. She couldn't find enough interest to apply even a slight touch of colour to her lips, or powder her nose, and watched listlessly as Kitty fussed with her black eyebrow pencil, and dabbed on the new shade of rouge powder she'd bought that morning.

  At the party she forced herself to smile and listen to the other guests. Luckily they were all so eager to talk her own silence passed unremarked until one of the band sat down at the piano and everyone began to dance. Andrew had been standing nearby. He turned to reach for her.

  'Nell, I hardly ever have the chance to dance with you.'

  It was a slow foxtrot, and it was some time before Andrew, who had been enthusing over the success of his ploy to invite the theatre critics, several of whom had appeared, noticed silent tears forcing their way out from behind Nell's tightly closed eyelids. He looked round swiftly. No one else seemed to be paying them any attention. There was a door nearby, and without a word he whisked Nell through it.

  'Come on, let's find somewhere private,' he whispered, and led her, unresisting, up a wide flight of stairs and along a corridor to the room at the end. 'Sit down while I get you a drink of brandy,' he said, pushing her gently so that she subsided onto the bed.

  For some time, as she struggled to control her sobs, he sat beside her and held her hands, persuading her to sip the brandy.

  'I'm sorry,' Nell whispered.

  'Are you feeling ill?' he asked anxiously.

  She shook her head, and sniffed. 'No, thank you. It was that tune. They played it when – when Paul – when he took me to Endersby's.'

  He glanced down at her in surprise. 'You and Paul?' he asked sharply. Nell gulped and nodded. 'At Endersby's? I didn't think the virtuous Mrs Endersby catered for that sort of client,' he murmured to himself, and Nell, with a shuddering sigh, looked up at him enquiringly. 'Did he hurt you?' he asked suddenly.

  'Oh, no, nothing like that, it was my fault – I didn't expect it,' Nell tried to explain. 'Andrew, please don't say anything! I couldn't bear it if Kitty or Gwyneth knew! Promise you won't tell them!'

  'Of course I won't,' he reassured her, looking thoughtful. 'Here, drink some more. It's making you feel better.'

  Obediently Nell drank, and then tried to struggle to her feet. 'I mustn't stay here, Andrew. Do you think I could slip away, go back to our lodgings? I really can't face going back to the party.'

  'There's no need to go back yet. Look, they always leave me some sandwiches for after the show,' he said, moving to where a laden tray was sitting on a table. 'Let's have some. You're probably hungry.'

  To please him Nell tried to eat, but the food tasted like sawdust, and she couldn't even manage one sandwich. She did drink the wine he opened, though, and gradually began to feel less despairing. Andrew chatted encouragingly about the theatres they were appearing in during the following few weeks, and she tried to pretend an interest. At last, however, he fell silent, and once more she rose to go.

  'You know, I thought old Paul was irretrievable wedded to the memory of his darling Victoria,' Andrew said suddenly, and Nell sat down again, startled.

  'Victoria?' she whispered.

  'Yes, his fiancée. I'm sure you've heard about her. She was really something, a peach of a girl, and great fun. We, all the men who knew her, were utterly devastated when they announced their engagement. We'd all had hopes, I think, no one like her had ever been seen in Edgbaston before! She was only seventeen, but he'd been crazy for her for years. Some people thought he'd kill himself when she died, he was a changed man. He had no spirit any more. He'd been quite a Don Juan before they became engaged. He never looked at another girl afterwards, so it's a great coup for you to have caught his interest. If you play your cards right you could do quite well out of him. He's a lot richer than I am.'

  'I don't want his money!' Nell declared, and suddenly another sob erupted.

  'Here, Nell, I'm sorry! I've been thoughtless, talking about her,' Andrew exclaimed. 'Have some more brandy. Nell,' he went on as she struggled again to contain her sobs, 'no man's worth this agony. Come here, sweetheart.'

  He put his arm round her, and it was so comforting to be held tightly Nell didn't resist. When he began to kiss away the tears she shook her head, but that made her feel dizzy and she collapsed back against his chest.

  'Look, Nell, lie down for a moment. Have a sleep while I go back to the party. I can't desert them all evening. Relax now, it'll do you good. Let me take off your shoes. You look utterly exhausted. Have you been sleeping badly?'

  She was so weary she only half-heartedly protested when he lifted her up to slip off her dress. His bed was so comfortable, and she craved oblivion. Besides, she was feeling strangely lightheaded. It must be the lack of sleep, combined with the wine and brandy she had drunk. She didn't hear the door close as he slipped quietly from the room. Some time later she dreamed she was lying in Paul's arms. He was kissing her, so gently and expertly that she pressed her lips eagerly against his, and snuggled closer to absorb the warmth of his body. Strange sensations, tinglings in all her nerve endings, a craving for some kind of fulfilment, overwhelmed her, and when he began to stroke her body she responded instinctively.

  It wasn't until she felt the weight of a heavy body on top of hers, and a hard knee forcing apart her legs, that she knew it was no dream. Terrified, she opened her eyes and in the moonlight seeping through the curtains, recognised Andrew's face close above her own. He looked different, she thought wildly, he was intense and at the same time triumphant, like he sometimes was when he was playing his music, not at all like the easy-going man she knew.

  'No, Andrew! Don't, you're hurting me!' she gasped, but he jus
t smiled. Before she could turn away her face, for the odd lassitude still restricted her movements, his mouth came down hard on hers. With a grunt of triumph he entered her and the entire world seemed to explode as Nell's scream was stifled and her body ruthlessly pounded, sending her spiralling down into welcome darkness.

  ***

  Chapter 17

  'Gwyneth! I've been driving along the whole Promenade trying to find you! Hello, Nell, how are you? Where's Kitty?'

  Timothy brought his car to a screeching halt and leapt out. He bounded across the tram lines, beaming delightedly at the two girls.

  'Timothy! Is the car mended? Is it all right?' Gwyneth asked urgently, and he nodded.

  'Of course, only a few scratches and a couple of dents. I thought I'd come and get a few lungfuls of the jolly old briny, and watch you at the Winter Gardens. It must be something to be appearing in Blackpool, and at the same theatre as the Tiller Girls. Are they better than the Bliss Beauties?'

  'They're very good, and have given me lots of ideas,' Gwyneth replied enthusiastically. 'I'm beginning to wish I could get back with a troupe and try them out.'

  'Deserting dear old Andrew? But how is the new act going?'

  'We've had good reviews, but – I don't know, there's something wrong and I can't decide what it is,' Gwyneth said, a frown crossing her face. 'It may not have been such a good idea to combine all the different types of entertainment in one act. It seems to confuse some of the audiences, and the other acts don't like it, they sometimes think we are encroaching on their specialities.'

  'And what do you think, Nell?' Timothy turned towards her.

  Nell glanced up at him, and laughed harshly. 'I think Gwyneth worries too much about the other acts,' she said curtly. 'What does it matter about them so long as we're a success?'

  He gave her a puzzled look, but turned back to Gwyneth, and after a few minutes during which they continued to walk towards the Tower, Nell muttered an excuse and turned back. Timothy looked after her for a moment.

  'Nell looks different, her face is thinner,' he said.

  Gwyneth nodded. 'I don't know what on earth's the matter with her. She's been like this, withdrawn and as if she's in her own world, ever since we left Birmingham. I can't explain it. It's not homesickness, I'm sure. At first I thought she was upset about Kitty and Tom Simmons.'

  'Kitty and that dreadful little union man? What about them?'

  'Oh, I don't suppose you know. For some reason Kitty was encouraging the poor fool. He was slavering at her feet for the whole week just before we started the tour. I thought Nell minded, he used to be her boyfriend, but she said she didn't particularly like him, ever.'

  'I can't imagine Kitty falling for someone as common as that,' he said, his lips curling in contempt.

  'I don't think she has. She's making eyes at the drummer now, and the silly fellow doesn't know if he's on his head or his heels. She's showing no sign of missing Tom. But after the first week, Nell suddenly changed. She was no longer so quiet, but she'd have spells of frantic activity, and then she'd go quiet again, and afterwards she'd make unpleasant remarks about people. That's just not like her, she's usually so gentle. And she won't speak to Andrew if she can avoid it. She refused to go to the party he threw after our first night here, and has even said she wants to leave the act.'

  'Odd. But that's enough of her. Do you think you can face another driving lesson?'

  'No! I don't think I can ever drive again!' Gwyneth exclaimed. 'I dreamt for weeks about that child and what might have happened. Even going in Kitty's car terrifies me.'

  'The way she drives I'm not surprised! But at least come out for a drive with me.'

  'It's too late now,' Gwyneth said hastily. 'There's a matinée, and I ought to be going back soon.'

  'Shall I be able to get a ticket for the show?'

  'I'd expect so, there aren't so many people here as usual, they say. It's the unemployment, and lots of miners used to come to Blackpool for holidays or daytrips from the pits in the north, but now there's the threat their wages will be cut they can't afford it. Or else they're trying to save money.'

  'Can we have supper together after this evening's show?'

  Gwyneth looked up at him. He had promised never to try and make love to her, after that disastrous visit to Manor Farm, and on the occasions they'd met since he'd behaved impeccably. She knew she could never have Paul, so why not accept invitations from other men?

  'Thank you, I'd like that.'

  *

  'Will you let her come out with us? In a different place she might change – have more confidence, I suppose.'

  'We take the children out occasionally, Miss Dawson, and of course if they have families or friends who can visit they sometimes go out with them.'

  'That poor child has no one but us. We promised to keep in touch when we sent her to the home at Moseley. We could take her to a cinema, perhaps, if there is something suitable showing. I doubt if she has ever been to one, and it might surprise her into some reaction. She has been seriously ill, I understand?'

  'Yes, but we couldn't find any physical cause.'

  Amy recognised the visitors as soon as she was fetched into the room. She flashed them a quick glance, and then bent her head. They'd betrayed her once, she couldn't trust them again. And however much she wanted to, she couldn't speak. Her throat seemed to swell whenever she tried, and nothing, no sounds, would come out.

  The visit to the cinema did intrigue her though. She watched the antics of the figures on the screen, even smiling a little as they danced to the accompaniment of a small cinema orchestra. When two of the men began to fight, however, she turned away and buried her head in the back of the seat, and dry sobs shook her body. Only when the sisters led her from the auditorium and into a huge café behind, ordering tea and cakes, did she stop shivering.

  'Whatever she's suffered, it seems likely to be connected with violence,' the doctor to whom they reported this afterwards mused. 'Yet there were no marks of violence on her when you found her?'

  'A few old bruises, and a cut on her leg, but no more than one might expect any active child to acquire normally. We were always falling over or banging into things at her age. There was nothing to make us suspicious.'

  'Poor child. However, you did your Christian duty in rescuing her, and bringing her to us when no family could be found. We can still train her for a useful occupation even if she never recovers her power of speech – if she ever could speak, that is, though the experts all tell us there is no physical impediment.'

  *

  Tom spent most of his first day in Blackpool walking about, trying to find a suitable girl who would introduce him to that one aspect of life his schoolteachers had neglected. But the ones he felt confident enough to approach either hurried away with frightened glances over their shoulders, or told him indignantly that they weren't that sort of girl. He'd been puzzled. He hadn't even got as far as explaining why he wanted to scrape acquaintance. He sat in a deckchair and watched. He saw plenty of fellows, dressed as he was in flannels and sports jacket, begin to talk to girls and after a while link arms and stroll on. On the huge sandy beach there were several groups of men in shirt sleeves playing cricket, who were watched by admiring bevies of girls. When the games ended couples formed, and they went off to buy ice cream or rock or sit in cafés and drink tea or eat fish and chips.

  Eventually Tom began to perceive a certain liveliness in these girls, a saucy look in their eyes, which had been absent in the ones he'd ventured to approach. He sneered. Trollops! His own taste was clearly superior to that of most of these yokels sporting in their state of undress. He would never dream of taking off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves. Belatedly it occurred to him that only with such a girl, a trollop no less, could he improve his education.

  The thought sent him hurrying back towards the small boarding house where he'd found the cheapest room he could. He recalled the leers from some girls waiting outside Central Station when
he'd arrived the previous night, and shivered. With reluctance he accepted that he would not have the nerve to deal with a prostitute, and did not know how to get what he wanted with any other sort of girl.

  He had a ticket for the show at the Winter Gardens, and after high tea at his boarding house, sausages and chips, made his way there. It was a cheap seat and he was too far away from the stage to be able to feast his eyes on Kitty as he'd anticipated. He could, however, see the outrageous costumes she and the other girls wore, and he drew in his breath in shocked disapproval.

  'Cor, they'm a bit o' crumpet!' the man beside him exclaimed, and leant forward, watching the miniscule skirts and long bare legs displayed, and the tight bodices which, Tom was horrified to see, left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

  Tom turned away. He could not bear to listen to the lewd comments of the men around him. To think that once he'd been foolish enough to offer marriage to Nell, up there showing herself to all and sundry with total disregard for decorum! And even worse, to think that but for his stupid fears, he might have been treated to a private display of even more than Kitty was presently revealing.

  At last the show was over, and with some difficulty, for the Winter Gardens was a vast and confusing complex, he found the stage door. He joined the milling crowd of hopeful young swains just as Kitty was emerging on the arm of a dark, saturnine looking man at least twenty years older than she was.

  'Kitty!' he exclaimed, and she turned round with a smile. It faded slightly as he pushed his way towards her and she recognised him.