Live the Dream

by Josephine Cox

  Johnny looked up, his big eyes round and wondering. 'Can I have a cream cake?'

  Amy laughed. 'If you like.'

  When they emerged from the market, it was still raining.

  'I hate this drizzly weather!' Juggling with her shopping, Amy managed to put up her umbrella. 'Hold on to me, Johnny,' she warned. 'The weather's got worse, since we've been inside.'

  Johnny liked the rain, because he could stamp in the puddles and send the water up in sprays, though Amy told him not to. 'We're already wet from before,' she smiled. 'We'll steer clear of any puddles now, if you don't mind.'

  As they went down the busy street, Amy had to grab him close because of the vehicles driving near to the kerb and splashing their feet. After a time, she swapped her shopping bags into one hand and, holding the umbrella with the other, she told the boy to hang on to her skirt. 'Come round this side,' she instructed. 'I don't like you being too close to the kerb.'

  It was when Johnny let go of her hand to come round her that he saw the long, meandering puddle, which for an excited little boy was too good to resist. To Amy's horror he gave a skip and a jump and landed right in the middle of it. At that moment a beer wagon came hurtling down the street straight towards him.

  'God Almighty! JOHNNY?

  Horrified, Amy dropped her bags and made a desperate grab for him. ; But someone else was quicker.

  'You're all right, sonny.' Thanks to the passer-by, the boy was snatched away only a second or two before the wagon would have come thundering down on him.

  Amy grabbed Johnny into her arms. 'Thank God you're not hurt!' She had been so frightened by the incident, she could hardly breathe, but once she realised he was unharmed, her fear evaporated and anger took its place. 'That was a stupid thing to do!' she chided. 'It's a wonder you weren't killed!'

  'I think your son has probably learned his lesson.'

  At the sound of the man's voice, both Amy and the boy looked up. Amy was mortified. In her panic she hadn't even looked at him, never mind thanked him. Embarrassed and astonished, now she recognised the rescuer as the man Daisy referred to as 'the Tuesday man'. His dark hair was covered by a flat cap, which was drawn down low, and over his heavy work cords, he had on a thick black coat done up to the neck. His smile, though, was warm and handsome, and now as he looked at her with those intense eyes, she felt as though they had known each other for ever.

  'Oh, look, I'm sorry,' she apologised. 'I don't know how to thank you.' It didn't register that he called Johnny her son.

  'There's no need to thank me,' he answered quietly. I'm just glad to have been of help.'

  He looked at the sodden shopping bags where she had dropped them to the ground. 'Let me help you,' he said, collecting them up. 'How far are you going?'

  'No, thanks all the same, but I'll be fine now. I can manage well enough.'

  'If you're sure?'

  'I am…thank you.'

  Reluctantly, he handed her the bags. 'Then I'll be on my way.'

  Luke bade them goodbye and strode off, his mind in turmoil. He had just spoken to the young woman in his painting. Close to, she was even prettier than he'd imagined not exquisitely pretty, he thought, but reliably, unforgettably pretty, which was different. He'd imagined being with her so often—together at the cabin, walking in the woods arm in arm, her face lifted to the sun where it filtered through the trees, laughing…Or in the cabin, the only light from the log fire, the silent wood dark around them—they'd be sitting together, their hands lightly clasped in one another's, relaxed in peaceful and instinctive understanding.

  Now they had met—and it wasn't in circumstances Luke had envisaged at all. How could he bridge the gulf between these long-held dreams and this unforeseen reality?

  For one mad, inexplicable moment he wanted to go back. He wanted to look into those mesmerising dark blue eyes and talk with her, just to be near her and hear her voice.

  You're not making sense,' he told himself. 'She's married, with a child.' And the disappointment he felt was like a physical pain inside him.

  Deeply shaken, both by Johnny's narrow escape and the brief meeting with Daisy's 'Tuesday man', Amy watched him walk away.

  'That man likes you.' Johnny said it as he saw it.

  Thankful that the boy couldn't see her blushes, Amy asked, 'How do you know that?'

  'Because I do, that's all.'

  Amy laughed. 'You're an old head on young shoulders, that's what you are.'

  'That's what Mammy says.'

  'I know,' Amy admitted. 'And now I know why she says it.'

  'I'm hungry.'

  'I'll get you some food soonever we get to Mrs Tooley's.'

  'Who's Mrs Tooley?"

  Amy was used to the boy's constant questioning, but she was delighted by it because it told her he was losing his nervousness and wanting to know more about what went on around him. 'Mrs Tooley owns the cafe where Daisy works,' she informed him. 'Now put your hand in my pocket and don't let go!'

  Walking close to the shop windows she did not give way for anybody as they set off in the direction of Tooley's Cafe. Even when a woman with a big pram tried to get between her and the wall, Amy would not budge. The last thing she wanted was for Johnny to get close to the road edge again.

  Daisy was delighted to see them. 'Look at the pair of you!' Grabbing Amy's umbrella she shook it and left it in the porch. 'You'll catch your death o' cold.' Ushering them inside, she took Amy's bags and went ahead to the table by the radiator.I'll be back with a pot o' tea in a minute,' she declared, marching off in a hurry. Meanwhile, Amy and Johnny took off their coats and hats, and draped them over the backs of the two chairs nearest the radiator.

  By the time they were settled, Daisy was back. 'How does that do yer?' she asked, planting the tray on the table. 'One giant pot o' tea.' She gave Amy a wink. 'I reckon I'll join yer,' she said, 'being as there's not much on at the minute.'

  Amy smiled to herself. Whenever the cafe was quiet, and even when it wasn't, Daisy always invited herself to sit down. 'Mrs Tooley's out then?' That much was obvious.

  Flopping into the chair, Daisy drew it up to the table and began to pour. 'She's off for lunch with Mr Leyton,' she answered, rolling her eyes. 'The way she's tarted up, anybody would think she were off to the palace for a meeting with His Majesty.'

  She poured three cups of tea—one with more milk to cool it quicker, and this one she put before Johnny. 'Sup up, lad,' she encouraged with a friendly little grin. 'It'll warm the soles of yer feet.'

  Johnny took the cup, wrapping his hands round it. 'But my feet aren't cold,' he told Daisy.

  'Oh, aren't they?' Giving Amy a wink, she asked the boy, 'Where are you cold then?'

  'I'm not.'

  Daisy feigned surprise. 'My word, yer a brave little thing aren't yer, eh? You've been outside in all that rain and you look like a drowned rat, and you're not even cold.' She gave an almighty shiver. 'I would be.'

  Johnny made a disappointed face. 'I'm just hungry.'

  'Well!' Staring at him in astonishment, Daisy's eyes grew round as marbles. 'Why didn't yer tell me that before,' she asked incredulously, 'because I think I can help you there? Y'see, I've got some big fat pork sausages just waiting to be fried. Would you like that?'

  Clapping his hands excitedly, the boy jumped up and down in his chair. 'Ooh! Yes, please…and a chukkie egg and a buttie?'

  'Right! I'll have it back here afore you can finish that tea. Bacon buttie is it, lass?' she asked Amy.

  'That'll be lovely, Daisy, thanks.'

  While Amy and the boy supped their tea, Daisy got to work, and it wasn't long before she was back. 'Get that down you,' she said, dishing out the food between the three of them. 'I thought I'd join you.'

  The buttie on her plate was thick as a doorstop and oozing with butter and, like Amy's, it was packed with crispy, fried bacon and thick slices of tomato. Now, as Daisy bit into it, the butter trickled down her chin, only to be licked up with the length of her pink tongue. 'Though
I say it meself, I can mek the best bacon buttie in the whole of Lancashire.' Picking out a sliver of pink wavy bacon, she popped it into her mouth and quickly devoured it.

  'You say Mrs Tooley's gone to lunch?' Amy asked. 'It's a bit early for that, isn't it?'

  Daisy nodded. 'That's what I thought, but she's probably gone to have her nails done or summat, or the lines on her legs painted straighten' She chuckled. 'Honest to God, lass, I don't know why she can't lay out a bob or two and buy herself some proper nylons. You should have seen the way she painted them lines…went down her legs like crooked tramlines.'

  Amy thought it was a shame. You should have told her.'

  'Naw. Why should I? The old cow makes my life a misery, so what should I care?' She laughed out loud, 'Besides, if she thinks to fool that fella of hers into thinking she's got a fancy pair o' nylon stockings on, he'll soon find out when he gets his hand under…' Remembering Johnny was there, she dropped her voice to a whisper. 'Once they get at it, if you know what I mean, there won't be any lines left to talk about, will there?'

  Amy shook her head. 'You're wicked, you are.'

  Half an hour later, warmed and fed, Amy and Daisy were talking of their next dates with Jack and Roy, while Johnny played round the tables.

  'It's not raining now,' the boy told Daisy.

  'That's good.' Daisy hated the rain.

  'Can I have another sausage?'

  Daisy nodded. 'I think I can manage that. You sit yourself down and I'll get started on it, eh?' And the boy slid onto his seat where he patiently waited. Then, as Daisy was returning, the door opened and all three heads turned to see who it was.

  'It's him Amy whispered, and before he had taken off his cap and coat, she had managed to fill Daisy in with the bare bones of what had happened earlier. 'If it hadn't been for him, Johnny might have been badly hurt,' she finished.

  Daisy was full of admiration, and a few minutes later, on taking his order, she told him so. 'My friend thinks the world of that little chap,' she said. 'It would have devastated her if anything had happened to him.'

  Luke smiled appreciatively and told her how anybody would have done the same thing. Then he gave his order and, as always, concentrated hard on his newspaper, while all the time taking quiet little glances at Amy. He saw how loving and protective she was with the boy and he thanked his lucky stars he had been there when it mattered. Now, though, his deep attraction to Amy was marred by the ^ belief that she was not only married, but the mother of a child.

  He was acutely aware of the fact that though he had a marriage in name only, he was not free either, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had dared to entertain the idea that, at some time in the future, he and Amy might form some kind of friendship, if not a closer relationship.

  That was all out of the question now, he thought. And, for many reasons, it was just as well.

  But it did not stop him from admiring her, and sneaking a glance whenever he thought she was not looking.

  He watched her now as she walked towards the cloakroom. He thought how easily she moved, with a kind of gentle sway and a proud, pretty manner. Her clothes were ordinary and well worn but she wore them with easy grace, and her girlish hairstyle complemented her happy, unmade-up face. The ease of her friendship with the brassy little waitress and her love for the angel-faced child shone through in her warm smile and laughing blue eyes. He so much wanted to know her better, to talk with her, and walk with her, and learn about the things she liked most.

  One thing was certain: he imagined she was not the kind to place much value on jewellery or material things. Not like Sylvia, who had always put them above all else, preferring jewels and furs, even more than the love and affection he had always generously given. Sylvia's clothes were always stylish—they came from the smartest shops in Blackburn and Manchester—and her hair and face were immaculately maintained. But she lacked Amy's natural warmth.

  While Amy was away, Daisy kept a wary eye on Johnny. But he had noticed Luke and was quick to recognise him.

  'There's the nice man who helped me,' he told Daisy, and Daisy mischievously suggested that he should 'go and thank him'.

  To her astonishment, Johnny promptly ran across to Luke's table. 'Daisy said I have to thank you,' he announced proudly. 'She said I'm a lucky boy.'

  'Did she now?' Breaking his own golden rule never to let anyone interfere with his Tuesday freedom, Luke invited the boy to sit beside him. 'What name do you go by?'

  Johnny.'

  'Well, Johnny, I'm glad I was able to help out back there, but you must remember in future, never to go into the road like that. You gave your mummy a terrible fright.'

  Confused, Johnny looked up. 'She's Amy,' he said. 'She's my best friend, not my mummy.'

  'Really?' Thrilled at the news, Luke told the boy, 'Well, in that case you really are a lucky boy in more ways than one.'

  'Why?'

  'Well, because it's nice to have a best friend.'

  Wriggling in the chair, the boy warmed to the conversation. 'Have you got a best friend?'

  'I suppose I have, yes, but she's not like your Amy.'

  'What's she like then?'

  'She's very small and very beautiful, with big brown eyes, and she comes to see me every week.'

  'Where does she live?'

  'In the woods.'

  'What's her name?'

  'I don't know her real name, but I call her Velvet.'

  'When does your friend come to see you?'

  Folding his newspaper and laying it down, Luke concentrated on the boy. 'It's always on a Tuesday.'

  'Why?'

  'Because every other day, I have too much work to do, but on Tuesday I can do whatever I like.'

  He thought about his precious hideaway, and for a moment he was tempted to explain to the boy, but as yet his privacy was too precious and instead he talked about his 'friend'. 'Sometimes, when I'm sitting on my steps, she comes and sits with me, and we talk for a while. Then she goes away, to be with her family. But she always comes back another time.'

  At that moment, Luke caught sight of Amy. 'I think you'd best go back now,' he suggested.

  Emerging from the cloakroom, Amy was intrigued to see Johnny and Luke in earnest conversation and, knowing how the stranger preferred to be left alone, she hurried across to them. 'Johnny! Don't pester the man.'

  When Johnny clambered off the chair and came to her side, she said to Luke, 'It seems I owe you another apology. I didn't know he might come over to you or I would never have left him.' She felt herself blushing under his smile. 'He's not usually so friendly,' she added. 'He normally shies away from people.'

  'He's good company.' Luke thought she looked especially fetching when she blushed.

  Johnny piped up, 'He's got a best friend like you, and I want to see her.' Without taking a breath he turned to Luke. 'Can I see her, can I, please?'

  'Johnny!' Amy was horrified. 'Come on now. Your mammy will be back soon.' Holding out her hand she waited for him, but ignoring her, he turned to Luke instead. 'Can we see Velvet,' he persisted, The and Amy?'

  There was a moment of silence, when Luke wondered if this once it might not hurt to let someone like Amy and the boy into his special, secret world. But then it wouldn't be secret any more, he cautioned himself.

  And yet, Amy was already there, in the painting he had hidden away, and she was in his heart too, another deep, wonderful secret that kept him sane when life was overwhelming.

  Looking from the boy to the man, Amy felt her emotions spinning. Something magical was happening, she thought, something she could not explain. She wanted to sit down with this man she hardly knew. She needed to talk with him, to know him, and yet she was half afraid, of him, and of herself.

  'I've never seen him take to a stranger the way he's taken to you,' she told Luke now. And to the boy she said, in a firm voice, 'We have to go now, Johnny. Thank the man and say goodbye.'

  Some short time later, Luke left, leaving the money on the
table, as usual.

  'You lost your chance there, lass,' Daisy reprimanded. 'I saw him looking at you, and I know he fancies you.'

  Amy laughed, but it was a quiet, hesitant laugh. 'I thought you wanted him for yourself,' she teased, 'and here you are, trying to get me together with him.'

  'That's because I've got my Roy now,' Daisy said, all dreamy-eyed. 'He's what I've been looking for…somebody to make a home with, to have babies and make his dinner every night, and sit with him by the fireside of an evening.'

  Now, when Daisy looked up, Amy was amazed to see there were tears in her eyes. 'All I want is a real family, and a home, where people don't shout and scream at each other, and I need never be afraid.' Her voice hardened. 'That's my dream, and I know in my heart of hearts Roy can make it come true for me—for us both.'

  Realising she was showing her deeper feelings, Daisy gave a nervous little laugh. 'There! I'm getting carried away.' She surreptitiously wiped away her tears.

  'I want to see Velvet,' the boy declared. 'She's pretty, like Amy.'

  Amy shook her head. 'I don't suppose we'll get any peace now,' she told Daisy jokingly. 'All he'll go on about is Velvet—whoever she is!'

  Noticing a customer on the way into the cafe, Daisy stood up. 'Well, whoever this Velvet is, I wouldn't mind meeting her myself,' she told Johnny.

  'But Daisy can't see her. Only you and me can see her,' he told Amy.

  Wisely dismissing his comment, Amy ruffled his hair, and they waved cheerio to Daisy and left. The rain had stopped and the wind seemed to be settling.

  'When's Mammy coming home?' Johnny skipped down the street; but having been frightened by the earlier incident, Amy was careful to keep him on her inside.

  'I expect she'll be there when we get back,' she promised, 'and she'll want to know all about your shopping trip, you'll see.'

  Arnold Stratton was desperate. 'I don't know how much more I can take in here,' he told Maureen. 'There are some bad buggers in this place…worse than ever I've messed with.' Running his hands through his thinning fair hair, he looked up, his blue eyes stricken. 'I don't mind telling yer, I've been tempted to finish it once or twice.'