Families and Friendships

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘No, but like I said, love, this is a time for celebration. Do you think Mr Hill will let you finish a little earlier?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he will,’ said Debbie. ‘I’ll come and help you to make the sandwiches, shall I?’

  ‘Thank you, Debbie!’ Her amazement showed in her face as she beamed at her daughter. ‘A job shared is a job halved, as they say …’

  Kevin was in a greenhouse at the far end of the garden centre when Debbie arrived at Sunnyhill promptly at two o’clock. ‘Oh, hello there,’ he said, nodding at her then looking away to carry on with job he was doing. ‘Hang on a minute while I finish watering these toms.’ He walked away, further down the row of plants.

  She followed him. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me how I’ve gone on?’

  ‘What?’ He put down the watering can. ‘Oh yes, of course; your exams. How did you go on?’

  ‘Seven As, two Bs,’ she answered, feeling more than a little miffed.

  ‘Oh, that’s good is it?’ he asked, grinning at her.

  ‘Of course it is!’ she snapped.

  ‘Well, congratulations then,’ he said. He saw that she looked somewhat put out, so he put his arm round her. ‘Well done!’ he added, with a little more enthusiasm. ‘But it’s what you expected, isn’t it?’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I’m sorry, though, Kevin; we won’t be able to go out tonight because my parents have planned a surprise for me.’ She grimaced. ‘A meal out, then seats at the variety show. Honestly!’

  ‘What’s the matter? That sounds very nice,’ he replied. ‘Actually, I’d planned to go out with my mates tonight. Perhaps we could go somewhere on Saturday, eh?’

  ‘It’s Carol’s party on Saturday night,’ she answered, sounding more than a little peeved. ‘Don’t say you’d forgotten?’

  ‘Oh yes, so there is. No, I hadn’t forgotten; it just slipped my mind for the moment, that’s all.’

  ‘I’d better get on with my work then.’ She turned her back and walked away.

  ‘Cheerio then,’ he called after her. ‘Enjoy yourself tonight.’

  Debbie didn’t answer. She felt utterly deflated, her euphoria of the morning – she had been pleased at her results despite her show of indifference – fast disappearing.

  At least her parents were pleased with her, she consoled herself. She made up her mind she would humour them tonight and show them how nice she could be when she tried. Mr Hill agreed that she could finish early – in fact she could take the afternoon off if she wished. She decided she would do a few little jobs and then depart. Kevin’s father, unlike his son, congratulated her warmly on her success, although she didn’t much care for his remark that she would soon be leaving them all far behind.

  Vera was pleased when Debbie arrived home early; in fact she was back again only an hour after she had gone out.

  ‘Mr Hill said I could have the afternoon off,’ she said, adding, ‘He was pleased to hear about my exam results.’

  ‘I should think he was,’ said Vera. ‘We’re all very proud of you. Was Kevin pleased?’

  ‘Uh-huh, I think so … Er, yes, he was,’ she answered evasively. ‘He was busy working, so I didn’t stay to hinder him.’

  Vera thought she sounded a little put out; maybe they’d had a tiff. She, Vera would not be sorry if this friendship with Kevin came to an end. He was a very nice lad, pleasant and well-brought-up, but Debbie could do much better for herself. It was too soon, anyway, for her to be having a serious courtship – if they called it that any more. He was her first boyfriend, and it sounded now as though she was not quite so keen about him as she had been. Maybe her splendid exam results had made her realize that she should take notice of what everyone was telling her, and continue with her studies instead of working at a job which Vera was sure she would soon tire of.

  A fleeting thought came into Vera’s mind; she had been very little older than Debbie when she had started going out with Stanley; they had called it courting then. It had been different, though. There had been no question of what they called ‘higher education’ for either of them. They had been two ordinary teenagers – although the term hadn’t been used then – with ordinary jobs, and they had known, almost from the start, that all in good time they would get engaged and then married.

  Vera was pleased now that her daughter, for once, seemed to be in a good mood. When Stanley came home, early as promised, Debbie actually seemed delighted to tell him how well she had done; earlier in the day she had appeared very offhand about it all.

  ‘This calls for a little celebration,’ said Stanley. ‘There’s some sherry left from Christmas, isn’t there, Mummy?’ He often referred to his wife as ‘Mummy’ when Debbie was there, just as he was ‘Daddy’. She was growing up though now, thought Vera, as she listened to him. Maybe they should start treating her more as an adult.

  ‘Yes, I think so, Stanley,’ she answered, giving a little laugh. ‘I don’t know why you keep calling me “Mummy”. I’m not your mummy, am I?’ She opened the sideboard cupboard and brought out a bottle, still half full, of the dark Emva Cream sherry that she always bought as a treat at Christmas, to sip whilst they were listening to the Queen’s speech.

  ‘Yes, I think we could allow ourselves a little tipple,’ she said. ‘Not too much, though, because I dare say we’ll be having some wine tonight, won’t we, Daddy … er, Stanley?’ She poured the sherry into three gold-rimmed glasses, handing them to her husband and daughter. ‘We’d better have a biscuit with it,’ she said, ‘It goes straight to my head on an empty stomach.’

  The tin containing ‘Nice’ and ‘Rich Tea’ biscuits was opened and they all took one.

  ‘Cheers, then,’ said Stanley, ‘and congratulations to you, Debbie. We’re proud of you, love.’ Debbie smiled graciously as they clinked their glasses and sipped at the unaccustomed treat.

  When they were ready to embark on the evening out Vera was relieved to see that Debbie had dressed more suitably than she had dared to hope for. Like all girls of her age, she had a few miniskirts and dresses, some so short that little was left to the imagination. On the other hand, she sometimes wore long trailing skirts in drab shades of black grey or brown, bought from jumble sales or second-hand clothing shops, with a black polo-necked sweater – these were still in fashion from the time of Beatlemania – or a ‘skinny rib’ that clung tightly to her developing figure.

  Tonight, though, she was wearing a conventional summery dress with white polka dots on a red background, which was not too short, with a fashionable chain belt round her waist. Her shoes were strappy sandals, not the clumpy things that she sometimes favoured. Her hair, too, was not so excessively backcombed as usual, and her make-up was more discreet.

  ‘You look very nice, dear,’ her mother told her.

  She replied, with just a hint of sarcasm, ‘Yes, very suitable for the occasion, isn’t it, Mum?’

  ‘We’re doing things in style tonight,’ Stanley remarked with a beaming smile, as a taxi rolled up at the door. It would not have been all that far to walk to the Bayview restaurant on the promenade but, as Stanley said, no expense was to be spared.

  The restaurant had been opened about six months previously, and was proving popular with visitors to the resort and with the residents. It was what could be termed homely rather than posh, with red checked cloths on the tables, contemporary crockery rather than fine china, and paintings by local artists on the walls, which could be purchased at a reasonable price.

  Vera was relieved that the menu was not in French, as she knew it was in some places, and there were several dishes that she felt would be to her liking. She and Stanley were very conventional in their eating, which was why they had opted to come here instead of to one of the Indian or Chinese restaurants that were opening up in the town.

  ‘What are you going to have, Debbie?’ Vera asked, a little hesitantly, looking to her daughter for advice. ‘Can you find something you like?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Debbie, wi
th a confident air. ‘Quite a lot of things actually. It’s quite a comprehensive menu. I shall have prawn cocktail for a starter. It’s what everybody’s having now. Go on, you try it, Mum. I’m sure you’ll like it,’

  Vera had never eaten prawns, but she decided to be guided by her daughter. She found the tiny pink morsels, coated in a rich pink sauce on a bed of lettuce and cucumber, to be very nice indeed. Stanley stuck to the more conventional tomato soup.

  She could not, however, be persuaded to try duck with an orange sauce, which Debbie had chosen as her main course, but opted for steak, served with chips, peas and mushrooms. ‘I’m not sure about the mushrooms,’ she wavered. ‘They’re a sort of fungus, aren’t they? I might not like them.’

  ‘Go on, Mum; be a devil!’ Debbie urged her. ‘They’re nice; you’ll like them.’

  ‘When have you had them then?’ asked Vera. ‘Not at home, that’s for sure.’

  ‘No; I had them at Shirley’s once, when I went for tea. Mushrooms on toast. It was yummy!’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Vera nodded, thinking that Shirley’s mum was a good deal more adventurous than she was. ‘Go on then, I’ll try them … And we must order some wine, Stanley.’

  The waiter, noting Stanley’s puzzled perusal of the large wine list, suggested that they should try Liebfraumilch. ‘A very pleasant wine, from Germany, sir,’ he said, a trifle condescendingly Vera thought. ‘Quite reasonably priced. I think it should suit all your requirements.’

  Stanley was puzzled, too, that he was expected to taste it first; the waiter had poured a small amount into a glass and offered it to him. ‘Yes … er, very nice,’ he mumbled, and the waiter poured it into their three glasses.

  Vera enjoyed the mushrooms, which she ate cautiously at first. There was a large mushroom, too, on the mixed grill that Stanley had ordered. He gingerly tasted a corner of it, pulled a face, then pushed it to the side of his plate. But he ate all the rest – a very substantial meal – with the accompaniment of his favourite HP sauce, and pronounced it very good. ‘But your cooking’s just as good, any day of the week,’ he whispered to his wife, ‘The wine’s not bad either,’ he added. ‘A nice treat, once in a while.’

  Guided by Debbie, they all decided to have Black Forest gateau for the sweet – or pudding, as Debbie called it – another popular dish of the time.

  ‘And very nice too,’ Stanley remarked, patting at his stomach. ‘I’m full up now. I don’t know about you two. We’ll not bother with coffee, eh? Anyway, we’d best get a move on. We don’t want to miss the start of the show.’

  Vera was a little embarrassed when Stanley studied the bill, trying to find the exact money to give to the waitress. A very pleasant young girl had served them, unlike the wine waiter who had been rather snooty. Stanley fumbled with the half crowns and shillings from his pocket, together with the pound notes, more than he was used to dealing with at one go.

  ‘A tip, Stanley,’ Vera whispered, giving him a nudge.

  ‘Oh yes, of course. Er … how much do you think?’ he whispered back.

  ‘Oh, give her five shillings,’ said Vera, very red-faced by this time.

  Stanley parted with two more half crowns, and the girl seemed very pleased. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘We hope you’ll dine with us again soon.’

  ‘Er, yes … I’m sure we will. Thank you, miss,’ said Stanley.

  ‘Whew!’ he exclaimed, when they were out on the pavement. ‘I was a bit out of me depth there, Vera pet.’

  ‘Never mind, Stanley; you coped very well,’ she assured him. ‘And it was a lovely meal, wasn’t it, Debbie?’

  ‘Yes, smashing!’ said Debbie, dissolving into a fit of giggles. She was really in a very jovial mood tonight, thought Vera. She usually made it seem like such a drag when she had to go somewhere with her parents. But maybe it was partly due to the glass and a half of wine she had drunk. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled. Vera herself felt light-headed; she hoped she wouldn’t nod off during the show.

  The Palace theatre was just across the road from the restaurant, on the sea side of the promenade; a mid-Victorian building that had been popular through the years with the entertaining variety shows they put on in the summer, interspersed with the occasional play and the annual Christmas pantomime. They did not attract the top flight of performers; comedians such as Ken Dodd, Jewel and Warris, or Jimmy Edwards, who topped the bill at resorts like Blackpool, Torquay and Brighton; or singers like Cilla Black, Shirley Bassey, Dickie Valentine or Harry Secombe. There were so many of these stars now, household names whom most people had only heard on the radio or watched on the television screen. All the same, it was reckoned to be an entertaining show, and Vera settled down into her rather worn red plush seat, ready to enjoy it.

  It was, on the whole, quite a good show for a small and somewhat insignificant seaside resort. A group of dancers, reminiscent of the Tiller Girls, opened the show, first and second half, their movements perfectly synchronized and their bright smiles never slipping. There were a tenor and a soprano who sang a duet, and performed singly; a comedian with an accompanying stooge; a ventriloquist; a juggling act; a magician – ‘The Magic Malvolio’; and a comedy sketch involving several of the company in different guises. The very small orchestra performed bravely and the audience was very appreciative.

  Vera was pleased to see that Debbie was enjoying it; she was keeping a surreptitious eye on her; you could never tell with Debbie. At least she laughed and applauded in the right places, and enjoyed a tub of ice cream with a tiny wooden spoon, at the interval, just as she used to do when she was a little girl.

  After they had stood to sing ‘God Save the Queen’ there was a dash for the exit. Fortunately Stanley managed to hail a taxi almost straight away, and they were home in no time.

  ‘Thank you; that was a nice evening,’ said Debbie, so meekly and politely that Vera could scarcely believe it. ‘I’m off to bed now if you don’t mind.’ She actually went so far as to kiss them both on the cheek before dashing upstairs.

  Vera made a cup of Ovaltine for herself and Stanley, and they sat and chatted for a little while although it was long past their usual bedtime.

  ‘Well, that was a great success, wasn’t it?’ said Stanley. ‘She seems like a different girl.’

  Vera pondered that ‘seems’ was the operative word, but she agreed with her husband. ‘Yes, she’s certainly in a better frame of mind.’

  ‘Happen she’s realizing that what we say about school an’ all that makes sense, eh pet?’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ said Vera. ‘Best not to mention it again, though, too soon. We’ll give it a day or two, then we really must try to make her understand that we want her to make the most of her opportunities.’

  ‘Aye …’ Stanley nodded, smiling contentedly. ‘I reckon she’ll make us proud of her in the end, our little lass.’

  Yes, maybe she would, eventually, thought Vera to herself. But she suspected that there might be all kinds of problems ahead before that day arrived.

  Eleven

  When Debbie returned to work the next day she was relieved that Kevin was more like his old self. She had thought for an awful moment the previous day that he was tiring of her. He met her at the gate as she alighted from her bicycle and walked up the path with her.

  ‘Well, did you enjoy yourself last night?’ he asked. ‘Your evening out with Mummy and Daddy?’ His eyes twinkled mischievously.

  ‘Yes, I did, actually,’ she answered. ‘We had a fabulous meal that made up for the show; that was a bit of a bore, to be honest. You’d have laughed, though, Kevin. My dad got in a right pickle about giving the waitress a tip, and my mum was as red as a beetroot. They’re really not used to dining out an’ all that. I couldn’t stop giggling.’

  He looked at her sharply. ‘I expect they did their best, Debbie. Don’t be such a snob.’

  ‘I’m not! How can you say that?’ she retorted. ‘I told you … it was very nice. I said thank you to them. But if the
y think I’m going to fall in with all their ideas just because they’ve taken me out for a meal, they can think again!’

  ‘All right, all right! Don’t get your knickers in a twist!’ He pushed at her playfully. ‘I’m looking forward to Carol’s party on Saturday. I remember her sister, Sandra, from when I was at Kelder Bank. We were in the same year, not in the same form, though. She was in an A form, not with the thickies, like me.’

  ‘Yes, Sandra’ll be there too,’ said Debbie. ‘The party’s for her and Carol. Don’t run yourself down though, Kevin. Thickies, indeed! You’re as good as anybody else … See, I’m not a snob. How can I be?’

  ‘If you knock about with such as me, you mean?’ he smiled.

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that at all! Stop picking me up on everything I say, Kevin.’

  He burst out laughing. ‘You’re a funny kid, Debbie, you are really! Oh, by the way, my dad wants to see you when you have your break.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. He just asked me to tell you.’

  ‘OK; see you later then, Kevin.’

  ‘Yeh … See you, Debs …’

  She parked her bicycle in one of the stands and made her way to the garden shop. She was to take a turn there this morning, serving customers from a large range of goods, from cut flowers, seeds and plants, to all sorts of garden requisites. She put on her apple green overall which was the uniform and said hello to Mrs Hill who, seemingly, was also on duty at the shop that day. She helped out where and when she could in the business, as well as seeing to the needs of her home and family.

  ‘I thought I’d make a few floral decorations this morning,’ she said. ‘You can give me a hand, Debbie. I’ve noticed you’re getting quite a flair for it. How about trying one on your own? Choose the container you want, and here’s the oasis …’

  Debbie set to work with a boat-shaped container into which she placed a block of green oasis. There was a wide variety of seasonal flowers to choose from at the moment. She decided to go for reddish hues, ranging from pale pink to deep crimson and purple; roses, sweet peas, dahlias, small button chrysanthemums, and sweet scented stock. She was pleased that Mrs Hill had asked her to do one on her own. Kevin’s mother usually took charge of the arrangements with just a little assistance. They made artificial ones as well, especially in the autumn and at Christmas time when fresh flowers were not so abundant.