by Annie Lyons
“Good idea. I’ll take the dress and top for me and the jumpsuit for my fashion advisor.”
Rose’s face lights up.
“You don’t need to do that, Eudora,” says Maggie.
“I know. But I would like to,” says Eudora with a firm nod. Eudora also buys a card and a bottle of champagne for Stanley’s son. “I don’t know about you, but I could do with a cup of tea,” she tells them both as they leave the shop. “I hear the doughnuts in Debenhams are superb.”
“Can we, Mummy?” asks Rose, hopping from foot to foot.
“I think you’ve earned it,” says Maggie.
“My treat,” says Eudora. She can’t remember the last time she uttered these words. The crowd seems to irritate her less as they make their way to the café. When they finally sit down with their doughnuts and she watches Rose bite into one, the little girl’s murmurs of approval and jam-covered smile make Eudora wonder at how lucky grandmothers must feel to share in such moments.
As Eudora walks into the Royston Ballroom later that evening, it’s as if she’s stepping into a memory. True, the people gathered lack the style of the dance-goers of Eudora’s heyday—there’s a little too much exposed flesh and open necks for her liking—but the room is exactly the same and it takes her breath away. White silk drapes fan out from the middle to the corners of the ceiling, each one adorned with soft twinkling fairy lights. A glitter ball spins from the center, making everything shimmer with magic. Eudora finds herself thinking how much Rose would like this. She would already be hurtling around the room like an out-of-control spinning top.
At one end of the space is a stage on which the band is warming up. From the look of their lead singer, who is wearing dark glasses, a porkpie hat, and a tight suit, Eudora fears they won’t be in for an evening of swing tunes. The furniture has been set up around the room in the manner of a café, with six chairs to every round table so people can sit and watch anyone brave enough to dance. Eudora approves of the white linen tablecloths and matching seat covers, which give it an air of sophistication. She is less sure of the fiftieth-birthday helium balloons, which a couple of particularly thuggish-looking children are currently using as punch bags, or the huge garish “Cheers to Fifty Years, Paul!” sign hanging over the bar.
“Here we are,” says Stanley, returning with their drinks. “An orange juice, just as the lady requested.”
“Thank you,” says Eudora.
“You look lovely, Eudora,” he tells her. “That dress really suits you.”
“Thank you,” she repeats, realizing that she needs to offer Stanley some kind of compliment in return. “And you look very smart.”
Stanley smiles. “Shall we take a seat?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Eudora is impressed as Stanley pulls out a chair and waits for her to sit down before taking his place. She misses people with manners. It seems as if courtesy is heading the way of kindness these days. “I used to come here to dances many moons ago,” she tells him.
“I bet you could show these young’uns a thing or two,” he says, gesturing toward a couple of awkward thirty-something dancers, who look more like pecking chickens than graceful swans.
“Yes, and not just in terms of dancing.”
“Life’s certainly different these days.”
“You can say that again.”
“And did you come here with a significant other? Was there a man who stole Miss Honeysett’s heart?” asks Stanley.
Eudora is about to tell him to mind his own business when they’re interrupted by a taller, younger version of Stanley with more hair. “Dad! Here you are! Helen said she’d seen you.”
Stanley leaps up to embrace his son. “Paul, my boy! Happy birthday.” Paul pats his father on the back. Eudora is intrigued to see their obvious closeness. “Paul, I want you to meet Eudora—a good friend of mine.”
Eudora bristles at the overfamiliarity but remains gracious as she reaches up to shake Paul’s hand. “Pleased to meet you. Happy birthday. I’ve left you a present over on the table with the others.” She is taken aback as Paul leans down to kiss her on the cheek. He smells of beer and cigarettes.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Eudora. I’m chuffed you could make it. Dad’s told us all about you.”
“Oh?” says Eudora, glancing at Stanley.
“Only about you falling over drunk and always giving me a hard time,” says Stanley with a teasing nudge.
“I see,” says Eudora. “Well, perhaps you deserve it.”
“Touché, Dad. Eudora’s got the measure of you!” Paul and Stanley grin at each other.
“Can I get you a drink, son?”
“No thanks, Dad. I’ve got about six lined up. But listen, you’d better watch out. Gloria’s on the prowl. Best stay here and let Eudora protect you.”
Stanley puts a hand on his heart. “Thanks, son. I’ll make sure I keep a low profile.”
“You do that. Right, see you in a bit. Good to meet you, Eudora.”
“You too.” Eudora watches Stanley glance around the room nervously. “And who is Gloria?”
He squirms in his seat. “Paul’s mother-in-law. She’s been a widow for a couple of years and seems to think we should go on a date.”
“And I take it you’re not keen?”
“Definitely not. She’s a man-eater! And besides, I’m not interested in anyone else. Ada was my one true love.”
“Well then, I shall do my best to protect you.”
“Maybe we could pretend this is a date?”
Eudora frowns. Today is one of the more bizarre days of her life. This morning she allowed herself to be made over by a ten-year-old girl, and this evening she is apparently required as an ersatz sweetheart. She’s not sure if this is what Doctor Liebermann had in mind when she advised her to choose life, but Eudora realizes she isn’t averse to the plan. “All right, but only for this evening.”
Stanley clinks his glass against hers. “Cheers, Eudora. You’re a pal.”
The band strikes up their first song. Eudora isn’t familiar with any of the tunes they play, but the musicians are accomplished and she finds herself tapping her foot in time to the music. A gaggle of children of all ages jig and skip around the dance floor, much to Stanley’s and Eudora’s amusement. She finds him to be an attentive host as he leans in so Eudora can hear him over the music, pointing out various relatives. Eudora soon realizes that Stanley is something of a celebrity in this company. She loses count of the number of people who stop to shake his hand or kiss his cheek.
“Hey, Pops,” says a beautiful young girl wearing a shimmering dusky-rose dress.
“This is my Livvy,” he tells Eudora, with a warmth that she finds touching.
“You must be Eudora. Pops never stops talking about you,” she says, winking at her grandfather.
“This one’s a worse joker than her grandpa,” says Stanley.
“That’s a beautiful ring, by the way,” says Livvy, gesturing at Eudora’s right hand.
“It was my grandmother’s,” says Eudora, her mind transported to another party where she’d worn it proudly. “They’re rose-cut diamonds—quite unusual.”
“It’s gorgeous,” says Livvy, smiling.
“Come on, Liv,” says another, equally lovely girl, jumping on her back. “Let’s dance! Oh hey, Pops!”
“And that’s Ellie,” says Stanley, blowing them both kisses as Livvy is dragged away by her sister. “They’re my angels.”
Eudora watches Stanley’s face. He is rapt, gazing at them with adoration. Eudora remembers her father bestowing a similar look on her, and she feels weary with longing. She is about to tell Stanley it’s time for her to go home when a drunken woman stumbles toward them.
“Hieeee, Stanleeeeeee, you’re here! Paul said he didn’t know where you were. Have you been hiding from me?” Gloria. Eudora can see straightaway that she has no filter in terms of appropriate dress or behavior. Her short dyed-black hair is standing on end as if she has been clutc
hing a van de Graaff generator, and her gold lamé dress is too tight, too short, and too revealing. She is sweating so profusely that the makeup on her face has run, giving her a rather unfortunate ghoulish appearance. It would be easy to mock or dismiss this woman, but Eudora feels only sympathy. There’s a desperation about her, a fear of being alone.
Stanley’s face is filled with horror as Gloria slides herself onto his lap, wraps her arms around his shoulders, and plants a fat kiss on his cheek. “Ooh, sorry. I left a mark,” she says, rubbing at the scarlet stain. “It’s good to see you, Stanley. Now, when are we going to go on that date?”
Stanley’s body stiffens as he throws a pleading look in Eudora’s direction. She clears her throat and taps his admirer on the arm. Gloria turns, her painted-on eyebrows raised.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” says Eudora, holding out her hand. Gloria’s return handshake is the wet fish Eudora feared it would be. “I am Eudora and I’m here tonight with Stanley. I’m sure you don’t mean to be rude, but I would prefer it if you removed yourself from his lap at your earliest convenience.”
Gloria gapes at Eudora but does as she is asked. Paul’s wife, Helen, appears at her elbow. “Come on, Mum. I think it’s time we got you home.”
Gloria gives Stanley a forlorn look before blowing him a kiss and allowing her daughter to lead her away. “Farewell, sweet prince,” she calls, waggling her fingers in a clumsy wave.
Stanley turns to Eudora. “You were magnificent, Eudora. I would prefer it if you removed yourself from his lap at your earliest convenience. I don’t think Gloria knew what hit her!”
“I’m sure she has a good heart underneath all those ill-fitting clothes,” says Eudora. “In truth, I feel sorry for her, but you’re not the answer to her prayers, so there’s no sense in stringing the poor woman along.”
“Let’s just say Gloria’s not the only one with a good heart, shall we?” says Stanley. Eudora gives a dismissive shake of her head but is quietly gratified. “I think this calls for a drink. Can I tempt you with a glass of bubbly?”
Eudora is about to say “Very well” but decides to take a different tack. “Why not? We must toast your son’s health.”
“Lovely stuff,” says Stanley.
Eudora watches him disappear to the bar, glad she made the effort to come tonight. There is something pleasant about basking in the warmth of Stanley’s easy relationship with his friends and family. They seem to genuinely enjoy one another’s company and relish being together. It’s a far cry from her own experience of family. Despite her best efforts, hers was a fractured, bitter mess. There were moments of happiness of course, but they never seemed to linger; like a feather on the breeze, they fluttered in front of her for a second before they were gone, out of reach, never to return.
“Are you having a good time?”
Eudora is roused from her thoughts by Paul, taking a seat next to her and placing his beer glass on the table.
“It’s been a very pleasant evening,” she says truthfully.
“I’m glad. Dad was over the moon you could come. I think you’ve made an impression on him. You give as good as you get. He needs that.”
“A sparring partner?”
Paul laughs. “Yeah, if you like. To be honest, Eudora, we’re worried about him.”
“Oh?”
Paul grimaces. “He’s getting a bit forgetful since Mum died. Not just losing things but forgetting what day it is and the things we’ve just told him.”
“I see. I met him at the memory clinic the other day. He seemed very philosophical about it.”
“Yeah, but I think he’s scared. You know what men are like.”
“I certainly do.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to go on to you about it. I’m just glad he’s met someone who keeps his brain ticking over.”
“What are you two talking about?” asks Stanley, placing a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the table.
“Meddlers for nosy parkers,” says Eudora.
“See what she’s like, Paul?” says Stanley.
“I do. I think she’s brilliant.”
“Don’t tell her that. She’ll get bigheaded. Now then. Fetch yourself a glass, son. Eudora and I would like to toast your health.”
Paul returns moments later, and as the three of them raise their glasses, Eudora makes a decision. She may not be here for much longer, but while she is she will do her best to help Stanley Marcham. She owes it to Ada, to Gloria, and to all the other people who love him.
1957
Sidney Avenue, South-East London
As Eudora looked around the room, taking in the “Congratulations” banner and table heaving with plates of sandwiches, homemade quiche, and sausage rolls, she couldn’t recall ever being as happy as she was in this moment. Eddie’s proposal was like a long-wished-for gift after years of being the conduit for her mother’s and sister’s unhappiness. She would never say this out loud, but it was as if her father was sending her a message:
You’ve done your bit, Eudora. It’s your turn to be happy and live a wonderful life now.
She was sure that her father would have approved of Eddie. He worked hard in his father’s car repair garage, and she knew he would look after her. He had a bit of a temper but never toward Eudora. He had also worked hard to win over Beatrice. He fixed her aging Morris Minor for free and undertook odd jobs whenever they arose.
“It is nice to have a man around the place to help with these things,” Beatrice told him one day as he emerged from under the sink, having fixed a leaking U-bend.
“My pleasure, Mrs. H. Things must have been hard for you after the war, but I’m here if you need me,” said Eddie, flashing his customary charming smile.
Eudora noticed her mother’s neck bloom red with the trace of a blush as she handed Eddie a cup of tea with one of the good biscuits balanced on the saucer. “You are too kind.”
In the absence of a father, Eddie had sought Beatrice’s permission for her daughter’s hand in marriage. Eudora’s own joy had been raised to new heights when she saw the lift it gave her mother.
“You deserve to be happy,” she said later that day after they had finished the washing-up. She squeezed Eudora’s hands, gazing at her through misted eyes. “And I want you to have something.” Beatrice disappeared upstairs, returning moments later with a small green felt box. “It was my mother’s.”
Eudora smiled as she opened it to reveal a gold ring set with three rose-cut diamonds. “Granny’s engagement ring.”
“It’s yours now,” said Beatrice with satisfaction.
“Thank you,” said Eudora, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.
Beatrice’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “We must have a party to celebrate. And I shall bake a cake—something special for you and dear Eddie.”
“Yes. We must have the very best for dear Eddie and darling Eudora,” said Stella, appearing in the doorway. She said this in a neutral tone, but Eudora saw her raised eyebrow and knew the truth behind it.
“Yes. We must,” said Beatrice, oblivious to her cattiness. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a program on the television I should like to see.”
Eudora watched her go before turning to her sister. “Stella, I know things haven’t always been easy between you and Mother, but I was hoping that you’d be happy for me.”
Stella sighed. “Dear Eudora, when will you realize that life doesn’t always go the way you want?” As Eudora’s face fell, Stella laughed. “I’m joking, silly! Of course I’m happy for you. Oh my goodness, why do you always take everything so seriously?”
Eudora laughed along. “Sorry. Of course I know you’re happy for me. And don’t fret. I won’t be far away if you need me.”
Stella shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I won’t be hanging around here for any longer than I need to.”
Eudora bristled. “Don’t do anything daft, will you?” she said, looking into Stella’s eyes.
Stella
put an arm around her shoulders. “There you go again, worry, worry, worry. Honestly, you’ve got to stop that or Eddie will get fed up with you. I’ll be fine. You take care of your happiness and I’ll take care of mine.” She reached out and pinched her sister’s cheek a little too firmly so that later, when she looked in the mirror, Eudora could see a small red welt.
Eudora was relieved when Stella appeared true to her word at the party. It was a relatively low-key affair with a few neighbors and Eddie’s family in attendance. Eddie had a cousin who was a couple of years older than Stella, and Eudora had been concerned that her sister might embarrass them by flirting. However, Stella wore a demure but pretty floral dress, handed around drinks, and seemed full of innocent chatter and smiles. As the afternoon wore on, Eudora began to relax. Stella was behaving, Beatrice seemed to be bonding with Eddie’s mother, and Eddie kept flashing winks and smirks in her direction.
As promised, Beatrice had baked a stunning fruit cake, its royal icing top piped with “Congratulations Eudora and Eddie” in swirling blue font.
“When are you going to cut this beautiful cake?” asked Eddie’s mother a while later, smiling at Beatrice.
“No time like the present,” said Eddie, clearing his throat.
“Oh, I forgot the cake knife,” said Beatrice.
“I’ll fetch it,” offered Eudora, making her way to the kitchen. She noticed Stella standing at the sink. At first she thought she was washing up glasses, but then Eudora realized that she was knocking back the remains of other people’s drinks.
“Stella?”
Her sister spun around, a woozy smile on her face. “My darling Dora!” she cried.
“Are you drunk?” asked Eudora, glancing with concern over her shoulder.
Stella’s slurring reply did little to reassure her. “Oh, stop worrying about your precious guests and what they’ll think. I’m fine.”
“Eudora? Have you got that knife?” called Beatrice with an edge to her voice. “We’re all waiting!”
Eudora looked back at her sister. Stella’s expression was defiant, as if issuing a challenge. She elbowed Eudora as she sloped past. “Come on. Mummy’s waiting.”