Who's Sorry Now (2008)

by Lightfoot, Freda

  Papa had eyed her keenly over the rim of his newspaper as she’d hurried in. ‘You’re late. Where have you been all this-a time? Your momma she is worried sick.’

  ‘Just at the dance. I’m sorry, Papa, I forgot the time. It won’t happen again.’

  His old eyes had softened as Carmina kissed his brow. ‘See that it doesn’t. And don’t be late for work in the morning.’

  ‘I won’t, Papa, I promise. ‘

  Carmina had escaped to the bathroom to get ready for bed and to splash cold water on her burning face before she faced Gina.

  As expected, her sister had still been awake when she’d climbed into the bed next to her. ‘How was it?’ Gina had asked, in a small sad voice. ‘I expect you danced every dance.’

  ‘I most certainly did,’ Carmina agreed with a happy sigh.

  ‘Who was there? Did you see Luc?’

  ‘Only briefly. He was with someone. Don’t know her name.’

  ‘A girl?’

  ‘Yes, a girl. You don’t think a boy like Luc Fabriani would go to a dance alone, do you? Stop fretting about him. He isn’t worth it, and you didn’t miss a thing. It was all very boring.’ And turning on her side, she’d snuggled down into her pillows and, despite her failure to seduce him, nursed the memory of Luc’s kisses with secret delight. Her oh-so-innocent sister would have fifty fits if she’d the smallest inkling of how close Carmina had come to stealing him from her.

  And now, a week or two later, she was even more determined to succeed. ‘Gina doesn’t know about us, or what nearly happened in your old banger.’ Carmina admitted.

  ‘I pray to God she never does. That was a bad mistake. It won’t happen again. Anyway, there is no us.’

  He was again striding away from her, turning the corner into St John’s Place where he lived in a fine Georgian terraced house with his parents, the polished brass knocker and letter box on its porticoed door probably cleaned by some maid this very morning. Carmina would dearly like to be invited in for tea, but doubted they’d reached that stage. Not yet.

  ‘Oh, I think there is,’ she insisted. ‘Very much so.’

  He paused to glare at her. ‘I was a stupid fool to allow you to push things so far.’

  ‘So it’s all my fault now, is it?’

  ‘You know it was.’ He almost shouted the words at her, his voice hard with accusation.

  Carmina gave a brittle little laugh. ‘You were panting for it. Couldn’t help yourself, because you know how much you like me really.’

  ‘I do not!’

  ‘Oh, yes, you do! And you still are gasping for it.’

  ‘I was stupid to believe what you said about Gina wanting to finish with me. In fact, I intend to speak to her and put her straight about some of these lies of yours.’

  He set off across the road as if he meant to carry out his threat there and then but Carmina snatched at his arm and dragged him to a halt. They were both breathing hard, she quite out of breath trying to keep up with him. ‘If you do that, you’ll be sorry.’

  ‘Why? Who’ll make me sorry?’ There was a hard brightness in his gaze that sent a shiver of longing down her spine. He excited her even more when he was angry. He looked so dangerous!

  ‘I will.’ She shook back her dark hair so that it rippled over her shoulders, brown eyes blazing a challenge. ‘Admit it, you really can’t resist me. I’ll tell her how passionately you kissed me, what very nearly happened between us. I won’t spare her a single detail. I might even embellish things a little.’

  She watched with pleasure as the colour drained from his handsome face.

  ‘You wouldn’t do that, not to your own sister?’

  ‘Watch me.’ Now she softened her stance, trailed a finger tip over his full mouth. ‘There’s a way to keep me quiet though. If you’re so keen for me to keep my mouth shut, then meet me tonight down by the canal bridge at seven, and don’t be late. You and I have some unfinished business.’ Then she left him standing in the middle of the road, a car peeping its horn at him as she sashayed away, hips swinging.

  Carmina managed to avoid speaking to Gina as Momma carried supper up to her room on a tray, claiming the poor girl still needed to rest. How she did fuss! But then later, just as she was creeping out the door, her mother caught her.

  ‘Where you go? Who you go with? Not seeing a boy, I hope?’ Then reverting to her native tongue, Carlotta asked if Carmina too had secrets like her younger sister?

  Carmina widened her eyes in an expression of outraged innocence. ‘Now why would I?’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Momma, are you accusing me of being a liar?’

  ‘I only accuse you of being a silly young girl, as we all were once.’ Carlotta jabbed a finger in her own ample chest. ‘I am your Momma. It is my job to protect you. You must be good girl, understand?’

  Carmina rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh, having heard all of this a thousand times before. ‘Of course I’m a good girl. Don’t you trust me, Momma?’

  Then catching sight of her own reflection in the hall mirror she tweaked a few kiss curls here and there, ran a damp finger over each plucked brow. Her face was bare of make-up but she carried lipstick, green eye shadow, mascara and powder compact in her pocket, ready to put on the minute she got out of the house. Her mother didn’t approve of her looking like a floosie, but what she didn’t see wouldn’t hurt her.

  Carlotta was wringing her hands in despair. ‘Why won’t you listen to your momma? Don’t think I don’t know what is going on. I hear you danced with that Fabriani boy, that you follow him about like the little lamb.’

  Carmina was stunned. ‘Who’s been telling tales?’

  Carlotta merely folded her arms, and her lips. Gossip wasn’t hard to pick up on this market. No doubt Alec Hall had casually mentioned the dance, and Winnie Holmes had filled her in on the other details, which she’d no doubt gleaned from her customers. ‘He is no good. He has the record with the police.’

  Carmina snorted her contempt. ‘Nonsense! Okay, so Constable Nuttall gave him a clip round the ear once for doing a bit of shop lifting when he was a kid, so what? That’s not exactly a criminal record, is it?’

  ‘He bad boy. In any case, he not love you, he love Gina. But he can’t have her either.’ Carlotta had resorted once more to broken English in an effort to make her point.

  Carmina sighed and pouted her lips as she mentally tried to tune out. It was true that so far Luc did seem more interested in talking about her dratted sister than any future for them, but she intended to change all of that. His relationship with Gina was now over, for good. She’d make certain of it. Luc Fabriani would very soon be absolutely besotted by her, putty in her hands.

  Her mother, however, was too old to understand any of this, Carmina thought. Listening to only a fraction of Carlotta’s dire warnings, she titivated her hair, reached for her coat from the hall stand and tried to nod, or say ‘Yes, Momma,’ whenever it seemed appropriate.

  ‘Men of that sort they like bad girls as playthings but if you make-a mistake, who would marry you then?’ Carlotta was saying, then lifted her hands to pat her own cheeks in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Momma Mia, you would be ruined.’

  ‘It isn’t like that these days.’

  ‘It is, if I say it is.’

  ‘Nothing bad is going on, I swear it.’

  Carlotta scowled as she helped Carmina button up her coat, wrapped a scarf about her neck and pulled a warm fluffy wool hat over her abundant curls, not entirely convinced by her daughter’s air of innocence. Yet she was all too aware that pushing her too hard could easily backfire and the silly girl would do the exact opposite of what she told her, simply to be perverse. These teenagers, as they now called themselves, were a complete mystery to her. Far different from her own youth when her father had found her a good man to marry, and a wise choice he had made in her beloved Marco.

  ‘You are still a virgin?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ Carmina lied, flu
shing with embarrassment as she rushed for the door. She couldn’t quite recall when she’d first given up that so-called prize. Two years ago? And either Tom Salmon or Jake Hemley had been the lucky winner. She couldn’t quite remember, but what did it matter? Carmina didn’t have any time for this holier-than-thou-mustn’t-talk-about-sex attitude. Really! Mothers!

  Carlotta sighed over a changing world and kissed her daughter soundly on each cheek. ‘Then see you stay that way or your papa he will take the whip to you.’

  Since Papa Bertalone would never lift so much as a finger to hurt any of his adored children Carmina ignored this threat completely. She kissed her mother in return and told her that she was only popping round to chat to Amy George as, being pregnant, she didn’t get out much at the moment. Then she walked straight down to the canal where Luc was waiting for her near Princes Bridge, as instructed.

  They stood together in the chill of the evening by the River Irwell, hands in pockets as Luc promised he would offer no defence of his supposed ill conduct, indeed dare not do so now that Carmina had turned the lie into a truth. Okay, so he had indeed kissed her, albeit savagely and in anger, briefly tempted because he felt convinced he’d lost Gina. But how could he explain all of that to Gina? And would she believe him? He very much doubted it. She would indeed feel betrayed, for all he had backed down at the last moment.

  Carmina swished at a few nettles, wishing there was somewhere more glamorous and private she could take him, wishing he’d brought his car, but preened herself over having at least partially achieved her object.

  She was anxious to get things back to how they’d once been between them. Unfortunately, when she pressed herself against him and tried to give Luc a French kiss, ready to tantalise him into further indiscretions, he shoved her roughly away.

  ‘Get off, Carmina. I’ve already told you this has got to stop. You’re out of control.’

  ‘Cheeky monkey!’ Carmina deliberately laughed off the remark to prove that she’d no intention of taking offence this time either. ‘And there’s me thinking that I was your girl.’

  ‘Not on your sweet life. I’ve promised to keep my mouth shut but you and me are still history. How much plainer can I make it?’

  Carmina smiled her most brilliant smile. ‘Sweetie, what you have to realise is that you can’t have everything in this world, and I’m not going to allow you anywhere near our Gina, not ever again. You and she are never going to be love’s young dream. Get that idea right out of your head. If you were ever to take up with her again, then I’d have to enlighten her on a few interesting facts, wouldn’t I? Only you and I know the truth of what went on in that car, of how far things went, or not, as the case may be. It’s your word against mine, isn’t it? So if you want me to keep my mouth shut, I need a little more attention from you in return.’

  Luc’s expression went blank with shock. ‘That’s blackmail!’

  Carmina widened those bewitching velvet brown eyes as she gave a casually expressive shrug. ‘Well, would you believe it? I never thought of it that way, but do you know, you’re absolutely right.’

  ‘You bitch!’

  Carmina put back her head and laughed. ‘You always were good with the sweet talk, Luc.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Patsy stepped off the bus and smiled to find Marc waiting for her. He’d been quite diligent in that respect lately. Relieving her of the heavy bag in which she carried the books and materials for her millinery course, he slipped an arm about her waist and kissed her.

  ‘You look all flushed and pretty.’

  ‘Must be love, or the cold breeze.’ She smiled.

  ‘I’ll go for the first, if there’s a choice.’

  Tucking her arm in his they strolled along Champion Street, content in each other’s company. ‘We’re like an old married couple already,’ Patsy teased.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that. Can’t wait for the big day myself, so long as it’s not too big. We have to be careful or Momma will invite half of Manchester.’

  Patsy chuckled. ‘I don’t care what she does so long as at the end of it, you and I are man and wife,’ and reaching up she kissed him again, just to prove how happy she was.

  ‘You must be nearly at the end of this course,’ Marc idly remarked as they headed for Belle's Café by mutual consent. They often liked to enjoy a quiet moment together over a frothy coffee before facing the rest of his family.

  ‘Nearly, yes. It finishes at the end of May. It was quite difficult but I’ve enjoyed it and learned so much.’

  ‘Hello, you two love birds,’ Belle called to them, as they strolled in. ‘The usual?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Belle brought over two brimming cups of steaming coffee and set them down, her long crimson nails clicking on the saucers as she did so. Folding her arms, she regarded them both with candid interest, clearly ready for a chat. ‘You look like you’ve swallowed a silver sixpence, Patsy, your face is all lit up and shiny.’

  ‘It’s the heat of that sweaty bus,’ Patsy quipped. She and Belle had never been what you might call close friends, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood for small talk today, not when she’d made up her mind to tell Marc about Clara’s offer at last.

  ‘I reckon it must be love, beaming out of you like a sunbeam. I hope I get an invitation to the big day. When is it to be?’

  ‘August,’ Marc said.

  ‘Some time in the autumn or winter,’ Patsy replied at the same moment.

  ‘By heck, make up your minds. If you don’t agree about anything else, you two need to agree about the day of your wedding at least,’ and Belle went off chuckling to herself.

  Marc was frowning as he picked up his coffee and took a sip, then licked the frothy moustache from his upper lip. ‘Why did you say that? If we find somewhere to live we needn’t wait till the autumn.’

  Patsy shrugged, her hands clenched tight under the table. ‘What’s the hurry? We still haven’t found anywhere yet, and neither of us has much time to look. I certainly don’t, not with Annie ill. At least, not till I’ve finished this millinery course. And I’ve started lessons in Italian with Antonia. She’s surprisingly strict for a twelve year old, and even gives me homework. I don’t seem to have a minute to myself these days.’ She laughed.

  ‘As I’ve already said, you don’t have to go on with this hat-making malarkey. You could give it up. You probably won’t use half of it.’

  ‘Of course I will,’ Patsy retorted. ‘It’s my job. By the time I’m done I doubt there’ll be any kind of hat I couldn’t make, including a straw bonnet, should I feel the urge.’ Her laughter this time sounded somewhat forced. ‘Actually, there’s something I need to tell you, something exciting.’

  ‘Oh?’ Marc sipped his coffee as he glanced at her, a slightly wary expression coming into those brown, Bertalone eyes.

  Patsy felt she’d contained her excitement for long enough. She was itching to share her good news, felt all shining inside. Belle had been right about that, even if she couldn’t possibly guess the reason. ‘Clara has asked me to become a partner.’

  There was a small silence. ‘A partner? On the hat stall, you mean?’

  Patsy chuckled, her cornflower blue eyes glowing. ‘Yes, on the hat stall. What else? Annie needs to retire through ill health and Clara has offered me a stake in the business in her place. Isn’t that marvellous?’

  Marc set down his cup with a clatter. ‘Will you have time? I mean with the wedding and everything.’

  ‘Carlotta seems to have it all in hand. Besides, as you were saying just now, we don’t want a big affair as it’s only one day. Once that is over life gets back to normal, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Not exactly, we’ll be married. You’ll be my wife, with a home to run and a whole new life to lead.’

  ‘True, but I’ve no intention of stopping work. Why would I, when we need the money and I enjoy it?’

  ‘You may have to, once the babies start coming.’

  Patsy
took a breath before replying. ‘Look, I know I agreed to convert and become a catholic but there are some things - about your religion - that I don’t quite agree with. Birth control for one. We’ve had this out before. I’ll have a baby in a year or so, when I feel ready. There’s plenty of time. I’m not yet twenty, remember.’

  ‘They say it’s best to have your children when you’re young, so that you can be young with them.’

  ‘I think I’d like to enjoy my own youth a bit more first, before I start shaping someone else’s, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘And what if I do – mind, I mean?’

  Patsy hadn’t even touched her coffee and knew she couldn’t pick it up at that precise moment as her hands had started to shake, so she’d be sure to spill it. Even the smell of it made her feel sick. She could hear her heart knocking against her ribs, drumming in her ears, and she thought the image of Marc’s implacable face would live with her forever. Marc Bertalone, the man she loved more than life itself, suddenly seemed like a stranger to her, all cold and distant.

  ‘Why would you mind?’

  ‘Perhaps because I want my wife not to have to work quite such long hours. You know I’ve been promoted recently, to top window dresser in Kendals, so we won’t be too hard up. Some men wouldn’t want their wives to work at all. I’m not like that, but I don’t want you overdoing it, Patsy, or committing yourself to something you can’t possibly keep up once you have other responsibilities.’

  Patsy took a moment to sort out her thoughts before answering. ‘I understand what you’re saying, Marc, but, like you, I’m ambitious and I love my work.’

  He scowled at her. ‘I’m not suggesting you stop work altogether. Just do part-time, perhaps a couple of mornings a week.’

  ‘I don’t want to work part-time. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than making hats.’ Patsy wondered if she looked as pale and sick as she felt. Marc’s reaction had been worse than she’d feared.

  ‘But you don’t have to take on the running of a hat stall to do that,’ he coldly insisted. ‘You could continue to make hats at home.’