A Daughter's Choice

by June Francis

  ‘Are you feeling all right? You’ve got some on that shelf just behind you.’

  Katherine lifted her head and the old lady in the black straw hat with artificial magnolias on its brim smiled at her. ‘You’re new, aren’t you? I want it for Bluey, me budgie. He sharpens his beak on it. It’s that white bony-looking stuff. He can talk, you know.’

  ‘What does he say?’ Katherine’s eyes scanned the shelf behind her and after a ‘To your right a bit’, from the old lady, she found the cuttlefish.

  ‘And some millet. He says “Pieces of eight”.’

  ‘Isn’t that what parrots say?’ said Katherine, finding the millet.

  ‘Two sprays,’ said the old lady, and smiled roguishly. ‘He’s a bit of a wild one and I didn’t want him saying “Who’s a pretty boy then?” He’s a very good-looking budgie, but pretty …?’ She wrinkled her nose.

  Katherine smiled as she wrapped the woman’s purchases in newspaper. ‘He doesn’t sit on your shoulder, does he?’

  ‘Yes! And he nibbles me ear.’ She placed some money on the counter and waved as she went out.

  Katherine fluttered her fingers, trying to imagine a wild ear-nibbling budgie and wondering what Ben and Kitty would have made of her customers so far. A lump came into her throat. She kept meaning to telephone but something held her back. What would she say to them? What questions would they ask? She had thought of writing but whenever she took out a writing pad Celia seemed to be there, hovering at her shoulder, asking who she was writing to. When she told her there would be a look on her face which upset Katherine and completely put her off what she was doing.

  She knew it was emotional blackmail but away would go the writing pad while she promised herself she would get it out again when her mother was not around. The trouble was that when Celia wasn’t there, then Katherine was either at the pub, doing housework or in the shop. Sometimes she would settle, only for Mrs Evans to ask her to do something for her. The old lady was much happier these days and took an interest in all they did. She was still grumpy at times because the pain didn’t go away but at least her granddaughter had said that their being there had made her life that little bit easier.

  Katherine went over to the window and looked out. The angora rabbits had been sold and so had some hamsters and puppies. Now they had kittens, three black and white and one completely black but for a white patch on its tiny nose. She picked him up, cuddling him against her neck as she gazed out of the window.

  A dark-haired youth dressed in a black leather jacket came out of the post office opposite and walked past the optician’s. There was something familiar about him and as he disappeared from her sight Katherine went and stood on the step for a better look. He was passing the china store now and had a canvas bag with pockets on it slung over his shoulder. Her eyes narrowed and suddenly she was thinking of that dance at the Grafton. He stood looking in the window of the photographer’s shop for a moment before going inside.

  Katherine waited for him to reappear but he still had not when another customer arrived and she had to deal with him. He wanted corn for his pigeons and could have won prizes for the length of time he talked non-stop about his birds, ships, and life in general. At last she got rid of him and followed him outside. She could see no sign of the youth in the black leather jacket and presumed she had missed him. ‘Damn!’ she muttered, thinking it might have been fun meeting him again if he was who she thought he was.

  ‘Watcha doin’?’ said Donny, making a sudden appearance.

  She glanced down at his thin face and, smiling, said, ‘Don’t be nosy.’

  He looked affronted. ‘I won’t learn nuthin’ if I’m not nosy. Me granddad says there’s millions of questions he doesn’t know the answers to, and he knows all sorts of things! He remembers there being wounded soldiers from the first war in his ol’ school when he was my age.’

  ‘How old is your granddad?’

  ‘Old. He’s got wrinkles round his eyes and his hair’s all white. Although he sez it’s been like that since he was in his twenties. He can still kick a ball. He works at Bibby’s down by the docks but he’s off at the moment because a machine chopped the top off two of his fingers.’

  Katherine winced. ‘Your poor granddad.’

  ‘He’s OK. He’ll probably get some money for it and then he says we can have a little holiday.’

  ‘Lucky you!’ She thought how she had spent all her savings, except for seven and sixpence, on a new bed and bedding, a chest of drawers and a beautiful china po with roses round it for emergencies. There was no way she would use the enamel bucket Celia said they could make do with indoors at night. Even using the po made her feel like she had come down in the world, but using a bucket or descending the outside steps into the dark yard was something she would not countenance.

  ‘Is there anything yer want me to do?’ Donny looked anxiously up at her. ‘I wanna earn some spends.’

  Katherine’s expression softened. Their arrival had made him redundant. ‘You’re good at doing messages, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yer want me to go somewhere?’

  ‘The photographer’s. I want you to go inside and see if there’s a fella in there wearing a black leather jacket and carrying a bag over his shoulder.’

  His eyes brightened. ‘Is he a Russian spy? D’yer want me to follow him?’

  ‘Don’t get carried away,’ she said, a quiver in her voice. ‘Just do as I tell you. Although you could ask the owner if he knows if the fella’s name is Patrick?’

  ‘Yer knows him?’ He sounded disappointed.

  ‘I might. When you come back I’ll give you a penny, a biscuit and a drink of pop.’

  His thin chest swelled and he made to dart across the road but she pulled him back by his Fair Isle pullover. ‘Don’t you ever look both ways?’

  A cyclist went past. ‘I knew he was there,’ snorted Donny. ‘I saw him out of the corner of me eye.’

  ‘Maybe. But just slow down. It’s not a matter of life and death.’

  He pulled a face and was off. She watched him a moment and then another customer appeared wanting rabbit food.

  Donny returned ten minutes later and in that time Katherine wondered if she had run quite mad in sending him in the first place. Did she yearn for the past that much, that even the sight of a vaguely familiar face from happier times caused her to behave in such a way?

  ‘He’s gone! I told the man you was a girlfriend,’ panted Donny when he returned. ‘He helps the man take photos of weddings and babies and develops the pictures himself. He’ll be back later.’

  ‘You didn’t tell him where you’d come from?’

  ‘Not me. I told him yous was from the pet shop. Where’s me pop?’

  She took him inside feeling somehow more cheerful and he chattered to her and told her all about his granddad’s accident.

  Celia and Mrs Evans rolled home in a taxi with several bags and parcels. Katherine had made a steak and kidney pie but they said they weren’t ready for it yet. ‘Did you have a good time?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m knackered,’ said the old woman, shifting in her chair as if every bone in her body ached. ‘It was worth it, though. I got some good warm fleecy knickers from TJ’s.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Katherine, taking a lipstick and compact from her handbag. She glanced at Celia. ‘What about you? You’re looking a bit like you’ve lost a shilling and found tuppence. You didn’t see anything that took your fancy?’

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said crossly. ‘Everything been OK here?’

  ‘Some bloke thinks I can foretell whether a puppy is a dog or a bitch before it’s born.’

  Mrs Evans’s face broke into a smile. ‘You do get them. Now hadn’t you better be off, girl? You’re going to be late for work.’

  ‘I’m going!’ She kissed their cheeks and left and was just wondering whether Celia had lost money on the gee-gees as she walked along the pavement when her arm was seized and she was spun round to face the young man in the bl
ack leather jacket.

  ‘So you’re my mystery girlfriend,’ he said, a smile lurking in the green eyes which gazed straight into hers. ‘You look different.’

  She blushed. ‘The girlfriend was Donny’s idea. I just sent him to find out if it was you. I could scarcely believe it was possible, seeing you again just out of the blue like that!’

  ‘Why not?’ His smile deepened. ‘God works in mysterious ways. Where are you going? Back to the hotel where the fire-breathing dragon lives who doesn’t approve of me?’

  ‘No.’ Katherine glanced into a shop window so he could not see her expression and said brightly, ‘I’ve left there. Things changed. I’m going to work now just up the road.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘But I thought you worked in the pet shop?’

  ‘I do some of the time but I have another job. How about you? Are you really a photographer?’ She noticed the hand on her arm was stained with what looked like ink or dye.

  ‘Part of the time. I use Mr Angler’s dark room. I’m a trainee photographer looking for that picture that’ll get me into the big time.’

  ‘There’s money in it then? I always thought taking pictures was more of a hobby than a job.’

  ‘Unfortunately that’s how lots of people look at it, including my mam and dad. They run a chip shop and I help out there. Where is it you work when not at the pet shop?’

  ‘In a pub.’

  His expression changed. ‘Is that why you’re all made up? You’ll ruin your skin.’

  It was what Celia said and it annoyed her. ‘So what?’ she said chirpily. ‘It’s my skin and really none of your business.’

  ‘Sorry!’ His eyes twinkled down into hers. ‘It’s just that it’d be a pity to ruin such beautiful skin.’

  ‘Flatterer.’ She blushed again.

  ‘It’s true,’ he protested. ‘And you’ve got lovely hair but having it up like that makes you look older.’

  ‘That’s the general idea!’ She tilted her chin.

  He looked mournfully at her. ‘Don’t get on your high horse. I’ve never forgotten you, you know. Your smile, your eyes …’ He looked her up and down. ‘Your legs. A pub’s not a nice place for a young girl like you.’

  She drew herself up to her full height which was above average. ‘You don’t know how old I am. I could be older than you.’

  ‘I’m eighteen going on nineteen.’

  ‘Then you should be in the Army or the Air Force or even the Navy, doing your National Service!’

  ‘I had polio as a child and it’s left me with a weakness in the muscle of one leg.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry! But I’d never have known it from the way you danced that time.’

  ‘That’s the way I want it but I often pay for it afterwards, and I couldn’t march or stand for hours on end in the forces. How d’you feel about going dancing?’

  ‘With you?’

  He glanced around. ‘There’s no one else here doing the asking, luv?’

  She smiled. ‘OK, Smarty Pants, that was a daft question. I’d love to go dancing. The only trouble is getting a night off. I work evenings.’

  ‘Lie to them,’ he said. ‘Say your granny’s ill in hospital and you have to go and see her.’

  They had reached Sturla’s departmental store and she paused to look in the shop window, avoiding his eyes. ‘I don’t lie,’ she said gruffly. ‘Truth’s important to me.’

  ‘My mistake!’ He pulled a face and gazed at her thoughtfully. ‘Don’t you even tell little white ones? I don’t believe in telling whoppers, but the odd little one not to hurt people’s feelings?’

  Katherine hesitated. ‘I might have in the past but I try not to now.’ She walked on.

  ‘Right! We’ll always be honest with each other,’ he said seriously.

  ‘You’re a fast worker, aren’t you?’ She tried to hide a smile.

  Two tiny dimples appeared at the corners of his mouth. ‘It was you that made the first move, Chicken Licken. Think about when we can go out. I’ll be seeing you.’ He raised a hand and left her at a trot to catch the bus that had drawn up on the other side of the road.

  Chicken Licken! The cheek of him calling her that but she supposed he hadn’t meant any harm by it. There was a grin on her face as she pushed open the door of the saloon bar and went inside.

  Four hours later Katherine clattered wearily up the stairs to the flat and let herself in. Celia was sitting near the window sewing. ‘You smell of beer and smoke,’ she said, lifting her head and staring as if accusing her of some great sin.

  ‘Mrs Evans in bed?’ said Katherine, ignoring the criticism as she went and put the kettle on.

  ‘Well, I haven’t murdered her yet,’ said Celia, putting down her sewing and gazing at her daughter as she sat in the other comfy chair and eased off her shoes to rub her aching arches. ‘I don’t like you having that job,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you should work more in the shop and I’ll look for another job? You get on with the old lady better than I do and I really hate you smelling of pubs. I don’t mean to be rude, luv, but you’re young and pretty and that smell isn’t the best of perfumes.’

  Katherine shrugged. What she smelt of was the least of her worries. She’d had her bottom pinched and a lewd suggestion made to her tonight and had not handled it very well. The head barmaid had come to her rescue but had told her she had to develop a far tougher skin and learn to laugh such things off. Katherine had felt far from laughing and had longed for Ben and Ma to be there to take her side. As it was she had forced a smile and said she’d do her best. She really missed Ben and their little chats.

  She glanced at Celia surreptitiously, thinking they seldom joked or discussed the big questions in life. Neither was her mother forthcoming with information about the man who had been Katherine’s father. She kept herself pretty much to herself, seemingly content for them to live together but for their lives to run along parallel lines. It was not the way Katherine had imagined things when she had left the Arcadia.

  For a moment she wondered what kind of reception she would receive if she went back to the family right now. She allowed herself a luxurious moment imagining them welcoming her with open arms but it did not last. Why should they want her back? She wasn’t one of them. Besides, she had thrown all they had done for her in their faces by leaving. She felt desolate for a moment and glanced at her mother, wondering if she would end up like her, prepared to settle for anything and scared of life?

  Celia caught that glance and smiled unexpectedly. ‘Do you think you could give my hair one of those colour rinses?’

  ‘What?’ She was really startled. ‘You mean, you want a rinse?’

  Her mother’s cheeks pinkened. ‘I never realised my hair looked so drab until I saw it alongside yours. Rich … that’s what your colour is. Rich. And I’d like mine like that!’

  Katherine’s mood changed and she laughed. ‘You know what’ll happen if you do have a rinse? You’ll want a whole new look and then you’ll be rushing off to the shops to buy some glamorous clothes instead of sensible ones.’

  ‘You think that’d be wrong? That I’d be like mutton dressed as lamb?’ said Celia, looking dismayed.

  ‘No! I think it’s great, you wanting to change your appearance.’

  ‘So you’ll do it?’

  ‘I’ll do my best. You go to the chemist and pick your colour.’

  Celia smiled. ‘Thanks. Maybe you can even do a home perm for me?’

  Katherine was not so sure about that. ‘Why don’t you go to the hairdresser’s? There’s a couple up the road. I mean, I could make a mess of the colour – turn your hair green and fuzzy. Unless you don’t have enough money?’

  ‘Oh, I’m OK for money.’ Celia shook out the folds of the dress she had been hemming and held it against her. ‘What do you think of the length?’

  ‘About right, I’d say.’

  ‘Rita gave it to me. Did you meet her? She buys several new outfits a year because she says a girl has to look smart, bein
g an assistant manageress. Not that she’s rich but I do see what she means.’

  ‘Ma always said a woman had to look smart in business.’

  Celia pursed her lips and said in a tight voice, ‘You still can’t get out of the habit, can you?’

  ‘It just slips out,’ said Katherine, immediately on the defensive. ‘I don’t do it on purpose.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you do,’ murmured Celia. ‘Sorry. I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.’

  A very long day with so many different things in it, thought Katherine, remembering Patrick and what her mother had said about giving up the pub job and working longer hours in the shop. She would prefer that but until Celia found another job, things would have to stay as they were.

  ‘Can I have a kitten?’

  Katherine looked up from reading Reveille and met Patrick’s smiling eyes. Her mother was having her hair done and Mrs Evans was sitting on a chair in a patch of mid-September sunlight near the shop entrance. ‘Why do you want a kitten?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I want a kitten?’ He propped his arms on the counter so they rested against hers. ‘It’ll have a good home.’

  ‘Did I say it wouldn’t?’

  ‘No, but you looked like a surprised pussycat yourself, as if you couldn’t believe that was my real reason for coming in here.’

  ‘Is it?’ she chuckled. ‘Children and unmarried ladies are kitten people. They think they’re so cute and sweet.’

  He looked injured. ‘Are you saying I don’t think they’re cute and sweet – that I can’t be moved by that pleading look in those kittens’ eyes, which says: “Buy me and you’ll never regret it. I’ll be faithful for life!”’

  She smiled. ‘Which one do you want?’

  ‘The all black with the white nose. He looks a man’s kitten. I’m thinking of putting him in a Father Christmas hat with some tinsel and taking his photo. Real chocolate box, don’t you think?’

  ‘You mean it?’ she said with a quiver in her voice as she went over to the window. ‘He’s my favourite, you know. I don’t really want to part with him.’

  ‘You could always come and visit. Make sure I’m not beating him up or feeding him to the dog.’