A Step In Time

by Kerry Barrett

  Understanding was dawning on Patrick’s face.

  ‘Ahhh,’ he said.

  ‘That’s why I overreacted so badly,’ I said. ‘And why I was so horrible to you. But that doesn’t excuse the things I said. I’m really sorry.’

  Patrick nodded and I took that to mean I was forgiven. At least I hoped that was what it meant.

  ‘Now Babs has got it into her head that I should get back with Matty. She says we’re a brand and we’re better together.’

  ‘Holy crap,’ Patrick said. ‘So none of this is real?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ I said. ‘I mean, I am an actress. I love acting …’ Patrick narrowed his eyes.

  ‘But instead you’re a celebrity,’ he said.

  ‘Spot on.’

  I rested my chin on my hands.

  ‘Babs says it’s important to keep my profile high so that, when the dancing’s over, I can start auditioning for other stuff,’ I said. ‘Except …’

  I stopped. Patrick was very easy to talk to and I suddenly found myself about to tell him something I’d not even told Phil. I hadn’t properly made sense of it in my own head yet.

  ‘Except …’ prompted Patrick.

  ‘I’ve not really told her what kind of actress I want to be,’ I said. ‘I want to be in a BBC drama, or a crime thing, something on a Sunday night, you know the sort of stuff? But most of all I want to do Downton Abbey.’

  Patrick nodded.

  ‘But being a brand doesn’t really work with those sorts of jobs, surely?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Probably not,’ I said. I put my face in my hands. ‘I need to tell Babs what I want, but I’m terrified that, if I start changing things now, she’ll stop representing me. She’s really good at getting me endorsements and ads and hair-dye campaigns and magazine front covers. Now she’s going to be obsessed with me getting back with Matty.’

  ‘But do you want this guy back?’ Patrick said.

  ‘Not really,’ I admitted. ‘Not at all, in fact. I miss him, of course. I really miss him. I loved him so much and I never thought we’d split up. But I keep thinking about him throwing my stuff out into the street in front of all the photographers. And I’m pretty sure he made sure he was kissing that girl when I arrived, just to see my reaction …’

  ‘He sounds really nice,’ Patrick said.

  I gave him a weak smile.

  ‘Well, you might meet him later,’ I said. ‘Babs says he’s going to be at this premiere. That’s why she wants me to go.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’

  I stood up.

  ‘So I just wanted to explain why I’d been such a bitch,’ I said. ‘And apologise.’

  Patrick nodded again. Surely that meant I was forgiven?

  ‘And I also wanted to tell you that I’m really committed to learning how to dance.’

  Patrick made a face.

  ‘Sure you are,’ he said.

  ‘Really,’ I said. ‘I’ve been practising.’

  I threw him my phone.

  ‘Put the music on and I’ll show you.’

  Patrick scrolled through and found Bruno Mars and I stood – feeling more than a little self-conscious – in front of him, waiting. As the music began, I cleared my mind as Cora had told me, and then I started to dance. It was a bit clumpy and as I reached the bit in the middle – as far as I’d got with Cora – and stopped, I realised Patrick was staring at me, open-mouthed.

  ‘What the heck was that?’ he said. ‘I mean, seriously. What the fricking heck was that?’

  I felt my cheeks flame. Had I got this completely wrong?

  ‘I’ve been practising,’ I whispered. ‘With a friend.’

  Patrick leapt to his feet and grabbed my shoulders.

  ‘That was amazing,’ he said.

  Relief flooded me. I looked straight at him.

  ‘It was?’ I said.

  ‘It was.’

  I threw my arms round him and squeezed and he laughed.

  ‘Why couldn’t you do that when I was teaching you?’ he said.

  ‘Embarrassment,’ I admitted. ‘Fear. Shame. Guilt … do you need me to go on?’

  Patrick laughed again.

  ‘So who’s this friend who’s taught you?’ he said. ‘Tell me everything.’

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘That’s our car,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell you all about her on the way to the cinema.’

  As the car stopped and started on its way into town, I filled Patrick in on Cora and her lesson.

  ‘So she taught you all that in just one lesson?’ he said in amazement.

  ‘Well, you’d already taught me the steps,’ I pointed out. ‘She just told me what to do with them.’

  Patrick shook his head.

  ‘And she’s old?’ he said. ‘How old?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Her granddaughter said she was nearly 90,’ I said. ‘But she’s not like some frail old lady. She’s really sparky. I’ve never met anyone like her before.’

  ‘Can I meet her?’ Patrick said. ‘I’d love to hear all her stories.’

  ‘Oh, me too,’ I said as the car got close to Leicester Square. ‘I think something sad happened to her, but she didn’t want to talk about it. I wondered if she’d lost someone in the war.’

  ‘Amazing,’ Patrick breathed. He looked a bit embarrassed. ‘I’m a bit of a history geek,’ he said. ‘I studied the Second World War at college and wrote a paper on it. I’ve recorded all my grandfather’s stories about him growing up. And I’ve interviewed his friends, too.’

  I blinked at him.

  ‘Really?’ I said. ‘I would not have predicted that.’

  Patrick laughed.

  ‘It’s not something I talk about a lot,’ he said. ‘Is this it?’

  We were pulling up next to Leicester Square.

  ‘This is it,’ I said. ‘Are you ready?’

  Patrick looked out of the window at the crowds.

  ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘What do I do?’

  I opened the car door.

  ‘Stick with me, smile for the cameras and don’t say anything other than hello,’ I said.

  But actually Patrick was a natural. Of course he was. He was a performer, wasn’t he? Just like me.

  We both turned it on for the paps, smiling and waving to the crowd. Patrick picked me up and spun me round, like we’d done in our Strictly Stars Dancing photo shoot and the cameras flashed madly.

  We didn’t see Matty or his group of hangers-on until the film had ended and we were leaving the cinema.

  ‘There’s always a party,’ I was explaining to Patrick. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’d really rather just go home …’

  I clutched his arm.

  ‘There’s Matty,’ I said. He was standing in the cinema foyer on his phone. His arm was looped casually round the neck of a girl who I vaguely recognised as someone from a TV talent show. He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, he was tanned, and I had to admit he looked really, really handsome.

  ‘You don’t have to talk to him,’ Patrick said.

  I winced.

  ‘I do,’ I said. ‘I’m going to be grown-up here – and it might get Babs off my back if she knows I’ve made an effort. Listen, I’m going to say hello. If no one from Matty’s lot takes a photo, do you mind snapping a couple on your phone?’

  ‘Seriously?’ Patrick said.

  I made a face.

  ‘Seriously. I need Babs to see this.’

  Patrick got his phone out and I threw my shoulders back, put on my best Betsy face and sauntered over to Matty.

  Matty saw me coming. At least, I was fairly sure he saw me coming, but he didn’t acknowledge me. Instead he pretended not to notice as I approached. Then he ended his call, pulled the girl towards him and kissed her.

  The look of horror and humiliation on my face – which obviously three of Matty’s mates captured on their phones – was real. I froze, not sure what to do next until I felt Patrick take
my arm.

  ‘Our car’s here,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  He steered me through the groups of people, out into the street and into our car, so quickly I barely had time to register what was going on.

  I sat silently in the back seat as the car pulled away.

  ‘So that was Matty,’ Patrick said eventually.

  I nodded, grim-faced.

  ‘That was Matty.’

  ‘Well,’ said Patrick. ‘He’s kind of a douchebag.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Cora

  1945

  The wedding was at two o’clock. It was the only time the vicar could fit us in, and it worked out fine. The ceremony would be quick – only half an hour or so – and then we planned to go to a nearby pub to celebrate before Donnie had to leave. His train was departing Waterloo at six so he really had to be back with his regiment by five.

  We were getting married at St Giles in the Field, not far from our boarding house on Charing Cross Road. It had escaped a lot of the bomb damage that had left London looking ragged, except for a nearby blast that had blown out one of its stained-glass windows. The vicar was a nice chap in his sixties and had been delighted to marry us. It was all planned to perfection.

  But that didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous.

  In fact, I was a wreck as Audrey and Fat Joan flapped around me that morning getting my dress ready, and doing my hair and face.

  ‘Stay still,’ Audrey said, jabbing me in the temple with a kirby grip while I wriggled on my chair. ‘Stop jiggling.’

  ‘I can’t help it,’ I said. ‘I’m nervous. And I need the toilet.’

  Fat Joan looked up from where she sat on my bed, examining my make-up.

  ‘What is there to be nervous about?’ she said. ‘You’ll go to the church, say some words, and that’s it. Just like being on stage.’

  I exchanged a glance with Audrey in the mirror and rolled my eyes.

  ‘I just want it all to go right,’ I said.

  Audrey stood back.

  ‘There you go,’ she said. ‘Like it?’

  I looked at my reflection and nodded. She’d done a great job, pinning my hair up, and adding some small white flowers because I didn’t have a veil.

  ‘You’re up, Joan,’ Audrey said.

  Joan uncurled herself from the bed and peered critically at my face.

  ‘I’m not making any promises,’ she said. ‘But I’ll see what I can do.’

  Then she winked at me in the mirror just so I knew she was joking. Which was lucky, because I hadn’t been completely sure.

  Joan actually did a lovely job on my make-up, then I slipped on my dress and I was ready. Because the church was so close, we’d decided to walk. Joan went on ahead to make sure everything was set, and Audrey and I waited five minutes then followed.

  As we got ready to leave, I turned to her.

  ‘Thanks, Audrey,’ I said. ‘Really, thank you.’

  I looked down at my dress.

  ‘I couldn’t have done any of this without you.’

  Audrey gave me a gentle hug so as not to crumple my frock.

  ‘It’s nice to see someone having a bit of happiness,’ she said. ‘Grab it while you can, I say.’

  ‘I’m grabbing it,’ I said. I looped my arm through hers. ‘Shall we go?’

  It was a lovely walk. I had a little posy of flowers and, with my white dress, it was obvious I was a bride. People kept stopping us to wish me well, or calling out from across the street. By the time we got to the church, my cheeks were already aching from smiling.

  Fat Joan was waiting outside, looking worried.

  ‘What?’ I said, as she rushed up to us. ‘What is it?’

  ‘He’s not here,’ she said to Audrey. ‘Donnie’s not here.’

  Audrey sighed.

  ‘Not here yet,’ she corrected. ‘It’s only just gone two. He’s probably been held up.’

  But I was worried.

  ‘He promised he’d be here early,’ I said. ‘He said he wouldn’t keep me waiting.’

  Audrey straightened the collar on my dress.

  ‘Do I need to remind you that there’s a war on?’ she said. ‘Anything could have happened to hold the poor fella up. Let’s sit tight and wait a while before we start panicking.’

  So we did. We went into the vestry and told the vicar what was happening. Then all three of us sat on the steps of the church and waited. And waited. And waited.

  ‘Where is he?’ I wailed as the church clock struck four. ‘Oh, Donnie, where are you?’

  I was bewildered. I couldn’t understand how I’d gone from being so happy to sitting on the steps of a church, waiting for the man I loved, who clearly wasn’t going to turn up. Had I been jilted? Had something happened to Donnie? Was he already on his way to France without being given a chance to say goodbye?

  Audrey put her arm round me.

  ‘Don’t fret,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’s fine.’

  There was a gentle cough from behind us.

  ‘Sorry to bother you,’ the vicar said. ‘But I will need to prepare for Evensong before too long.’

  Joan stood up.

  ‘Could I speak to you for one moment?’ she said, taking the vicar’s arm and steering him into the church.

  ‘She’ll sort it all out,’ Audrey said. ‘She’ll explain what’s going on to everyone.’

  I rested my head on her shoulder.

  ‘Where is he, Audrey?’ I said. ‘Where’s he gone?’

  ‘I don’t know, darling,’ she said, rubbing my arm. ‘But he’s a good’un, remember? This won’t be his doing, I’m sure of it.’

  But I wasn’t sure. ‘You said they’re all the same,’ I said. ‘You said men only want one thing.’

  ‘But not Donnie,’ Audrey said.

  Joan appeared at the top of the steps.

  ‘I’ve told all the guests what’s happened but we need to go,’ she said. ‘The vicar’s got Evensong soon.’

  She bent down and spoke to me as though I were a child.

  ‘He says you can come back any time,’ she said. ‘He’ll marry you and Donnie whenever you want.’

  Audrey helped me to my feet and brushed the dust from my dress. I shook her off, angrily.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘There’s really no point.’

  ‘Maybe he’s gone already,’ Joan said. ‘To France, I mean. Maybe he’s been sent away early and couldn’t get word to you.’

  ‘He could have phoned,’ I said. ‘Even if he phoned now, there’d be someone at the house to answer. They could have come to find us.’

  ‘Perhaps everyone’s gone out,’ Joan said.

  Audrey looked at her watch.

  ‘What time’s the train?’ she said. ‘The train he was meant to be on?’

  ‘Six,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve got time,’ she said. ‘Joan, how much cash have you got?’

  Joan dug into her bag and dropped a handful of coins into Audrey’s outstretched palm.

  ‘I’m going to Waterloo,’ Audrey said. ‘I’m going to find out what the bleeding hell’s going on.’

  She turned and ran down the steps from the church.

  ‘He’s a good’un,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘You’ll see.’

  I looked at Joan.

  ‘What do I do now?’ I said. I didn’t want to stay at the church, but I couldn’t bear to go back to the boarding house, either.

  She looked apologetic.

  ‘We have to go,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a show tonight.’

  She took my hand.

  ‘You don’t need to go on, though,’ she said. ‘We can change things about a bit if we have to. We’d get by without you.’

  I lifted my chin.

  ‘I may have been jilted but I can still dance,’ I said in defiance.

  ‘Really?’ Joan sounded doubtful.

  I started walking back towards Charing Cross Road.

  ‘Of course I can,’ I said. ‘It’s best for me to k
eep busy. Stop me brooding.’

  I threw my posy of flowers into the road and watched as it was run over by a passing taxi.

  ‘It’s just a normal day, after all.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Back at the boarding house, I went straight towards the narrow staircase that led up to our bedroom while Joan disappeared into the kitchen and shut the door behind her. I heard muffled voices as she filled whoever was in on everything that had happened.

  Wearily I climbed the stairs and threw myself on the bed. I was bone tired, heartsick and at an utter loss about what to do. I was desperately keen for Audrey to return and tell me what she’d found out – and at the same time beside myself with dread about what she might tell me.

  I simply couldn’t believe that Donnie would leave for France without getting word to me somehow, or even turning up in the middle of the night to say goodbye. But I also couldn’t believe that he would jilt me. I thought about him in Hyde Park yesterday, spinning round and telling the passing soldiers that we were getting married. Those didn’t seem like the actions of a man who was about to run out on his fiancée.

  And yet, I kept coming back to Audrey’s words. That of course he’d be interested when I was young and pretty and slim and fun. But when life got too difficult – weddings, babies and the prospect of taking a strange British girl home to his perfect life in America – then he’d be off. Perhaps Donnie had just decided it was all too much. Maybe he would go home, marry a girl from Connecticut and forget all about me and our baby.

  I lay on the bed for ages, going round in circles as I tried to make sense of my disastrous wedding day, but I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t understand what had happened.

  After a while, I heard the sounds of people getting ready to go the theatre where we were performing that evening. Doors slamming, water running, music playing. I sat up just as Joan peeked her head round the door.

  ‘How are you?’ she said.

  I threw my pillow at her.

  ‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘Don’t do that sad voice.’

  Joan came into the room properly, holding her hands up.

  ‘I was just trying to be nice,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t come naturally to me.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, almost managing to smile. ‘Thank you.’