They drove in silence for a while, until Kate asked, “Why do Greek people smash plates?” He roared with laughter. “That really shocked you didn’t it. Your face was a picture. It’s a tradition I suppose. The dancing was great though. You soon picked it up.”
“I didn’t really have a choice did I?” she answered, grinning. “When you dragged me into the middle of the floor I wanted to die. The chef had such a firm grip on me I could hardly move, and when he asked me to break those plates... I saw you were having a good laugh.”
“Sorry,” he said, not looking at all sorry. “But it was so funny. I just wanted you to have fun tonight. Real fun. Did you enjoy it?”
“It was brilliant,” she smiled. “Thanks for taking me, Jack.” He felt his heart leap. “Perhaps we could do it again, then?'
“Yeah, OK. That would be great.”
As they travelled back up the M1 and headed for home, she watched him as he drove. His steady hand on the steering wheel comforted her. She felt safe and secure with him and she knew at that moment she would never love anyone else. She watched his eyes as they flicked from the road in front to the rear view mirror then back on the road again. As she observed him his face suddenly melted and was replaced by Stephen Barton’s, and the memory of the night he’d tried to rape her came flooding back to her turning her steady breathing into short, shallow breaths. She looked away quickly and stared out of the side window, watching the other cars seemingly going backwards as their car sped by them.
Jack glanced at her his brow furrowed. She’s a strange one, he thought. She goes so quiet sometimes, so deep and so far away you think nothing will reach her. And then suddenly she sees the funny side of something and her laughter sounds like water bubbling over cobbles...a sound so infectious you have to laugh with her.
His thoughts travelled back to the restaurant. They had been quietly eating their meal, making small talk, not really wanting to talk about anything too deep and simply enjoying flirting with one another. One of the waiters began to play Zorba’s Dance on the balalaika and the manager had hauled Jack out of his chair and insisted he dance with him. At first he’d been embarrassed. He was sure he looked completely idiotic in front of Kate when all evening he’d tried his best to impress her. As the restaurant manager had linked arms with him and forced him around the dance floor he hadn’t wanted to look her in the face in case she disapproved. Instead, when he had found the courage to steal a glance at her she had tears rolling down her face with laughter. He had beckoned her towards him and to his complete surprise she’d willingly left her seat and joined him on the dance floor. He'd felt really close to her then. They’d shared a wonderful moment and he knew he would remember it for the rest of his life.
While they were dancing he’d watched her, unable to tear his eyes away. He was transfixed by her. She looked completely happy, entirely willing to let herself go and have fun and it had shaken him when he realised that watching her enjoying herself drove an arrow of sadness through his heart. At that moment he'd wanted to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her and promise her he would never let anyone hurt her again. But Ray's words had hurtled back to him. He couldn’t take such a big step so soon. He must wait until he was sure she felt the same. In that split second he knew he loved her with all his heart and she was the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He had chuckled inwardly thinking that if his mates could see him dancing to Zorba the Greek and thinking about marrying a girl he’d only dated a few times, they’d think he’d gone soft on them.
He drove through the night, his attention solidly on the tarmac stretching out in front. The lights from the road lamps flashed past him in a blur as he drove nearer and nearer to Willowbridge. He wished he could find something witty to say. He was desolate. A creeping feeling that he had somehow lost her washed over him and his eyelids pricked with the threat of tears. He was stunned Kate could make him feel like this. These were feelings he’d never had before and they rocked him to his soul. “We’re nearly home, Kate.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “What a shame. I’ve had the best time, Jack and I’ve really enjoyed tonight. It’s been wonderful.”
They pulled up quietly outside his house and he turned off the engine. “There’s something I’ve wanted to do all night.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“This,” he said. He leaned towards her and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. As he pulled away from her he could see she was smiling. She cupped her hand to his cheek and tenderly stroked his face with her thumb. “Kind and gentle Jack,” she whispered. They kissed again and again until she reluctantly pulled away from him. “I have to go,” she whispered.
“But I can see you again, can’t I?”
“Well, I'm not sure. Do I have a little space in my social whirl?” She tapped the side of her face with her fingers and started to laugh.
“Don’t do that, Kate. You had me worried there for a second.” She reached for his hand and putting it to her lips, kissed the tips of his fingers. “You've got no need. Thank you for the best time.”
She squeezed his hand then stepped out of the car. “I’ll see you soon, Jack,” she said, softly. “And I’ll be thinking about you until then. Will you think of me?”
“All the time, Katie,” he whispered. “All the time.” She turned and walked across the quiet street until she reached the front door of number fifty-three and let herself in. Just before she closed the door she blew a kiss to him. He reached out and snatched it from the air, placed it to his lips, then blew it back to her. She smiled and waved as she shut the door behind her.
Chapter 23
The sound of laughter woke her. She clicked on the bedroom lamp and peered at the clock. “God almighty,” she mumbled, scratching her head. “It’s past midnight. What the bloody hell’s going on?”
Throwing back the covers on the bed she slipped her feet into her worn-out mules. Her dressing-gown was not on the back of the door so she looked about her to see where she had dropped it. “Where the hell is it?” Then she looked down at herself and realised she hadn’t taken it off before she'd got into bed. “Tut, I’m getting worse.” She got off the bed and went across to the window banging her leg on the chest of drawers. Angrily, she rubbed her knee wincing and cursing, and then in her anger kicked out at it with her other foot.
Pulling the curtain to one side she spat on her finger and rubbed a small patch on the glass so that she could get a view of the street, narrowing her eyes into the darkness. The snow was still coming down in flurries; swirling and wheeling so fast in the gusts of wind it made Angie feel dizzy. The street lamp glowed mistily in the dark as though suspended in mid-air; a beacon of light shining in the eddying snow. As the wind dropped for a moment Angie fleetingly saw two figures standing by the front garden gate.
Kate and Jack were standing under the beam kissing, their arms wrapped tightly around each other as the wind tossed and tumbled Kate’s hair about her shoulders. As their lips parted he smoothed her hair back from her face and rubbed her nose with his. Angie seethed as she glimpsed them. As the scene faded from her view she saw them smiling at each other, totally unaware their one-woman audience was watching them. The wind picked up and her view of them was obliterated as the snow enfolded them.
“The little bitch.” She banged on the window and saw their faces turn towards the living- room. When they saw there was no one there they both looked up towards her window. Angie saw the look of horror on Kate’s face. She laughed. “Yeah, you'd do well to be frightened girl, especially when I get hold of you.” As she went on to the landing she heard the front door close. Kate and Jack stood in the hall, his arm protectively round her shoulders.
“What’s he doing here?”
“I’m seeing Kate home,” said Jack, his voice low and firm.
Jack couldn’t believe the sight of her. This wasn’t the Angie he remembered. She was unkempt and unwashed, her matted hair framing a haggard face contorted with seething anger. He t
ook in a deep breath, his heart clenching for Kate. He now understood the fear she must feel every day. Looking at Angie sent shivers down his spine.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Angie answered, uncomfortable at the intensity of his gaze. What he was thinking was written clearly across his face but she didn’t care. “It’s late. You should’ve been in before now. I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at.”
“It’s my day off tomorrow, Mum. The shop doesn’t open on a Wednesday.” Angie was confused. “What’re you talking about, girl. What’s all this talk about a shop? Talk sense for Christ’s sake. Schools never closed on a Wednesday in my day. Anyway, you’re too young to be with some bloke.”
“You,” she said pointing a shaking finger at Jack. “Get lost.” She flapped her arms at him, shooing him out of the door as she teetered unsteadily down the stairs. The smell of her hit Jack full in the face as she came closer to him. Months of alcoholism and neglect had left their terrible mark on her. He turned to Kate ignoring Angie. “Will you be all right on your own, Kate?” he said softly, and then whispered, “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I’ll be fine,” she nodded at him, trying to sound reassuring. “Honestly, Jack. Please go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jack turned and opened the front door, allowing a rush of cold air to enter the hall. “You can count on it,” he said firmly, looking directly at Angie. Kate shut the door behind him and waited.
“Well,” Angie said at last. “What’s going on?”
Kate shook her head sadly. She’s going to spoil it for me, she thought. She just can’t bear to see me happy.
“I’m waiting, Kate. I have a right to know what my own daughter’s up to. I know you’re sixteen but that doesn’t give you the right to come and go as you please y’know.”
“I’m not sixteen, Mum. I‘m seventeen and I’m seeing Jack. We’re just going out together, nothing more. He’s a lovely person and we enjoy being with each other.”
“Huh, right. I could see that by the way you were carrying on outside, kissing and canoodling, his hands all over you. That’s no way for a young lady to carry on. You’ll get a name for yourself, mark my words. It's disgusting. I don’t want to see that again outside my house, Kate d’you understand?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Good.”
Angie began to walk back up the stairs until she remembered what Kate had said. “By-the-way, what’s all this about a shop? What shop?”
“I’m working at Kendalls. I’ve been working there since October. I did tell you.” Angie stiffened. “You did not.”
“I did. I told you.”
“You’re earning then?”
“Yes.” Here we go, she thought. I’ve been waiting for this.
“How much?” Angie demanded.
Kate had been preparing the answer to this question for weeks. If things were normal it would have been safe to tell her mother exactly how much she was earning, but they were not a normal family. She had been overjoyed when they made her an offer of thirty-six-pounds and fifty pence a week. To Kate it seemed like a small fortune. “Twenty-five pounds a week,” she lied.
“Is that all?” retorted Angie. “That’s not much for a week’s work. Still...I expect you only dust the cabinets and sweep the floors don't you?” Kate nodded her agreement. If that’s what Angie wanted to think it was fine with her.
“Well, I want some board off you. You can’t expect to live under my roof and not pay anything. We’ve no room here for free-loaders. Twenty pounds a week should be enough. That leaves you five pounds to squander in any way you want. That all right?”
“I pay for the shopping now so I’m already paying board.”
“That’s as maybe, but I want at least to see the colour of your money. When d’you get paid?”
“Fridays.”
“I’ll see it Friday then won’t I?” She put her head to one side as a sudden thought passed through her mind. “So you’ve left school then?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pass your exams?” Kate held her head up and looked her mother in the eye.
“Yes, I passed,” she said firmly.
“And you’re sweeping up in a department store? You must need your head read. Well, I don’t care. Just make sure you don’t have any time off sick. We need every penny you can earn.”
She began the journey back up the stairs. “Who would credit it?” She reached the landing and looked over the banister. “You should ask for a pay rise. They’re using you, paying a girl with qualifications twenty-five quid a week. Still, they could probably see you were good for nothing.” She opened her bedroom door. “And make sure you’re using johnnies with that lad. God forbid another child like you be let loose on the world. Then I’d really have reason to top myself.”
Kate watched Angie go up the stairs and into her bedroom. At last Kate could relax. She allowed her shoulders to droop as she rested against the front door knowing she'd got off lightly. In the past Angie would have knocked her into the middle of next week. It's because I'm earning money, she thought. One beating too many could mean time out of work and no money coming in. In one sense she felt relieved but she wondered what the extra money would represent in bottles of vodka.
She turned the light off in the hall and went upstairs. Stopping at Emma’s room she poked her head around the door. Her sister was sleeping peacefully. She looked so young, too much of a kid to be carrying a child. Kate couldn’t resist the temptation to go in and stroke her face. “Poor little’un,” she said softly. “I’ll look after you and the baby I promise.” Emma opened her eyes. “Is it morning?” she asked, her voice softened by sleep.
“No, not yet.” Kate whispered. “I just came in to make sure you were all right.”
Emma smiled and drifted off again, her dread of giving birth and impending motherhood put on hold until morning. The baby had begun to move and it terrified her. The faint fluttering of life was already stirring in Emma's womb and the reality of what was going to happen had hit her hard. Kate had bought baby clothes and little bits and pieces for the new-born, so Emma had remained uncharacteristically stoical in her anxiety and just thanked God that she had Kate.
Kate went into her bedroom and undressed, jumping under the covers to escape the cold. She snuggled down into her bed, breathing under the covers so she would warm up more quickly and then fished out the little photograph of Joe from under her pillow. Hugging the photograph Kate made the wish she made every night before going to sleep. “I wish you'd come back to us, Dad. It’s time for you to return to us. Make it soon,” she whispered, pushing the photograph back under her pillow.
She clicked off her lamp, throwing the room into darkness and she was satisfied. Not a night had gone by since Joe had left them without her making the wish. She could never break the chain. Not until he walked back into their lives.
Chapter 24
“I thought we’d get a new housekeeper, Diana. I’m sick of Cecily mooning about with that sickening smile of hers.”
“We won’t get one who can put the hours in she does. She’s always available when we need her.”
“Yes, well I’m tired of seeing her every day. A change is as good as a rest. Let’s get another. See to it please, Diana. And make sure she’s young, and nice to look at. I need someone to perk me up in the morning.”
Cecily put another log on the fire. The drawing room felt chilly. They’ll need more heat in here, she thought, seeing as there’s never any heat between them. She smirked. She’d heard them in the study, him howling like a wolf and her trying to do the business for him. He didn’t want her really. She’s too bloody perfect with her pinned-up hair and shiny finger-nails. And the clothes? She wears nothing but virgin-white silk or cream satin and chiffon, like some glass princess. Yes, that was a good name for her, The Glass Princess. She’d fall over and smash if you looked at her too hard.
I know what Barton wants and I know who gives it to him, an all, she thought. He likes
a bit of rough does Barton. That Ruby Brady from The Maze suits him down to the ground. She’s such a tart; a dirty cow who’d sleep with anything with a pulse as long as they paid. And he could pay all right. He was always there, parking his car under the trees at the end of Ruby's street and skulking around like a dog after a bitch on heat. Her house was the worst house on the parade. It’s handy that my son's house is in the same street. Very handy in fact. I’ve got something on all of them.
Cecily felt a surge of triumph that she knew so much about their lives. She began to sing softly to herself.
“Poor old Ruby, there she goes,
Down at heel and tatty clothes.
Hair like string, nails like claws,
Spotty face and open sores.
Toothy grin smeared with lippy,
Feeds her bastards from the chippy.
Soaks her clothes in a water butt,
Torn net curtains smeared with smut.
Poor old Ruby watch her sway,
She’s been down the pub all day.
Drinks so much, it’s so sad,
Too much booze has sent her mad.”
She laughed at the song. Her mother had taught her to sing it years before to torment Mavis, a prostitute who’d lived in their street. She’d died on the job, Cecily thought. No chance of that with Ruby. It was more likely she’d see a few off. She was built like a brick shit-house.
“You’re obviously happy in your work, Cecily.” Diana’s voice made her jump.
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Barton. My you startled me.”
“What was the song you were singing? I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”
“No, Mrs. Barton, I shouldn’t think you have.” Her usual sycophantic smile slipped from her face. “It was a little verse my mother sang to me as a child. You’re absolutely right of course. I love working here,” she said, quickly changing the subject. Diana nodded. “I’m very pleased to hear it. Oh, and by-the-way. Don’t bother to clean the study today. Mr. Barton has papers on his desk and he doesn't want them disturbed. Perhaps you could give the dining room an extra polish. We have people coming tonight.”
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