Walking Back to Happiness. Anne Bennett

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СКАЧАТЬ had told Hannah before the wedding that she should put her foot down. ‘Start as you mean to go on, my girl,’ she advised.

      ‘He’s saving for the wedding and honeymoon and all,’ Hannah said. But Gloria was sure he’d have a bit put by, for hadn’t he been working for years with only himself to see to and she could bet his mother left him something. And then his boss, so Hannah said, had promised him a rise on his marriage, when he would have a wife to keep.

      Hannah, too, was afraid that Arthur was mean. She’d never told Gloria because she would go on and on about it. But the few times they’d been to the pictures, he’d never bought Hannah anything either going in, or in the interval. The first time, as the lights went up in the interval and the girls had gone down the aisles with the ice creams and such, Arthur had remarked. ‘Never buy anything here. Places like these rip you off, don’t they?’

      They probably did, but there was something just so right about sitting in the cinema, eating sweets or licking an ice cream. That was what she’d enjoyed with Mike on his short leaves home, when she’d beg, cajole and bribe fellow workers at the hotel to change shifts to be with him as often as possible.

      And after the ice creams, they’d take advantage of the darkness to snuggle together. Not that Arthur did that either. He sat stiff and erect in the seat beside her and never ever held her hand which she would have welcomed. It would have been comforting and Hannah, above all things in the world, needed comfort, comfort and tenderness.

      But what odds now? Hannah thought, as she got to her feet as the organ began to play. The die was cast and it was too late for any regrets. Hannah was now Mrs Arthur Bradley and would stay that way for life.

Chapter Four

      Hannah had been terribly excited to be going to Blackpool for her honeymoon and it was a shame that it turned out to be such a letdown for her. Her pleasure had been sustained in the train journey, especially when Arthur sat and held her hand, and had only begun to slip when she stepped out of the taxi outside the small and rather dingy hotel where they were to stay.

      The crabbed woman who described herself as owner showed them to their room and issued them with a list of hotel rules and regulations and did so without even a show of welcome from her sullen mouth and hard, cold eyes.

      Hannah circled the depressing room. The paintwork was a drab brown, the faded wallpaper was peeling in places and the bed, she tested by plumping herself down on it, was lumpy. She glanced up at Arthur and said, ‘Not very nice is it?’

      She was immediately sorry when she saw Arthur’s face colour. ‘It wasn’t easy finding anywhere,’ he said.

      ‘I know. I’m sorry. That sounded very ungrateful,’ Hannah said, contrite.

      ‘And at least we have the meal to look forward to,’ Arthur said. ‘They usually serve dinner at one o’clock, but I persuaded them to cook us a full meal when we arrived as a special favour. I knew we’d probably be hungry.’

      Maybe a meal would put a new complexion on the matter entirely, Hannah thought. Maybe food would also still the panicky doubts that she’d done the wrong thing in marrying Arthur that were making her feel a bit sick. She pushed the doubts away, stood up and forced a smile on her face. ‘You’re right, Arthur. It’s hunger making me so miserable. Shall we go down?’

      Just a little later, Hannah was to sit in the dark, unwelcoming dining room and think that while the hotel staff might have agreed to serve them a full dinner, they were doing so begrudgingly. Arthur and Hannah were the only ones in the room, for high tea – the usual meal at that time of the evening – was well over and the guests had dispersed either to their rooms, the residents’ lounge or the small bar their landlady had pointed out on their arrival. Hannah couldn’t blame them, glancing around the room as she waited for the food to arrive. She knew it wasn’t a place she’d have chosen to linger in.

      And then the insipid, unappetising meal came and Hannah felt her spirits plummet. It was served by a girl with a sulky face and lank, greasy hair who laid the plates before them in a ‘like it, or lump it’ style.

      And Hannah did not like it. The grey meat was tough and stringy, the vegetables over-cooked, the mashed potatoes lumpy and the whole lot of it covered with glutinous gravy that was barely warm. However, she refused to get totally depressed by it, even when the apple pie she’d ordered had more pie than apple. The custard she’d declined, remembering her experience with the gravy. Never mind, she told herself, we shan’t spend much time in the hotel. Except, a little voice inside her said, for the bedroom.

      She glanced across at Arthur and her stomach contracted as she thought of what lay ahead. Arthur caught her look and smiled. ‘Do you fancy a walk, my dear?’

      Hannah was glad that Arthur seemed to want to postpone the moment when they’d have to retire to that uninviting and chilly bedroom as much as she did and she agreed eagerly.

      Once outside though, she wondered at the wisdom of such action, for the wind was fierce and snatched away all attempts of conversation. But as they neared the promenade clutched tightly together from necessity rather than desire, she heard the tantalising music of the fair.

      Anyone who’d ever been to Blackpool told her about that fair, the Golden Mile they called it, and she’d caught a glimpse of it as they’d passed it in a taxi earlier that evening. But it was one thing to pass it quickly in the dusky half-light, quite another to come upon it in its full glory, ablaze with flashing lights of all colours, now that night had fallen over the town. Music from various rides was thumping all around them, mixed with screams and laughter.

      Hannah had never seen anything like it and her eyes were everywhere and wide with astonishment. Beautiful carousel horses pranced round and round with laughing people astride them and just feet away, there were other carriages attached somehow to a huge big wheel spinning wildly, those inside them screaming like mad. And no wonder, Hannah thought. ‘Oh, Arthur,’ she said, breathless with the excitement of it all. ‘I’d be frightened to death on that.’

      Arthur laughed and squeezed her hand. Hannah passed many rides that night that alarmed her. One had little cars running around a track, which dropped so suddenly that Hannah gave a little cry of terror, sure a car would be thrown from the tracks, spilling out its unfortunate occupants. Arthur hugged her tighter, touched by her fear brought about by her inexperience of such things.

      She stood mesmerised by a small area where cars darted about and seemed intent on bashing into other cars. They were attached to wires or something in the roof, she noticed, which sparked in a frightening way. ‘What are they?’ she asked Arthur. ‘And what are they doing?’

      ‘They’re bumper cars.’

      ‘Don’t people get hurt?’

      ‘Not often,’ Arthur said. ‘Look at the thick rubber around them. That’s the whole point of it.’

      Other booths advertised the ‘Ghost Train’, or ‘House of Horrors’, or ‘Hall of Mirrors’ and Arthur and Hannah were encouraged to sample the delights inside. ‘Come on, sir,’ said the woman outside the Ghost Train. ‘Dark as pitch inside and filled with goolies. Gives you a chance to hold your young lady tight.’

      Smiling, Arthur shook his head and turned away and then Hannah saw her first pink candyfloss. ‘Oh, what’s that?’

      ‘Candyfloss.’

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