The Street of Broken Dreams

by Tania Crosse

  Well, it was about bloody time, Mildred smirked to herself. Jake had waited long enough. Never had eyes for nobody else. Never even been out on a date. And Cissie, well, Mildred could understand how she felt. No wonder it’d taken years to get over what’d happened to her. But now it looked as if things was looking up.

  Mildred wondered vaguely if something had happened to cause the change in Cissie. She certainly looked jolly happy just now! Mildred was so pleased for them both. They was made for each other. She couldn’t begrudge them coming together at long last. She’d have to keep it to herself, though, that she was blooming jealous. But things didn’t always turn out the way you planned, did they? Oh, well.

  No good crying over spilt milk, she chided herself as she called out to the love-struck couple. They looked across when they saw her and waved. Jane ran towards her like a bullet, and when Cissie and Jake caught up, Mildred noticed the scarlet rising in both their faces.

  ‘You two having a good time, then?’ she couldn’t resist teasing.

  They exchanged an embarrassed glance, then looked back at Mildred with nervous laughter. She shook her head, grinning from ear to ear.

  ‘Come on, then. Let’s find Mum and Bridie. Then we’ll get an ice cream.’

  ‘Ice cream?’ Jane repeated. ‘Oh, yes, please.’

  They all fell into step, making their way towards the Grand Vista. Mildred hid her smile as Jane told her excitedly all about the Grotto. As the child chatted away, Mildred furtively observed her brother and Cissie. They deserved to be happy.

  It wasn’t quite so crowded here as by the Big Dipper, Funfair, Far Tottering and Oyster Creek Railway and all the other attractions. But there was still a jolly lot of people milling around. Mildred’s eye was caught by a tall man wheeling a little boy of about two in a pushchair. The child was dead to the world, totally oblivious to all that was going on around him. Mildred smiled at the happy image, and then her gaze lifted casually to the man.

  Her heart stopped. He was just the same – strong jawline, generous mouth, eyes like polished chestnuts. His face was a little more lined, a tiny fleck of premature silver in the hair just above his temples, even though he must be only – what? – thirty-four or five? Her brain was too stunned to work it out exactly.

  Her eyes dropped back to the slumbering toddler. He was the image of his father. So he’d made a life for himself in the end. When you loved someone as much as Mildred still loved him, you had to be happy for them. But her heart cried out in pain.

  ‘Oscar,’ she croaked, stepping over to him.

  Her gaze travelled back up to his face and saw the wary astonishment in those glorious eyes. He swallowed hard.

  ‘Mildred.’ His voice was low and thick. They stared at each other for a moment, shocked, unsure.

  ‘How are you?’ she felt her mouth say. ‘Enjoying the fair?’

  ‘Not really my cup of tea, but the engineering’s interesting.’

  Oh, yes. ‘So you made it into engineering, then? Is it going OK?’

  ‘Yes. Everything I’d hoped.’

  But she knew that neither of them cared a fig about flipping small talk.

  ‘I searched for you, you know,’ she couldn’t resist saying as all the hurt rushed back. ‘All over Chelsea. I couldn’t believe how you just left like that, knowing I had no way of contacting you.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought it was for the best. A clean break.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. What did it matter now? It was nice to see him, though, even if her heart was breaking. She ought to turn away—

  ‘How’s married life?’ she heard him ask. ‘How’s Gary?’

  Oh, if only he hadn’t asked! It might’ve been best if he didn’t know, but she couldn’t lie. ‘He died,’ she answered, surprised at the wistful sadness in her words. ‘Got depressed. Couldn’t live with himself looking like that when he used to be so proud of his appearance. Threw himself under a tram.’

  ‘What!’ The shock and horror was clear on Oscar’s face. ‘Oh, Mildred, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘No need to be,’ she said, trying to make herself sound jaunty. ‘Your little boy’s lovely. What’s his name?’

  ‘Gregory.’

  ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘After Gregory Peck. Georgie’s idea, of course. But then, he is her son. She’s here somewhere. With her fiancé. Did things the opposite way round, but that’s Georgie for you. Gregory was tired and getting grizzly, so I said I’d walk him round while they went on the Water Flume or something. Dare I ask, did you and Gary have children?’

  ‘No. It never happened. And you?’ she managed to ask without choking on her welling tears.

  ‘Me?’ Oscar sounded surprised. ‘No. I never remarried. I could never get over a funny, clever girl with laughing blue-green eyes and a mop of red hair who captured my heart when I thought I’d never feel like that ever again.’

  Their eyes met. The years melted away. A multitude of jumbled emotions tumbled in Mildred’s breast. She was free. And Oscar was free.

  She watched, unbelieving, joy rising up inside, as Oscar let go of the pushchair handle and opened his arms wide. A moment later, she was locked in his embrace, feeling his heart beating against hers, his fingers entwined in her hair, his mouth coming down firmly and hungrily on hers.

  It robbed her of her breath, and when she pulled back, there were stars shining like diamonds in her eyes. Oscar was laughing, that lovely sound she’d missed so much.

  ‘This must be the best day of my life,’ she crowed.

  ‘And mine!’

  Mildred shook her head in glorified confusion, and then caught sight of the others who’d stopped to watch her, curiosity written on their faces.

  ‘Everybody, this is Oscar,’ she announced gleefully. ‘Oscar, this is me— I mean, my brother, Jake. And this is my best friend, Cissie. You know, the dancer we went to see. And her brother, Zac. And this is Jane.’

  Everyone nodded and smiled and greeted each other. Mildred stood back, overcome, and then, as she glanced around, spotted Eva and Bridie sitting in the front row of the deckchairs by the Fountain Lake.

  ‘That’s my mum over there. Would you like to come and meet her?’

  ‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure,’ Oscar grinned back.

  *

  Cor, this was nice, Eva thought to herself, languishing in the comfortable deckchair. Managed to get in the front row so they had the best view over the Fountain Lake at the southern end of the Grand Vista. Water splashed and tinkled from a series of differently shaped but symmetrically placed fountains in the large, oblong pool. At the other end, a huge intricate screen reminiscent of the old Crystal Palace provided a lacy background to the playing fountains and was flanked on either side by an openwork obelisk.

  Eva stretched her neck and twisted her head round to look towards the other end of the Grand Vista behind them. Sitting down as she was, she couldn’t see the other shallow, rectangular pool, but she could see the top of its two pyramid-shaped fountains. At the far end rose two dark red gothic towers, and Chinese gothic arcades ran along the two long sides of the pool as well. Eva didn’t know why everything needed to have this oriental feel to it, but everything was bright red and blue and white with flashes of yellow and gold all glistening in the sunshine, so it was all rather bright and jolly.

  Eva swivelled back round and turned to Bridie, who was lounging in the deckchair next to her. ‘This is just the ticket, ain’t it?’ she said lazily. ‘Kids off enjoying theirselves and us sitting here with nothing to do. Whoever’d thought they’d build pleasure gardens like this right on our doorstep? I mean, I can take or leave the blooming funfair, but these here fountains and the new flower gardens are lovely. And the buildings are a bit odd, but I do like all the bright colours they’ve painted everything in. Makes a nice change after all the drabness we had during the war, don’t it?’

  ‘Sure, it’s all a bit gaudy for me,’ Bridie replied. ‘Like a park to be a park, so I do. I
like all the bright flowers, but I like the green trees all around better. Reminds me more of home.’

  ‘Will you ever go back, d’you think?’

  ‘That I will, one day. Don’t think I want to meet me Maker without seeing the old country once more.’

  ‘Cor blimey, that’s a bit morbid, ain’t it?’ Eva chuckled. ‘Anyone’d think you was on your last flaming legs.’

  ‘Well, doesn’t time pass so fast. Look at all that’s happened since we met. Yet doesn’t it seem like only yesterday.’

  ‘Oh, I dunno. And we’ve still got bloody rationing, ain’t we?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s getting better, so.’

  ‘Bread and spuds and flour, that was the worst, wasn’t it?’ Eva nodded vigorously at the memory. ‘And to think they wasn’t rationed till after the war.’

  ‘That was partly the weather, mind.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s true,’ Eva conceded. ‘But it was still a shock after everything else.’

  ‘And clothes are off coupons now. Sure, that’s helped your Primrose with her little dress shop, has it not?’

  ‘Yeah. Never thought our Primrose’d set up her own business. Or that Trudy’d go to university and end up teaching in a grammar school herself.’

  ‘Sure, life moves on,’ Bridie agreed. ‘We’ve got lots of good things we never had before. Old-age pension—’

  ‘Yeah, and for everyone. Not just for people what worked at somewhere like Price’s what had its own scheme.’

  ‘Unemployment and sickness benefit.’

  ‘Oh, and the National Health Service. Great that is.’

  ‘And don’t forget Family Allowance. Not that it’s any good for us with Jane. Only for the second child and however many more you might have.’

  ‘Yeah, Stan and me could’ve done with that in our day.’ Eva paused and sniffed. And then took another deep breath. ‘Lived through a lot together, you and me, in them six years since you came to live here, ain’t we? Remember that bloody awful winter?’

  ‘Never forget it.’

  Both women bobbed their heads up and down in unison. They thought so alike, it was no wonder they was such friends, Eva mused. Strange really, if you thought about it. If Nell hadn’t gone all those years before and was still living at Number Twelve, she and Bridie would never have met. And Eva wouldn’t have had another secret to keep locked away. Bridie had eventually told her about Jane. But Eva never let on that she already knew. That Cissie had already confided in her. And she kept quiet about that Saul Williams, too. It was only her and Jake what knew about him, and she wasn’t telling no one else. Knew how to keep a secret, did Eva. Always had.

  ‘D’you think you’ll ever tell Jane the truth?’ she asked delicately.

  She saw Bridie wiggle her lips. ‘I guess we’ll have to one day,’ the Irishwoman sighed. ‘When she’s old enough to understand. But not that her father was a dirty rotten… well, you know. I expect we’ll say Cissie had an affair with a GI, who then gave his life on the D-Day beaches. We left the father’s name blank on the birth certificate so we’ll have to make one up, so we will. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. We’ll just have to hope she understands why Ron and I brought her up as our own. It’s not as if Cissie abandoned her or anything, after all. Oh, just look at them all coming now, all laughing and enjoying themselves together.’

  ‘Here, look!’ Eva’s eyes nearly popped out of her head and she jabbed Bridie in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Cissie and Jake. Hugging each other. And… and kissing! Blooming heck, now if that’s not two people in love then I don’t know what it is!’

  ‘Oh, sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph.’ Bridie crossed herself in joyful excitement. ‘Isn’t it about time Cissie felt herself healed and gave into her feelings for Jake. And Jake such a lovely young man. A miracle, so it is!’

  The two mothers and friends gazed delightedly at their offspring who were making their way towards the lake. Cissie and Jake were arm in arm, Cissie occasionally resting her head on Jake’s shoulder or turning her glowing face to receive his kiss, while Jane hopped along beside them.

  A moment later, they were joined by Mildred and Zac, and all five were coming towards them, laughing and joking. Suddenly, Mildred stopped to talk to a man with a small child in a pushchair. Eva’s heart lurched. Poor Milly. She’d have made a great mum. But would she ever get the chance? It looked as if Jake and Cissie were all set now, and Eva couldn’t have been more pleased. All six of her children were making their way in the world. All six except Milly. And Eva worried about her.

  But then the most extraordinary thing happened. Milly seemed to be deep in conversation with this stranger. And the next second, she was in his arms, kissing him.

  Eva audibly gasped. And then held her breath. Mildred knew this man. He was no stranger. There was only one person it could be. And after all these years. Bleeding hell.

  Eva waited. Watched as Mildred seemed to be introducing the fellow to the others. Cor, handsome as a film star as far as Eva could see from that distance.

  And then the little troop was coming towards the two older women. There wasn’t room for the pushchair among the deckchairs, so the man picked up the child so gently that the little fellow didn’t even stir as he flopped against his daddy’s shoulder. Oh. Eva’s heart plummeted as Mildred came to stand in front of her.

  ‘Mum, this is Oscar,’ Mildred gasped breathlessly. ‘And the little one is Gregory. His nephew,’ she added pointedly.

  Eva caught her breath. Nephew. This handsome vision before her was Oscar. The child wasn’t his. And from the look on Mildred’s face, Oscar was free. Milly seemed about to burst she was so flipping happy. And just behind her, Jake and Cissie were entwined about each other as if they’d never let go.

  Eva nodded as she took everything in, a smile blossoming on her face. It had taken six flaming long, horrible years of heartache and pain, every second of which she’d lived and suffered with these two children of hers. But now she knew everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t wait to find her Stan and tell him the fantastic news.

  But for now, she must contain her joy. ‘Very pleased to meet you, I’m sure,’ she said to Oscar Miles. And she held out her hand.

  We hope you enjoyed this book.

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  Acknowledgements

  Once again I must thank my wonderful agent, Broo Doherty, for her belief in my writing and for placing yet another of my novels with the lovely team at Aria Fiction. It is always a delight to work with you all.

  Anyone who has read my previous story, The Candle Factory Girl, will know that I lived in Banbury Street as a small child. The era of The Street of Broken Dreams is, however, much nearer to the time of my own residency, so the book is, if anything, even closer to my heart. So I owe huge thanks to my parents for making their home in this unassuming street, little realising that, many decades later, it would provide the setting for not one, but two of my historical novels. Strange how life works out!

  My parents provided inspiration for this book in other ways, too. Something my mother told me once when speaking of her wartime memories gave me the idea for Cissie’s story. My father served on submarines in the Far East during that terrible time, and some of his stories led to Gary’s tale in this novel.

  A major passion in my life has always been dance in any form, but, in particular, classical ballet. I studied under Miss Doris Lightowler Knight for many years, and we remained friends up until her death. She was a huge fan of my historical novels and knew that one day, I intended to write a story about a dancer. Indeed, her recollections of being a dancer in a repertory company during the war was the inspiration for The Romaine Theatre Company. Thank y
ou so much, Miss Knight, for all that you taught me and for so many years of friendship. I wish that both you and my parents were still alive today to witness your parts in this novel.

  As always, my greatest gratitude goes to my husband whose patience, support and understanding over my writing have known no bounds, and also to you, my dear readers, who make it all worthwhile. If you enjoyed this story and are kind enough to leave a review on your preferred platform, I should be extremely grateful. And, of course, if this is the first of my novels you have read, there are plenty more for you to lose yourself in. Why not head across to my website at www.tania-crosse.co.uk and take a look? And don’t forget that you can follow me on Twitter @TaniaCrosse or on Facebook @TaniaCrosseAuthor. I shall look forward to seeing you there!

  Again, very many thanks, and happy reading!

  Tania

  About Tania Crosse

  Delaying her childhood dream of writing historical novels until her family had grown up, TANIA CROSSE eventually completed a series of published stories based on her beloved Dartmoor. She is now setting her future sagas in London and the southeast.

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