A Step In Time

by Kerry Barrett

  ‘All righty then,’ I said, downing my Coke and standing up to greet the writer. ‘Let’s do this. Amy Lavender’s back in business.’

  Chapter Fifty-One

  It was a whirlwind of a day, but I loved every minute. I realised I’d been a bit hasty in saying I wanted to ditch the celeb lifestyle altogether. I just had to make sure it didn’t interfere with my acting ambitions, that was all. My interview had gone really well and the photos were great – not overly sexy or too posed, just me looking happy. Babs was fully on board now, and had even suggested speaking to Cora to see if she could recommend an acting coach – she thought I should sharpen up my skills before I started auditioning and I thought it was a good idea.

  But first we had to tell Ginny – and Natasha – all about Donnie.

  Natasha came to get me, knocking on the back door as I lay on the sofa reading Glamour magazine.

  ‘Granny has asked me to invite you up for a drink,’ she said. ‘Are you busy?’

  I threw Glamour down and stood up – I’d been ready for the last twenty minutes.

  ‘Nope,’ I said. ‘I’m all yours.’

  ‘She’s being very mysterious,’ Natasha said. ‘And she doesn’t look very well. She says she’s got something to tell us. I’m terrified she’s got some awful illness.’

  We went out into the garden and I shut the patio doors behind us.

  ‘She’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m sure she’s fine.’

  Natasha gave me an odd look.

  ‘Do you know what this is about?’ she said.

  I assumed an innocent expression.

  ‘Not sure,’ I muttered. ‘Shall we go in?’

  Cora didn’t look well, Natasha was right about that. She was sitting in her winged-back chair with a blanket over her knees. She looked pale and delicate and her lipstick was like a pink slash across her white face.

  ‘Oh, Cora,’ I said. I went to her and took her hand. She squeezed gently.

  ‘Amy,’ Natasha said as another woman came into the room. ‘This is my mother, Virginia.’

  Ginny was tall and willowy like Natasha but she had faded strawberry-blonde hair that tumbled down her back in curls. She was wearing pink patterned leggings, several layers of brightly coloured tops and an enormous necklace. On her wrist she wore lots of chunky bangles. She was very pretty and looked nothing like the classically elegant Cora, or chic Natasha. I wondered if she looked like Donnie.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Amy,’ said Ginny. ‘I hear you’ve done a great job looking out for Mum.’

  ‘I tried,’ I mumbled, aware that Cora didn’t look her usual sparky self at all.

  ‘Amy’s changed my life,’ Cora said. Ginny and Natasha both looked at her and then me in surprise. ‘Ginny, darling, you’d better sit down. I’ve got something to tell you that might come as a shock.’

  ‘Oh God, Mum, you’re not a lesbian, are you?’ Ginny said. ‘I did wonder about you and Audrey for a while back in the seventies.’

  ‘Oh, Ginny, honestly,’ Cora said, sounding cross but looking amused, and I got a glimpse of what their relationship had been like over the years.

  ‘Sit down and listen.’

  Ginny sat obediently. I perched on the arm of Cora’s chair, still holding her hand.

  ‘What do you remember me telling you about your father?’ Cora began.

  Ginny’s eyes widened and she exchanged a glance with Natasha.

  ‘Not much,’ she said. ‘That he was a GI who you met when you were dancing for the troops. That you loved him very much but he died at the end of the war. That his name was Jackson Devonshire.’

  She paused.

  ‘What part of that wasn’t true?’ she said. ‘I’m guessing most of it, right?’

  It was Cora’s turn to look surprised.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she said.

  Ginny raised her chin just as Cora did when she was annoyed.

  ‘Oh, I’m not stupid, Mum,’ she said. ‘I’ve googled him and not found any mention of Jackson Devonshire. So how much of it is made up? What was he? A one-night stand? A quick fumble round the back of the parade hall?’

  Cora’s mouth dropped open and her eyes filled with tears. I wondered if I should intervene but Ginny saw her mother’s reaction and changed tack.

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ she said, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘Were you raped?’

  Cora tried to smile.

  ‘No, darling,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t raped. I did love your father very much, that bit is true. His name was Donald Jackson, but everyone called him Donnie. And he – I’ve just found out – loved me, too. We were supposed to be getting married, in 1945 when I was expecting you. But he didn’t show up at the wedding and I thought he’d jilted me.’

  ‘Shit,’ said Ginny. ‘Really?’

  Cora nodded.

  ‘I was heartbroken and so I lied. I invented Jackson Devonshire so you’d have a dad. So I could be a proud war widow rather than just another woman who’d got herself knocked up by a love-rat GI.’

  Natasha was staring at Cora, open-mouthed. Ginny looked bemused.

  ‘I’ve always wondered what happened to Donnie and so Amy tracked him down.’

  Natasha and Ginny both shifted their gaze to me and I wriggled uncomfortably.

  ‘My friend Patrick did it,’ I said. ‘He’s interested in history and he’s found old army friends of his granddad so he knew where to look.’

  Ginny stood up.

  ‘Is he still alive?’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘Is my father still alive?’

  ‘Oh, darling, no, I’m so sorry,’ Cora said. ‘He’s not.’

  I jumped in.

  ‘He died in 1945,’ I said. ‘The day before he was supposed to marry Cora. That’s why he didn’t turn up – he’d been killed when a bomb fell.’

  ‘And no one told you?’ Ginny said, turning to her mother. ‘Oh, Mum, that’s awful.’

  Cora grimaced.

  ‘I didn’t find out until the other day,’ she said.

  ‘We’ve found his family,’ I said. In for a penny, in for a pound, I thought. We may as well tell the whole lot now. ‘They all live in America – Connecticut. His sister, Lois, passed away a while ago, but his younger brother, Walter, is still alive. And Walter’s son, Charlie. And Charlie’s kids, too.’

  I looked at Cora.

  ‘They want to come over to England,’ I told her. ‘They want to meet you and Ginny, and they’d like to hold a memorial service where the bomb fell. Do something to remember Donnie.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Cora said.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ Ginny said. ‘This is astonishing. I’ve got an uncle? And cousins?’

  Cora smiled at her.

  ‘It’s taken me days to really let it sink in,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve spent seventy years thinking Donnie betrayed me. That he’d run off from the army and probably married someone else and never given me – or you – a second thought.’

  Ginny sat on the other arm of Cora’s chair and hugged her mum tightly.

  ‘I never minded not having a dad,’ she said. ‘Well, sometimes I minded. But there were lots of kids like me, weren’t there? Who’d lost a dad in the war. And we always had people round us. Audrey, and Nanna Reenie …’

  She trailed off.

  ‘Mum,’ she said. ‘Did they know about my dad?’

  Cora looked down at her knees.

  ‘They did,’ she said. ‘But my mum, your Granny Cassidy, she didn’t.’

  Ginny looked shocked.

  ‘So many lies,’ she said. ‘Your chakras must be all over the place.’

  ‘Are you angry?’ Cora said, her voice quavering. ‘Are you angry with me for lying?’

  Ginny looked thoughtful, as though she was trying to work it out.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘But I might be later.’

  Natasha gave an exasperated sigh. She was obviously used to her mum’s quirky ways.

  ‘Granny did what she had to do,’ she said. ‘Didn�
�t you, Granny?’

  Cora nodded.

  ‘But I shouldn’t have lied,’ she said. ‘Not to you, Ginny.’

  Ginny shrugged.

  ‘Everyone lies,’ she said. ‘But the truth always comes out in the end.’

  I was amazed at how well Ginny was taking the news and Cora looked terribly relieved. I suspected Ginny was unpredictable and she could just have easily reacted badly. But the fact was, she seemed fine right now.

  ‘We’ve got photos,’ I said. ‘Do you want to see them?’

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Ginny may have been good-natured about Cora’s lies, but there was no denying she pored over the photos of Donnie that Charlie had sent, desperate for every bit of information about her father.

  ‘I look like him, don’t you think?’ she said, leafing through one of Cora’s photo albums for a snap of her at a similar age. ‘It’s funny that we’ll never know how he would have aged. I wonder if his hair would have faded like mine has?’

  ‘His hair was blonder than yours,’ Cora said, wrapping a strand of Ginny’s reddish locks round her finger. ‘I’m not sure where you got your carrot-top from.’

  They carried on looking at the photos and pointing out resemblances between relations. I felt a bit awkward sitting on the edge of the family, so I got up to go.

  ‘I’m going to leave you to it,’ I said.

  Natasha stopped me.

  ‘Please stay,’ she said. ‘This is all down to you. Shall we get some drinks?’

  Together we went into the kitchen and Natasha went in search of wine.

  ‘You’ve done an amazing thing,’ she said, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle.

  ‘We thought Donnie might still be alive,’ I admitted. ‘At least, that’s what I hoped. I sort of thought we could bring them back together, they’d have a blazing row, and then they could get on with their lives.’

  ‘Like you and Matty,’ Natasha said, casually.

  ‘Oh, I know that tone,’ I said, giving her a grin. ‘You may work for one of those posh mags, but you’re still a hack at heart.’

  Natasha laughed loudly.

  ‘Busted,’ she said. ‘I pretend not to be interested but who doesn’t bookmark the PostOnline?’

  I opened the cupboard to get out some glasses.

  ‘That’s the trouble,’ I said. ‘Everyone reads it even if they pretend they don’t – and that’s why everyone knew everything about me and Matty.’

  ‘Is it really over between you two?’ Natasha said. ‘This time I promise I’m asking as a friend and not a journalist.’

  She pulled the cork out of the bottle with a pop, and began pouring wine into the glasses.

  ‘It’s really over,’ I said, taking the glass she handed me. ‘It was over the moment I punched that poor girl in the nose.’

  Natasha made a face.

  ‘That wasn’t one of your best decisions,’ she said.

  ‘Do you know what, though?’ I said, leaning against Cora’s work surface. ‘It’s all worked out fine. If I’d not punched Kayleigh I wouldn’t have been sacked, and if I’d not been sacked, I’d not have got on Strictly Stars Dancing. Or met your gran. Or …’

  I paused, not wanting to mention Patrick. Of course it was too late. Natasha was there already.

  ‘Or met your dance partner,’ she said. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Patrick,’ I said, staring into my glass. ‘His name’s Patrick.’

  Natasha squealed in a way that did not suit her elegant appearance.

  ‘You fancy him,’ she said.

  ‘Do not.’

  ‘Oh, you do. Look at that blush.’

  ‘Stop it,’ I said. ‘It’s not happening. Let’s not talk about it.’

  I picked up the bottle of wine and a glass for Cora, and took it into the front room. Natasha followed.

  ‘Amy fancies her dance partner,’ she announced. ‘Patrick.’

  ‘Natasha,’ I protested.

  Cora looked interested.

  ‘Still?’ she said. ‘Lots of people fancy their partners to begin with but then they find the attraction wanes after a while.’

  ‘It’s not waning,’ I said. ‘It’s the opposite, actually, whatever that is.’

  ‘Waxing,’ said Ginny helpfully.

  I stared at her, not understanding.

  ‘It’s the opposite of waxing.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, still a bit bemused by Ginny altogether. ‘Yes, then in that case, my attraction to Patrick is waxing.’

  ‘I knew it,’ said Natasha.

  ‘It was him, you know, who found Donnie and tracked down his family,’ I said. ‘He said he could understand why Cora needed to know what had happened, even after all this time.’

  Ginny looked approving.

  ‘Empathy,’ she said, nodding. ‘That’s a good character trait to have. What does he look like, this Patrick?’

  Natasha found a photo on her phone and showed her mum, who breathed in sharply through pursed lips.

  ‘Wowsers,’ she said. ‘Look at that chest.’

  I scowled at her.

  ‘You’re not helping,’ I said.

  Natasha laughed again.

  ‘So, he’s kind and ripped,’ she said. ‘What else?’

  ‘He’s funny,’ I said. ‘I’m not always very good at laughing at myself but he sort of makes the world funnier. And he believes in me. He’s been encouraging me to be firmer with my agent and get her to find me some auditions and she has. I’d never have done that without him on my side. I feel stronger now because I’ve met him. And I think I’m a better person because he taught me how to dance …’

  I trailed off, realising I’d unconsciously echoed what Matty said about me in Hot magazine. Though Babs had told me his agent had told him to say it. Looking up, I realised Natasha, Ginny and Cora were all staring at me.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Cora said, gleefully. ‘You’ve got it bad.’

  ‘Really bad,’ said Ginny. ‘I think this might be love.’

  Natasha nudged me violently.

  ‘Does he feel the same about you?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. I feel like I’ve let him down too many times. We spent the night together before Strictly Stars Dancing began – we didn’t know we’d be partners then, obviously. And I was horrible to him the next day.’

  I winced, thinking about how cold I’d been.

  ‘But he forgave me. Then we kissed and I ran away. And he forgave me again. I’ve just been a cow, but he’s been great. And then I told him I just wanted to be friends and he seems fine with it. Really.’ I put my head in my hands. ‘Oh, man,’ I said. ‘Have I missed my chance?’

  Cora, who’d necked half her glass of wine already, ditched the blanket she’d had over her knees and was looking more like her old self now, stood up.

  ‘Amy,’ she said, taking my hands so I stood up, too. ‘I want you to listen to me – and listen carefully.’

  ‘Crikey,’ I said, but I listened.

  ‘I gave you some advice before but I was wrong,’ Cora said. ‘So wrong. I can see that now. I want you to seize every chance of happiness you get and live every day as though it’s your last.’She looked dreamy for a second.

  ‘The last time I saw Donnie,’ she said, ‘was in Hyde Park. It was sunny and he was walking away from me, smiling. He spun round and shouted that we were getting married and two soldiers who were walking nearby congratulated him. The very last words he said to me were “I love you, Cora Cassidy”. I may not have Donnie, but I’ve got that memory.’

  I breathed in, still floored by the sadness of all Cora’s ‘what ifs’.

  ‘What would you tell Patrick if you thought you’d never see him again?’ Cora said.

  I chewed my lip.

  ‘I’d tell him that he’s one of the nicest, kindest people I’ve ever met,’ I began.

  ‘Well, that’s not very hot,’ Ginny grumbled. ‘Makes him sound like a sob story on Surprise Surprise.’r />
  I laughed.

  ‘I’d tell him that when he touches me, my skin fizzes,’ I said.

  ‘Better,’ Ginny said. Natasha frowned at her to be quiet.

  ‘I’d tell him that sometimes when he looks at me, my stomach does this snakey thing and I feel sick and weak and,’ I lowered my voice, ‘really, really hot – you know?’

  Ginny clapped her hands.

  ‘That dancing with him is like the promise of the best sex I’ve ever had, and the best sex, and the afterwards of the best sex all rolled into one,’ I said, feeling myself blushing again. ‘And that I can’t bear to think that on Saturday this will all be over and I might never even see him again.’

  Cora squeezed my fingers tightly.

  ‘You need to tell him,’ she said. ‘Tell him what you’ve told us.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t feel the same?’ I said.

  Cora shrugged.

  ‘Tell him after the final,’ she said. ‘Then if it goes wrong, you never have to see him again.’

  I looked at her and thought about how she’d had a whole life wishing things had turned out differently.

  ‘Seize my chance of happiness?’ I said.

  ‘Seize it,’ Cora said.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. I lifted my chin, Cora-style. ‘I will.’

  I gave her a hug.

  ‘But you seize it, too,’ I said. ‘Maybe now you know the truth about Donnie you can find someone to love.’

  Cora laughed.

  ‘Oh, I think that boat has sailed,’ she said. ‘And that’s just fine with me. But you, Amy, you’re still young. Your boat’s still in the harbour.’

  I giggled, suddenly giddy with hope and excitement about what the future held.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘I’m off to bed. I’ve got a whole lot of seizing to do tomorrow.’

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  ‘Are you ready?’ Patrick said. We were standing in the Strictly Stars Dancing costume department, very early on Monday morning. In front of us were two mannequins, both covered in sheets, and a very excited costume designer called Annie.

  Patrick had forced me to go all the way to the studio at some ungodly hour, so he could show me what he had planned for our show dance in the final. I was bleary-eyed after being up late with Cora, and I hoped it was going to be worth it.