Pastures New

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Do you fancy a row on the lake?’ asked Ian, watching a few brave souls who were pulling away at the oars.

  ‘Are you offering to row?’ asked Alison, looking quite surprised.

  ‘Yes, why not?’ He’d tried rowing only a couple of times, with some of his schoolmates, but he was sure he would be able to cope. It might impress Alison, and they couldn’t stroll around aimlessly all afternoon.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Alison, somewhat to his relief. ‘It looks too much like hard work to me, and you’re working at the hotel later. You don’t want to tire yourself out. What about a game of putting? There’s a putting green just over there, and that’s not a strenuous game.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Ian. He had played there sometimes, mainly with Janice after they had come to live near Stanley Park.

  They collected their putters and balls and score cards from the kiosk. It was an enjoyable way to spend the next hour. Ian felt his skill returning as they went from green to green. Alison was jolly good and he guessed that she played all kinds of sports at her school. Neither of them managed a hole in one but they both achieved a two. When they totted up their scores, Ian had won by two points. He was pleased because he felt that his honour was at stake.

  ‘I’ll beat you next time, you’ll see!’ said Alison, laughing.

  He felt very much at ease with her now and glad that she had mentioned a next time.

  ‘Let’s go and have a cup of tea, or whatever you fancy,’ he said, ‘then I suppose we’ll have to be heading back. I mustn’t be late at the hotel.’

  They went to the cafe, a rather genteel place with white cloths on the tables, china cups and saucers and an air of refinement. Only a few of the tables were occupied, by people rather older than themselves, and there were no children running around.

  They ordered toasted teacakes with butter and strawberry jam, and a pot of tea. It was served by a waitress wearing a white cap and apron.

  ‘Has Darren got a holiday job in Bury?’ asked Alison.

  ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Ian. ‘He didn’t say that he had and I don’t imagine there are many hotels in Bury. I know he likes to go home to see his parents, and I dare say he has friends at home. I don’t think there is anyone … special, though.’

  ‘You know about Darren, don’t you?’

  ‘That he’s, er … gay. Well, yes, I do. I didn’t realize at first, not until he made a move towards me, so I had to put him right.’

  Alison laughed. ‘Whoops! He didn’t tell me that. He hasn’t actually told me anything, but I guessed; there was just something about him. Mum thought that he and I might get friendly, so I told her that I thought he had a girlfriend at home. I couldn’t possibly tell her. She’d most likely be shocked, and my dad as well. They think he’s such a nice lad, and of course he is.’

  ‘Yes, it’s not something you discuss with your parents, is it? I doubt that my dad and Norma would understand either.’ Ian himself had been very green about such matters until recently.

  ‘Anyway, never mind about Darren,’ said Ian. ‘What about you and me? Would you like to go out one evening? To the pictures, or … something?’ He wasn’t sure what to suggest.

  ‘Yes, of course I’d like to,’ said Alison. ‘What about the palace? You get a lot for your money there.’

  ‘Yes, so you do,’ agreed Ian. ‘I’ve been to the cinema there, and a variety show, but I’ve never been in the ballroom.’

  ‘Well, now’s your chance,’ said Alison. ‘I’m not a brilliant dancer, but I can manage a waltz and a quickstep, and they have old-time dances at the palace as well. We had dancing lessons at school; well, it was after school really, with the boys from the grammar school. All very proper, you know, organized by the teachers. I say, you were at the grammar school, weren’t you? Why didn’t I see you there?’

  ‘Because I didn’t fancy dancing lessons. My mates and me, we played football and chess. The only dancing I’ve done is jigging around at the youth club. Yes, the palace sounds like a good idea.’

  The palace building, originally known as the Alhambra, had been opened at the very end of the nineteenth century. It was on the promenade, on the block next to the tower building. The palace included a cinema, a theatre and a ballroom, as well as various cafes and bars. It now belonged to the tower company.

  ‘We’d better make the most of it while it’s still there,’ said Alison. ‘There’s a rumour – well, more than a rumour; it’s probably true – that the building is going to be sold and the site used as a department store. My dad works for the council, in the borough treasurer’s department, so he’s heard about it. No doubt they think – whoever they are – that there are enough ballrooms in Blackpool, with the Winter Gardens and the tower, and we’ve umpteen theatres and cinemas.’

  Ian nodded. ‘Yes, let’s give it a try. We’ll go now, when you’re ready. I’ll just pay the bill.’

  He felt very pleased to be paying out of his earnings, which his dad had said he must keep for himself. And Alison didn’t argue about her share, which was just how he wanted it to be.

  They set off walking back home, and Alison insisted that she should walk the rest of the way on her own. It made sense as Ian had to get ready to go to his place of work. He had very bravely taken hold of her hand, but he didn’t try to kiss her goodbye, not in broad daylight. There would be another time.

  They agreed to meet early on Saturday evening, Ian calling for Alison this time, then they would watch the first house variety show and spend some time in the ballroom.

  Ian thought how attractive she looked when she opened the door to him. She was wearing a blue dress in a silky material, with a full skirt and what he thought was a heart-shaped neckline. He knew very little about colours and fashion, but he thought the colour was like blue hyacinths. Her blonde hair, soft and shiny, was curled under in a page-boy bob.

  ‘Hi there, Ian,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m ready. Come in a minute while I get my coat.’ She took a white woolly jacket from the hallstand.

  ‘Bye, Mum, Dad,’ she called. ‘We’re off now.’

  Mrs Riley appeared from the room at the back. ‘Hello, Ian. Nice to see you again. Well, it’s hello and goodbye, isn’t it? Have a good time.’

  There were no warnings about not being late home. Ian knew that Mrs Riley was concerned for her daughter but was being careful not to embarrass her, and that she would trust him to take care of her.

  The palace building was already busy, early on the Saturday evening. This was the evening when many people went out to enjoy themselves at the end of the working week.

  There were queues for tickets for the first house at the cinema, and at the theatre for the variety show. There was ample room, however, and they had seats in the centre stall.

  ‘My treat,’ said Ian.

  He was pleased when Alison said, ‘Thanks, but let me pay for a drink afterwards, OK? My dad gives me an allowance.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve decided not to call it pocket money now I’m in the sixth form. And I hope I’ll get a job again in the summer holiday.’

  Ian grinned. ‘That’s OK with me.’

  The variety show followed the usual pattern of chorus girls, comedian, solo singers – a soprano and a baritone who then joined together for duets – a ventriloquist, a juggler and a comedy sketch. It was all very enjoyable, although none of the artistes were well known. During the summer season, when the town was packed with visitors, there would be more famous artistes. The really top-class acts would perform for the whole of the season at the Opera House or the Grand Theatre.

  ‘Let’s go and have that drink I promised you,’ said Alison when the show came to an end.

  ‘What do you mean by a drink?’ said Ian.

  ‘Tea or lemonade … or something stronger?’

  ‘Well, I’m only seventeen, and so are you. That’s not to say that I haven’t broken the rules now and again, and I’m sure you have as well?’

  Ian nodded. ‘Darren was th
e first one to lead me astray! Let’s play it safe, eh? We mustn’t spoil the evening by getting into hot water.’

  They refreshed themselves with orange juice before making their way to the ballroom.

  The design of the ballroom was similar to that of the Winter Gardens or the tower, but on a smaller scale and, therefore, it had a more intimate and friendly ambience. There was a stage at one end where the band was playing, a highly polished wooden floor in a tessellated pattern of mahogany, oak and walnut, red plush seating and marble pillars soaring up to a balcony above.

  The band was playing ‘Que Sera, Sera’ as a young woman vocalist sang the song that was made famous by Doris Day.

  ‘What will be, will be …’ Ian recognized it as a waltz tune and decided it was now or never.

  ‘Shall we give it a try?’ he asked.

  Alison replied, ‘Why not? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’

  They took to the floor and Ian realized this was the first time he had been so close to Alison. They were pretty much the same height. Her hair brushed against his cheek and he was aware of a floral scent, like roses and lavender, drifting around him. He tried to concentrate on his steps, dancing cautiously for fear of treading on her toes. He decided not to talk in case he went wrong. Alison was a more than adequate dancer, and it was thanks to her guidance that he did not stumble.

  ‘Well done,’ she said when the dance came to an end and they left the floor. ‘Don’t tell me you can’t dance.’

  He grinned. ‘Well, I survived, and so did your feet!’

  There was a lull for a few moments, then the compere announced that it was time for a change of style and rhythm. ‘Our old-time session, ladies and gentlemen, starting with the Valeta.’

  This was one that Ian had learnt at the youth club and, after a moment or two, when there was a fair number of couples on the floor, Ian and Alison joined them, dancing to the strains of ‘I’ll Be Your Sweetheart’.

  Ian found he was enjoying it very much, and it seemed that Alison was, too. There followed a barn dance, a St Bernard’s Waltz, a military two-step and the Gay Gordons. They took part in most of them, then it was time for the last waltz.

  ‘I’m sorry to be a killjoy,’ said Alison, ‘but do you mind if we go now? Or else there will be a massive queue in the cloakroom.’

  ‘Suits me,’ said Ian. ‘It’s been fun, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Great!’ said Alison, her eyes shining with pleasure. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  She collected her jacket from the cloakroom and they started walking home.

  ‘Aren’t your feet tired after all that dancing?’ asked Ian, glancing at her open-toed sandals.

  ‘No, I’m OK,’ she replied. ‘My sandals are not too high and they’re quite comfy. Anyway, it’s not worth getting on the tram for a couple of stops, is it?’

  They set off walking along Church Street. This time it was Alison who took hold of Ian’s hand.

  ‘I’ve really enjoyed it tonight,’ she said. ‘I’ve been there with some of my friends from school but it’s not the same, dancing with another girl.’

  ‘And hasn’t there been … anyone else?’

  ‘No … Well, not for quite a while. And I hate standing by the ballroom floor like a wallflower.’

  ‘We can go there again, if you like, or perhaps we can try the tower or the Winter Gardens?’

  ‘The tower gets a bit rowdy sometimes at the weekend.’

  ‘And you won’t want to go out during the week, I suppose, because of school?’

  Alison gave a mock shudder. ‘Don’t mention it! I suppose I shall have to get stuck in with exams looming, but I’m not a slave to it. And I like to enjoy myself.’

  ‘I can see that,’ said Ian. He had thought she seemed rather aloof and superior when he first met her, but he knew now that this was not so.

  ‘And I shall have to see what’s going on at college. There’ll be end-of-year assessments coming up. I’ll ring you, shall I? That is … if you’d like me to?’

  ‘Of course I would,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I told you, I’ve really enjoyed it.’

  He hesitated when they arrived at her gate. She smiled at him coyly but with a gleam in her eyes.

  ‘Aren’t you going to kiss me goodnight?’ she said.

  And he did so, tentatively at first, then with more confidence as he felt her respond. She broke away then kissed him playfully on the cheek.

  ‘Night night, Ian,’ she said. ‘See you soon.’ She scurried up the path, then turned to wave as she reached the door.

  Ian walked home feeling happy and very pleased that a girl like Alison wanted to see him again. Then he thought of Sophie and felt a tiny pang of regret. But as the song went: ‘Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be …’

  THIRTEEN

  Val and Sam had settled down to a happy and peaceful family life again. Lucy seemed to have suffered no ill effects from her abduction, and Val could see that she had been well-cared-for. There was no sign of nappy rash, and the nappy she had been wearing when she came home was spotlessly white.

  She had seemed a little confused at first, staring around as if unsure where she was; then, to their delight, she’d smiled at them and the words ‘Da-da’ and ‘Ma-ma’ that they had been eagerly waiting to hear started to trip from her tongue. Not just once but repeatedly, as she became familiar with the sounds she was making.

  They had wondered if the improvement in Russell’s behaviour would continue. A week later he was still being good, or as good as could be expected from a nearly three-year-old. He was gentle with Lucy, and Val was touched at the way he often went up to his little sister and stroked her face.

  ‘I love Lucy, Mummy,’ he said.

  And Val was able to answer without hesitation, ‘So do I, Russell, and I love you too, very much.’ To her delight, he was now responding more readily to her cuddles.

  But her thoughts were still with the poor woman who had taken Lucy, and she had been adamant that she must not be punished for her actions. Hazel, who had been their family liaison officer, had become more of a friend now, rather than a policewoman doing her duty. After a fortnight or so had passed, Val enquired again about the woman, whom she had learned was called Claire.

  ‘She’s in a much more stable frame of mind now,’ said Hazel. ‘The doctor is treating her for depression and her husband is at home for another week before he starts his next tour. He seems a very understanding sort of man. He must have been horrified at what she had done but he didn’t go off the deep end about it.’

  ‘Do you think I could go and see her?’ asked Val, as she had asked once before at the police station. But the sergeant had told her then that it would not be a good idea.

  Hazel looked at her with understanding, but then shook her head doubtfully. ‘I’m … not sure. It’s not what usually happens and it might not be a good idea. But I know you’ve shown great understanding and forgiveness …’

  ‘That’s because I’ve been in the same position myself. I was desperate for a child, and I know now how silly and impatient I was. Lucy was on the way when we’d not even thought about having another baby. We’d only recently adopted Russell. I suppose I’d calmed down and wasn’t getting all worked up about it, and that’s when it happened. I’d like to tell Claire about what happened to me, and perhaps it’ll help her not to get too anxious about it all.’

  ‘You weren’t thinking of taking Lucy with you, were you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Well, it’s rather irregular, but … would you mind if I came with you? Not in my uniform, just as a friend. I don’t like the idea of you going on your own.’

  ‘Yes, I think that’s the best idea,’ said Val. ‘My mum will look after the children.’

  Hazel said she would be free the next afternoon and they decided to go in Sam’s car rather than a police vehicle. Sam occasionally walked to work, leaving the car for Val to use when she needed it.

  Hazel cycled to V
al’s home and they set off, leaving Russell and Lucy in the care of their capable grandma.

  Claire Dawson lived with her husband, Greg, in a small, semi-detached house at the far end of Queensbury. Val felt a little apprehensive as they walked up the path. It had been her idea to make the visit but she was wondering what sort of a reception she would receive.

  After they had rung the bell twice and Val was beginning to think she was not there, the door opened.

  Claire was a small woman, very girlish in appearance, although Val knew she was, at thirty-one, a few years her senior. She had wispy blonde hair, a pale complexion and a delicate prettiness.

  ‘Oh … hello, Hazel,’ she said, sounding surprised, ‘I wasn’t expecting …’ She looked curiously at Val, whom she had not seen before.

  ‘Hello, Claire,’ said Hazel. ‘This is Val … Lucy’s mum. She said she’d like to come and meet you.’

  ‘Oh … oh, I see.’ Claire’s face went a shade paler, if that were possible. She reached out to hold the doorjamb for support. ‘You’d better come in, then.’

  Val reached out and touched her arm reassuringly. There’s nothing to worry about,’ she said. ‘I do understand about what happened, and you took good care of Lucy.’

  ‘Is Lucy all right?’ asked Claire, looking anxious.

  ‘Yes, she’s fine; she’s with her gran – my mother – and her brother, Russell.’

  ‘Well … come in, then.’

  They followed Claire into the living room, which had windows at the front and the back: a combined dining room and lounge, nicely furnished with G-plan furniture from the mid-fifties.

  They sat down on the two-seater settee and Claire sat opposite on a matching chair, only to jump up again immediately.