The Pearly Queen (33 page)

‘He's after you, Aunt Edie,' said Jimmy.

‘'E's that Camberwell pearly king,' said Patsy.

‘Aunt Edie, you goin' to marry 'im?' asked Betsy excitedly.

‘No, I'm just goin' to the music ‘all with him,' said Aunt Edie.

‘Well, that's good,' said Dad, but didn't sound overjoyed. And Jimmy hoped Aunt Edie wasn't getting serious. Joe Gosling was all right, a cheerful and hearty bloke, but not Jimmy's idea of a happy-ever-after for Aunt Edie.

‘'Ave a lovely time, Auntie,' said Patsy, ‘'ope you get treated swell.'

‘Don't stay out all night,' said Jimmy, ‘or I'll come after you.'

‘Now then, cheeky,' said Aunt Edie.

Dad came out of a thoughtful moment to say, ‘That reminds me of 1918, when we were knockin' Johnny Turk for six, and me old sergeant-major—'

‘That old sergeant-major of yours wants hanging on the line,' said Aunt Edie.

‘After you've put 'im through the mangle first, Aunt Edie?' said Patsy.

Aunt Edie burst into laughter.

Dad went thoughtful again.

Aunt Edie had quite a late night out, Joe Gosling not bringing her back until well after eleven. Dad was still up.

‘'Ere she is,' said Joe cheerfully, ‘all in one piece, old soldier.' His hearty smile hid the fact that he thought Jack Andrews was taking advantage of Edie's generous nature by having her look after his family at weekends. ‘Some rare turns at the Palace tonight. 'Arry Champion hisself, talk about any old iron, what a performance, brought the 'ouse down. Anyway, 'ere's yer 'andsome cousin-in-law. We 'ad a couple in the pub after we come out of the Palace. Are yer standin' up all right, Edie?'

Aunt Edie blinked. Dad, looking at her, thought she might have had more than a couple.

‘What's that you said, Joe?' she asked.

‘Standin' up all right, are yer, me old love?' asked Joe.

‘The day I can't stand up, Joe Gosling, will be the day I'm in me coffin,' said Aunt Edie. Joe grinned and gave her a friendly kiss on her cheek. ‘Who did that?' she asked. ‘Who's takin' liberties?'

‘Well, I got certain 'opes, Edie, concernin' what might be a lucky day for me in me near future,' said Joe, and gave Dad a wink.

‘Ta for me night out,' said Aunt Edie, and Joe said good night to her and Dad, and left. Dad closed the front door. Aunt Edie peered at him. ‘Are you lookin' at me, Jack Andrews?'

‘Well, yes, I am,' said Dad, and Aunt Edie swayed.

‘I am now goin' up to bed,' she said.

‘I'm not sure you'll get there,' said Dad.

‘What d'you mean?'

‘You're 'aving trouble standin' up,' said Dad.

Aunt Edie had had three halves of Guinness. She liked the occasional half, that was all, but tonight she'd felt she needed a cure for her emotional problems, which hadn't been helped by the heart-tugging rendering of sentimental music hall songs. But even though she liked the occasional Guinness, a whole pint and a half had been a little too much for her. She blinked again.

‘Take your 'ands off me, Jack Andrews, you don't want the neighbours talkin', do you?'

‘Not touchin' you, Edie,' said Dad, feeling a bit shirty with Joe Gosling for letting her have one too many. She had never been a woman for drink. She was a lively, rousing pearly queen on occasions, but not the kind to be seen in pubs.

‘Would you mind gettin' out of me way so's I can go up to bed?' she said.

‘You 'appen to be standin' right next to the stairs, old girl,' said Dad. The gas lamp cast light over the passage and stairs. Aunt Edie carefully turned. She swayed. Dad put a helpful arm around her waist.

‘What's goin' on?' she asked.

‘Come on, I'll see you up to your room,' said Dad.

‘What about—' Aunt Edie groped for words. ‘What about the neighbours?' That was on her mind, even though her mind was a little dizzy. It was on her mind because he kept making a thing of it.

‘Never mind the neighbours,' said Dad. ‘Let's get you up the stairs.' He helped her to begin her upward climb, his arm around her. ‘Can't 'ave you fallin' down me own stairs.'

He reached the landing with her. She swayed inside his arm and turned. The passage lamp gave some light to the landing, but not much, and her face beneath her hat looked a bit misty to Dad. And her mouth looked soft and dark. He nearly lost his head. He nearly kissed her. It was a shock to find out how much he wanted to, how much he wanted to hold her. More than that, how much he wanted her. Ruddy hell, he thought, that's done it, Jack Andrews, you're in trouble now. His deep liking and fondness for his wife's cousin, which he had known were dangerous under the circumstances, had suddenly become much more than that, much more dangerous. He couldn't remember the last time he had made love to Maud. She hadn't wanted him to, and he'd become indifferent. She'd forgotten she was a wife and a woman. Edie was all woman.

‘What's goin' on?' asked Aunt Edie in a faint husky voice. She had her own emotions to cope with, as well as unsteady legs.

Dad took a grip on himself. ‘You're all right now, Edie,' he said, ‘there's your room.' He took his arm away and opened the door to Betsy's bedroom. Aunt Edie turned again and swayed again. A warm bosom brushed his arm. ‘In you go.'

‘All these years,' she sighed, and Dad guided her through the door. He closed it and went downstairs. What a woman, he thought, I'm in the ruddy cart now. And wait till I see Joe Gosling again, he'll get an earful and a bit for pouring drink into her. On the other hand, would it be the best thing that could happen if Joe and Edie got spliced?

Oh, hell, I don't like the sound of that.

When Jimmy arrived at Anerley the next morning, Mr Hodges solemnly proffered a letter that lay on a silver tray.

‘For you, your young Lordship,' he said.

‘Me?'

‘Your name is J. Andrews Hesquire?' said Mr Hodges.

‘Care of The Beeches, Anerley?' said Ada. ‘And postmarked Salcombe in Devon?'

‘Well, who'd 'ave thought it?' said Jimmy. He took the letter and opened it. Inside was a picture postcard of Salcombe, and on the reverse were pencilled lines from Sophy.

Dear Blessed Boy,

I hope you're behaving yourself, we're having a lovely time here, except I did knock a gate down, well it came off its hinges or something, and Mummy said I'll turn her grey before her time. I've met some soppy girls and a boy who says he wants to marry me when I'm older. Ugh. It's a relief you're not like that.

Hundreds of kisses, Sophy.

‘She's barmy,' said Jimmy.

‘Why, what's she said?' asked Ada.

‘That she's met a boy who wants to marry her, and that she's glad I don't.'

‘The young madam is in form,' said Mr Hodges.

‘Young pickle, she is,' said Ada, ‘talkin' about marriage at her age.'

‘What a girl,' said Jimmy with a grin.

‘Can't 'elp laughin', can you?' said Ada.

‘How's Mr Hunter?' asked Jimmy.

‘Who?' said Ada.

‘Percy,' said Jimmy, and Ada wrinkled her nice nose.

‘I have forbidden that young gentleman hentry into this 'ouse on account of his hinterfering ways concerning the duties of Miss Ridley,' said Mr Hodges.

‘Who's Miss Ridley?' asked Jimmy.

‘Me,' said Ada.

‘Well, that's a shame, Mr Hodges,' said Jimmy, ‘no wonder she's not lookin' very happy.'

‘You fibber,' said Ada, ‘you're tryin' to say I'm lookin' mis'rable. I'm not, am I, Mr 'Odges?'

‘I am glad to say, Ada,' said Mr Hodges, who had a fatherly fondness for her, ‘that madam and I myself 'ave never known you suchlike. You are our singing nightingale.'

‘So there, Jimmy Andrews,' said Ada.

‘Mind you, Mr Hodges,' said Jimmy, ‘if Mr Percy Hunter has been chasin' our singing nightingale around the house while Mr and Mrs Gibbs have been away, I can't say I blame 'im, but I can see why you've had to put your foot down – oh, 'elp—'

Ada had seized a rolling-pin and was after him. She chased him out of the kitchen, through the smaller kitchen, out of the side door and round to the terrace. Jimmy hurtled down the terrace steps. The rolling-pin hurtled after him, just missing. He stopped and turned. Ada was on the terrace, looking for something else to throw.

‘You wait!' she called.

‘Excuse me,' said Jimmy, ‘but could you give us a song, me precious nightingale, instead of another rolling-pin?'

Ada doubled up, and Jimmy went down to his work.

When Dad got home from his Saturday morning stint with his delivery van, Aunt Edie steered him into the parlour for a stand-up.

‘Just what 'appened last night, Jack Andrews?' she asked. She felt embarrassed because she was foggy about last night, she could only remember Joe Gosling saying good night and Dad being on the landing with her. She was never going to touch drink again, not like that. It had been emotion and frustration that made her accept Joe's invitation to the Camberwell Palace and give Dad something to think about. Blow the neighbours, that was what she'd felt, even though she knew Dad was right. ‘Come on, what 'appened?'

‘Nothing,' said Dad, deciding not to look at her in case he had another attack of what wasn't good for him. ‘Except you'd 'ad a drop too much, Edie.'

‘That's a lie,' said Aunt Edie, proudly good-looking in a lacy white blouse and long navy blue skirt. ‘I've never 'ad a drop too much in me life, I'd lose me job if the manager thought I was a drinkin' woman. I just 'ad a Guinness. What I want to know is did you lay your 'ands on me?'

‘I 'ad a good mind to,' said Dad unthinkingly.

‘What?'

‘Eh?' said Dad, suffering want and confusion.

‘What did you say?' demanded Aunt Edie, who didn't quite know where she was because of wishes, hopes and fogginess.

‘Me?' said Dad, shifting his gaze from a chair to the pearl buttons of her blouse. They ran in a curving line from her neck to her waist, which hardly helped. His gaze wandered elsewhere, his feelings alarming him. Aunt Edie watched his wandering eyes in astonishment. She had never known him unable to look anyone straight in the eye.

‘Did you take liberties with me, Jack Andrews?'

‘Me?' said Dad, fighting to get on an even keel.

‘What's up with you?' she asked. ‘You're usin' words like a ten-year-old 'aving a bad five minutes with 'is schoolteacher. I want to know, did you take liberties with me?'

‘Like what?' asked Dad.

‘How do I know? I wouldn't be askin' if I knew, would I?'

‘Look, all I did was 'elp you up the stairs,' said Dad, ‘you bein' a bit sideways on.'

‘A bit what?' said Aunt Edie. ‘Jack Andrews, I'll box your ears for you. All I 'ad was a Guinness. It must've been a bit strong. Well, I might 'ave 'ad another, Joe Gosling keepin' me lively company at the time.'

Blow Joe Gosling, thought Dad, I suddenly don't feel too keen on that bloke.

‘Just because I got a bit clouded up didn't give you no right to take liberties.' Out of the fog something came to her. ‘'Specially seein' you're so concerned about the neighbours.' Yes, she'd had to say something like that last night, she remembered now.

‘It beats me you thinkin' I'd take liberties with you, Edie,' said Dad, now looking at the fireplace.

‘Look me in the face,' said Aunt Edie.

‘That fireplace is ornamental, considerin',' said Dad. ‘It's Victorian, y'know, and the Victorians liked bein' ornamental.'

‘I'm on to you, Jack Andrews,' said Aunt Edie. ‘Did you kiss me last night?'

‘I don't know why you're goin' on, Edie old girl. I told you, I just gave you a bit of 'elp gettin' up to the bedroom. Well, I 'ad a responsibility to see you didn't fall elbow over bottom down the stairs.'

Suddenly, Aunt Edie wanted to smile. She knew why he wouldn't look her in the eye. Not because he'd taken liberties, but because of his feelings for her. That Maud, what a disgraceful ingrate of a woman, she didn't deserve Jack, a lovely old soldier and all of a man. You wait, Maud, if I'm given only half a chance, I'll be the kind of pleasure to him I bet you've never been. And I won't be hypocritical enough to ask the Lord to forgive me. Falling elbow over bottom down the stairs? ‘Is that supposed to be funny?' she asked.

‘Funny?' said Dad. ‘You can end up seriously hurt fallin' down the stairs. You're a lovely pearly queen, you are, Edie, and I don't want you breakin' a leg in my 'ouse. Not when you've got—' Dad checked.

‘When I've got what?' asked Aunt Edie.

‘Can't remember what I was goin' to say.'

‘Were you goin' to make remarks about my legs?'

‘Now how could I?' said Dad. ‘I've never seen 'em. Well, I've seen your ankles, but I've never seen you do a knees-up. I'll just 'ave to keep hopin'.'

Aunt Edie laughed. ‘You silly old thing, Jack,' she said.

‘Well, I've got to admit, I do feel a bit half-and-half at the moment.'

‘What's that mean?'

‘Well, due to certain circumstances,' said Dad, ‘I don't know if I'm comin' or goin'.'

Aunt Edie gave in to her own feelings then. She put her hands on his shoulders, lifted her face and kissed him, on the mouth. ‘There,' she said softly. ‘It's up to you, Jack. Anytime.'

‘Jesus, Edie, have a heart.'

‘You know where I live,' said Aunt Edie

‘Lord give me strength,' said Dad.

Jimmy, Patsy and Betsy thought Aunt Edie a really warm and lovely woman that weekend. She went about singing, she did the washing, she did the cooking and she fussed everyone, including Dad. And when they all went strolling around Ruskin Park on Sunday afternoon she looked the handsomest and most mellow woman there, her hat sailing serenely along with her. The funny thing was, Dad kept frowning a lot, as if he didn't approve of Aunt Edie looking a real picture.