Forgotten Dreams (24 page)
‘All right for some,’ Baz said gloomily. He broke off a bit of his bread roll and threw it into the shallow water, no more than a couple of feet away. Immediately twenty or thirty tiny fish – fry, Lottie knew they were called – attacked it vigorously, reducing it to nothing in seconds. ‘But for me it’s back to the grind, and saving up for months just to afford one measly week at the seaside.’
‘You should do what your dad wants and start learning magic and stagecraft and that,’ Lottie said, highly daring, but Baz leaned over and cuffed her lightly, shaking his head reprovingly as he did so.
‘You’re a fine one to talk! You hated the stage when you were nine or ten, you know you did! You said you hated people staring at you, complained about the hours you had to work and all the rehearsing and missing school . . .’
‘Stop, stop,’ Lottie said, laughing. ‘But it’s not so bad now, and at least it means I’ll be coming back to the seaside next year . . . probably to Yarmouth. And I don’t suffer from stage fright any more, though I know you do, so I shouldn’t tease you. Merle was telling me that you’d applied for a country station – any luck?’ Baz looked astonished, as well he might, Lottie thought guiltily, remembering that Merle had most probably made this up as well as everything else. To cover her mistake, she added quickly: ‘Or was that someone else she was talking about?’
‘I dunno,’ Baz said slowly. ‘I might have said I was going to. I certainly would like a country station, but there’s no chance for a while yet. Everyone wants jobs like that, you see, and a lot of them were taken by fellers who fought in the war and came home with injuries which make living in a city unsuitable.’ He brooded for a moment, lying on his back and staring up at the canopy of leaves which moved gently against the brilliant blue of the noonday sky. ‘Lottie, do you still have them dreams?’
‘Which dreams?’ Lottie said idly, though she knew very well what he meant. It would be so easy to confide in him, to tell him about the most interesting dream of all, the one she had had after arriving in Yarmouth. But later on he would meet ‘his Merle’ once more and they would want rid of her so that they could kiss and canoodle and she would wish she had not told. Oh dear, if only life were more straightforward, less complicated, she mourned, turning to stare out across the broad.
‘You know which dreams,’ Baz said reproachfully. ‘The weird ones. The ones you thought might mean something . . . might be part of the years you lost.’
‘Oh, them. I did have one more, but I don’t think I’d better talk about it,’ Lottie said. ‘You’d only laugh and tell me I was bein’ silly.’
‘When did I ever do that?’ Baz said. He sounded hurt. ‘I thought the dreams were trying to tell you something, though you weren’t sure what. So you had another one, eh? Go on then, start at the beginning and tell me just what happened.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ Lottie mumbled. ‘Those dreams, the important ones, are only really clear for a couple of days after I’ve dreamed ’em. Then they go fuzzy round the edges. Oh, I can’t explain exactly but I lose the thread, if you understand me.’
Baz had been lying on his back, but now he sat up, caught Lottie gently by the shoulders and pulled her nearer to him, so that they could look one another in the eye. ‘Lottie Lacey, you think I’ll spill the beans to Merle, just because she’s my girl,’ he said accusingly. ‘If I swear not to tell a livin’ soul, will that do?’
‘Well, all right, I’ll tell you as much as I can remember,’ Lottie said. ‘It was different from the other dreams because in them I never managed to talk to the people I met. I think it was because I was just a baby, but in this dream I was older, perhaps three or four, and the boy I told you about, the one Kenny and I met in Rhyl, was in the dream too. It started off with paddling in the sea . . .’
To begin with, Lottie had not meant to give Baz more than a vague outline of the dream, but once she had started she found the dream coming back as clear and sharp as though she had dreamed it the previous night, instead of weeks and weeks ago. Perhaps it was Baz’s interest, but suddenly the dream became important, and Lottie found herself longing to hear his reaction. ‘. . . so you see, if the dreams are really sort of memories, then I have been in Yarmouth before,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Though why Louella should deny it, I really can’t imagine. I know we did summer seasons before the accident, she’s told me so many times, but no one could do a season in Yarmouth – or even a couple of weeks – and then completely forget it.’
As she spoke, Lottie had been looking out across the sparkling water of the broad, but now she turned to look at Baz, waiting for his agreement to her remark. Baz, however, was staring out across the water as well, with a crease between his brows. Lottie frowned too. Of course, Baz did not yet know Yarmouth as she did, but since Merle had admitted he was still in Liverpool she had written him long, descriptive letters about the pier, the town and its many attractions. Surely he must realise that Louella could not simply forget such a memorable place? ‘Baz? What are you thinking? I know you’ve not been into the town, but I promise you . . .’
‘It ain’t that,’ Baz said slowly. ‘I s’pose it’s possible that you came to Yarmouth with a school trip, or with pals.’
It was Lottie’s turn to frown. ‘But Baz, I were only a little kid, and little kids don’t go off without their mammies.’
‘They do, though; and without their dads an’ all,’ Baz said promptly. ‘Look at me. My dad couldn’t trek me all round the country with him when he was touring. When your mam or your dad has a job which means a lot of travelling, grannies and aunts and that come in ever so useful. What I reckon is, the old lady who dried your feet for you and put your sandals on is probably your grandmother, or perhaps a great-aunt or something, and when your mam was doing a summer season and you were too small to take along, then your gran, or your aunt, took over. See?’
Lottie nodded. ‘I suppose that’s possible,’ she admitted. ‘But why didn’t Louella say so?’
Baz shrugged. ‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘But she never talks much about what happened before the accident, does she? Mebbe she feels guilty about sending you off with someone else, even if it were only for a week. Anyway, no harm in asking.’ Baz got to his feet and began to collect their belongings. ‘Best be gettin’ back,’ he said. ‘We don’t want to miss that train.’
They caught the train in good time, and – in Lottie’s case at least – snoozed on the way back. She had had a wonderful day and knew Baz had enjoyed it too, and when they reached Southtown station they saw that they were still in good time for Mrs Shilling’s five o’clock dinner. It was not a long walk from the station to Nelson Road, and they were actually on the point of turning into No. 55 when Baz gave an exclamation and stopped short. ‘Well, if it isn’t Merle!’ he said joyfully. And then, his tone changing: ‘What the devil . . . ?’
Lottie gave a gasp of dismay. Merle and Jerry were coming towards them, hand in hand, and as they drew level with No. 55 Merle turned and flung her arms round Jerry’s neck. Lottie heard Baz grind his teeth and his growl would have done credit to an angry Alsatian. He started forward, then stopped short, the hands which he had clenched into fists dropping to his sides. ‘Well, Merle, what a surprise,’ he said, and his voice had an edge to it which Lottie had never heard before. ‘You must introduce me to your friend.’
Merle’s face was scarlet and her voice trembled, but Lottie could see she was doing her best to remain calm. ‘Baz! Oh . . . this is Jerry Green. When did you arrive? Jerry was kind enough to treat me to a day out . . . he’s been awfully good to me and Lottie . . .’
‘Oh, awfully good! So good that he let Lottie go off by herself whilst he took you shopping. And you gave him a great big kiss to say thank you, though of course you’re barely acquainted,’ Baz said sarcastically. ‘Well, I’d best be off to my lodgings, but it’s nice to have met you.’
He turned rather blindly on his heel, and Lottie turned too, grabbing his arm. ‘I’m awful sorry, Baz, but honest to God, Merle and Jerry are only friends,’ she said urgently. ‘You mustn’t go off in a huff. Remember, you’re having dinner with us, and then you’re coming to the show on the pier. Just give Merle a chance to explain . . .’
By this time, Lottie was trotting along beside Baz, for though he had not shaken her off he had continued to walk rapidly back the way they had come. Lottie peered up into his face, which was very red, and to her horror saw a tear slide down his cheek. ‘Oh, Baz, please don’t be upset! I’m sure Merle can explain. Jerry don’t mean anything to her, except as a friend. She told him the two of you were going steady . . .’
Baz continued to stride on but presently there was the patter of feet behind them, and Merle came running up. Lottie was still holding on to Baz’s right arm, but now Merle grabbed his left and between the two of them they managed to pull him to a halt. ‘Baz, you’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick,’ Merle said breathlessly. ‘I were only giving Jerry a hug ’cos he’d took me out for the day and bought me dinner ’n’ tea, and made me laugh a lot. Usually, we go around in a foursome: Jerry, Angela, Lottie and me.’ She turned appealing eyes to Lottie. ‘Tell him it’s true, Lottie. Tell him Jerry’s just a friend and nothin’ more.’
‘I’ll take some persuadin’,’ Baz said, but Lottie thought he already sounded half convinced. He turned to her. ‘Why did you let me think Merle had gone off wi’ a girl? If I’d knowed it were a feller, it wouldn’t have been half the shock.’
‘I told you his name was Jerry, but you misheard, so I thought it were best to mind me own business. After all, you and Merle both told me to do so back in Liverpool often enough,’ she ended with a flash of spirit. ‘And I did tell you Jerry were just a friend.’
‘So you did,’ Baz said. ‘Well, I’m just a friend ’n’ all, so let’s go back to your lodgings and have a meal before the show. After all, I’ve not so much as said hello to me dad yet, and if he knew I’d been and gone without a word, he’d be rare upset.’
Much relieved, Lottie would have released his arm so that he and Merle might walk ahead, but when she tried to pull free Baz would not allow it. ‘We’re all pals now and nothing else,’ he said firmly. ‘I must meet this Jerry of yours, Merle.’
‘Of course you can, and he’ll tell you what I said’s true,’ Merle said eagerly. ‘Oh, Baz, I do love you, and you’ve not give me a kiss yet.’
She turned her face up to his but Baz, though he smiled, shook his head. ‘No, Merle. You’ve changed; you’re a stranger to me now and I don’t kiss strange girls in the street,’ he said calmly. ‘You and I have got a lot of talking to do before we decide what the future holds.’
Chapter NineAs Lottie had promised, Mrs Shilling did not turn a hair when the girls introduced Baz and asked if he might share their dinner. ‘Course he can; this here’s Liberty Hall,’ Mrs Shilling said at once. ‘I’ve made a casserole of beef and onions, with apple pie for afters.’ She smiled up at Baz. ‘I hopes you’re fond of beef do you’ll go hungry, ’cos that’s all I’ve got.’
‘It sounds marvellous, Mrs Shilling,’ Baz said, licking his lips. ‘I’ve managed to get myself lodgings with a chap I know, but I’ll come round as soon as I’ve finished breakfast tomorrow so I can spend some time with my dad. What time does he get up on a Sunday?’
‘He’ll be up betimes when he finds his son have come a-visiting,’ Mrs Shilling said, twinkling up at him. ‘And what about these two lovely young ladies? You’ll be wanting to take them out on the spree, no doubt. The pleasure beach will be open and most of the amusements, though not all o’ them ’cos at this time o’ year it’s mainly day trippers and weekenders what come down to Yarmouth.’
Baz was starting to answer when the kitchen door opened and Louella, Max and Jack Russell came into the room. Max shouted, ‘Baz!’ and pumped his hand vigorously up and down whilst clapping him on the shoulder. He was clearly delighted to see his son and said so, asking eagerly how long Baz could stay and whether he would attend that evening’s performance.
Louella kissed Baz warmly and began to scold him for not giving them advance notice of his arrival. ‘We would have met you at the station and brought you straight back here,’ she said. ‘But I dare say the girls have entertained you.’
‘Well, Lottie has; we went to Oulton Broad and hired a boat,’ Baz said. ‘Merle was out shopping with a – a friend, but we had a good day, didn’t we, Lottie?’
Lottie was beginning to answer when Jack Russell cut in. ‘Have you spoken to Mrs Bob yet?’ he asked anxiously. ‘She’ll mebbe want to stick a few more spuds in the pan.’ He turned to Mrs Shilling. ‘Ain’t that right, Mrs Bob?’
‘That’s right, Mr Dog,’ Mrs Shilling said placidly. ‘I’ve told you before, if you call me Mrs Bob then I’ll call you Mr Dog, and you’ll have to lump it.’
Jack Russell laughed loudly, then turned to Baz, who was looking distinctly puzzled. ‘A bob is just another name for a shilling, ain’t it?’ he explained. ‘I’m a grand one for coinin’ phrases, ha, ha; it were me that decided to shorten Liverpudlians to Puddles, which is what everyone in the theatre calls us now.’
‘Oh, don’t listen to him,’ Merle said impatiently. ‘You are coming to the show, ain’t you, Baz?’
‘Of course,’ Baz said shortly. Lottie saw Max shoot his son a quizzical glance and guessed he had sensed there was something wrong, though no one else appeared to have noticed. ‘But I’ll come backstage first, so I can meet everyone. Lottie here is a grand little letter writer; she’s been telling me all about the rest of the company and I can’t wait to meet ’em.’
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