Bobby's Girl (25 page)

‘Strange when you think of all those empty graves and people shedding tears over them,' Bobby commented. ‘I wouldn't want anyone crying over an empty grave for me.'

‘I can understand people wanting one if that's all they have to remember someone by.'

‘I wouldn't want to be remembered as a headstone on an empty plot.'

‘How would you want to be remembered?' she asked.

He forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. ‘If my grandmother had her way she'd name a medieval museum after me. But only because my name is the same as my grandfather's.'

‘The Bobby Brosna the Fourth museum of medieval American West history.'

‘That joke's wearing thin but yes. Complete with
life-size
Bobby Brosna bust in the foyer.'

‘Very grand.'

‘Grand, maybe, but it doesn't alter the fact that when you're dead, you're dead. That's it, nothing left except rotting meat. And that's what Gerry Buckley junior is. Meat rotting in a Vietnam paddy field for all that he has a headstone.'

‘There is something left of Gerry,' she contradicted. ‘His children, wife and his father.'

‘Living sad lives. Those kids will be blighted by their father's death.'

‘You'd rather Gerry Buckley was forgotten?'

‘I didn't know Gerry Buckley and I have no idea what he'd want. But the last thing I'd want after my
death is to make people unhappy. That's why I don't want to get too close to anyone. Sentiment interferes with living.'

His words hurt. She knew he was aware how much. But she also knew him well enough not to try to change his mind by trying to argue with him.

He loved her now and that had to be enough. 

Eric returned to the car and climbed into the back. ‘Thanks for the ride. Can you drop me off at the interstate?'

‘We can take you back to the Cape,' Bobby offered.

‘I've decided to fly to Mexico City a day early and surprise my girl.'

‘But your ticket—'

‘Haven't bought one yet. Bound to be some freight heading for Boston airport from the freeway. I'll
hitch-hike
.'

She glanced at Eric's face as he sat in the back. His lips were tight, compressed. His fists clenched. She couldn't see his eyes. His baseball cap was pulled too low. The atmosphere was tense and she sensed that now Eric had fulfilled his buddy's request he couldn't wait to be rid of them.

‘It's your choice.' Bobby accelerated to overtake a hay waggon.

‘You got to get back for your shift anyway.'

‘We can spare a couple of hours to take you to the airport.'

‘No!' Eric's reply was terse. Finite.

‘Have it your way.'

Bobby pulled in on the approach road to the interstate. Eric picked up his bag and climbed out. ‘Thanks for the ride.'

‘My pleasure,' Bobby said, automatically resorting to the manners that had been drilled into him during childhood.

‘But it wasn't, was it?'

Bobby looked at Eric.

‘A pleasure. Not for you, Penny, me, Pam, Gerry Buckley or Gerry Junior. Be seeing you.' He grabbed his bag and ran.

Penny moved restlessly from the desk. Clouds had darkened the sky, greying the atmosphere. The day was threatening to end in rain. She checked the time. Three o'clock on a dismal afternoon in May in Pontypridd. But mentally she still remained in that burning hot Cape Cod summer of 1968.

The visit to the Buckleys had been a watershed for Bobby, although she hadn't realised it at the time and she doubted he had. It was the closest either of them had come to the tragedy that was Vietnam.

Even then, she couldn't imagine anything further from the experience in Grosvenor Square where the
anti-war rally had, for so many, like the girl who'd gone out of her way to antagonise the police, been little more than an excuse to flout authority. She'd wanted to join the protest because of her pacifist ideals, but she hadn't really given any thought to the effect the war was having on the conscripts who had no choice but to obey orders and fight.

The sombre atmosphere generated by the grief that had so devastated Gerry Buckley's family hadn't carried over into the subsequent weeks, or if it had, she'd been too in love with Bobby to be aware of it. But with hindsight, she could see that the knowledge of one conscript's life and tragic death had lurked in the shadows waiting to resurface as it had done that final fatal night.

And in between the visit to the Buckleys and that last night? The restaurant had been incredibly busy. She, Kate, Sandy and Bobby barely had time to take a deep breath in between serving and cooking for customers. It was hardly surprising that tempers had frayed.

‘Outside catering job. Hyannisport Yacht Club. Six o'clock. I need seven more waitresses urgently. Anyone know where I can find them?' Cosmo glanced up from the counter where he was scribbling notes and looked directly at Penny and Kate.

‘We're strangers here, remember,' Kate said.

‘You girls go out, meet people. I saw you with that Southern girl who works in Ho Jo's in the Melody Tent.'

‘Exactly, she works in Ho Jo's,' Penny answered.

‘There's Mary,' Sandy answered from behind the short-order counter. ‘She only works mornings in the motel.'

‘Great, that's one. Call her, Sandy.'

‘She's Native American.'

‘Then don't call her,' Cosmo continued writing.

‘What?' Penny and Kate stared at Cosmo in disbelief.

‘Welcome to America, land of the free except for the natives. They have to stay locked up on reservations as if they're zoo animals.' Betty bustled past with a double order of franks and beans.

‘You're not serious?' she challenged Cosmo.

‘It's the yacht club. You can't get a more conservative place.'

‘All the more reason to employ her. She's stunning,' Kate argued.

‘No.'

Betty intervened. ‘I have friends—'

‘I know your friends, Betty, and the answer's no,' Cosmo said firmly.

‘Why don't you come right out and say it, Cosmo? You only want pretty white girls like Penny and Kate to serve the stuck-up snobs in the yacht club.'

‘I want experienced waitresses who know how to serve food with a smile and be a credit to my establishment.'

‘You saying I don't?' Betty challenged.

‘You've a big mouth on you, Betty.'

‘I've put up with as much as I can take from you, Cosmo. You … you bastard …' Betty tore off her apron,
flung it at Cosmo and stormed out. A hush descended over the restaurant.

Cosmo continued to sit at the counter adding to his notes. After a minute the customers gradually began to speak to one another again. Penny picked up her order and served four police officers spaghetti with meat sauce.

An hour later Cosmo went into the kitchen and checked the yacht club's menu with the chefs. Then he left. When he returned, he had Betty in tow.

‘You came back?' Kate said incredulously.

Betty shrugged. ‘Cosmo and I yell at one another all the time. Phone your friend Mary and offer her the job. Cosmo pays two bucks an hour for outside catering and much as I hate the old farts in the yacht club they tip well.'

Penny and Kate came to prefer the outside catering jobs to working in the restaurant. The smaller jobs in people's homes were serviced by just the two of them and a chef. The larger, club catering jobs warranted two chefs and they were usually joined by two Southern waitresses, who resented them because, as one of the girls put it, ‘Your British accents have killed our Southern ones dead.'

They served ex-servicemen at the motor yacht club, where two men, so old and decrepit they appeared to be in imminent danger of collapse, had insisted on taking her and Kate out in their speedboats and racing against one another. Kate's old codger won. There'd been catering jobs and drops at the Kennedy compound, where journalists, cameramen and television news companies had erected lights on the lawn while waiting
impatiently and hopefully for an announcement from the one remaining Kennedy brother, Edward.

Every Democrat in America, including Bobby Brosna, wanted him to take over his brother's campaign and run for president.

Outside of work, there'd been deliciously happy times. Late nights, or rather early mornings, after their shifts in the restaurant spent in the garden of the Beach House or Joe and Marion's; groups of them singing to the accompaniment of Sandy and Bobby's guitars while drinking more cheap wine and beer than was good for them. Lazy mornings spent in bed with Bobby, followed by an hour or two swimming and lazing on the private Brosna Beach before their shifts.

Days off were spent exploring the Cape: road trips to Provincetown and places with English names – Truro, South Yarmouth, North Falmouth, Sandwich, Chatham, Harwich … unforgettable concerts in the Melody Tent – Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, The Doors …

And, best of all, sailing trips with George, Marion, Joe, Paul and Mary on board the
Day Dream
.

‘There she is, folks. The
Day Dream
.' Bobby couldn't have been prouder if he'd built her himself.

‘She's beautiful,' Marion sighed enviously. ‘Why don't you own something like that?' she berated Joe.

‘Because I'm not a multimillionaire. She's really yours?' Joe asked Bobby.

‘A family possession. Commissioned by my
great-grandfather
.'

‘And the first time she's been out of dry dock and in
the water for ten years,' George chipped in. ‘My father said it was a waste. He'd be real pleased to see her now, all gleaming, shipshape and ready to go. Want to see if she can still outrace everything around here?'

‘You as good a sailor as your father?' Bobby teased.

‘No one was as good as him, but even if I have to say it myself, I know my way around a deck.'

‘Let's go before we miss the best part of the day.' Sandy picked up one of the baskets of food they'd packed. Paul took a box of wine.

‘If only people in Ponty could see us now.' Penny carried a bundle of towels on board.

‘You thinking of Rich?' Kate followed with a bag of suntan creams and oils.

‘I'm thinking of the girls in school. It's like we've landed on a Hollywood film set.'

‘Or fallen into a dream.' Marion joined them with Mary.

‘George, Sandy and I'll take her out.' Bobby went to the tiller.

‘Sailing lessons will be given to anyone who's interested when we reach open water,' George offered.

‘After working six days straight, the only lesson I intend to take is in sunbathing.' Kate looked around. ‘We won't be in the way here, will we?' she called to Bobby as she headed for a spot near the rail.

‘No, but you might get wet when we're under way.'

‘Good, it'll cool me down.' Kate spread a towel and lay face down before slipping her bikini straps from her shoulders. ‘No marks,' she explained to Mary and Marion.

Marion handed the bag she'd brought on board to Joe. ‘The wine should go in the cabin. It's hot out here.'

‘There's an icebox in the galley,' George advised.

‘When you've done stowing everything away, Joe, can you and Paul give us a hand with the sails?' Sandy shouted from the other side of the deck.

Penny sat next to Kate. ‘I can't believe all of us have managed to get the same day off.'

‘Sundays are generally quiet in the restaurant. People have either packed and gone home or are still travelling and haven't arrived.' Marion stripped off her shirt and lay next to Kate.

‘This is absolute bliss.' Kate closed her eyes. ‘Sea lapping, gulls crying, warm sun on my back, the smell of salt in the air. No customers screaming their food is late, no children howling because they don't like their parents' choice of a meal. No ugly spotty boys saying, “Gee, you're a Brit. Come out for a drink with me when you get off shift?” And best of all, no smell of burgers and fries.'

‘You want to work with difficult customers and an impossible boss, try my place,' Marion said.

‘What's it like in the motel, Mary?' Penny asked. Mary was diffident and self-effacing to the point where it was easy to forget she was sitting with them.

‘Good. The owners are kind and the work's not too bad unless teenagers are in. They can be messy, especially in the bathrooms.'

‘Do you realise we're moving?' Kate called out.

They all turned and watched the coastline receding behind them.'

‘It feels like we're flying over water.' Penny moved away from the side to avoid the spray.

‘Wine anyone?' Marion asked.

‘Coffee maybe,' Penny amended. ‘Eight o'clock is a little early for me.'

‘Me too,' Kate added. ‘I'm not awake yet.'

Bobby appeared. ‘George has taken over the tiller, want a tour?'

‘Is that a general invitation, or one just meant for Penny?' Kate winked at Marion and Mary.

‘All of you. You need to know where the bathroom and heads are, and the kitchen. On board men sail, women make food.'

Kate almost flung a sandal at him until she remembered she'd slipped down the straps of her bikini.

The yacht was crafted out of oak. The living area was sumptuous, with three sofas, unfortunately bare bookshelves, a desk and table. The galley was beautifully fitted, the crockery porcelain, the cutlery silver and glasses crystal. The three staterooms had double beds and there was an amazing amount of closet space.

George joined them as Bobby showed them around.

‘Everything's been cleaned, Mr Bobby, right down to the knives and forks. The shipyard asked my permission to throw the books. They were mildewed.'

‘Adventure books?' Bobby asked.

‘The best –
Rob Roy, Treasure Island
…'

‘My family's taste in literature was never highbrow,' Bobby explained. ‘There you have it, girls. Three
staterooms, two showers, two heads; we'll drop anchor soon and go swimming.'

‘And the staterooms?' Kate asked.

‘Are yours for the day.' Bobby raised his eyebrows. ‘All except this one.' He opened the door to the largest. ‘This is mine and Pen's and I'm about to get changed.' He stepped in and pulled Penny in after him before catching the back of the door with his heel and closing it.

The girls' giggles echoed through the walls.

‘That was ill mannered of you,' she reproached.

‘Much as I enjoy the company of our friends I enjoy yours more, and with both of us working eight hours a day there never seems to be enough time to—'

‘Make love.'

‘I was going to suggest, to get to know you properly. I'm tired.' He flung himself on the bed. ‘Do you realise we went to bed at five this morning and were up two hours later?'

‘We have all afternoon to sleep.'

‘You want to swim?'

‘Absolutely.'

‘Pen, come down here, just for a minute …'

She left the stateroom before he had time to get off the bed. George had dropped anchor. He was sitting on the deck eating one of the hot dogs Mary and Paul had prepared. Sandy and Kate were already in the water. She stripped off her shirt and shorts, climbed over the rail and dived in.

Before she'd surfaced Bobby was alongside her.