Live the Dream

by Josephine Cox

  In the lamplight, Amy took a good look at her friend. 'My God, Daisy…look at the state of you!' Amy was horrified. 'We'll have to try and tidy you up. They'll never let you on the tram like that.' With her dishevelled hair and rumpled clothes, Daisy looked like a refugee from hell. 'The tram's coming now—quick!' She took Daisy by the shoulders. 'Let's see if we can make you presentable.'

  'Been in a fight, 'ave yer?' The conductor gawped with open mouth as they boarded the tram.

  'You could say that,' Amy replied, stifling her laughter.

  'Sit yourself down then, and don't start anything.' Convinced they'd been drinking, the conductor warned, 'These are decent, God-fearing passengers, so mind you behave! I want no trouble on my tram!'

  During the journey they relived the night's events. 'By! You went for him like a blinking Jack Russell,' Daisy said. 'That'll teach him to get fresh with me without a by your leave. The look on his face…" When she laughed loudly, the conductor, who had been eyeing the red-faced pair suspiciously, came to give her a warning. 'Start trouble and I'll put you off!'

  'I'm not "starting trouble"!' Daisy protested, and would have said more, were it not for the dig in the ribs she got from Amy, who was herself beginning to giggle; which then set Daisy off.

  Somehow managing to remain fairly composed until disembarking at their stop, the two of them were helpless with laughter. 'You're a bad 'un, you are!' Amy spluttered.

  'I've had the best night o' my life.' Swinging her arms round Amy, Daisy marched her forward at a galloping pace.

  'Get off!' Amy shrugged her away. 'You'll have us both arse over tip!'

  Daisy was astounded. 'Language, my girl.' She feigned indignation. 'I'll thank you to mind your tongue when you're in my company.' To which they both started laughing again.

  Some short distance away, a strolling constable gave them a knowing wink. 'Evening, girls.'

  'Evening, officer,' Amy replied.

  'You two look like you've had a good night.'

  'Not so's you'd notice,' Daisy replied.

  On looking closer, he saw how tousled they were. His tone grew serious. 'All right, are you?'

  'Right as rain,' Amy replied.

  'Aye, well, you'd best get off home,' headvised. 'There are some strange folks hanging about this time of night.'

  They watched him go, shaking his head as he went.

  As they wended their way home, the streets echoed with their merry laughter.

  One thing was certain, Amy thought. Life was never dull with Daisy about.

  Chapter Five

  Switching off the engine, Luke Hammond climbed out of the car. His business meeting had overrun and then he'd had to entertain clients. 'I'm sure that was Amy with the young woman from the cafe,' he murmured. But the lamplight played strange tricks on the eye, so he couldn't be absolutely certain. He'd learned Amy's name by eavesdropping at Tooley's, and now it was a name inextricably linked to Tuesdays—those days of freedom and dreams.

  He closed the car door and made his way to the house. As he walked on, the image of Amy's face was bright in his mind.

  There was something irresistible about her. She had a warm, magical, memorable smile, and those bluest of eyes. It was the face of a woman you could trust. That was why he had a need to paint her: so he might capture that special something, and keep it for ever. Smiling, gentle, constant, her portrait brought him nearer to living the dream he conjured up on Tuesdays. Whenever he was feeling low, he thought of Amy and his heart was lifted.

  His reverie was, however, suddenly shattered as he approached the house. Through the kitchen window he could see a woman frantically pacing the floor and, judging from her manner, she seemed to be in a dark, dangerous mood.

  'Oh God, that's all I need…Georgina.'

  A slim, attractive woman with thick, dark hair, she was his wife's sister. He didn't care much for her, a scheming, greedy woman. 'What the devil can she want?' Because of her, he was able to enjoy his one day of freedom and keep his sanity. But he knew her well enough to be certain that she never did anything out of the goodness of her heart, and for that reason his suspicions were aroused. 'I can be sure of one thing,' he mused, 'she won't be here for any good reason.'

  Growing anxious, he quickened his steps.

  Sensing his nearness, the woman peered out of the window, delighted to see him there. Before he had even opened the door, she was there to greet him.

  'Oh, Luke, I'm so glad you're back!' Her voice was entreating; her wide dark eyes glittering with excitement. 'It's been awful. I didn't know which way to turn.'

  At once he was on his guard. 'What do you mean?' Looking about he asked pointedly, 'Where's Sylvia?'

  'In the bedroom.' Casting her gaze to the upper reaches of the house she told him in a whisper, 'She's sound asleep.'

  'Is she all right?'

  'She is now.'

  He began to understand. 'Is Edna with her?' Edna, originally employed as housekeeper, was a good and loyal friend who had seen him and his wife through thick and thin.

  'No.' Bristling at his question, she snapped, 'She is not.'

  'So, where is she? She promised to stay until I got home. The meeting went on longer than was planned.'

  With eyebrows raised and a marbling of anger in her voice, she asked sweetly, 'What kind of meeting…or am I not allowed to ask?'

  'A meeting of business minds,' Luke answered sharply. 'A long-awaited meeting, too important to miss.'

  'Really?' Again the eyebrows were raised, the smile devious. 'I thought you might have a secret rendezvous with some attractive female,' she suggested softly. 'After all…the way things are, who would blame you?'

  'If you thought that, then you were wrong. There is no other woman. There never has been, nor is there likely to be.' Bitterly he cast all lingering thoughts of Amy from his mind.

  Taking a long, deep breath he squared his shoulders. 'Now…will you tell me what's been going on?' he asked quietly. 'You say Sylvia is asleep?'

  'That's right. And, as you well know, it would be best if she was not disturbed.'

  He nodded. 'So, if Edna is not with my wife, where is she?'

  Georgina gave a cunning half-smile. 'I sent her home of course.' Her expression changed to one of disgust. 'To tell you the truth, I'd sack her if I had my way.'

  Anger darkened Luke's face. 'Then it's just as well you don't have your way!' he snapped. 'That dear soul is a godsend to us. She's been with us through very difficult times. Anyone else would have been long gone, but not Edna. She's a good woman…and, thank God, she's made of sterner stuff than most. What's more, she knows as much about what's happening as any one of us.' His voice trembled with anger. 'You had no right to send her home.'

  'Sylvia is my sister. I had every right! I've said it before and I'll say it again. Sylvia needs a proper nurse, not an old has-been like Edna!'

  'You've got a short memory, Georgina.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Cast your mind back to when Sylvia came home from hospital.' With his eyes burning into hers, he explained the situation for the umpteenth time. 'She had bruises and marks where she'd taken that terrible beating, but to look into her eyes, you'd think she was recovering well. Oh, yes, the doctor warned us that it was a possibility, but we hoped beyond hope for her sake that he was wrong. But he wasn't, was he? What was it—a month, maybe two—before the fits started; the unpredictable violence, the depression and amnesia.'

  'I know all that!'

  'Then you also know how I got Sylvia the best nurses money could buy. First one then another. They had all the certificates and experience. They came with the finest references, but Sylvia sent them packing.' He paused, allowing the words to sink in. 'She would have nothing to do with any of them, and worse, nothing to do with the medication they administered. And then, when I'm about to despair, we discover that the finest nurse of all is our own housekeeper, Edna—fully trained, qualified, and with years of experience. What was even better was that she
already had Sylvia's complete and absolute trust…mine too. I can go to work during the week and know that Sylvia is in safe, loving hands, and that she isn't hiding her tablets or pouring her medicine away.'

  Georgina knew how every word Luke uttered was right, but she still had her say. 'Except for Tuesdays.'

  He nodded. 'Yes, except for Tuesdays, but then Edna has to have at least one day off and she visits her aged mother. They go to the old lady's whist club. But then you kindly offered to stay with her on that one day, and the arrangement seems to have worked out really well. Like you say, Sylvia always seems content in your company.'

  Eaten with jealousy, Georgina persisted. 'If you ask me, Edna is far too familiar. It never pays to let the servants know too much.'

  'Why don't you let me worry about that?' Finishing the conversation, he turned away with the parting words, 'Besides, you know we never think of Edna as a "servant".'

  'Then you should… because that's exactly what she is. A housekeeper pretending to be a nurse again!'

  'To be honest, the fact that you sent her away is neither here nor there, because if I know Edna, the minute she realises I'm home, she'll be back again…if only to make certain Sylvia is all right.' He smiled knowingly. 'In fact, I suspect our Edna has nothing but dislike for you.' ·

  'Hmph,' Georgina narrowed her eyes and spat. 'The feeling is mutual, because I can't stand the sight of the damned woman!'

  Treating her remark with the contempt it deserved, Luke made no reply. Instead, he went out of the room and on up the stairs.

  At the top of the stairs he turned left towards his wife's room. He knew from experience that it was best to leave her sleeping, but he had a deep-down need to check on her. He had to be certain she was all right.

  Lingering outside her door, he listened. There was no sound. There never was. Gingerly he turned the handle, opened the door and, ever so softly, let himself inside.

  Standing by her bed, he studied her sleeping face. Sylvia never liked complete darkness, and in the kindly haze of light from the standard lamp, her quiet, pale features took on a ghostly aspect. With her soft skin and long, tousled chestnut hair, she seemed almost like a child lying there. He stayed a moment longer, thinking how beautiful she was, and how fortunate he had been.

  Raising the blanket to cover her arms, he tenderly stroked the strands of rich-coloured hair from about her face. When she was sleeping like this, everything seemed so perfect. Yet he knew it was not.

  Beside the bed, her supper plate lay untouched: two small, plain biscuits, and a dainty wedge of cheese with the knife lying beside it; all exactly as it was when brought up by Edna. Untouched, unwanted.

  The empty tumbler was on its side, half drunk, half spilled. As he carefully righted it, the dregs ran down his wrist. He wiped it away, but the stale milk remained, sticky and uncomfortable. It occurred to him it might well contain something medicinal, but it was spilled now, and anyway, she was sound asleep.

  'Good night, my love.' Leaning over, he whispered assurances with the softest of kisses before, collecting the supper plate, he left the room as softly as he had arrived.

  Once outside on the landing, he made his way to the bathroom; a large converted bedroom with high ceilings and stripped wooden floor, it always struck him as strangely cold and bleak.

  Setting the supper plate on the cupboard, he went to the basin where he splashed a handful of cold water over his wrist, then another over his face. After hours of talking business he was wearied. The shock of cold water felt refreshingly good.

  When, eyes half closed, he turned to find the towel, she was suddenly on him like a fiend.

  'YOU'VE BEEN WITH HER!'

  Shrieking like a demented soul she grabbed the cheese knife; lashing out, wanting to hurt him, needing to maim him, just as she felt maimed. 'You don't want me any more. I'm no good to you…don't lie to me!' With one swipe of the knife she caught him down the cheekbone. When the blood spurted out she lunged at him again, but this time he caught her arm to fend her off.

  'Sylvia! Drop the knife! Sylvia, please!'

  'Let me go, you bastard…I HATE YOU!' There was no stopping her now. Raising her arm she brought it down, the small curved blade targeting his face. He ducked, grabbed her by the waist and, drawing her towards him, pinned her arms by her sides. 'It's all right, Sylvia,' he gasped. 'It's all right. There is no one else in my life but you.' He struggled to regain his breath, to ignore the blood he could feel oozing down his face.

  Her dark eyes calmer now, she looked up. 'Promise me?'

  He nodded, his forced smile seeming to settle her fears. 'I promise.'

  When she began sobbing, he gently took away the knife and, at that moment, something made him glance towards the door. Shocked to see Georgina leaning against the doorjamb, he asked harshly, 'How long have you been there?'

  Smiling triumphantly, she replied, 'Long enough.' In fact she had witnessed the whole thing.

  'Did you wake her?' Suspicion trembled in his voice.

  'Shame on you, Luke.' Her small, mean mouth opened in disbelief. 'Do you really believe I would do such a thing?'

  His voice hardened. 'I know you would…if it suited your purpose.'

  Just then, a plump woman of homely face and grey hair appeared.

  'Is Mrs Hammond all right, sir?' She was obviously distressed.

  Relieved to see her, Luke reassured her. 'Yes, Edna, she's all right.'

  Clinging to him, Sylvia looked up at her husband. 'I'm tired,' she said wearily. 'Can I go back to my bed now?'

  Kissing her tenderly on the forehead, Luke nodded. 'Come on…I'll take you back.'

  As he moved forward, she saw the blood trickling from his cheekbone. A look of astonishment came over her features. 'Your face is cut!' Horrified, she reeled from him. 'I want Edna.' Her voice rising to a shriek, she demanded, 'Edna! I need you to take me back. Please, Edna…"

  Like a frightened child she entreated the older woman, and the older woman loved her as she would her own flesh and blood. 'You must calm yourself, my dear,' she said soothingly. 'O' course I'll take you back.' She shifted an inquisitive gaze to Luke. 'If it's all right with Mr Hammond, that is?'

  Luke gave the nod she needed, and now, as Sylvia went to her with open arms, Edna quickly but gently led Sylvia back to the safety of her bed.

  Reaching out for the towel, Luke dipped a corner into the wash-bowl and dabbed at the blood trickling from his wounds, but all the while his wary eyes were fixed on Georgina. 'If I thought you'd woken her,' he warned, shaking his head, 'I would have to think twice about banning you from this house.'

  'You couldn't do that! I'm her sister.'

  'And I'm her husband—so I could, and I would. My only concern is for Sylvia.' His voice thickened. 'My God! If I knew you'd deliberately upset her…'

  Afraid now, she stepped forward. 'I didn't. I love her!' There was a measure of sincerity in her voice. 'I would never hurt her…you must know that.'

  Using what she considered to be her best card, she taunted, 'If you thought me capable of hurting her, you would never trust me to stay with her on a Tuesday.'

  Taken aback, Luke spoke firmly. 'And you think it would bother me if I didn't have my Tuesday freedom, do you?'

  'I know how much you treasure your Tuesdays, that's all,' she retaliated. 'Or am I wrong?'

  'No, you're not wrong.' Once more wiping the towel over the wound on his cheekbone, he reminded her, 'However much I treasure my little freedom, Sylvia will always be my first concern.'

  A moment passed while Georgina silently considered his answer. She knew that, in spite of the way things were, he was speaking the truth, and to her mind it was a shocking waste of a man's devotion. Deep down she resented the love he felt for her sister. 'On these Tuesdays, when I come over to take care of her, where do you go?'

  'That's my business.' He gave her a warning glance. 'We've had this conversation once too often, Georgina. Make this the last time, will you?'

 
Not being a woman who gave in easily, she persisted, 'I know you don't go to the factory.'

  Angry and worried, he demanded, 'And how could you possibly know that?'

  'Ah! I have my ways and means,' she said with a sly little grin. 'But don't worry. I won't give your secret away.'

  'Do what you think fit,' he advised casually. 'It makes no difference to me.'

  She took a step closer. 'I really am curious. What do you do? Where do you go?'

  Throwing the towel into the washbasin he told her, 'That's enough talk for now!'

  'All right. Like you say, it's none of my business.' She wisely backed off. When he had that look about him she knew it was impossible to get answers so, instead of riling him, she changed tack. 'I meant what I said, though. I do love Sylvia and, whatever you might think, I would never hurt her.'

  Luke nodded. I don't know why, but I'm inclined to believe you.'

  He knew there had always been a measure of love between the two sisters, but: 'All the same, I wish I could be certain of you.'

  'Oh, but you can!' Tears swam in her dark eyes. 'You really can.'

  He nodded, but made no move towards her. One thing he had learned about her was that she could turn on the tears at will.

  She bowed her head. 'I know there are times when you don't trust me, but it's just that…I'm saddened by what's happened to her, and there's nothing I can do about it. Sometimes, it cripples me…' she tapped her chest, '…inside here.'

  He understood how that felt, and deep down, where the pain lived, he felt a kind of sympathy with her. 'Oh, look, I'm sorry if sometimes I seem unfeeling.' Ashamed, he reminded himself of the hours he and Georgina had spent together at the hospital, not knowing whether Sylvia would live or die. It had been the worst time of his life and she had been there for him when he needed her. 'But she's so precious to me. I can't risk her being damaged again…not by anyone!'

  Unmoved, she gave another glimpse of her cruel nature in her comment: 'What about Arnold Stratton?'

  He gave her a withering look. 'I don't want to hear that name.'

  'Will you tell me something?' There was a look in her eye that disturbed his peace of mind.