Live the Dream

by Josephine Cox

  A moment later Amy was on her way out. When she turned at the door to say cheerio, it didn't surprise her to see Daisy already sleeping. 'Sleep tight,' Amy murmured. 'God bless.'

  With that she hurried down the corridor and out of the building.

  That evening, after Marie and Dave had left for the pictures, Amy rushed about titivating and preening herself, ready for Jack's arrival.

  'You look tired and haggard,' she told herself in the dressing-table mirror. 'Bags under your eyes and hair as dull as dishwater—what's he gonna think of you, eh?'

  Drawing a hairband over her hair to keep it back from her face, she patted on her face cream to make her skin smooth, and gently pinched her cheeks to make them rosy.

  That done, she dabbed on a film of powder, putting extra on her nose, which had a natural tendency to shine anyway. Wetting the mascara brush under the tap in the bathroom rather than spitting on it, she blackened the bristles from the messy little block to paint on spiky eyelashes just like Jean Harlow. A light touch of dusky pink Max Factor lipstick, and twelve deep strokes with the hairbrush to make her hair bounce and gleam, and she was ready.

  'Well, that's a bit of an improvement,' she viewed herself in the mirror from every angle, 'but you'll never look beautiful, not in a million years.'

  Being somewhat plain was something she had learned to live with, and now it didn't worry her that there were any number of young women her age who could put her in the shade for looks. There were other, more important things in life than looking beautiful. Her dad said she had a lovely nature and her mam said she had a winning smile, so if that was the case she had a lot to be thankful for. And anyway if, ordinary as she was, she could attract a man like Jack, what did it matter?

  She'd also attracted Luke Hammond, she thought, allowing herself a rare moment of vanity. He'd kissed her with real feeling—and he was married to a very beautiful woman, so people said.

  Yes, that was the point, she chided herself for the hundredth time:he was married. But the thought of him was a reckless, guilty pleasure, a secret she knew it was wrong to indulge in, but which sometimes, even now, after all she had said to Luke, she had not the willpower to resist.

  By seven forty-five, Amy was as ready as she would ever be. She emptied a bucket of coal into the grate to set the cheery fire nicely burning, then drew the curtains to shut out the dark, and within minutes the homely little parlour was as cosy as could be.

  Giving herself instructions, Amy made her way to the kitchen, where she set about the few more tasks she needed to complete. 'We won't want much supper, because we'll both have had our teas,' she muttered. 'Later on, though, he might be hungry so I'd best make some ham sandwiches…'

  Happy that she was about to see Jack, and softly singing to herself, she cut half a dozen chunky slices from the loaf and filled them generously with ham, before lightly coating the ham in a thin layer of mustard. 'I hope he likes mustard.'

  It suddenly occurred to her that she didn't know all that much about his taste in food, except he enjoyed a pint mug of tea, liked fish and chips straight out of the paper, and was partial to a meat and tatty pie from the barrow on King Street.

  She smiled a happy smile. 'What I don't know about him, I'm sure I'll soon find out,' she murmured.

  Arranging the sandwiches on two plates, she took them to the larder where she put them on the shelf and covered them over.

  She then filled the kettle with water and put it on the gas stove. While that was coming to the boil, she resumed the singing, got out the large brown teapot and scooped four spoons of tealeaves into it.

  Now it was a case of preparing the tray, with plates and knives, teaspoons, cups and saucers, sugar and milk, and a tea-strainer.

  Just as the tray was dressed, the kettle began to whistle, so turning off the gas, she went to the window. 'No sign of him yet.' Her voice was marbled with disappointment.

  She looked down the street. It was empty, save for a mangy dog and a group of girls twittering and giggling as they chased each other along the cobbles.

  Returning into the parlour, she glanced at the clock. 'He should be here any minute.' She gave a deep, contented sigh. 'Until Daisy asked me, I didn't realise just how much I love being with him.' In fact, Jack was beginning to mean more to her with every passing day.

  A few minutes later when she had only just finished clearing away the bread-knife and other paraphernalia, the familiar tap came on the window.

  'D'you intend leaving me out in the cold all night?' When she ran to the window Jack's smiling, handsome face stared back at her. 'You're a wicked woman, you are!'

  Hurrying to the door, Amy quickly drew him inside. 'I'm sorry,' she told him with a bright smile. 'I looked down the street only a minute or two since and there was no sign of you.'

  He took her in his arms. 'Do I get a kiss or what?'

  Her answer was to raise her face to his. 'You can have two if you like.'

  He laughed. 'Hussy!' But he kissed her all the same; three times, each kiss as wonderful as the others.

  With his gaze coveting her face, and his thoughts telling him what a lucky bloke he was, he told her how he'd been looking forward all day to seeing her. 'Matter o' fact, I haven't been able to think about anything else.' Taking off his jacket, he hung it on the hook behind the door. Afterwards he walked her to the parlour with his arm round her waist and a look of admiration in his eyes. 'You look wonderful,' he said, laughing softly when she blushed bright pink.

  Amy loved it when he laughed like that—kindly but heartily, and she loved it even more when he slid his arm round her, holding her tight as he could, as though he wanted never to let go of her. It gave her a warm, comfortable glow inside. It made her feel safe.

  Yet the more she thought of serious, lifetime commitment, the more nervous she became. After all, when a woman had been let down as badly as she had, it seemed almost reckless to offer herself to another man; even a man as trustworthy and loyal as Jack. The habit of blaming herself could not be easily abandoned, despite what Daisy had told her at the hospital earlier.

  The thought made her anxious, and the anxiety showed in her quietness.

  'Penny for them?' Having returned from the cellar with a newly filled bucket of coal for the fire, Jack came across the kitchen to where Amy had finished setting the tray. 'I've been standing there watching you, my lovely.' His two arms closed round her waist from behind, and his voice whispered soft in her ear. Ts there something troubling you?'

  Startled, Amy swung round, still enclosed in his embrace and the quick, ready smile on her face belying her thoughts. 'It's summat and nothing,' she answered, giving him a kiss on the mouth.

  Jack, though, was not so easily put off. 'I've come to know you pretty well,' he retaliated, 'and I know when you're worried. So, whatever it is, I'd like you to share it with me.'

  He gave her a quizzical look. 'You never know, I might even be able to help.'

  Amy knew she could not reveal all the doubts she had with regard to their future, so she confessed to the other thing that had been playing on her mind. 'It's Don—Don Carson. He's a man I was once going to marry, but he broke off our engagement just before the wedding.'

  Jack was stunned. 'Don Carson! I know of him. Good grief, Amy, when was this?'

  'In the summer of 1931. It was awful, Jack. I thought he'd left me because I wasn't good enough for him. He was more worldly, had lived a bit, and I thought he'd seen me for what I was—for what I felt afterwards—a silly little girl, plain and homespun.'

  'No, lass, never. You're the sweetest, kindest girl a man could hope to love. And Don Carson—he's a bad 'un. You're well rid of him. He's a friend of Roy's, but it's not a friendship I care to see flourish.'

  Amy gave a little laugh. 'Well, I learned summat today that threw a new light on him, and, I have to say, you could just be right.'

  'What? Where did you learn of this? You haven't seen him, have you?'

  'No, don't worry, Jack. I haven'
t seen him and I don't intend to. He's past, done with, in my life. In fact, I didn't even know he was still in Blackburn. But at the hospital today Daisy told me about Don being a friend of Roy's—and that he'd broken our engagement because he had been in prison and was too ashamed to tell me. He thought I'd find out about the prison in the end and he couldn't face that.'

  'Oh, love, I would hate to think of my gentle Amy with a husband like that. The only decent thing about him is that he saw he wasn't good enough for you—and even then he couldn't own up and tell you the truth.

  'I'm trying to get used to this new way of seeing things after feeling such a fool for so long,' Amy admitted.

  'Fool nothing. The only fool is Don Carson. I'm right sorry you were hurt, and I'm glad you've told me all this.' He paused to consider, then asked tentatively, 'You don't feel the slightest thing for him now?'

  'No!' said Amy. She looked straight into Jack's anxious eyes. 'No, nothing at all, I promise. But I wanted to tell you that I'd once been in love with him, and going to be married, especially as he's still around Blackburn. Oh Lord, I'd hate to bump into him in the street. I just didn't want you to find out and be hurt because I hadn't told you, even though you've nowt to be hurt about.'

  'Oh, Amy, you're a grand lass. You'd have been wasted on a ne'er-do-well like Don Carson, and I'm a lucky fella to have found you. Now you're sure there's nothing else worrying you? You're looking pretty tonight but I can see you're tired, even so.'

  'It's Daisy.'

  'What about her?' He knew Amy was deeply concerned about Daisy, for he had been with Amy every step of the way, and he was also concerned for Daisy, and for Roy, who had taken Daisy's rejection badly.

  'Only that she's very down at the moment, saying she'd be better off dead and fretting about her big scar. I try to jolly her out of it, but I can understand her depression all too well.'

  'But you've been telling me every time I see you how much Daisy's improving. She will get better—it just has to be got through. And maybe you're feeling down yourself, with all your hospital visits.'

  'You're right—of course,' Amy smiled, but she still looked anxious.

  Jack suspected the news of Don Carson being around was still weighing on Amy's mind. Maybe a tiny part of her still feared that the relationship between themselves might in the end go the same way as her previous one. He had no doubt at all that once he and Amy had embarked on their lives together, their love would only grow deeper and stronger.

  Meantime, he would try and prove that all he wanted was to love and care for her, and be the man she deserved because, in the short space of time that he had known Amy, he realised without a shadow of a doubt, that she was the only one for him.

  Now, with the warmth of her body merging with his, he wanted her as never before. 'I love you so much, my darling,' he whispered. 'You know that, don't you?'

  Amy knew it only too well. 'I love you too, Jack,' she answered, and when it came, the kiss was long and passionate.

  They went to sit entwined together on the sofa, kissing and holding each other close, content in each other's company. They chatted and kissed and occasionally held hands, and it wasn't long before the conversation turned to Daisy and Roy, and the way Daisy had sent him on his way.

  'D'you think they'll make up?' Amy was so concerned.

  'I don't know about that,'Jack answered. 'The trouble is, they're both headstrong, and sometimes Roy has a clumsy way of showing his feelings.' He groaned. 'All I know is that he's been impossible all day—dropping things, forgetting things, a face like a wet weekend, and the look of a little lost boy. Poor soul.'

  In reply, Amy revealed that Daisy had seemed the same. 'So, what can we do about it?'

  Jack could see only one way. 'Try and get the pair of 'em back together, and make them see sense, that's all we can do. The rest is up to them.

  'I hope for their own sakes, they can make up,' Amy remarked. 'Daisy loves him so much, and still she seems determined not to talk it all through with him. She says he can't stand to look at her scars and she doesn't want him to end up hating her because of them. She says he's grown distant, but I told her, that's only because he blames himself for taking her to the factory in the first place. But she won't listen. She's determined it's over, and nothing I say will make her change her mind.'

  Jack had seen the other side of it. 'Roy's thrown himself into work like a madman. He's determined to make good. Honest to God, Amy, he's besotted with Daisy.'

  A moment of contemplation, then a smile from Amy. Climbing over the cushion to him, she entwined her fingers in Jack's. 'So…is that how you feel about me?' she asked in a murmur. 'Besotted?'

  He gazed into her eyes and the look spoke for itself. 'You know I am,' he whispered, the tip of his tongue following the fullness of her mouth. 'Absolutely and totally besotted.'

  Suddenly he curled his arm round her body and drew her beside him, holding her so tight she could hardly breathe. 'Oh, Amy! Won't you trust me?' With the tip of his finger under her chin, he raised her face so he could look directly into her eyes again. 'You know I would never hurt you.'

  Now, as she let her gaze linger with his, there flowed between them a world of understanding. 'I do trust you,' she answered. Only now did it dawn on her that if she were to lose him for whatever reason, her life would be all the emptier for it.

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then in a strong, determined voice said, 'Marry me!'

  Amy kissed him lightly on the mouth, her eyes smiling up at him,-and her heart giving the answer this time. 'All right. I will.

  'What!' He leaped up and, taking her with him, swung her round and round. 'D'you mean it?' he shouted for joy. 'You'll marry me? You really will marry me?' He laughed and danced, cherishing the moment. 'When?'

  'Whenever you like.' Amy knew it was time. Time to start trusting again. Time to begin a new life, with Jack, the man she loved. 'We can name the day, if you like.'

  Afraid she might change her mind in the cold light of day, Jack snatched the opportunity. 'Easter Saturday,' he urged daringly.

  Amy was caught unawares. 'But that's only about ten weeks away!' But the moment of doubt was short-lived. 'All right!' She threw her arms round his neck. 'Easter Saturday it is,' she announced, 'and the sooner folks know about it, the better.' Like Jack, she had the smallest, sneakiest fear that if she didn't do it soon, she never would.

  But there were two people that neither of them wanted to tell just yet. With luck by the time the happy news got to Roy and Daisy, they would have resolved their differences and be making plans for their own future.

  Meantime, Fate had her own way of dealing with such matters. And the news that came through the following day was a blow to them all.

  PART FOUR

  •• •• •• ••

  February 1934

  •• •• •• ••

  Hard Decisions and Repercussions

  Chapter Fifteen

  Saturday the third of February was a day of great excitement in the Atkinson household. At long last, Daisy was coming home.

  'Anybody'd think royalty were coming to stay!' Dave too was delighted that Daisy was now considered well enough to leave the infirmary. 'By! You've worked hard, I'll say that for the pair of you. It looks grand in here.'

  He roved his critical gaze round the back bedroom, and took stock of the soft cream-coloured walls, painted by Amy's own hand, and the new pale blue curtains made by his talented wife, Marie, and there on the floor a pretty flowered rug, almost identical in pattern to the bedspread.

  'You did right in persuading her to come here with us,' he said. 'One thing's for sure, she can't go to her parents' house.' Rolling his eyes heavenward he commented angrily, 'Them buggers would drive her to drink inside of a week!'

  'Going to her parents was never an option, Dad,' Amy agreed. Getting up from the hearth where she had been polishing the rose-patterned tiles surrounding the iron fireplace, she dropped her cleaning rags into the buc
ket. 'So! You think she'll like her bedroom, do you?'

  It was Marie who answered for both of them. 'She'll love it, lass. When Daisy comes through that door, she'll be like a cat wi' two tails, you see if I'm not right.'

  'Aye, lass!' Dave confirmed. 'She'll be coming home in style, so she will.' He gave a winning, knowing grin. 'I can't wait to drive that grand little car of Steve's,' he chuckled. 'A Morris Oxford six, no less. By! He treats that car like a bairn. I never dreamed he'd let me behind the wheel, and here he is, offering it to fetch Daisy home. I told him my car were in the garage having the engine looked at…all that spluttering when I start it up! Still, all's well that ends well, 'cos when I mentioned how Daisy needed to be brought home from the infirmary, he didn't hesitate. Like the good man he is, he offered me the car there and then.'

  Amy wagged a finger. 'I bet you didn't tell him that you could have taken the car in two days earlier, and still got it back in time to collect Daisy, did you, eh?'

  'Never crossed my mind,' Dave chuckled. 'Mind you, he can't drive the car 'cos of his gammy leg, so the way I see it, everything's worked out for the best.'

  Marie laughed. 'Except for his gammy leg.'

  'You'd best mind how you go in it,' Amy warned. 'If you so much as scratch it, he'll have your guts for garters, and never mind all the favours you've done for him.'

  Amy got herself ready, and half an hour later, she and her dad were on their way.

  Dave still couldn't get over his good fortune. 'By! This is what you'd call a car!' Stroking the plush leather he almost drooled over it. 'By the time me and your mam retire, I mean to have one of these.'

  Amy was also impressed—and not only with the red leather and the walnut dashboard. It surprised her how fast the little car travelled along, with the speedometer showing no less than thirty-five miles an hour, and on a long straight it was even nearing forty.