The Dressmaker’s Daughter. Nancy Carson

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СКАЧАТЬ guardianship of the drinks, shivered again and flashed looks of cold discontent at each other. Sarah finally suggested they take up occupation of the front room where there was only the draught under the front door to contend with; surely somebody would be gentleman enough to offer them a seat. So there was a temporary disruption and rustling of long skirts while they shifted. Meanwhile Joe had begun playing the piano again – a tune called ‘I Wouldn’t Leave My Little Wooden Hut for You’. Amidst the laughing and the general chatter they heard a solitary voice rise, singing along to the piano. It was Beccy Crump who, when she’d had a drink or two, was noted for her uninhibited renditions of this and other songs.

      Lizzie, warmer now, sat down on the bottom stair next to the grate, and Ben joined her, bearing her a glass of port and his own pint of beer. She took the port and sipped it, savouring its intensity as it slid down her throat. The back door opened and she looked up with apprehension, expecting to see Sylvia and Jesse, but it was May, who had returned with Jack and Maria Hardwick and Jack’s father and mother. May issued them drinks and they, too, disappeared into the front room, with Maria heavily pregnant, laughing, pretending to conduct the music as they went.

      ‘When you went outside I was intending to come with you,’ Ben commented when they were alone again. He lit a cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke. ‘When I couldn’t find you I came back inside.’

      ‘Sorry,’ Lizzie replied. ‘I wish you had found me in time.’

      ‘Why? What’s up, Lizzie?’

      ‘Oh, I’ll tell you later, when I’ve stopped shivering.’

      ‘Look, I fancy a walk outside myself. When you’ve warmed up a bit shall we go out for five or ten minutes? Then you can tell me what’s up.’

      ‘It’s bitter cold out there, Ben. I don’t mind, though – as long as I’m wrapped up warm next time.’ The idea of being alone with Ben on this cold night was starting to appeal again, not just to get away from the atmosphere that was bound to prevail if Jesse and Sylvia returned.

      Beccy Crump reached the end of her song and predictably commenced singing, ‘When Father Papered the Parlour’. Lizzie turned and smiled at Ben.

      ‘He fancies you, Lizzie – that Jesse,’ Ben remarked trenchantly and drew on his cigarette.

      ‘Oh? D’you think so?’ She was hardly thrilled to be reminded of it after the trouble it had caused.

      ‘Judging by the way he was looking at you earlier, and the way he followed you outside. D’you fancy him?’

      ‘I suppose I do,’ she said, teasing him with the truth, but absolving herself because she could not lie easily. ‘I always used to, anyway.’

      ‘Don’t you think he’s a bit old for you?’

      ‘Not really … Oh, Ben, don’t let’s talk about Jesse.’

      ‘Why? Has he upset you? Tell me what’s up.’

      She looked around. If Jesse and Sylvia walked in now, or even just the one of them, she would want the floor to open up and swallow her.

      ‘Let’s go for that walk now and I’ll tell you. Not in here where other folks can hear.’

      Ben looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It wanted twenty-five minutes to eleven.

      ‘Don’t forget your hat and coat this time, then,’ he said, reaching his own from the back of the cellar door. ‘I’ll wait for you outside.’

      A group of people entered The Sailor’s Return, all done up in their best clothes, and another group left. Ben could hear Joe playing his piano and it sounded as though everybody in the room was singing their hearts out. He looked up at the north sky, cloudless, clear, and drew on his cigarette. His mind was full of Lizzie. Daisy had assured him Lizzie had no romantic attachment, and whenever he’d seen her out she was never with a lad; but what was happening with this Jesse? Should he back off for fear of upsetting some other arrangement? He would be loath to do so. Before all this he thought he had a chance. Now he was confused.

      Ben liked things clear cut. He liked to know where he was going long before he got there. There was no ambiguity in his own mind as to the likely outcome of a liaison with Lizzie; nor in his feelings, once he was on a given course. He was straightforward and everything had to be above board. He was forthright and if he had anything to say he said it. He was not one for skirting round a problem when he could meet it head on. Neither was he one for flannelling; what he said, he meant.

      He heard Lizzie’s footsteps in the entry and turned to see her emerge in her pale coloured coat, her collar turned up to keep out the cold. The street lamp thirty yards away picked out her fine features and he thought she looked so beautiful, yet so preoccupied. He remembered the way Jesse had been looking at her; it was hardly surprising; how could he reasonably expect this girl to have no other admirers? They must surely be falling over each other in the rush.

      ‘Which way should we go?’ he asked.

      ‘Uphill’s best.’ Lizzie clutched the collar of her coat to her neck.

      ‘Go on, then. Tell me what’s upset you.’

      She made no response at first, searching for an appropriate way to begin.

      ‘Tell me what it was, Lizzie. I like things out in the open. I’m not one for secrets and bottling things up.’

      Another couple walked towards them. They said nothing more till they’d bid them season’s greetings and gone past.

      Then she told him the truth, exactly as it happened. She told him precisely what Jesse had said, and her response, almost word for word. She told him how utterly surprised she was to learn how he felt about her, and assured Ben that she’d never ever tried to lure him away from Sylvia. She told him how they fell unpremeditated into each others’ arms. She told him how Sylvia found them thus and totally misjudged the situation, expressing her concern that such a mistake, however it looked to Sylvia, could open up a needless rift between the two families. But she did not tell him Jesse had kissed her, nor how much she’d enjoyed it.

      They turned the corner at The Junction public house. A latch squeaked and clattered, then a door banged and a man wearing a cloth cap and white muffler stumbled out onto the footpath, the worse for drink. There was raucous laughter from within, and somebody played the first few bars of ‘Wait till the Sun Shines Nellie’ on an accordion. Singing began as the couple crossed the street towards Percy Collins’s shop on the opposite corner. It seemed that the whole world was partying.

      ‘Do you believe me, Ben?’ Lizzie asked intently. This evening had promised so much, but so far it had yielded nothing but trouble. She prayed he would believe her.

      ‘Yes, I believe you, Lizzie.’

      ‘That’s a blessing. Especially since I told Jesse I was already seeing you regular. That was presuming a bit, I know. Do you forgive me?’

      ‘Forgive you? I’d like to start seeing you regular anyway, Lizzie. You’re my sort of girl.’

      Lizzie smiled, barely able to conceal her elation. ‘I’d like that, Ben,’ she said softly. ‘I barely know you, though. What if we don’t get on?’

      ‘I’m willing to take a chance if you are. I’m willing to bet СКАЧАТЬ