by Jenny Holmes
Nodding, Lily reached out, took Margie’s hands and held them tight. ‘Tomorrow afternoon,’ she promised. ‘I’ll bring Arthur up to see you. I’ll bake a cake in the morning and we’ll bring it with us. Victoria sponge – you always like a slice of that.’
Margie smiled through her tears.
‘We’ll love you and leave you,’ Rhoda said, turning for the door. ‘Goodbye, Father. Goodbye, Margie. Come along, Lily, we’ve got a tram to catch.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was a thoughtful Lily who got ready to go out dancing with Harry that night. She hardly concentrated on what to wear, taking a dress that was three years old from the hook on the back of the bedroom door – a navy blue one in heavy crêpe de Chine that was shorter and straighter than the styles that were currently in fashion and rather young for her now, Lily thought as she glanced in the small mirror over Margie’s bed. ‘It needs a new lace trim around the neck and cuffs to bring it up to date,’ she said to herself, putting on Sybil’s silk stockings and her own black leather shoes then treading carefully over the floorboards so as not to disturb her mother who had taken to her bed as soon as she returned home after the expedition to Ada Street. Lily took her coat and hat from the bed and was halfway down the stairs when Evie flew up to meet her.
‘Harry’s here!’ she cried in a hoarse, excited whisper.
Lily paused, took a deep breath, then carried on along the landing and down into the kitchen where Harry stood on the fireside rug chatting to Arthur and smiling broadly. ‘What’s it to be?’ he asked her when she came into the room, which was already decorated with the chains of coloured paper made earlier in the day. ‘The flicks or dancing?’
‘Let’s head off to the Assembly Rooms,’ she said, feeling shy in front of their audience even though it was only Arthur and Evie. ‘Arthur, you’ve to go to bed when Evie tells you. And tomorrow, if you’re a good boy, I’ll help you to write your letter to Father Christmas in the morning then in the afternoon I’ll take you to Granddad Preston’s house to see Margie.’
Arthur couldn’t have been happier with the plan and with Evie explaining to him that tomorrow would come all the sooner if he went to sleep nice and early, Lily and Harry closed the front door on the contented scene.
Outside, Lily was surprised to find that her grandfather’s prediction about the rain turning to snow had come true. She frowned at the thought of what the covering of white on the pavements would do to her best shoes and quickly accepted Harry’s arm as he led her down the steps.
‘Uh-oh, you’ll ruin those shoes if you’re not careful. Why don’t I give you a piggyback ride?’ he suggested with a pantomime wink.
‘Some other time,’ she responded with a playful shove that sent him slipping and sliding across the pavement, almost taking her with him.
‘Anyway, it won’t be more than an inch or two of snow,’ he promised her, ‘not enough to spoil our evening.’
Still, it meant that the trams were delayed and they stood arm in arm at the stop waiting with three or four other couples for a full fifteen minutes before one came into sight. Then, just before it did appear, who should join the queue but Sybil and Billy, both in high spirits and ready to tease Lily and Harry for stepping out together a second time.
‘Brrr, it’s freezing!’ Sybil sang out from the back of the queue. ‘Harry, why not put your arm around Lily and keep her warm? Or better still, be a gentleman and let her borrow your coat. A little bird tells me that’s what you do.’
‘Sybil Dacre, that’s the last time I let you into my secrets!’ Lily cried with a self-conscious grimace at Harry who put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. A glance at Billy had told her that he was feeling uncomfortable and rightly so, given that he’d unceremoniously ditched Margie by carrier pigeon, as it were.
Inside the crowded tram, Lily and Sybil found seats opposite Maureen and Flora while Harry and Billy hovered on the open platform at the back. Flora spent the short journey asking Lily searching questions about Margie’s stay on Ada Street, which Lily fended off until Maureen jumped in with a question for her about the finer points involved in making a machine-sewn buttonhole, with Sybil putting in her halfpennyworth and so the talk went on until they’d travelled the mile and a half along Cliff Street to the Assembly Rooms where most of the younger passengers disembarked.
Harry, who had hopped off promptly, waited for Lily and offered her his hand. ‘See, the snow’s easing off,’ he commented, looking up at a starlit sky.
‘Harry Bainbridge, promise me one thing,’ she said with a laugh.
‘Anything, your majesty,’ he vowed. ‘What is it?’
‘If you really are to be my sweetheart, and I hope you are, you’ve got to promise me that you’ll never mention the weather – never, ever again!’
‘Done!’ Harry laughed. ‘Or who’s playing centre forward for the Rovers. But on one condition.’
‘And what’s that, Harry?’ she asked, tilting her head and looking sideways at him as if butter wouldn’t melt. She held tight to his arm as they crossed the snowy street.
‘That you promise I can stick to the waltz and you’ll never try to teach me to do the foxtrot or the quickstep.’
‘Done!’ she agreed.
Then they skipped up the steps of the Assembly Rooms into the light and warmth of the entrance, where strains of band music drifted through from the dance hall.
‘I like this tune,’ Lily murmured into Harry’s ear.
They’d danced non-stop for an hour or more and the band had struck up after an interval with their version of ‘Dancing in the Dark’, a slow waltz whose melancholy words drifted into her head as Harry took her hand and led her back on to the dance floor.
The song lyrics spoke of a couple dancing at night until the tune ended, of waltzing and wondering why time hurried by until all too soon they were dancing together no more.
She shook her head clear of the sad lyrics and enjoyed the sensation of being whirled around in Harry’s strong arms, her eyes half closed and her head spinning.
‘I’m not holding you too tight, am I?’ he whispered, his head bent and his cheek resting against the top of her head.
‘No, I like it,’ she replied. The feel of his hand in the small of her back drawing their warm bodies close together, his sinewy strength beneath the dark blue blazer.
‘That’s all right then,’ he said. And he drew her closer still.
But the tune ended too soon and the band livened things up with a quickstep, which left Harry floundering and apologizing to Lily as usual for having two left feet.
‘Never mind, I’ll stick to my side of the bargain and let you sit this one out,’ she said and grinned, waving at Sybil who was having a high old time teaching Billy the basic steps and rhythms off to one side of the floor, giggling at his mistakes and insisting that he take his lead from her.
‘Poor bugger,’ Harry commiserated as they walked through the grand entrance hall for a breath of fresh air. ‘I’m glad you don’t press gang me like that, Lil. I always thought Sybil had a bit of the sergeant major about her.’
‘Anyway, Billy deserves to be made to feel hot under the collar.’
‘Why, what’s he done now?’
‘He’s only stood Margie up and taken up with Sybil instead.’
Harry considered the information. ‘Margie’s a bit young for Billy, don’t you think? There’s something not quite right there.’
‘Why, has he said something to you?’ she asked quickly, fearing that Billy might have blabbed to Harry about the episode outside the park gates.
But Harry shook his head. ‘I’m just saying – she’s a bit young. How’s she doing up at your granddad’s by the way?’
‘Tickety-boo,’ Lily said unconvincingly then steered the talk away from Margie. ‘I was chatting with Maureen on the tram and she asked me to make her bridesmaid’s dress for her sister’s wedding. That’s on top of promising to sew a summer dress for Elsie at work as s
oon as we get Christmas over and done with. At this rate, I don’t know how I shall find the time.’
‘You will,’ Harry assured her. ‘That’s one of the things I like about you, Lily Briggs – you always find time for other people.’
‘Do I?’ she wondered.
‘For young Arthur for a start. That little lad really loves you and I don’t blame him.’ It was a bold statement and Harry held his breath as his words settled.
‘Well yes, I’d do anything for Arthur,’ Lily agreed, giving way to a shiver and awkwardly side-stepping the second half of Harry’s sentence.
Harry put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Did you hear me? I said I don’t blame him for loving his big sister the way he does. What little lad could help clinging on to every soft word and loving look from you, Lil?’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ she warned. ‘Have you seen Arthur when I try to get him to go to bed early? He’s not so keen on me then.’
The word ‘bed’ sprang out at Harry and he instantly tried to shake off the tempting but unworthy image that flashed into his mind. He was a bad lad, he told himself, thinking of Lily in that way, but the idea of him and Lily in bed together wasn’t easily got rid of. ‘Are you ready to go back inside?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘Why don’t I fetch my coat and we can take our time walking home?’
‘You don’t want to dance any more?’
‘No, I’d rather walk.’ Was this a step too far? she wondered. Would Harry think her forward for suggesting a long, romantic stroll in the dark?
His answer came in a ready smile and an eagerness to take her cloakroom ticket from her to retrieve her coat and hat. Before long they were walking hand in hand along an almost deserted Overcliffe Road.
They talked about this and that and matched each other stride for stride. They slid and skidded on the snowy pavements, laughed and steadied each other, stopped to kiss by a lamp post, the cold of their lips sending more icy shivers down Lily’s spine. They didn’t notice trams trundling by and though the dark moor to their left seemed empty and endless, they were happy in their own little world. Eventually they came to the lighted shop window of Pennington’s and Harry walked Lily down Raglan Road through the alleyway on to Albion Lane.
When they emerged, they found Walter Briggs standing on the top step of number 5, staring up the hill towards the Common so that at first he didn’t notice Harry and Lily. He was so still and preoccupied that he seemed made of stone.
‘Father’s back early,’ Lily murmured, moving out of Harry’s reach and quickening her pace. Walter must have heard her because he turned to look, his face in shadow, only illuminated by the small glow from the cigarette hanging from his lips.
Harry held back and watched Lily reach the steps to her house.
‘Doctor’s here,’ Walter told her in a weary voice drained of expression. ‘Your mother’s had a bad turn. Best come in and hear what he has to say.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Dr James Moss was a tall, deep-voiced man with a florid complexion, built on such a large scale that he seemed out of place in the kitchen of the tiny terraced house – likely to walk into things and wondering quite where to put his big, soft hands which he consequently thrust deep into his jacket pockets. Jutting out his full underlip, he stared for a long time at the black Gladstone bag that he’d placed on the table.
‘You might want to take the little lad upstairs while I have a word with your dad and sister,’ he told Evie, who hurried off with Arthur.
Lily swallowed hard and tried to contain a rising panic while Walter shook his head and backed into the corner by the sink, pulling out another cigarette and putting it to his lips without lighting it.
‘I’ve found the reason for Rhoda not being herself lately,’ Dr Moss began slowly, constrained by the size of the room as well as by the grave news he had to deliver. ‘I’m afraid it must have been building up for quite a while. I expect you’ve seen that for yourselves, haven’t you?’
‘She’s not been well,’ Lily acknowledged. ‘But Mother said she didn’t want to make a fuss – you know what she’s like.’
‘Until tonight, when she took a turn for the worse,’ the doctor continued. ‘Walter, I gather that she sent Evie down to the Green Cross to ask you to come home?’
Walter nodded. ‘I got here fast as I could, Doctor, and it was just in time. Then I sent Evie to call on you.’
‘She was trying to get out of bed when your father arrived, but she fainted away,’ Moss explained to Lily.
‘How is Mother now?’ Lily wanted to know. ‘Has she come round?’
Dr Moss nodded then suggested that she and Walter sit down at the table. ‘You’ll need to steady yourselves,’ he warned.
A sense of dread descended on Lily as she followed the doctor’s advice, noticing only dimly that her father had chosen to stay in the shadows in the corner of the room. She looked up at Dr Moss’s florid face and tried to concentrate on what he said next.
‘I gave Rhoda something to help her revive and then she agreed to let me examine her. I found she has a tumour pressing against her stomach – quite a large one, I’m afraid – big enough to stop her from eating normally, at least. That’s why she’s grown so thin and tired.’
‘Can you take the tumour away?’ Lily whispered.
‘I’m not sure. Your mother would need to go to the hospital to find out about that.’
‘But they could try?’
‘Yes, but if Rhoda has had this tumour for a while, then small parts may have broken away and got lodged somewhere else – in the lungs, for instance. Then the situation would be very bad, I’m afraid.’
The implications behind the doctor’s cautious, carefully considered words sent Lily into a downward spiral of fear for her mother. ‘Why didn’t she say something?’ she cried. Why didn’t I pay more attention? was the unspoken question that quickly followed.
‘I expect she soldiered on, hoping that it would go away,’ Dr Moss said. ‘But now she knows it won’t.’ He turned to Walter and addressed him simply. ‘You understand about the tumour, don’t you? You’re prepared for what might happen?’
‘I know Rhoda hasn’t been herself,’ he murmured abjectly. ‘We have to get her to the hospital, let them sort her out.’
A frown formed between the doctor’s brows as he realized he could take things no further for the time being. He picked up his bag and prepared to leave the family to it. ‘Your mother’s comfortable for the moment,’ he told Lily. ‘Let her rest as much as possible, give her some warm milk with sugar or honey to keep up her strength and I’ll get in touch with the hospital on Monday to see if we can find a bed for her.’
After this, he saw himself out and left Lily alone with Walter.
‘I did the right thing, calling for the doctor?’ Walter asked after a long silence when all that was heard in the dimly lit kitchen was the familiar settling of the last coals in the grate.
‘Yes, Father,’ Lily answered in a dazed voice. She wasn’t sure how much of Dr Moss’s news he had taken in and she didn’t have the heart to elaborate, not now.
‘This is a right to-do.’ He sighed, removing the unlit cigarette and sliding it into his waistcoat pocket.
‘Yes. I wish we’d sent for the doctor before now.’
‘Ah, but she wouldn’t have it.’
‘Shall I go up and see her, or shall you?’ Lily wondered.
‘You do it,’ Walter said, one hand to his temples, the other resting for support on the edge of the sink. ‘Make her go to the hospital, will you, Lil? Tell her not to mind about the money.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘They can do wonders there, tell her – I shouldn’t be surprised if they don’t get her back on her feet in no time.’
‘Yes, Father, I’ll tell her.’ Lily sighed, her head spinning as she stood up and slowly climbed the stairs.
‘Don’t worry, I knew it was coming.’ Rhoda sat in bed, propped up by a ro
lled-up blanket and a thin pillow. Her pallor was deathly white, her manner resigned.
‘I wish you’d told me sooner,’ Lily said, feeling a tight band around her chest as she tried not to cry.
‘You’ve enough on your plate.’ Rhoda’s hands rested on the fawn knitted bed cover, palms down, one on top of the other. Her hair was pushed clear of her face. ‘To tell you the truth, Lily, I was hoping I’d see Margie through the nine months but now it doesn’t seem likely, not after what Dr Moss told me.’
Lily found herself clutching at straws. ‘You might if you let them give you an operation? That’s what Father would like.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
For a moment exasperation at Rhoda’s blunt stubbornness flared in Lily. ‘What do you mean, you don’t think so?’
‘Where would we find the money for me to go into hospital for a start? And anyway what would be the point? No, I’m quite happy for Dr Moss to carry on looking after me here at home.’
‘Mother!’ Feeling the force of Rhoda’s steely resistance on this matter of life and death, Lily let her head drop forward.
‘Don’t cry, Lil.’
‘I’m not.’ Lily was aware that the staccato exchange hid a depth of underlying emotion that she couldn’t even begin to fathom. With a great effort she took her lead from Rhoda, fought back the tears and looked up at her mother’s wan face.
‘It’ll be up to you to look after Margie when the time comes,’ Rhoda told her steadily. ‘And in the meantime there’s Evie and Arthur to think of, not to mention your father.’
‘He’ll want you to go into the King Edward’s,’ Lily warned her again.
‘Yes, but you and I can see that’s cloud-cuckoo-land.’ Rhoda’s lifelong pragmatism didn’t fail her now. ‘We both know that it’s not going to get any better, whatever the doctors try.’
There was nothing that Lily could say to this so she sat and stared sadly at her mother, wondering how best to pass on the news to Margie, Evie and Arthur.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Rhoda objected, wearily turning her head away. ‘Send your father up to me, there’s a good girl. Then go upstairs and talk to Evie for me.’