This Lovely City. Louise Hare

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СКАЧАТЬ could have fooled me. Hold still.’ She held onto his head as she applied iodine to the cut.

      ‘Jesus Christ!’ That innocent ball of cotton wool felt like a poker straight out of the fire. ‘What the hell is that?’

      ‘Language! My mother would have given you a right piece of her mind if she’d heard you talking like that.’

      ‘Mine too,’ he admitted. He took a deep breath and held it as Rose carried on, making sure that the wound was clean before releasing him.

      ‘So where were you last night?’ she asked. ‘Not round here surely.’

      ‘Yes, actually. Just in that pub down the road, on the left.’

      ‘I know the one. What did the man look like? The one who punched you.’ She dabbed cool cream on his eye, the chill of it making him jump once more.

      He thought about it for a moment. ‘Shorter than me but not by much. Dressed pretty smart. Black hair. Sort of like Cary Grant in The Philadelphia Story. And he wore a ring on his right pinkie. That’s what cut me.’

      ‘Cary Grant, eh?’ She busied herself tidying the supplies away. ‘I don’t know about him but there’s quite a few chaps with dark hair round here.’

      ‘True,’ he agreed. ‘And you lot all look the same to me.’

      She laughed. ‘Yes, well, I shall remember that when you walk past me in the street next week and don’t give me a second glance.’

      ‘As if that could happen!’ Was he flirting with her? He’d never been much good at it before but she was smiling. Maybe some of Aston’s charm was rubbing off on him.

      ‘Have you found anywhere to live? After you leave here, I mean?’

      ‘Not yet. I need to find a job first.’

      ‘What job did you have back home?’

      ‘Nothing. I mean, I was studying.’ He glanced up at her, wondering if she thought him just a child. He wasn’t sure how old she was. Probably older than his nineteen years if she was married. ‘My mother wanted me to go to university but money was tight so, you know, here I am. Come to London, seeking my fortune.’

      Rose giggled. ‘You sound like Dick Whittington. And I’m sorry but these streets are more likely paved with rubble than gold.’

      ‘I noticed.’ He sighed. ‘Still, a few of the fellas think maybe we can actually get a band together and earn money from it. I play clarinet. My father always wished he’d become a professional musician instead of working in an office. I suppose I’d like to fulfil his dream now that he’s gone.’

      ‘You’re lucky,’ she told him, ‘to have something like that, something you love. I worked in a factory during the war, believe it or not, and I loved it. We had a right laugh and I felt like I was doing something proper, you know? Something useful. But Frank, that’s my husband, he wanted things to go back to normal when he came home. Married women don’t work, he says, not unless they need the money, it’d look bad on him. He doesn’t even like me doing this only I insisted. So long as his tea’s on the table when he gets home from work I reckon he can’t really complain, and he’s in the pub most nights anyway.’

      ‘You don’t look old enough to be married, you don’t mind me saying.’

      She smiled. ‘No? I suppose not. We got married straight out of school. Frank was heading off to war and we knew there was a chance that…’ Her voice trailed off.

      ‘You were lucky,’ Lawrie said. ‘He came back.’

      ‘Yes.’ She took a step backwards, away from him. ‘Anyway, you’re all done. Pop up in ten minutes if you want feeding before you head out. And curfew is midnight so don’t be late back.’

      ‘Thank you.’ He held out a hand and she shook it.

      ‘D’you think you’ll stay long?’ she asked. ‘In England, I mean.’

      ‘I should think so,’ he replied. ‘Don’t you read the paper? This is our home now.’

      ‘Then welcome home,’ she said.

       13th March 1950

       Dear Aggie,

       I do hope all is well? I just got your letter and I have to say you’ve got me worried about you, darling sister.

       If you want my advice, and your letter implied that you did, I think it’s time to let Evie stand on her own two feet. She’s eighteen after all. We weren’t still living at home at her age, were we? And she won’t have it half as bad as you did! She’s got you and that young friend of hers – Delilah or whatever. That boy next door, when’s he going to come good and get down on one knee? You should have a word with him, like Ginny Leyton’s dad did to her young chap years ago. He was down that aisle faster than a whippet round the track at Wimbledon! Of course, nobody would be foolish enough to mess with old Leyton but I reckon you could give him a run for his money.

       Besides Evie and all that, how are you? Is everything all right? We shouldn’t leave it so long between visits, you and me. I did love seeing you so last year, both of you, and it does get a bit lonely out here on my own. Who’d have thought I, city girl through and through, would end up living alone at the bottom edge of a Devonshire village? You should come down this summer, stay as long as you want, there’s plenty of room. Don Waters was asking after you when I saw him last. You remember him? Bought you a half a shandy that night we went to the pub?

       Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you soon.

       Gertie xx

4

      Evie had left the kitchen door open so that she could feel the draught if her mother returned earlier than expected. Ma had run out to deliver a dress that she’d taken up for a woman over in Stockwell, so she wouldn’t be long. It wasn’t that Ma was against Lawrie as such; he was allowed to accompany Evie to the Astoria, and they were allowed to go out for a Sunday afternoon stroll in the park, but she’d never allow this, the pair of them huddled so close together that an ant would have struggled to find a path between their bodies.

      Lawrie leaned on Evie’s shoulder, his head lolling against hers more out of exhaustion than any amorous intention. She’d never seen him like this, quiet and staring into the distance. Nothing she’d said so far seemed adequate and she felt as though she was just repeating the same inanities over and again.

      ‘They can’t honestly believe you had anything to do with it. I mean, they don’t have any evidence. Nothing links you to any baby, let alone that poor child. They’re just desperate. They need to look as if they’ve done something. Taken some action.’

      ‘He didn’t want to let me go,’ Lawrie reminded her. ‘If that other fella hadn’t come in, I reckon I’d still be there, sitting in one of those cells he told me about. It wasn’t his decision, you know. He wasn’t happy about it.’

      Evie lit СКАЧАТЬ