“That was when we were younger – it’s completely different now. I can’t talk to them the way we talk about things like Tony and Paul, and they don’t have the same sense of humour that you and I have.”
“But you’re the one with all the talent, Stella,” she said. “The one who hopes to make a career out of dancing. I’m only average at it, and I don’t enjoy it as much as I did when I was younger. And anyway, you should be concentrating on it – taking it seriously and not giving a damn about what I’m doing. You have to realise that we can’t always do the same things. We’re getting older, Stella, and the time will come when we have to find jobs and mix with other people. We’d be a bit sad if we were stuck together all the time like Tweedledum and Tweedledee!”
Stella had looked at her in annoyance, and then she had started to laugh. “You better come back to classes in September or I’ll kill you!”
Her father seemed much happier and talked constantly about Bella Maria,even though she hadn’t won any of her recent races, coming in second and third. He said that they were only warming-up races, and the race he really had high hopes for was the big one on Easter Monday. He went down to the training stables to watch her several afternoons a week and met up with Charlie Ford, the co-owner, for regular chats which gave Maria the impression that he wasn’t spending as much time at the bookmaker’s. He was also coming home earlier after work more often, which she thought indicated that he wasn’t playing cards as often either.
When the phone call came to say that Mrs Flynn was back home, and now well enough to look after Poppy, both of them were reluctant to give her up, and Maria actually had tears in her eyes when she handed her over to Mrs Flynn.
“Oh, don’t get upset, dear, you can come and visit Poppy anytime,” the old lady said. “I’d give her to you, but I can’t – she’s a lifeline to me. To tell you the truth, she’s the only reason I get up some mornings.” She had kissed and cuddled the bundle of fur. “There are times when I think she’s more human than me – she can almost talk to me. Did you find that too?”
Then, when Maria was going, she thanked her again and gave her a card in a sealed envelope, saying not to open it until she got home.
When Maria got home later, she opened the envelope and found a ten-pound gift voucher for a ladies’ shop in Heaton Moor called Gladrags.It was a shop she rarely went into because it sold mainly older women’s clothes and lingerie, but she had heard Stella saying that it had some nice bits and pieces in it recently. She thought the voucher was very generous, and put it safely in her dressing-table drawer to use the next time she saw something nice in the shop window.
She continued with her horse-riding lessons which she still enjoyed and travelled to with Stella, and of course it meant she saw Paul, who continued to be the main focus in her life apart from her father. They went out most Friday and Saturday nights to the pictures or to the dance halls in Stockport and occasionally Manchester, although none of the dances were ever as grand as the dinner dance in The Palace. Occasionally they went to one of the local hotels where Maria only drank lemonade, and Paul had only one or two drinks because he was driving and, as he often said, when it came to alcohol, he could take it or leave it.
Sometimes Stella and Tony joined them at the dance halls and, although Maria enjoyed Stella’s company, she always felt awkward knowing that Stella’s parents didn’t know she was with Tony, and dreaded phone calls to the house from her mother wondering if she was with her. Tony had recently got a second-hand car – an old banger, Stella called it, when she was teasing him, but Maria thought she was actually proud of him for having it, and every chance they got they went for runs out to different places where no one would know them.
Paul was, Maria discovered, even more grown-up and sensible than she thought. He was concerned that she still hadn’t decided what she wanted to do after leaving school and, every so often, brought the subject up.
Like her father, Paul had made suggestions such as working in a bank or an office, maybe book-keeping, a building society or even teaching. But nothing suggested so far had appealed to her. Just last weekend they had discussed it again when he was over at their house for Sunday lunch.
“The only problem is,” Paul said, “you’re going to be studying for your A-Levels after the summer and you need to know which ones to choose that will help with your career.”
“I don’t have to decide on my subjects until after the summer,” Maria said, “because I won’t have my results until August. If I fail any O-Levels I’ll have to re-sit those, and then if I do hopefully pass some I’ll have to decide which ones I might have a hope of passing at A-Level.”
“English and Maths are always safe bets,” he told her. “And a language is always a good choice.”
“I hate Maths,” she said. “I don’t mind arithmetic, but I can’t stand algebra and geometry.”
“Well, stick to arithmetic,” he advised. “It’s the one you need for most jobs anyway.” He paused, thinking, and then his eyes widened. “What about a travel agent’s or something like that?”
Maria suddenly perked up. “That sounds a bit more interesting . . .” She smiled. “Yes, I think that could definitely be a possibility.”
“Right,” he said. “We’ll find out exactly what you need for that.”
A few days later Paul had turned up at their house armed with brochures and sheets of paper with notes. Then the two of them and her father, who was delighted to see Maria interested in something, spent some time going over the requirements of the job.
“‘Give advice on destinations’ – that would be easy enough,” Paul said, reading from a brochure which had a section in it called ‘A Day in the Life of a Travel Agent’. “‘Make arrangements for transportation, hotel accommodation, car rentals, tours, and recreation’.”
“That would be using the phone, and getting on well with people,” Leo said. He laughed. “A bit like working in the restaurant.”
“‘Advise on weather conditions, locations, restaurants, tourist attractions, and recreation,’” Paul read. “I would think Geography would definitely come in there, and Maths would also be useful for things like currency exchange rates and discounts when you’re dealing with international travellers.”
Maria pulled a face. “I like Geography, but as I told you I’m not too keen on Maths,”
Paul smiled over at her. “Typing would also be a good skill.”
“Yes,” Maria said. “I was actually thinking of that for other jobs too. It would be useful for loads of things. Even though I’ve never done it before, one of my teachers said I could do it as an O-Level alongside my A-Levels. She said I could use any free periods to practise or even sit in with one of the other younger classes who’ve been doing it for a few years.”
“You’re keeping French on, aren’t you?” Paul checked.
Maria nodded. “Yes, I’m not bad at it, and I definitely need a foreign language. I can speak a bit of Italian too, although I never took it as a subject in school. I picked it up over the years from Dad and Franco, and when I was on holiday in Italy.”
“Yes, Maria,” her father said, laughing, “you improve every time we visit Italy, then you forget when we come back home.”
She laughed along with him. “When I’m older I’ll learn it properly, I promise.”
Leo was looking over Paul’s shoulder and he started to report from the brochure now. “What about ‘Visit hotels, resorts, and restaurants to evaluate comfort, cleanliness, and quality of food and service’? You will have to send them to Leonardo’sto sample Franco’s excellent cooking, and see his lovely clean kitchen!”
They had all laughed and, as Maria watched her father clapping Paul on the back, she felt a bit emotional to see that her father and Paul got on so well.
After Leo went upstairs to the small office he had in the smaller, spare bedroom to sort out some papers, Maria sat down on the sofa beside Paul and gave him a hug. “Do you know something, Paul? I think y
ou might be going into the wrong career yourself.”
“What?” he said, a quizzical look on his face.
“You should be going into teaching.”
“Teaching?” he repeated, not catching her drift.
“Well,” she giggled, “I reckon I’ve learned far more from you this afternoon about career advice than I’ve ever learned from any of my teachers.”
He gave her a sidelong grin and then his face became more solemn. “I love being here with you,” he said. “I wish we could be like this every single day, not doing anything particularly special. Just spending every minute with each other.”
She was now serious too. “So do I, Paul,” she said. “So do I.”
Chapter 18
Maria woke to sunshine on Easter Monday morning and to the sound of her father knocking on her bedroom door.
“Maria? I have your breakfast on a tray. Can I come in?” His voice was high and jovial.
“Just a second, Dad . . .” She stared around her, still disorientated from sleep . . . and then it hit her.
It was the day she was both excited about and dreading. Today was the day they were all going to York to watch Bella Maria’s first big race – her father and all his friends including the Lowrys, herself, Paul, Stella and her parents, and Tony. And whilst Paul would be there as part of her father’s group, his parents and all their friends would be there as well.
There were so many problems associated with the day out that she had lain awake until three o’clock in the morning worrying about it. What if her father drank too much and made a fool of himself? What if he laughed or even cried in front of Paul and his family? What if Stella’s mother found out that Tony was going to be part of the group when Stella had been explicitly banned from seeing him again? What if Bella Maria came last and they were humiliated in front of everyone?
Just thinking about it made her breathless and made her feel that there was a metal band tightening around her head.
She sat up now, positioned her pillows behind her and then checked that her pyjama top was buttoned properly. “You can come in now!” she called.
Leo came in, well dressed as always, in a nice pin-striped suit and a red-and-navy tie, carrying a tray with two freshly made pancakes with her favourite toppings – one with maple syrup and the other with lemon and sugar. There was also a large mug of frothy coffee made with milk. The sight of the small vase on the tray with a single rosebud from the garden immediately reminded her of her mother as he had often done that for her when she was alive.
Leo placed the tray in front of her and then perched on the end of the bed. “This is going to be a wonderful day,” he told her. “The sun is shining, Bella Maria is on top form, and I’m going to have my beautiful daughter on my arm as we walk into the owner’s enclosure. We’ll be mixing with all the top people in Manchester and drinking champagne and cheering our very own horse along as it wins the race. What more could we ask for? It’s like a dream come true.”
A lump formed in Maria’s throat. “Dad . . . you won’t get carried away and drink too much, will you?”
He shook his head and smiled. “Maria, you have nothing to worry about. Drinking champagne is like drinking water, it has no effect on me. And anyway, when have you seen me drink too much recently? Not since I got involved in the racing business. I just sip the odd whisky or glass of wine – nothing too much. I have too much responsibility now with Leonardo’s and Bella Maria – and too much pride in myself to let you and all your nice friends down.” His face suddenly became solemn. “I know there are times when I’ve had more than I should, but you know I hardly drank at all until your mother died, don’t you? The grief of losing her nearly drove me mad and kept me awake night and day . . .”
Maria nodded,praying he wouldn’t go into his usual long explanations as to why he had started drinking in the first place – reminding her of all the sadness and loss they had both gone through. One part of her wished now that she hadn’t said anything, whilst the other part knew that if she had said nothing, he might think it was okay to drink as much as he liked.
“The only thing that helped me to sleep was a few glasses of wine but, when I realised it was overdoing it, I cut back.” He took her hand, his eyes pleading now. “You know I drink very carefully now, Maria. You know I would never do anything to let you down. If you’re very worried, I’ll drink nothing at all today. Not even a drop of champagne when the others are all celebrating the day . . . I’ll buy them as much drink as they want, but I won’t touch it myself. I’m the sort of man who can take it or leave it. You only have to say the word and not a single drop of wine or any alcohol will pass my lips.”
“But it’s not for me to tell you what you can and cannot drink!” Having this same old pathetic conversation was agony. “And I don’t want to spoil the day for you. Everyone else will be enjoying a drink and celebrating. I don’t want you to feel any different from them.”
Relief washed over his face and then he smiled. “Okay,” he said, getting up from the bed now. “We’ll agree that I have just a few drinks and leave it at that.” He gestured towards her tray. “Now, eat up and drink your coffee and I’ll go and run you a nice bath with bubbles.”
“Thanks.” Maria looked down at the pancakes he had so lovingly made, and wondered why her father couldn’t be a normal, boring father like Stella’s and Paul’s.
Her clothes were all laid out for the occasion – a fabulous outfit her father had bought her from Kendals department store. When she was buying day-to-day stuff, she usually went with Stella, but this was so important that she and Leo made an afternoon of it, with lunch in a lovely restaurant across the road. Leo had joked and said it gave him an opportunity to check out the competition.
He had told her to take her time and had waited outside the changing room while she tried on several outfits that the assistant said she thought would look wonderful. In the end, one ensemble stood out above the rest – a lilac satin fitted dress four inches above the knee, with a matching edge-to-edge coat with one large sparkly purple button at the neck. She teamed the outfit with high purple patent T-bar shoes, a purple fascinator and a small bag covered in pink, lilac, purple and clear stones.
When she came out of the changing room wearing it, Leo had clapped his hands, saying, “This is it! You will be the best-dressed lady they’ve ever seen at the races.” Then, he had to wipe his eyes as he felt so emotional looking at her. “Mia bella, bella Maria!” he had repeated in a low voice, over and over again.
On the way to York Maria sat in the back of the car with Stella and Franco’s wife, Bernice,while the two men sat in the front. There was a feeling of excitement amongst the passengers with talk about the races and the sunny dry day that was forecast.
When the men drifted off into a conversation about horses that was too detailed for the females, theyfound much to discuss about the new clothes they had all bought for the day. Bernice, who was much more talkative and forthcoming to the girls than most women approaching forty, was also seeking reassurance that the new pageboy haircut she had got that morning wasn’t too young or too short for her.
The girls, enjoying the way that Bernice treated them on an equal footing, told her she looked much younger with her new hairstyle and to never grow it long again. They also said they loved her wide-bottom navy velvet pants and the fashionable loose shirt she was wearing with a chain belt and a long black-stoned pendant. Bernice was thrilled with the compliments and Maria noticed that, in order to continue the discussion, she kept finding small details to criticise about herself which she knew the girls would vigorously argue against.
“I suppose I’m just worried,” she told them, “that some other women my age who aren’t very fashion-conscious might say that I’m trying to be too young.” .
“Let them talk,” Stella stated. “They’re old fuddy-duddies who are behind the times. It’s the Swinging Sixties and I think your outfit is so gorgeous that it would suit any age. I would definit
ely wear it and, if my mother was only modern enough, she would look nice in it too.”
Bernice was quiet for a few minutes, and Maria thought Stella might have said the wrong thing when she said she would wear the same outfit, given that she was only sixteen. Bernice might well have thought that she was implying it was an outfit for teenagers, and therefore far too young for herself.
When Bernice leaned forward to talk to Franco and Leo, Stella turned to Maria and said in a low voice, “I can’t wait to see Tony today. He’s travelling with the Spencers, so my mother can’t say a thing.” She then thumbed in Bernice’s direction and said in a low voice, “Pity my mother isn’t as modern as her!”
Maria thought they had talked enough about Bernice and her clothes and that that it might be safer to move on to another subject. “What time are your parents setting off?” she asked.
“Soon, but they had to pick up my mum’s friend, Diana, first.” Stella halted, then took a deep breath. “And you don’t need to worry,” she whispered, making eyes in Leo’s direction. “I’ve already warned her that you don’t want any stupid matchmaking plans. She said she hadn’t mentioned it to Diana so she doesn’t even know anything about it.”
“Good,” Maria said. She folded her arms and smiled, and thought that it was one less thing to worry about today.
The racecourse car park was already busy when they arrived, so they had to park a good way back and walk in through the main gates. The two men led the way, while the girls walked behind with Bernice, watching all the other women and passing comment on the fashions. Bernice was relieved to notice that there were other women her age wearing similar outfits and some who were sporting more outrageous ensembles.
Leo and Franco went straight to the ticket office and sorted out race programmes for the day for everyone in the group. When they came back and gave Bernice and the two girls their programmes, they all turned to the page with details of Bella Maria’s race and were delighted when they saw her name.
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