A short while later Diana came back in and sat in the chair opposite her guest. “So, you’ve had a busy day in the office?”
“Dreadful,” Jane said. “Then an evening arguing with Stella again about that awful stableboy she’s mad about.”
“Oh, dear!”
“She just won’t listen. She thinks we’re old fuddy-duddies who don’t understand.” Jane threw her hands up. “Me of all people! I’m as open-minded a woman as you will find, but Stella just doesn’t get it about mixing with the wrong sorts early on. I’ve seen it before so many times. I had a school-friend, Astrid, who actually ran away from home to marry a lower-class boy when she was only sixteen. A gorgeous girl with fabulous blonde hair who could have had any boy. We all thought it was terribly romantic at the time, but she ended up with a shabby small wedding and six children, living in a council house – bedraggled, poorly dressed and old before her time.”
Diana took a drink of her cocoa. She had heard this several times before.
“And the thing is,” Jane went on, “I was going out with the chap’s friend, and every time I think of her I think how it could easily have been me. It took me a few years to get the notion out of my head. I think it was only when I saw Astrid with her first baby in a small damp room that the reality of it all began to dawn on me.” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Thank God I was so terrified of my parents that I didn’t follow her down the same route. And I feel I have to keep on at Stella to make sure she doesn’t latch on to this Tony fellow.” She paused. “What do you think, Diana? Am I making too much of it?”
Diana stared at her for a few seconds. “Me? Oh goodness . . . I have no experience with teenage girls. I wouldn’t like to pass any opinion on it. I will just say that I’ve always found Stella to be a very nice polite girl.”
“Oh, but she has her moments too. What’s the saying – street angel and home devil? Something like that.” She took a sip of her cocoa. “God, I know it’s awful to say it, but I wish Stella was more like her friend, Maria. Have you met Maria Conti? Beautiful, dark-haired, half-Italian girl. Extremely well-mannered.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Her father owns Leonardo’s restaurant just off the city centre. He’s an Italian chap – very attractive for a foreigner.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Actually, he’s a widower . . .”
Diana shrugged and turned to her plate on the side table to take another digestive. She could tell that Jane was adding him to the list of single men. “No, it doesn’t ring any bells.”
“She’s Stella’s best friend. Now, there’s a girl who has her head screwed on the right way. She’s started to go out with Paul Spencer, the son of the people who own the stables. And she’s not a pushy sort – she’s the kind of girl who does all the right things without even knowing it.”
Diana looked over at her now. “Would it be worth having a word with Maria? Maybe she might have some influence on Stella.”
“I don’t think so. Stella is so hotheaded I think it might cause a fall-out between them, and Maria is too good an influence for her to lose.”
“She sounds like another lovely girl.”
Jane took another drink of the comforting cocoa. “Maria Conti has something more about her that’s hard to describe. The nearest thing I could describe her as is classy – and yet I wouldn’t say her father came from the wealthiest of backgrounds. The Italians rarely do – they come over to Britain looking for a better life. And Leo has certainly done that. He has a thriving business and a very nice house and car.” She suddenly caught herself. “Not that I’m saying you have to have money to have class.”
“Of course not,” Diana said. “I know you’re not the sort of person who would judge people by how wealthy they were . . .”
“I suppose the point I’m trying to make is, there’s Stella who has had every advantage in life and doesn’t seem to appreciate it – seems hell-bent on doing whatever she wants. And then there’s Maria Conti, who seems to float along in life, always instinctively knowing the right thing to do.”
“That must say something about her upbringing,” Diana said. “Do you mind me asking – what happened to her mother?”
“Poor woman, I remember it well.” She put her head to the side, calculating. “I suppose it must be six or seven years ago now. An asthma attack. I think she must have had a weak heart as well.”
“Dreadful . . . and she must have been so young.”
“She was Irish, so I can’t imagine that her background was a lot better than her husband’s. Although she did seem well educated and I believe she was a good musician – I never heard her myself, but the priest mentioned it at her funeral. She was a very attractive woman, and pleasant, but not as chatty as some of the Irish people I know. In many ways she kept herself to herself.”
Diana was surprised at Jane’s little jibes against both the Irish and Italians. “My own grandmother was Irish, you know,” she said, pointedly . “She came from Dublin. We visited it twice when I was a teenager and I loved it. It’s a lovely city and the people are very friendly. I’d really like to go back again sometime – it’s on my list of places to visit in the next few years.”
Jane’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, really? I can’t say I know anything about it.”
There was a small silence and then Jane picked up one of the magazines and flicked through it. She paused at a page and then held it out for Diana to see.
“That’s a beautiful coat, isn’t it? Although I’m never sure that cream is a good colour for a winter coat. What do you think?”
They chatted about fashion for a while and then, without any preamble Jane suddenly said, “I’m very worried about Stella’s weight. She’s always slim and says she needs to be for her ballet . . . but she seems to have lost a lot of weight in the last few weeks.”
“Is she eating properly?”
Jane shook her head. “Not at all. We have arguments trying to get her to have breakfast before school in the morning, and then in the evening we have more arguments about her leaving half of her meals. And there are times when I think she’s lying about what she’s eaten. She will say she had a big sandwich when she came in from school and that she’s too full to eat dinner with us. I’ve started checking how much bread there is so I can tell whether it’s been touched or not, and most of the time I don’t think it has. And then when we confront her it’s another argument and she feels we’re accusing her of lying. It’s very difficult.”
“Do you think she might be ill or anything?”
“I’m not sure.” Jane closed her eyes for a few moments. “But apart from eating very little, the worst thing is . . . when she does eat . . . afterwards, I think she’s making herself sick.
Chapter 14
Maria woke during the night to the sound of heavy rain and flying wind. She checked the clock to find it was only twenty past three. She lay for a while with all sorts of worries running through her mind about her father. His finances and gambling problems were top of her list, and when she started worrying about his health, she switched on her bedside lamp, picked up her favourite book, Pride and Prejudice, and forced herself to read.
Worrying about her father becoming ill and dying was something she had done since her mother died – but she had managed to overcome it a few years back. She knew that she was letting things overtake her when her mind started back down that dark old track again. Eventually, she became engrossed in reading about Elizabeth Bennett and Mr Darcy and she relaxed again and finally dozed off around five o’clock.
She woke for the second time when her dad tapped on her bedroom door, and realised she had fallen asleep with her lamp on and that her book had fallen onto the floor.
“It’s a horrid morning,” her father called from the other side of the door. “Do you want to cancel the riding lesson?”
Maria thought for a moment. Today of all days. She glanced at the window. It did look horrible outside – dark and wet and windy. And her stomac
h still felt achy and uncomfortable. And yet shedidn’t want to miss seeing Paul and making arrangements for their date tonight. It would look very bad if she cancelled the lesson and then phoned up to make arrangements to go out.
Just as she swung her legs out of the side of the bed, she heard the phone ring. It would be Stella, she thought, checking if she was still going. She heard her father answering the phone and speaking for a few minutes, and then – sure enough – he called upstairs for her.
“It’s for you, Maria. Pick the phone up in my room.”
She padded across the corridor to her father’s room and lifted the receiver.
“Here she is now,” her father said. “I’ll hang up and let you explain.”
“Hi, Stella,” Maria began.
“Sorry, Maria . . . it’s actually me.”
“Paul!” She sucked her breath in.
“Sorry for ringing the house so early, but we have to cancel all the riding lessons this morning as there’s been a problem with fallen branches in the main field and a big tree has come down in the yard.”
“My God – that sounds terrible! It’s lucky it happened in the middle of the night so no people or horses got hurt.” Maria craned her neck to look out of her father’s bedroom window, which faced into the back garden, to check for any damage. There was nothing obvious. “But I suppose it’s no surprise. The wind was so loud here it woke me in the night.”
“It’s still pretty bad out our way, so Mum is phoning around to let everyone know we’re cancelling, and I said I would ring you as I wanted to speak to you anyway.”
She felt a jab of disappointment – he was going to cancel their date. She didn’t mind too much not seeing him at the riding school but tonight was different. She bit her lip and waited.
“The weather forecast is for things to settle down this evening.” His voice was rushed and breathless. “So I think we should be okay still for Manchester – if it still suits you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m sure the weather will be much better and sunnier by then . . .” The words were only out of her mouth when she realised how silly and desperate they sounded. She closed her eyes and held the receiver to her chest for a moment trying to still her racing heart. She put it back to her ear. “Well, maybe not exactly sunny!” she said, giving a forced laugh.
“There’s a fundraising dinner dance on in the Palace Hotel tonight. It’s for the local cricket club and my mum and dad were supposed to go but Dad’s back isn’t great.” He was rushing on again. “I know you’re a bit young, but my mother knows the manager there and since it’s a private event, she says she can have a word with him so we don’t need to worry about you getting in.”
She thought for a moment, remembering the way her father had been the last night she was with Paul. “I’d love to go, but I just need to check. Can you hang on for a few minutes or will I ring you back?”
“No problem,” he told her. “I’ll hang on.”
Leo was in the process of frying onions and mushrooms for omelettes when she came rushing down. She halted at the kitchen door, her hand resting against the jamb.
“My riding class is cancelled this morning, but is it okay if I go to a dinner dance in Manchester tonight with Paul Spencer? It’s for the local cricket club, and his parents were supposed to go but can’t – and his mother said we can have the tickets so they’re not wasted.”
“Paul Spencer?” His voice was high with surprise. There was a few moments’ hesitancy, then he turned towards her, smiling. “Is that why he rang?”
Maria nodded, a red tinge appearing on her face. “Well, he was letting me know about the lesson being cancelled and then he asked me.” She looked over at the window. “He says the weather is going to improve this evening.”
Leo gestured with his hands. “He’s a nice boy with good manners, and if it’s a special charity event . . . I think it sounds okay if you would like to go.”
“I would,” she said.
“Then I have no objections.” His eyes narrowed in thought. “It will be easier for him to go from the stables straight into Manchester rather than calling out here for you, so you can tell him I will drive you in and you can meet him there.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “He’s still on the phone, so I’ll let him know.”
Maria could hear the relieved tone in Paul’s voice when she told him that everything was fine for going out that night.
“Your father didn’t mind?”
“Nope,” she said, suddenly feeling more confident. “Everything is fine as long as I don’t drink more than a glass or two of wine and get home safely.”
“Of course.” Paul’s voice lowered. “Isn’t he great allowing you to have a drink at fifteen? I’ve only been allowed to drink in the last year.”
“I’ve been allowed a little wine with my meals since I was twelve.”
“Twelve?”
She laughed at the shock in his voice. “Don’t forget my father is Italian, and they think of wine as being a part of the meal. To be honest, I’m not that mad about it and usually dilute it with water, so he knows I’m not going to drink too much.”
“I think it sounds like a good idea,” Paul said. “It probably stops people drinking too much if they grow up with it.”
Her mind flitted to her father and his recent late-night glasses of whiskey but she pushed it out of her mind. “Dad said he would drop me in to the Palace to meet you.”
“Fine. I’ll get someone to drop me in too and we’ll get a taxi back home from Manchester and drop you on the doorstep.”
“Great,” she said.
She went straight into the bathroom and was pleased when she discovered that her period had arrived. Her first day or two was always light so it wasn’t a problem, and it was better to be prepared when she was going out than to have it arrived unannounced. Also, the stomach ache and fuzzy headache which preceded it would have eased off by tonight and she could relax and enjoy herself. The only real nuisance was that she would have to bring a handbag big enough to conceal a couple of sanitary towels.
Later, when they were having breakfast, Leo looked across the table at her. “I’m happy you asked me about Paul – and I’m happy we can talk about such things together.”
“I am too,” Maria said.
Maria had just got dressed when Stella came on the phone. They chatted about the weather and then moved on to talk about their plans for the evening.
“You and Paul are going to a dance in the Palace Hotel? My God, that’s amazing! He must be mad about you to take you to somewhere like that.”
Maria went on to explain about his father’s back and the tickets going spare. “It’s a fundraising thing for his local cricket club, so he’ll know a lot of people there. I’m looking forward to going out with him, but I’m a bit nervous as I won’t know a lot of people.”
“You’ll be fine,” Stella said. “Paul will look after you.” She paused. “Have you told your dad?”
“Yes, and he was okay about it. He says he likes Paul.”
“Lucky you! I wish my mother had the same attitude to Tony. Blooming snob!”
“She might come round.”
“I’m hoping that when she sees him all dressed up in his suit at the races she will realise he is as good as anyone else. I mean, look at the Spencers who everyone loves! Paul’s dad was only a jockey when they met and it didn’t stop her marrying him.”
“A jockey with very good prospects,” Maria said.
“Who knows what Tony will do? He’s so talented with horses and he’s got a really good head for business. He has all these plans for owning his own stables when he’s older.”
Maria stifled a sigh. The conversation was back to being all about Tony again.
After a few minutes Stella suddenly noticed that Maria had hardly spoken and asked with great interest: “What will you wear to the dance?” Then, before Maria got a chance to reply she rushed on. “You should wear t
hat nice flower print one with the bell sleeves. They will all be dressed in the height of fashion in those places.”
“I think that might be a bit casual for a dinner dance. I was actually thinking of wearing the evening dress I got for the Christmas party at Leonardo’s. Do you remember it?” Maria suddenly felt nervous. “Everybody said it made me look older. It was the little black sleeveless one with the bodice covered in sequins and it’s trimmed with a black velvet ribbon and bow.”
“I don’t think I ever saw it, but it sounds fab! Is it long or short?”
“It’s short, a few inches above the knee. I asked Paul to check with his mother if it had to be long evening dresses, and she said no. I thought I would wear it with my short fur coat over it and black stilettos and ten-denier black tights.”
“They will go perfect with it. Is it low-cut? Does it show your bust off?”
“You can just see my cleavage,” Maria said, “but not too much. It has a sort of scooped neck.”
“Go for it, and try to pull it down a bit lower. That’s what men go for.”
“Stella!” Maria laughed. “You’ve suddenly become an expert on what men go for! I feel nervous enough without feeling I’m drawing attention to my bust.” She thought for a few moments. “Maybe I should wear something different . . .”
“No, don’t – that black dress sounds absolutely perfect. Oh, I meant to tell you!” Stella’s voice suddenly dropped. She gave a low, stifled laugh. “My mother has invited a friend of hers to the races, and she’s going to try to be a matchmaker for her and your dad.”
“What?”
“She’s going to try to pair up Diana with your dad when we’re all at the races.”
Maria’s hand came up to cover her mouth.
Music from Home Page 11