Mr Collins gathered a pile of forms from the desk.
Mr Hopkin Jones waited until Mr Collins had closed the door and he’d watched his silhouette bob away across the general office. ‘Miss Sullivan, we have appointed a junior and it is time for you to take your new position. Mr Collins, Miss Oliver and I did some reshuffling this morning and it has been decided that you should take Miss Drew’s position.’
‘But she’s Mr Collins’ secretary,’ Lily murmured in bewilderment.
‘You don’t think you’re up to the work?’
‘Yes – yes, of course, but Miss Drew ...’
‘Has been transferred to our Wind Street branch. The manager’s secretary left suddenly last week. Her husband is in the Civil Service and was offered promotion in Cardiff. She had little choice but to go with him, but it was rather unfortunate from the bank’s point of view. In my opinion, just one more reason not to employ married women. They are so unreliable.’
‘Mr Hopkin Jones. I have to tell you ...’
‘I know what happened at your engagement party, Lily. I should think most of Swansea has heard the story by now.’
‘Is that why ...?’
‘As you know, Miss Drew had a small office next to Mr Collins’. You would be out of the public eye most of the time. It seems the circumspect thing to do right now,’ he added kindly. ‘A week or two and everyone will be talking about something else, but for the moment I thought you might rather not be pointed out and stared at. However, the work load will be heavy.’
‘I’ll cope.’
‘I’m sure you will. I’d appreciate it if you move desks right away. I don’t doubt Mr Collins will have some dictation for you.’
‘Yes, Mr Hopkin Jones, and thank you.’
‘Nothing to thank me for, Miss Sullivan. We’re getting a bargain. You’ll be paid shorthand typist rates for a secretarial post.’ He glanced at her over his horn-rimmed spectacles. ‘But come and see me after your month’s trial. I don’t doubt Mr Collins will have let me know exactly what he thinks of your competence by then and if you think you warrant a rise, we’ll discuss it.’
‘Joe wants to see you, Lily.’ Roy hovered in the doorway of her bedroom.
‘I’ll be down in a minute, Uncle Roy.’
‘Don’t do anything hasty, will you, love?’
‘Like get engaged? Sorry, Uncle Roy, bad joke.’
‘It took courage for him to knock on the door after the way you sent him packing on Saturday. The least you can do is listen to what he has to say.’
‘Where’s Mrs Lannon?’
‘In the kitchen. Don’t worry, I’ll keep her there.’
Lily took her time. Brushing out her hair, she twisted it into a neat knot at the nape of her neck. She cleaned off every trace of make-up with lotion and cotton wool, and reapplied it, working slowly, mechanically, not thinking about what she was doing but about the changes that a single weekend had wrought in her life. She had expected to be ridiculed or ostracised. Instead, she had been pleasantly surprised by her colleagues’ attitude both to the gossip and her sudden and rapid promotion. They had been sympathetic and quietly supportive, asked her if she felt like talking and, when she’d said ‘no’, had offered commiserations on having to work for Mr Collins, trotting out all the well-worn jokes about his obsessive behaviour.
Helen and Judy had done their best, rallying round her and Katie yesterday, organising visits to the cinema and gossipy girl evenings for the coming week, but they all knew it wasn’t the same as it had been before she had gone out with Joe. Judy’s main topic of conversation was London and the job she’d been offered at the BBC. Helen’s conversation, much to her and Judy’s amusement, revolved around curtains, linens, cake tins, recipes – and Jack’s opinions on every topic under the sun. And Katie had been unusually quiet and withdrawn, which was only to be expected after seeing her father die.
Applying a final coat of lipstick, she looked at herself in the glass. It was no more than a perfunctory check. Neither her pallor nor the strained look in her eyes registered. Finally she left her room and walked down the stairs. Joe wasn’t in the parlour; he was in the hall, waiting for her. She looked at him for a moment, then went to meet him.
‘Lily, I’m sorry ...’
‘Please, let’s talk in the parlour.’ She led the way. As he followed her in, she closed the door and turned to face him. ‘There’s no need to apologise, Joe. Given the circumstances you have nothing to be sorry for.’
‘I behaved badly ...’
‘You behaved as any up-and-coming young man with a career to look forward to would have.’
‘Try telling that to my father. I was a fool, Lily, and a bigger one than you know. I should never have gone home with Robin ... I should have stayed ...’
‘Angie?’
‘Nothing happened between us.’
‘Not for want of her trying, I know.’ She gave him a small smile as she sat in an easy chair.
‘I know I don’t deserve you, but ...’ He held out a box. She recognised it as the one that contained the engagement ring he had bought for her. ‘I’d be honoured if you’d take it.’
She shook her head.
‘Because I let you down?’
‘Because, as Uncle Roy hinted, we’re too young. Auntie Norah used to say that you’re not really grown up until you learn to ignore what other people say. I think our engagement party proved we’re both a long way off that.’
‘So what are you going to do now?’
‘Same as I did before, go to work – the new junior began today and instead of starting as a shorthand typist I’ve been made secretary to the assistant manager. I even have my own office.’
‘Congratulations.’
Coming from him, the word rang oddly hollow.
‘I had hoped we could at least go out together again ...’
‘No, Joe.’
‘Please, Lily, give me a chance to make it up to you. Please...’
‘You’ve got enough to do with your finals coming up and then there’ll be your job at the BBC.’
‘Will you at least allow me to try to change your mind?’
‘Perhaps, when we’ve both had time to forget Saturday night.’ She suddenly realised she meant it. She was talking to him face to face. It hurt, but it was bearable. She hadn’t thought it would be when her uncle had told her he was in the house.
‘It will be a long time before I do that.’ He walked to the fireplace. ‘You’ll be at Helen’s and Jack’s wedding.’
‘I’m bridesmaid.’
‘My father’s arranged a small reception in the Mackworth. Save me a dance.’
‘I will.’
‘Then I’ve something to look forward to.’ Taking her hand, he drew her gently towards him and kissed her cheek.
‘Goodbye, Joe.’
‘Not goodbye, Lily. We’ll see one another and I won’t stop trying.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t start for a while.’
‘I’ll try to understand.’ He opened the door. She stood watching his tall, dark figure vault the low wall that separated their two houses. She felt very alone but oddly free. She was eighteen years of age; she had a good job, friends prepared to stick by her, an uncle who loved her. The whole of life was waiting. Who knew what it might bring if she let it?
Chapter Twenty-six
‘You sure you have everything, Judy?’ Without waiting for her to reply, Roy began to list the most vital things he could think of. ‘Money, ticket, handbag ...’
‘Kitchen sink, bath?’ she teased.
‘Be careful crossing the road and look after yourself. London is a ...’
‘Big, vicious city.’ Judy stepped into the carriage. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll be fine.’ She smiled at Roy and her mother. ‘What do I call you? Constable Williams sounds as though you’re going to arrest me and Uncle Roy sounds as though you’re Mam’s brother.’
‘You could try just plain Roy.’
‘That so
unds disrespectful. How about Dad when we’re not quarrelling and Stepdad when we are?’
‘Judy ...’
‘Just joking, Mam. I won’t quarrel with him after you’re married – much.’
‘Who says we’re getting married?’ Joy demanded indignantly.
‘That smile on your face when he stands next to you. Don’t they look sweet, Lily?’
‘Wait for us.’ Helen charged down the station platform, ahead of Jack, her coat flapping in the breeze, scarf flying round her neck. ‘You promise you’ll be back for the wedding?’
‘A date with Dirk Bogarde wouldn’t keep me away,’ Judy assured her.
‘That I don’t believe.’
‘You take care of yourself.’ Lily kissed Judy through the window.
‘Telephone as soon as you get to the hostel.’ Roy and Joy shouted in unison as the guard blew the whistle.
‘I will,’ Judy cried above the noise of the engine.
Joy fought back her tears as the train began to move out. ‘Give your father my best wishes when you see him.’
‘Really?’ Judy shouted sceptically.
‘Take care and don’t forget to have a good time every chance you get. And having a good time means not doing anything you wouldn’t want me to see.’
‘Or me,’ Roy added.
Judy leaned out of the window and waved. She was still waving as the train pulled round the corner and there were only rails and the backs of buildings at the top end of High Street to be seen. Blowing her nose in an effort to control the tears pricking at the back of her eyes, she took a seat opposite the only other occupant of the carriage, a middle-aged woman with an expression that suggested the lemon sherbets she was shovelling into her mouth at regular intervals were too strong. Feeling apprehensive and very alone, she pulled the Woman’s Weekly she’d bought from her bag, opened it and pretended to read.
The prospect of going off to London all on her own had seemed exciting until this moment. What if she didn’t like living there? Made no friends? Discovered she couldn’t do the job she’d been given ...?
She turned to the window, staring at her ghostlike reflection superimposed over the dull grey winter landscape. To quote Mrs Jordan, she’d felt like ‘the bee’s knees’ when she’d left the house, in her grey costume with its pencil-slim skirt, the small black hat and clutch bag, but what was the use of feeling like the bee’s knees when she’d lost the only man she might ever love and, more important, who loved her?
‘Judy?’
Brian was standing in the corridor.
‘Is there room for one more in this carriage?’
‘What are you doing here?’ She pinched herself, wondering if she were dreaming as he lifted his case on to the rack, before sitting beside her.
‘They need coppers in the Met. Rumour has it there’s better promotion prospects, so I got a transfer.’
‘Better promotion prospects?’ Judy echoed uncomprehendingly.
‘Prettier girls, too, or so I’ve heard. Constable Williams happened to mention that you’re staying in the YWCA.’
‘Only until I can get a room somewhere.’
‘He gave me the address. It’s quite a coincidence. I’ll be billeted round the corner from you, about ten minutes’ walk away. We could’ – he looked into her green eyes – ‘see if it’s worth picking up where we left off,’ he suggested quietly.
‘I’m still only just eighteen and not at all sure what I want.’
‘I know what I want.’ He bent his head to hers. ‘But I’m prepared to wait for it.’ Turning his back on the disapproving lemon-sherbet-sucking woman, he kissed her.
‘Lily.’ Martin ran breathlessly towards her.
‘You go on ahead, Uncle Roy, Mrs Hunt.’
Roy offered Joy his arm. ‘Something tells me our Lily is not going to miss us for the next hour or so.’
‘Just as well I’ve aired the bed in the shop, then, isn’t it?’
‘You’ve been seeing Judy off?’ Martin blurted, gasping for air as he caught up with Lily.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve been seeing Brian off.’
‘Brian’s going to London?’
‘He got a transfer to the Met. Didn’t your uncle tell you?’
‘No. But we’ve hardly seen Brian since ...’ She fell silent. Something had happened between her uncle and Brian the night Ernie Clay had died in their basement. She was sure of it. But whatever it was, given her uncle’s tight-lipped attitude to the whole affair, she doubted she’d find out. ‘If Judy sees him she’ll be pleased. She was putting a brave face on it, but I think she was beginning to wonder if she was doing the right thing in moving so far away from her mother and friends.’
‘Hopefully it will work out for them.’ He fell into step beside her and they walked along in silence for a few minutes.
‘Lily, about what happened last Saturday, I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I was wondering ... well, seeing as how you and Joe aren’t getting engaged now, if you’d consider going out with me some time. If you’d prefer a foursome I could ask Jack and Helen ...’
‘No, Martin.’
‘I understand. Sorry ...’
‘I wouldn’t prefer a foursome.’ She linked her arm in his. ‘I remember you telling me that you have night school on Tuesday and Friday. Well, as today’s Saturday and there’s a good film on at the Castle, how about we go and see it?’
An excerpt from
SWANSEA SUMMER
Book Two in the Swansea Girls series
by
CATRIN COLLIER
Chapter One
Martin stood in the doorway of the bedroom he shared with his brother. Oblivious to his presence, Jack whistled a few bars of ‘With This Ring’ as he lifted a shirt from his side of the old-fashioned wardrobe. Folding it carefully so as not to crease the collar, he laid it on top of a pile of clothes inside a battered suitcase opened out on the double bed.
‘You sound happy.’
Jack glanced up. ‘That’s because I am happy.’
‘You finished packing?’ Martin walked in and sat on the only chair in the room.
‘Just about, except for what I’m wearing now and tomorrow.’ Jack slammed the case shut. ‘I thought you were plotting stag night bridegroom tortures in the kitchen with the others.’
‘Adam’s record is stuck in a groove. I couldn’t listen to any more of his moans about the good drinking time you’re wasting.’
‘It’s my stag night,’ Jack said pointedly.
‘Adam considers all booze-ups to be his nights.’ Martin looked around. ‘It’s going to be odd having no one but myself to blame for the mess in here.’
‘Seeing as I’ll only be next door, I could come in and throw things around every once in a while.’ Jack snapped the catches on the suitcase locks.
‘Remind me to ask you for your key.’ Martin picked up a smaller new case from beside the bed. ‘I’ll give you a hand to carry these next door.’
‘This is the only one that’s going.’ Jack lifted the large suitcase from the bed. ‘That’ – he beamed as he took the small case from Martin and set it down in the corner – ‘is for the honeymoon.’
‘I feel I should say something.’ Martin paused awkwardly. ‘Give you some advice but ...’
‘The time for that was a few months ago and I wouldn’t have listened.’ Jack grinned.
‘If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t.’ As the older brother, Martin had always felt responsible for Jack – and guilty that he hadn’t managed to prevent him from making quite so many disastrous mistakes. ‘It’s just that ... blast it, Jack, eighteen’s no age to be getting married.’
‘You thinking of me or Helen?’
‘Neither of you have been anywhere, done anything ...’
‘Most people in this street think we’ve done too much.’
Refusing to see any humour in the situation, Martin frowned.
‘It’s all right, Marty, it really is.’ Jack’s smile broadened as he slapped him across the shoulders. ‘You don’t have to play the big brother any more. Little brother’s grown up and couldn’t give a damn what the neighbours say about him.’
‘To hell with the neighbours – most of them,’ Martin qualified. ‘Doesn’t it scare you? A wife and in a few months a baby. Your life mapped out for you. Marriage isn’t just sleeping with a girl ...’
‘That you know about.’ Jack raised his eyebrows.
‘That’s just the problem.’ Martin fell serious. ‘What do either of us know about family life, growing up the way we did? Dad drunk most of the time, using Mam, Katie and us as punchbags every time he came home from the pub ...’
‘It’s over, Marty.’ Jack wished his brother could forget their past, or at least stop talking about it. ‘Let Mam rest in peace. If there’s any justice in the afterlife she’s in a very different place from Dad. As for him, I hope the torments of hell are as bad as the chapel minister used to paint them before we began to mitch off Sunday school.’
Martin clenched his fists so Jack wouldn’t see his hands trembling, just as they had done whenever their father had turned his attention to them when they were small. ‘You can’t forgive him either.’
‘No. But one good thing’s come out of having a bastard for a father. After seeing what he did to Mam, and having to live with what he did to us, I’ll top myself before I’ll raise my hand to Helen or the baby – when it comes. This wedding can’t come quick enough for me, Marty. I really am looking forward to being married.’
‘Given Helen’s looks, I can understand that,’ Martin conceded. ‘Although she does have a wild streak and one hell of a temper to go with her blonde hair and blue eyes.’
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ Jack’s mouth curved at a memory he hadn’t shared.
‘And look where your handling’s got you.’
‘As you said, there’s more to marriage than bed – although that’s great. If you haven’t already, I recommend you and Lily try it some time.’ He sat on the bed. ‘Look, I know a couple of months ago I would have laughed at the idea of getting married and having a kid but now it feels as though all I’ve ever wanted is a family of my own. With Helen’s help I’ll be able to give our son everything we never had. Trips to the beach, the park, the toyshops in town and on Sunday afternoons I’ll teach him to swim, play football ...’
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