One Rainy Day (30 page)

‘Snap out of it, babe. Your mind is miles away.’ Peter peered down into her face. ‘What were you saying before you retreated into your shell?’

‘I can’t remember now what either of us said. But it doesn’t matter, because whatever it was it wasn’t earth-shattering.’

‘Where are we going then, babe? It’s too late for the pictures now, and it’s not worth going to the Grafton. Do you fancy a drink? There’s a cosy little pub over the road.’

‘Oh, yes, that would be a change. It’s very seldom I’ve been in a pub, but a glass of sherry sounds fine.’

The pub was quite busy, but most of the customers were men, and they were three deep at the bar. They say women talk a lot when they get together, but men can outdo them when they’ve got a pint glass in their hand.

‘There’s an empty table over in that corner,’ Peter said, pointing a finger. ‘You sit down while I get the drinks. Is it sherry you want, or port?’

‘I’m not really a drinker, so either will do.’

Peter came back with a pint glass in one hand and a glass of sherry in the other. He put them down on the small round table, shook the drops of spilt beer off his hand, then took out a hanky to wipe them. ‘It’s murder getting to the counter. Some of the blokes stand there the whole night, and they won’t move to let anyone get served.’

‘Now I was the one letting off steam before, so do you
think we can sit and have a nice chat, minding our own business?’ Poppy picked up her glass. ‘Cheers, Peter.’

He raised his pint glass. ‘Here’s to you and me.’ After drinking from the glass he ran the back of his hand across his mouth. ‘You weren’t telling me in a nice way that you wanted to finish with me, were you, Poppy? I got that impression, but I’m hoping you’re going to tell me I’m wrong.’

‘You and I will always be friends, Peter,’ Poppy told him. ‘You are a nice bloke who I am fond of. But I am not ready to commit myself to anyone yet.’

‘But you’ll still go out with me?’ His smile was a weak one. You’re not giving me the heave-ho?’

‘We’ll still see each other, now you know you have to give me some breathing space. Particularly now, when I’ve almost reached the goal I was aiming for, and when I’m looking for a job. Not any job, but one I can be happy in.’ Poppy took a sip of her sherry. ‘And now you know all about me and my life, there’s a few things I want to know about yours.’

‘Fire away, babe. Ask anything you like.’

‘Well, do you still live at home with your parents? What do you work at, and where? That will do to be going on with.’

‘I do still live with my parents, and I have a sister and brother still at home. My mother looks after us so well, we’re reluctant to move, although my sister is engaged, so I presume she will be moving out in the near future.’ Peter put an open hand to his forehead. ‘What was your next question? Oh, yes, what do I work at? Well, babe, I told you I work with my father, who owns a lot of property. I don’t collect rents, like Bill on the door at the Grafton, but I survey any property that comes on the market in which my father is interested. I worked very hard for many years, and am now a quality surveyor. It is a job I very much enjoy.’

Poppy didn’t speak for a while, for she was too busy thinking that he must have trained hard to get the position he wanted, and yet he objected to her achieving her goal. It seemed as though he was old-fashioned enough to think the right place for a woman was at home.

Peter touched her knee. ‘No comment, babe? No more questions?’

‘Only about your love life. And this is not me being nosy, but me being interested. I know you’ve told me you’ve had a few girlfriends, and there was a special one who you refused to talk about. I just wondered why you won’t talk about that girl. Did she have two heads or something? Or did she run off with another bloke?’

Peter stared past Poppy to the far wall. He appeared to be unaware of his surroundings, his mind elsewhere, and she thought there was a look of sadness in his eyes. When she touched his arm, he gave a start and seemed to have forgotten where he was. ‘Hey where have you been?’ she said. ‘You were in a world of your own there for a while. You gave me a fright.’

Peter looked blank for a couple of seconds, then he pulled himself together. ‘Sorry about that, babe. My mind, for some unknown reason, went off on its own. Probably to the property I was looking over today, which I’ve advised my father not to touch with a bargepole.’

Poppy shook her head. ‘I’m not buying that, Peter. Your mind was no more on a piece of property than mine was. I’ve got a feeling it had something to do with the girl you were courting, which for some reason came to an end. It’s nothing to do with me, except I know it sometimes helps to talk to people if you’ve got something that’s causing you to fret. So why don’t you open up and tell me? It might help, you never know.’

‘I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, and I still don’t,’ Peter said. ‘But I will tell you so it need not be mentioned again.’ He lifted his glass and drank deeply, and then he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘I went out with a girl for two years. We didn’t see eye to eye on many things, and argued a lot. Then we had a huge row and decided to split up. And that’s about it, Poppy. I haven’t seen her since.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘I can’t remember exactly, but it’s over a year ago. And I don’t want to keep harking back to something that is over and done with. So can we lay it to rest now, babe, please?’

‘Of course we can. It’s got nothing to do with me anyway. I was just curious, and in future tell me to mind my own business.’

‘I hope I am your business, babe, when you settle down and get this desire for a secretarial job sorted out. I’ve told you I can help you find a job, and I’ve also told you that you don’t have to work anyway. I earn good money, and you could live in comfort for the rest of your life.’

‘I don’t want to live in comfort, Peter, I’ve already got all the comfort I need at home. I want to run my own life, do what I want, be my own person. That’s my goal, and I’m going to stick to it. I’m nineteen – plenty of time to enjoy what life has to offer before even thinking of settling down. My mam is in her forties, and no matter how much my brother and I ask her to give up work and take life easy, she refuses to pack her job in and settle down. She’s young for her age, very independent, and does what she wants to do. I admire my mam. She is my role model.’

And when do I get to meet this paragon of virtue?’ Peter asked. ‘I’m looking forward to having her on my side, to instil in her daughter that she has a suitable suitor in me. So when
am I going to have the honour of meeting your mother, babe?’

‘Don’t rush me, Peter. I don’t want to take on any more commitments than I’ve got now. When I am lucky enough to find a position in a good firm, where the boss is at least middle-aged, then I’ll really start enjoying myself. Until then I’m going to carry on as I am.’

‘Why does this unknown-at-present new boss have to be middle-aged?’ Peter asked. ‘That’s a curious stipulation for a girl of your age. I would have thought you would be happy with a young bloke.’

Poppy’s curls swung across her face as she shook her head. ‘I told you once about my boss, and how I hated him. Well, he’s young, and I don’t want another boss like him. He’s the main reason I want to be out of that job as soon as possible. Tomorrow wouldn’t be quick enough for me.’

‘Why is that? I can’t imagine anyone not getting on with you, Poppy. You are very easy to get along with.’

Poppy wrinkled her nose. ‘I am a very easy-going person, who loves life. I have never had an enemy ever, until I was sixteen and went to work as a typist in that office. There’s nothing wrong with the office, which has two departments, it’s the junior partner who is the bugbear. Because he’s got plenty of money, he throws his weight around, and he is vain enough to expect women to fall at his feet. A lot of them do, as well, the silly beggars. They are wined and dined, given the full treatment, and think he’s fallen for them. But from what I’ve heard, he gives them expensive presents, flatters them so much they can’t see the wood for the trees, and as soon as he’s had what he wants from them discards them like a worn-out pair of shoes.’

Peter was quick to ask, ‘He hasn’t tried anything on with
you, has he? I know his sort very well, and I’d break his jaw if he pestered you.’

‘I’m not that stupid or naive, Peter. He would if he was let, but I wouldn’t let him within a mile of me. No amount of money would entice me. When I do eventually get married, I won’t be hiding any secrets from my husband.’

‘I am hoping the lucky man will be me, Poppy. You haven’t given up on me, have you?’

Poppy drained her glass. At nineteen years of age, she wasn’t ready to tie herself down. And she wasn’t going to make a promise she wasn’t sure she would keep. There was a boy for her somewhere out there, and she was sticking to what her mother had told her, and Jean in the office. She would recognize the man who was meant for her, as soon as she saw him. ‘I haven’t given up on anything, Peter. I’m just going to take the next few weeks as they come. And try to enjoy myself in the process.’ She smiled to soften her words. ‘Will you take me home now, please? It’s been a long day with work and night school, and I’m ready for bed.’

‘Not too tired to give me a goodnight kiss, I hope?’

Poppy was in two minds whether to speak the words that were on her tongue or not. One voice in her head was telling her she would regret it, while another told her to get on with it and stop messing. Are you taking me out Saturday night, Peter?’

‘I sincerely hope so, babe. I’ve got my heart set on it. And I know you’re not the type of girl to break a man’s heart.’

‘Then why don’t you call for me, and then you can meet my mother? It would save you hanging around in the cold if I’m late.’

Peter looked as pleased as Punch. ‘I’d love to, babe! What time shall I call?’

‘Where are we going?’ Poppy asked. ‘Pictures or dancing?’

‘I’ll do whatever you want to do. But if I was to be honest, I would prefer to go dancing.’ He held up an open hand. ‘It’s your choice, babe. As long as I’m with you I really don’t mind.’

‘We’ll decide on the night, eh? You call for me at half seven and we’ll have time to make up our minds then.’ She pulled her collar up and left the pub, linking Peter’s arm. When they were on the pavement outside, she said, ‘Better make it seven o’clock on Saturday, otherwise it would only be a quick in and out, and you’ll have no time to talk to my mam. And David should be in then. He doesn’t usually go out until nearly eight o’clock.’

Peter had his arm round Poppy’s waist as they walked towards her house. ‘Anything you say, babe, is all right with me. I don’t care how, where or why, as long as you’re by my side.’

‘Stop being so soppy, for heaven’s sake.’ Poppy sighed inwardly. She wished he wouldn’t be so clinging. ‘You’re a big boy, Peter. You don’t need me to hold your hand.’

They were passing the Boden house when the front door opened and Marg came out. She saw Poppy in the light from the hallway before closing the door behind her. ‘Hello, queen. I’m just going to your house to see yer mam.’ She nodded at Peter. ‘Hello, lad. I’ve seen yer before, bringing Poppy home. I watch through the window, yer see, ’cos I’ve got nothing better to do. If ye’re thinking I’m a gabby, nosy cow, then you’re dead right. I am bleeding nosy’

Poppy chuckled. ‘Let me introduce you to our neighbour, Peter. This is Marg Boden, and Marg, this is Peter Broadhurst.’

‘Please to meet yer, lad. I hope I haven’t put a stop to your canoodling, but I’m going in the Meadows house, so I’ll not be in the way. And I’ll not sneak a peep out of the window,
either. Not because I don’t want to know what you and Poppy get up to, like, but because her mam wouldn’t let me.’ She banged on the knocker so hard it was enough to wake the dead. And then she lifted the letter box and bawled, ‘Are yer bleeding deaf, Eva Meadows? Open the ruddy door.’

Poppy was bubbling inside with laughter. What would Peter be thinking of their neighbour? ‘I may as well go in with Marg, save my mam having to open the door again.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll see you Saturday night at seven.’ The front door was open now, and Poppy called, ‘Don’t close the door, Mam, I’m coming in now. Goodnight, Peter.’

‘Ay, queen, your bloke is a bit of all right. If I was a bit younger I’d be giving him the glad eye.’

‘I go out with Peter because he’s a nice feller and we dance well together. But we are not courting, merely friends.’ Poppy went into the hall to put her coat on a hanger. She treasured that coat, for she didn’t know how long it would be before she could afford another. When she went back into the living room, Marg was sitting at the table facing her mother. ‘Anyway Mrs Boden, what are you up to, knocking on neighbours’ doors this time of night?’

‘I’ve come to see what time yer mam will be ready on Saturday morning. Hasn’t she told yer, queen, that me and her are painting the town? My feller had a win on the gee-gees, and he’s given me the money to buy meself a coat at last. He said he was so fed up with me moaning about Eva putting me in the shade, he chased the bleeding horse round the course with a stiff brush to make sure it won. And didn’t it prance home at six to one.’

Eva smiled at her daughter. ‘How did it go at night school, sweetheart? Did all yer hard work pay off?’

‘Yes, it certainly did, Mam, and I’m really proud of myself. Another few weeks and I’ll be scouring the jobs column in the evening paper. But tell me what you two are up to. Are you making a day of it, or just looking for a coat for Marg?’

Eva didn’t get a chance to speak, for her friend and neighbour answered for her. ‘We’re not rushing there and back, queen, we’re going as ladies of leisure. I’ve told yer mam that when I call for her Saturday morning, I expect her to be dolled up to the nines. I know she never wears make-up, but she’ll have it on Saturday, or I’ll make her walk behind me. She doesn’t make the most of herself, your mam, and it’s about time she did.’

‘I wouldn’t know how to put make-up on, even if I had any, which I haven’t. Why would I want to, anyway? A woman of my age, I would look like mutton dressed as lamb.’