Dancing in the Dark (35 page)

The flat no longer seemed ordinary, but touched with an aura of romance and a whiff of mystery. This was where a twenty-year-old Flo had come when she was already a mother, but a mother without a child. Now, tragedy was mingled with the romance.

Yet, despite everything, Flo might have been happy. I would never know.

There was a box of drawing-pins in the bureau. I shook some out and pinned the drawing to the wall over the mantelpiece. Flo might have wanted to put it there herself fifty years ago.

The following Tuesday was unusually quiet at Stock Masterton. George went out at midday and hadn’t returned by six. Darren and Elliot took the opportunity to leave early, and shortly afterwards June went home. Only Oliver and I were left.

He stretched his arms and yawned. “I suppose one of us had better stay till George comes back.”

“Where did he go?” I asked.

“He didn’t say. He got a phone call and went rushing off.”

“I’ll wait,” I offered. Oliver had a long journey home through the Mersey tunnel to a remote village on the Wirral.

“Thanks, Millie.” He gave me a warm, grateful smile.

“You’re a chum.”

Oliver had only been gone a few minutes when the light on the switchboard flashed to indicate there was a call. I was astonished to discover an angry Bel at the other end of the line. “Is that woman there?” she barked.

I assumed she meant Diana, who’d been staying with her since Sunday. “No, she hasn’t been in since her father died. I thought she was with you?”

“She was until this morning,” Bel said. “She seemed much better when she got up. I went to get us a nice chicken for tea but when I got back she’d upped and gone. Not a word of thanks, no tara, nothing!” she finished, with a high-pitched flourish.

“Perhaps she’s coming back,” I suggested. “She’s gone home to collect something.”

“In that case she should have left a note—and it doesn’t take five hours to get to and from Hunts Cross.” A loud indignant snort echoed round the empty office. “Honest, Millie, me ears are numb from listening to her go on and on about bloody Daddy. I’m an ould soft heart, me, and I didn’t mind a bit, but I’m dead annoyed to think she’s just scarpered. She ate me out of house and home. Me freezer compartment’s nearly empty!”

“I’m sorry, Bel. I don’t know what to say.” If Diana had been there, I could have easily strangled her for treating Bel so rudely. “Why not come round to Flo’s tonight for dinner?” I offered in an attempt to soothe her feelings.

“It’ll be a takeaway, mind, from that Chinese place round the corner.”

The favourite’s sweet and sour pork, and I really go for those little pancakes with roots in.”

“By the way, I found a bundle of letters in the bureau from you to Flo. I thought you might like them to read.”

“No, ta, luv,” Bel said firmly. “Flo offered them to me once, but I said no to her too. I’m happy now, but I was happier when I wrote them. I’d sooner not be reminded of the ould days. Just chuck ‘em out. See you later, luv.’

It was nearly seven by the time George strode into the office. “I’d like a word with you, Millie,” he snapped, as he passed my desk and went into his cubicle.

Somewhat bemused by his tone, I followed, and was even more bemused when he nodded towards a chair, “Sit down.” It seemed very formal. People usually sat down without waiting for an invitation.

George placed his arms on the desk and clasped his hands together, his expression grave and accusing. “I don’t think much of the way you treated Diana when she came to you for help,” he said coldly.

I heard the creak of my dropping jaw. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently she called at William Square, as you had invited her to do, desperate for someone to talk to, urgently in need of a shoulder to cry on . . . ”

“That’s right.” My voice shook. I was at a loss to understand what was wrong.

“But instead of help,” George went on, “all she found was you and two other women all pissed out of your minds. Not only that, you quickly got her in the same drunken state as yourselves. Even worse, the poor girl was virtually kidnapped by a ghastly old woman who wouldn’t let her go. She’s been stuck in this woman’s dismal little house for days. She rang just before lunch and I was forced to go and rescue her. I found her shaking, crying, and in a terrible state.”

I burst out laughing. “Rescue her! Don’t be so bloody stupid, George. Bel’s anything but ghastly. In fact, Diana said she was the nicest person she’d ever met. Also, she’s about seventy-five—a bit old to kidnap someone less than half her age, wouldn’t you say?” It wasn’t worth adding that although I’d never been in Bel’s house I imagined it would be anything but dismal.

But George’s face grew colder, if that was possible, and he said, “I’ve never pulled rank, Millie. I’ve always treated my employees as equals, friends. I do, however, own this firm, and take exception to being called stupid by someone whose wages I pay.”

But he was being stupid! Diana had fooled him completely, putting on an act so outrageous that I marvelled at her nerve. I said nothing, just sat there, stunned, contemplating her treachery. She’d used us—me, Bel, Charmian—to rid herself of the guilt she’d felt over her father’s death. Then she’d probably felt ashamed of having told so much and turned against us, possibly worried I’d tell George or the others in the office the things she’d said when she bared her soul.

“Oh, and another thing, Millie, I’d prefer it if you didn’t refer to me in public as an ogre.”

“But I didn’t . . . ” I began, then remembered that I had.

“I didn’t mean it in an offensive way.” I wanted to explain why I’d used the word, but it would probably be a waste of time at the moment. Just now George’s mind was made up. It would be sensible to wait until he was able to see sense again, then put him right. “Where is Diana now?” I asked.

“My place,” he said briefly. “The poor girl’s still very tearful. She’s been through a lot lately. Her father dying was bad enough, but you and your friends only made it worse.”

“That’s not fair, George,” I felt bound to say. “If you think about it hard enough, you’ll know it’s not fair.

Diana’s having you on.”

For the first time, he looked straight at me and there was a trace of comprehension in his eyes. Then he blinked furiously and said, “I’d better be getting back. I’ve promised to take her out to dinner.”

He strode out of the office, a knight on a white charger returning to his damsel in distress. I understood what had happened. His wife and children no longer needed him, his mother was dead, he was a man with no call on his emotions. Diana had got through to the part of him that longed for someone to cherish and protect.

When I sat down at my desk my legs were shaking, my mind a whirl. It was all so unreasonable, so unjust. I picked up the telephone, badly in need of someone sympathetic to talk to. Colin answered when I called Trudy and said she was out. “She’s taken Melanie and Jake to see 101 Dalmatians. By the way, her bottle stall will be up and running on Sunday. She was going to call you.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised.

Then I rang Mum. I couldn’t explain what had happened, it would only upset her, but at least she would be a friendly voice. To my dismay, when the receiver at the other end was picked up my father reeled off the number.

He always sounded mild, rather genial, on the telephone and it was hard to connect the pleasant voice with the man I knew. I didn’t waste time with small talk, is Mum there?”

“She’s in bed with a touch of flu.”

“Oh!” I was temporarily flummoxed. “Oh, well, give her my love and say I’ll come and see her tomorrow after work. I’d come tonight, but I’ve promised to meet someone at Flo’s.”

“All right, luv. How’s things with you?”

“Fine,” I said brusquely. “ ‘Bye.’

Bel would be only too willing to provide sympathy in buckets, though I wouldn’t mention anything about kidnapping, or she was quite likely to burst a blood vessel.

“It’s only me, Mum,” I called, as I ran upstairs. I found her propped up against a heap of pillows looking sleepy, but pleased with herself.

“Hello, Millicent.” She smiled when I went in and planted a kiss on her plump, pasty cheek. “I’m all on me own. Your dad’s gone to the pub and Declan’s round at a mate’s house.”

“How do you feel? I’ve been worried about you all day.” Halfway through the morning, I had wondered suddenly if flu was the real reason for her being in bed.

Maybe my father had been up to his old tricks again.

“There’s no need to worry, luv.” The contented smile was still there, enough to convince me that my suspicions were unwarranted. “I’m really enjoying lying here and being waited on. Our Declan’s been looking after me, and Trudy came this afternoon with some grapes. Now you’ve brought a lovely bunch of carnations, me favourite.”

She buried her nose in them. “They smell dead gorgeous. It’s nice to know me children care about their mam. I even got a get-well card from Alison, though I don’t suppose it was her idea to send it. I had to ring up on Sunday and say I couldn’t go. The bug had already caught up with me by then, and I didn’t feel up to the drive.”

“You should have rung, Mum. I would have come before.”

“I didn’t want to bother you, Millicent. I know you’re always busy.”

“Oil, Mum!” I stroked her brow, which felt rather hot.

“You’ve got a temperature,” I said, with a frown “The doctor’s given me some tablets. Look what the women in the shop sent.” She pointed to a little wicker basket of dried flowers on the bedside table next to Alison’s card. She seemed far less bothered about being ill than that everybody had been so kind. “Mrs Bradley from next door keeps bringing bowls of homemade soup. The potato’s nice and tasty, but Declan ate the onion.” She giggled girlishly. “I might be sick more often if this is the sort of treatment I can expect. Your dad’s even brought a cup of tea up twice. I think he’s a reformed character.”

“Don’t bank on it, Mum.”

“I won’t, luv. Look!” She patted her stomach. “I’ve lost weight. This nightie would hardly go round me before but now it’s dead loose. I used to be slim as a girl, just like you.”

“I know. Your wedding photo’s downstairs.”

“That’s right. I’d like to be slim again by the time I move to Oxford.” She giggled again. “Start a new life with a new figure.”

I stared at her anxiously. Her expression was as innocent as a baby’s. She’d lived under the iron hand of her husband for thirty years and had no idea how to cope with the world outside—how to deal with landlords other than the council, for instance, and the social-security people could easily convince her she wasn’t entitled to a penny. “Are you still set on that idea, Mum?”

“Oh, yes, luv.” She smiled radiantly. “I’m looking forward to it, not just seeing our Alison more often but living on me own. I thought I might go back to nursing.

They say the National Health Service is understaffed.”

“Nursing!” I gasped. “I never knew you’d been a nurse.”

“I was halfway through training to become state registered when I married your dad.” She sighed, “I was sorry to give it up.”

“You should have finished your training, then got married,” I said indignantly.

“Life doesn’t always go the way you want it, Millicent.”

“I suppose not.”

There was a noise downstairs. “Jaysus!” she gasped, terrified. “I hope that’s not your dad back! I hope he hasn’t heard.”

But it was only Scotty, bored with being left alone and looking for company. He came bouncing up the stairs and leaped on to the bed, settling himself comfortably between Mum’s legs. He pushed his nose between her knees and looked at her adoringly.

“How’s Flo’s place coming along?”

“I’m nearly there,” I lied.

Mum laughed. “Oh, come off it, luv. I don’t know what you’re up to but I’ve been to Flo’s, remember? You can’t kid me it takes six or seven weeks to sort out a one-bedroom flat.”

“Oh, Mum!” I slipped off my shoes and sat in my father’s place on the bed. It was time I told her the truth.

I took my mother’s white hand, threaded with startling blue veins. “I love it there, and I’m having a great time.

I’ve met all sorts of interesting people. You already know Bel, then there’s Charmian and Herbie upstairs, a young man next door who comes from Kirkby and was in my class at school, and . . . well, this other guy who knew Flo.”

“Bel used to be very glamorous.”

“She still is.”

“So you haven’t done a thing,” Mum said, smiling.

“We’ve drunk all Flo’s sherry and I’ve cleared out her bureau—well, almost. Otherwise, the place is no different from the first day I went.”

“Have you been paying the rent?”

“No, Mum.” I’d remembered to ask Charmian when the rent collector called. He came monthly, she said, and had been twice since Flo died but had never mentioned the basement flat. Next time he came Charmian had promised to ask about it. “Flo must have paid several months in advance,” I told Mum. “So far, I haven’t come across a rent book.”

“I’d love to see the place again,” she said wistfully. “See if it’s changed much.”

“Come next week, Mum.” I couldn’t keep the flat to myself for ever. “Come one evening when I can show you round. The weekend would be even better. There’s a takeaway round the corner. I’ll buy more sherry and we can have a feast. Bel would love to meet you again, and you’ll like Charmian.”

Mum squeezed my hand. “I’ll come as soon as I’m better. Now, I’m in a lovely hazy daze, all them tablets. I hope you won’t mind if I go to sleep in front of you.”

“I’ll make myself a cup of tea when you do.”

We talked in a desultory way about Declan: he’d had a form from a college, had filled it in and sent it off. Wasn’t it smashing Trudy having her own stall? “I hope I’m well enough to go by Sunday,” Mum said sleepily.

When her head began to droop I released her hand. I stayed where I was for a while, glancing round the dismal room. Years ago, Mum had painted all the furniture cream to make it look like a matching set, but she hadn’t rubbed the varnish off underneath and the paint had started to peel. Perhaps she’d like that lovely stuff in Flo’s bedroom, which I coveted—except that she was moving to Oxford. Where on earth did she get the courage from even to think of changing the course of her life at fifty-five? I sighed, got off the bed, adjusted the pillows and drew the bedclothes up to her shoulders.