Daughter of Mine. Anne Bennett
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Название: Daughter of Mine
Автор: Anne Bennett
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007343478
isbn:
‘And what of the razor blades, shoelaces and hairgrips you buy nearly every time you’re let out alone? We have enough in now to stock a shop.’
‘Ah, Tressa, doesn’t it break your heart to see those poor men with trays about their necks, and many of them blinded or with missing limbs?’ Lizzie said. ‘They fought in the war-to-end-all-wars and now have no job. They’re like debris, thrown out on the scrap heap. I have to buy from them.’
There were always more of the poor about on a Saturday, hoping to snatch a bargain, but that afternoon, two weeks before the dance, the girls were on a mission. Tressa wouldn’t let Lizzie look to left or right and led her straight down the cobbled streets from High Street into the melee and clamour of people and the costers shouting their wares above the noise.
The place had a buzz all of its own and there was always something to see, but that day there was no time to stand and stare. They skirted the flower sellers, around the statue of Nelson, shaking their heads at the proferred bunches and the market hall where the old lags were with their trays. The old lady stood outside Woolworths as she did every day, shouting her wares: ‘Carriers, handy carriers,’ and they passed Mountford’s, where the smell of the meat turning on a spit in the window would make your mouth water.
The rag market was where they were making for, and when they entered it, it still had the familiar whiff of fish lingering, for it sold fish in the week. But now, goods of every description were laid out on carpets or rugs on the floor. Lizzie got a bronze satin dress with lace underskirts: the bodice was decorated with beads and fancy buttons and cut to show the merest hint of cleavage. She even picked up a pair of bronze shoes and a brown fur jacket at the second-hand stall and was well-pleased.
Tressa was equally as happy with her dress of dark red velvet bound in black, for with her blonde hair she suited red. The smart black jacket fitted like a glove and the two-tone shoes were a find. If they pinched a bit, so what. She just had to have them. They made the outfit. The girls were well satisfied and as Tressa said when they dressed up in their room later and spun around before the mirror, ‘Don’t the pair of us look just terrific?’
The days seemed to drag, but eventually it was time to lift the dresses down from the picture rail where they’d been covered by a sheet, and the two dressed in their finery. Even Lizzie, never one to give herself airs and unaware of her beauty, was stunned. The skirt, which reached the floor, rustled delicately when she walked; and the beads on the bodice, shimmering in the light, brought out the beauty of her creamy skin and made her eyes dance and sparkle. Tressa’s gown was pretty enough and she did look beautiful in it, but it was Lizzie’s that drew the exclamation from Pat and Betty, who’d demanded to see them both before they set off.
Lizzie and Tressa stood in the doorway and peeped in. Streamers interspersed with balloons were draped around the walls and hung from the ceiling, while around the edge of the room were small tables. Each one had a lighted candle in a gold-coloured candlestick and it gave a magical feel to the night. At one end of the hall was a band setting up with their instruments, and, to the side, a more than adequate bar.
‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Lizzie said, as the band struck up the first tune of the night, which was a slow foxtrot to the tune of ‘My Foolish Heart’.
‘Aye,’ Tressa agreed, taking a seat at one of the tables. ‘But I hope we are asked up by someone and before too long. Wouldn’t it be a desperate situation altogether if we were left sitting at the table by ourselves all night? I’d die of shame.’
There was little danger of it for the girls’ entrance had caused quite a stir, and both were asked up almost immediately. As Lizzie spun around the room with one partner after another she began to thoroughly enjoy herself.
They discovered punch early on in the evening and, thinking it to be non-alcoholic, drank plenty of it. Unbeknownst to them, they had been watched for about an hour by two men at the bar, who smiled to themselves and then to each other as they saw the girls fill up their glasses once more and go back to the table for a well-earned rest.
As soon as the men detached themselves from the bar and began to move towards them, the movement drew Tressa’s eyes. ‘There’s two gorgeous fellows heading our way,’ she whispered to Lizzie. ‘Absolutely terrific, so they are.’ And then, as Lizzie was to turn her head for a swift peep, Tressa hissed, ‘Don’t look around. They’ll know we’re talking about them.’
Have we to be totally unaware of the two men walking towards us so deliberately, Lizzie thought. It seemed that way, and they’d reached the table before Tressa appeared to see them and Lizzie had her first good look. Both were tall, she noticed, and one had sandy-coloured hair and grey eyes and his mouth was wide and full, his whole attitude one of laughter and fun. His friend, though, was a different kettle of fish altogether, his countenance graver and his attitude altogether more serious. His hair was nearly black, his nose long and mouth thin, but his eyebrows seemed so prominent they almost hid his deep brown eyes.
Lizzie didn’t take to him at all, but the other man seemed to have eyes only for Tressa. They asked if they might sit for a while and talk to the ladies, and as Tressa was more than willing there was little Lizzie could say. They introduced themselves: the one enamoured with Tressa was Mike Malone, and the other one, Steve Gillespie. Lizzie sat and sipped her punch and listened to them talking. Both came from a place called Edgbaston, they said, only a short distance away, where they lived just a street apart. They’d been friends since their first day at St Catherine’s School and both were in full-time work, in the brass industry. ‘We’re lucky,’ Mike said. ‘And we know it, with so many unemployed now.’
They heard of Mike’s two elder sisters, now married and away from home. ‘I’m the youngest too,’ Tressa said. ‘Lizzie says I’m spoilt.’
Lizzie opened her mouth to say something, but Mike forestalled her. ‘Never,’ he said. ‘Such a beautiful girl cannot be spoilt. And I love your accents.’
‘Your names sound Irish too,’ Tressa said. ‘But your accents don’t.’
‘Our dads were both from Ireland,’ Steve answered. ‘But we’ve been brought up here. My father has no love of Ireland, for he had a hard time there after he was orphaned at the age of seven.’
Lizzie would have asked more questions, but Mike would not allow it. He forbade all talk of sadness and fetched more punch for the girls and a Guinness each for themselves, before leading Tressa onto the dance floor.
Steve watched Lizzie’s eyes as they followed Tressa and he said, ‘You don’t want to dance, do you?’
It was said ungraciously and Lizzie didn’t want to dance, at least not with Steve. She didn’t even want to sit with him. He unnerved her. She wanted to say she needed the Ladies, but she could hardly skulk there all night, and anyway, Tressa would root her out and be furious with her. So she said, ‘No, no, it’s all right.’
‘Your glass is empty, I’ll get us a refill,’ Steve said, and Lizzie was surprised. She couldn’t remember drinking the punch at all, but she took a big drink of the glass that Steve brought her as he talked of his father, who’d fought in the Great War as a volunteer. ‘He was injured, my father,’ Steve went on. ‘Had his leg shot to pieces and it probably saved his life.’
‘Have you any brothers or sisters?’ Lizzie СКАЧАТЬ