by Chris Curran
She stepped in, lying back in the warmth as he closed the door.
‘Marcus?’
He looked in again.
‘Stay and talk to me please,’ she said.
He knelt on the mat beside the bath and she closed her eyes trying to get her muddle of thoughts to make some kind of sense.
‘They both seem pretty sure my dad killed Mum, or at least hurt her so much that he scared her away.’
‘And do you believe that?’
A sharp spasm in her throat. ‘I suppose it’s what I’ve thought for all these years. That Dad must have killed her. That was what I couldn’t bear to believe. And this whole thing started because I wanted so much to find her alive and prove myself wrong.’
Marcus kissed her forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly.
They were silent for so long that Joycie felt herself beginning to doze in the warm water until Marcus said, ‘You hardly slept last night. Why don’t you go straight to bed?’
He handed her the towel and turned away, while she clambered out, feeling so tired that when she’d wrapped it around her she leaned against him and closed her eyes.
‘The thing is I still can’t make sense of why they’ve got Bill trying to scare me. Sid must know I can’t do anything about what he might have done to Pauline or what he did to me. So why set the gang on us?’
‘Don’t forget you’re a famous name now. Even if you can’t go to the police he may be afraid you might talk to the papers, expose him for what he is. That would certainly damage his career if nothing else.’
It made sense. ‘Well I told him tonight I wasn’t going to do anything at all so that should be enough to make him call the dogs off.’
‘And then we can get on with our lives.’
He kissed her and she stayed warm in his arms for a long time. When she broke away he raised his eyebrows and gave her the smile she loved.
After that it was so easy and natural she couldn’t believe it. He carried her into her bedroom and lay on the bed with her. She helped him undress.
And they made love.
Afterwards he whispered. ‘Are you all right?’
And she laughed. ‘Oh yes.’
He didn’t laugh and his voice was serious. ‘The oddest thing happened. I almost felt as if it was the first time I’d ever made love.’ Then he kissed her and their kiss was so sweet she knew that in spite of everything she had never been this happy, and probably never would be again. But it didn’t matter. This was enough.
Eventually Marcus fell asleep and she lay listening to him breathing, wondering why it had finally been all right. It must be to do with seeing Sid as he really was – a pathetic old man – and facing up to him. Facing up to what he had done to her. Tonight, with Marcus, was something so different she couldn’t even think of it in connection with Sid.
She knew she wouldn’t sleep, and she got up, pulled on a long sweater and went downstairs. Thinking of the dark garden with its shadowed trees she didn’t dare go into the kitchen, but huddled on the sofa. Fatty came over and lay at her feet, and Joycie kicked off one of her slippers and rubbed the soft hair on the dog’s back with her toes.
Tonight had been wonderful, but could she trust herself not to go back to the way she had been? And if she finally found out the whole truth about her parents, would that help or make things worse? The one thing she was sure of was that she loved Marcus and would do anything to avoid hurting him.
The upstairs light went on and he came down, dragging his arms through Joycie’s old candlewick dressing gown and pulling it tight across his chest. ‘Joycie? Are you all right?’
She smiled at him. ‘Of course I am, just didn’t want to wake you.’
He sat beside her and she felt herself blush, suddenly shy, but when he pulled her to him and she nestled into his warmth it was all right again. His voice was very soft. ‘And you’re sure you’re OK?’
She pulled back to look into his eyes. ‘It may not always be as easy as it was tonight, but I do love you. I want to be with you. I want this to work. So will you be patient with me?’
He gave her a tiny kiss on the nose. ‘I’ll try. Now I don’t know about you but I’m starving. I’m going to make some sandwiches.’
When he stood she flicked the hem of the dressing gown with her toe. ‘You look so daft in that. Remind me to buy you a nice one when I go shopping next.’
He pulled up the collar as he headed for the kitchen putting on a silly, girlish voice. ‘No I want one just like this.’ Then he pressed his nose into the fabric taking a deep breath, his voice dropping low again. ‘And it has to smell the same too. Of gorgeous eau de Joycie.’
She threw her slipper at him and when they laughed Fatty ran round in circles tongue hanging out. But when Marcus turned on the kitchen light Joycie couldn’t help shivering. The image of someone watching from the dark garden was still all too clear.
***
She woke to find Marcus leaning on his elbow, looking down at her as light filtered through the bedroom curtains. They had brought the cheese sandwiches up with them and when they finished eating she lay cuddled against him feeling so safe and happy she was able to forget about the darkness outside and drift into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Now she reached up to touch his cheek. ‘Last night …’
His hand came up to cover hers. ‘I know and don’t worry. This is still your room and I won’t expect to spend every night here.’
She smiled and closed her fingers over his. ‘I was going to say that last night was just perfect and that I love you.’
He said her name quietly and smiled into her eyes. As if hearing her thoughts, he said, ‘Do you think perfect can ever be repeated or does it happen just once?’
She gave him the answer she knew he wanted. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’
And it was perfect again.
***
She had to do the delayed magazine shoot that morning and as she’d already cancelled once she didn’t want to let them down by being late. So she left without breakfast with Marcus still in bed. He was going to work in the darkroom first thing then had a meeting about a job they were booked for in New York.
At first her delight over last night with him kept her going, but as the day wore on she grew more and more tired. It wasn’t late when she got home and Marcus was still out, but she couldn’t face taking Fatty for a walk before she had a rest. She fed her and let her out into the garden then sat on the sofa and closed her eyes.
She wanted to keep hold of the feeling she’d had last night and this morning, but it had gone and all the old worries were back.
Marcus had tried to understand, but even he couldn’t really do that. No matter how many times she told herself he was right she couldn’t stop feeling the pain and the guilt. And it wasn’t just about Sid. She had made herself believe her dad was a good man. She had loved him when she should have hated him for what he had done.
If only she could work out what it was that had been niggling at her for the last few days. Somehow she knew she’d missed something important. She went upstairs and brought down the keepsake box, taking out her mum’s last letter.
After she left, Joycie and her dad hadn’t talked much about her but when they did it had all been about the good times. And those were the memories Joycie had treasured. And yet, if she was honest with herself, she did remember arguments, angry rows, and even weeks at a time when her parents hardly spoke to each other. Had her dad been trying to make her forget the bad parts? To make himself forget how it had really been?
She looked at the letter with the phrase that kept playing over and over in her head: something has happened and I have to get away from here. If only she could find out what that something might have been. And then there were the words that were crossed out. Last time she had guessed at them as: persuade and later, imagining they meant her mum hoped Charlie would follow them after the season was over. But, even if she had read the words correctly, they co
uld mean anything.
When she heard Fatty come back into the kitchen she locked the door, put the key in the drawer, and lay full length on the sofa, staring at the ceiling and trying to remember anything significant about the days before her mum disappeared. Something has happened, something has happened.
Hastings – August 1953
Joycie is sitting at the table, a pile of spuds she’s supposed to be peeling in front of her. Mum is downstairs talking to the landlady, Mrs Palmer, but Joycie isn’t doing much because when she spread out a newspaper to collect the peelings she spotted photos of the carnival they had at the weekend.
Her dad took Joycie to see it and she thought it was wonderful, but it’s a shame the newspaper pictures aren’t in colour because the floats and the costumes don’t look so good. The carnival queen had been beautiful, with a bouffant of shining blonde hair like Marilyn Monroe’s and a floaty white dress. But she’s just a pale blur in the photo.
When Mum comes up again Joycie grabs a potato and starts to peel it. Dad will be in soon and he’ll need to eat and be off to the theatre. Mum pours herself some tea even though it’s been made for ages and must be cold. She sits in the armchair with her back to Joycie, but Joycie can hear the spoon stirring and stirring. The stirring stops; Mum puts down her cup and gives an enormous sigh as she leans back in her chair.
‘What’s wrong, Mum?’ She doesn’t answer so Joycie goes round to her. Her eyes are closed and her mouth looks funny. ‘Mum?’
A headshake and Mum’s eyes open and focus on Joycie. ‘I’m all right, love. Just tired.’
‘Shall I make you some hot tea?’
Mum shakes her head and takes her cup back to the table, but just stands there staring as if she’s hypnotized by Joycie’s half-peeled potato. Her cup tips in her hand and some tea spills onto the paper.
‘Bugger it!’
Mum grabs a tea towel from the sideboard and dabs the newspaper and the cloth beneath it, muttering, ‘Damn, damn it.’ Her voice is wobbling as if she’s going to cry. Then she grabs the potato. ‘Is this all you’ve done?’ Her voice is harsh, not like Mum’s voice at all. ‘Bring me the big knife and the breadboard. I’ll do it myself. Can’t wait all day.’
Joycie wants to shout at her. It’s not fair. You spilled the stupid tea. Instead she puts the knife and board on the table with a bang. Mum doesn’t even seem to notice, just starts peeling away as if she’s in a race, so Joycie goes into her bedroom and slams the door. She lies on her bed, too cross even to read, wanting only to think about how mean Mum is being.
At last she hears Dad whistling as he comes in, but she stays where she is. She won’t answer when they call her. One of them will have to come and get her.
Dad must have thrown his jacket onto the sofa as usual because Mum says in a nasty voice, ‘Hang that up, can’t you?’
‘Ooer, what’s got your goat?’
Dad’s laugh makes Joycie smile even though she’s determined to keep being cross. Mum’s answer is so quiet she can’t make out the words. She creeps to her door. Then she hears Dad say, ‘Come on, Mary, darling. You’re getting yourself worked up about nothing.’
Joycie turns the door handle, oh so slowly, and opens it just a crack, peering through the tiny gap. Mum has pushed the board and the potatoes aside and sits folding the newspaper into smaller and smaller squares. Dad is standing looking down at her, but she just keeps folding, her eyes fixed on her fingers.
‘It’s not nothing, Charlie. Mrs Palmer downstairs said she saw the three of you together the other week.’ Mum sounds as if she’s got something in her throat, something that’s making it hard to speak.
And when Dad answers it’s in a cold quiet way that scares Joycie: ‘So what are you getting at? What do you want me to do?’
Mum pushes her chair back so hard the screech makes Joycie jump. She shakes her head at Dad. ‘You’d better sort it out. ’Cos if you don’t, I will.’ Then she walks away, leaving the potatoes half peeled, goes into her room and closes the door very quietly behind her.
After a few minutes Joycie peeps out and sees Dad still sitting at the table staring into space. He must have heard her door creak because he turns with a big smile and says, ‘Hey, Joycie. Mum’s not feeling too good so how’s about you and me go out for fish and chips.’
***
Joycie sat up on the sofa. Fatty, who had been lying on the floor nearby, stood to look from her to the front door and back again. ‘All right, let’s go.’ With Fatty dancing around her legs she clipped on the lead and they went out. She headed for St Luke’s Gardens: the park where she’d talked to Cora. It was the first time they’d been back since Fatty was kidnapped, but she’d just have to be careful. Keep the dog close. Couldn’t let them win.
That strange argument happened not long before her mum disappeared. She’d forgotten all about it, but she remembered now that Dad had taken her out for fish and chips in a café. They brought some back for Mum and Joycie wanted to call her to eat them before they got cold, but Dad said best to leave her.
They were still wrapped up on the table next morning and Mum just picked them up and tossed the whole packet in the bin. She made Joycie a boiled egg for breakfast like always, but hardly spoke to her and didn’t have anything to eat herself. Just sat holding a cup of tea until the 9 o’clock pips came on the wireless. Then she tipped the whole cupful down the sink, grabbed a shopping bag and told Joycie they needed to go to the greengrocer’s.
Joycie couldn’t remember her parents arguing again. But then she couldn’t remember them actually talking to each other after that. And then Mum was gone.
***
Keeping close to Fatty was not easy and after chasing her up and down the park for twenty minutes Joycie was exhausted and hungry too. Luckily Marcus was in when they got home and he was making some toast.
Fatty jumped up at him, tongue hanging out, before Joycie could take off her lead. Marcus managed to do it while she lay on the floor and he rubbed and patted her. He smiled over at Joycie. ‘You should have waited for me. I’ve been missing you.’ Finally Fatty moved away to nose at her empty food bowl, rattling it across the quarry-tiled floor, and Joycie put her arms around Marcus. After a while he looked down at her, head to one side.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, you know. The same as always.’
‘You’ve been looking through your mum’s things again,’ he said, pointing to the sofa where the keepsake box still sat.
‘There’s something there, I know there is. Something I’ve seen, but haven’t understood.’
‘Go on then. Look through it again and I’ll bring the toast.’
The argument she’d remembered must surely have been connected to the something that her mum’s letter said had happened. And, if Joycie’s memory was right, she’d been angry about the landlady seeing the three of you together. But who could the other two be? Sid and Cora? Or more likely Sid and some girl they met at the stage door. But Joycie knew they’d taken girls out before. So why would her mum react so badly this time?
She pulled out a few playbills. There wasn’t one for the show just before Mum went, but another caught her eye. It was for Eastbourne, in June, just a couple of months earlier.
Marcus plonked down beside her, holding out a plate of toast. She took a slice and handed him the playbill. ‘I’ve remembered an argument Mum and Dad had just before she disappeared. She was angry because someone had seen him with two other people. I thought it might be Sid and a girl.’
‘That would make sense.’
Joycie pointed to the playbill. ‘But look who was in the show with them a couple of months before that.’
‘The Bluebirds – that’s Dennis is it?’
‘Yes, Dennis and Kay. And Dennis told me it was love at first sight for him. He also said Dad insisted he loved Mum and would never leave her, but …’
Marcus nodded and tapped the paper against his chin. ‘So the two people he was with might have been Denni
s and Kay? Are you thinking your mum guessed there was something going on with Dennis?’
She sat back. ‘Dennis said nothing happened between them before my mum left, but I think it must have been pretty soon afterwards. So maybe my mum suspected Dad was attracted to Dennis even if he hadn’t acted on it. I think I need to talk to Dennis and maybe to Kay as well to see how close they were to Dad before Mum left us.’
***
They were working together next day doing a studio shoot for wedding dresses and all morning Joycie had to fight to keep focused on the job. But when Marcus said, ‘I like the dreamy look through the veil, but don’t overdo it,’ she knew she wasn’t managing very well.
Two other models would be posing as her bridesmaids, but they were only booked for the afternoon so they didn’t arrive until lunchtime. Marcus sent them to the make-up girl and dashed down the stairs, shouting, ‘Got to pick up those lenses from the repairers and I’ll bring back some sandwiches. Don’t change, Joycie, we’ll start with that dress.’
There was a phone in the office just off the studio, but she didn’t want to be overheard. Luckily the dress was a short and simple little thing so she slipped on a mac and her own shoes, grabbed her purse and ran down to the phone box on the corner of the street.
She slotted in her pennies and rang the theatre at Clacton; relieved when a male voice answered because she had been dreading having to tell Mrs Shaw that she had no more news about Pauline. She pressed button A, letting the coins clank down into the box. ‘I wonder if you could give a message to one of The Bluebirds for me. Just ask Dennis or Kay if they could ring Joyce. They’ve got my number.’
‘I’d better get Kay for you now. They won’t be here after today.’ While Joycie waited the pips went and she had to feed in more pennies, glad she’d thought to fill her purse with change that morning.
Kay sounded breathless. ‘I’ve just been clearing our stuff from the dressing room.’
‘I thought you were there for a few more weeks.’
‘Dennis is gone, Joyce. Upped and left the other day. So it looks like The Bluebirds have done their last flight.’ Her laugh ended on what sounded like a sob.