A Distant Dream (14 page)

‘We are not staying here in this pub all night,’ said George firmly.

‘Why not, Georgie boy?’ Betty said, giggling. ‘I like it here.’

‘But you’re not the only one involved in this celebration, are you?’ he reminded her. ‘May and I have had a birthday as well, and we don’t want to sit in a pub all night. There’ll be time enough for that when we’re old.’

‘What do you wanna do, then?’ asked Betty.

‘I think we’ll be too late for a show now,’ suggested May. ‘Probably the pictures too. Maybe we could go for something to eat. A special meal would be nice. We could go to the Corner House.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed George.

‘Later on,’ drawled Betty loudly. ‘It’s good ’ere. It’ll be even better when I’ve had another drink.’

‘You are not having another,’ George stated categorically.

‘Who says?’

‘I do, and as I’m paying that rather settles it, I reckon,’ he told her.

‘Why, you bloody skinflint,’ she shouted.

‘Keep your voice down,’ he said, glancing around. ‘You’re making a fool of yourself.’

‘I never get a night out, and the first time I do you try and spoil it for me.’

‘It isn’t spoilt,’ said May persuasively. ‘It will be fun to have a meal together, the three of us.’

‘Except that it isn’t the three of us, is it?’ said Betty in a belligerent manner. ‘It’s you two and me. That’s how it’s always been and how it still is, even though I’m married to George. I’m always the outsider, the odd one out.’

May and George looked at each other.

‘That just isn’t true,’ said May.

‘Of course it isn’t,’ added George firmly. ‘The sooner you sober up the better. Drink apparently doesn’t suit you, so you’d best leave it alone in future.’

‘If anyone is the odd one out tonight it’s me,’ stated May.

‘That’s how it ought to be, but it never is,’ said Betty drunkenly. ‘I don’t get a look-in with him when you’re around.’

‘What do I do that brings you to that conclusion?’ asked May. She realised that her friend was under the influence, but she’d heard that people spoke the truth when they were drunk.

‘You don’t have to actually do anything,’ said Betty. ‘You just have to be there to cast a shadow over me.’

May was very hurt. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘If that’s the case then I should stay away from you both.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ said George. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying.’

‘I do, mate,’ said Betty blearily.

‘Well anyway, we don’t want to stay here all night,’ said May, feeling awkward. ‘Shall we be on our way?’

‘Yeah, I think they’ll be glad to see us go, the way you’ve been carrying on, Betty,’ said George. ‘Come on, girls, let’s get out of here.’

Just as they were about to leave, Betty turned pale. ‘Ooh, I don’t feel well. I want to be sick.’

May grabbed her arm and guided her forcefully towards the ladies’ room, managing to get her to the lavatory before she was violently sick.

‘Ooh,’ wailed Betty, sitting on the lid of the toilet. ‘I feel so ill. I wanna go to bed.’

‘We’ve a long way to go before you can do that,’ said May, wondering how they were going to get her home.

‘I want some water,’ Betty said.

Having ascertained that she didn’t want to be sick again, May dragged her to her feet and helped her back into the bar.

‘God knows how we’re going to get her home,’ she said to George. ‘She can barely stand up, let alone walk to the station.’

‘We’ll have to get a taxi,’ he said.

‘Blimey, George, that will cost a fortune,’ May pointed out.

‘I’ll use the money I was going to spend on a meal,’ he said. ‘That’s the answer.’

‘I’ll pay my share,’ she offered.

‘No you won’t,’ he said. ‘It isn’t your fault we can’t go home on the train.’

‘Yours neither.’

‘My wife, my responsibility,’ he said. ‘Don’t even think of getting your purse out.’

Between them they managed to get Betty out into the street so that they could flag down a taxi. What a horribly disappointing evening it had been, thought May, and she still couldn’t get used to the idea of George and Betty being a married couple.

When George and Betty got home, having dropped May off on the way, they found Dot in tears and little Joe sitting on the floor grizzling and looking very sorry for himself.

‘Don’t you ever leave me on my own with that child again,’ Dot sobbed. ‘It’s been an absolute nightmare. I just couldn’t settle him. Sheila went out after promising to stay in and help me.’

‘Oh Mum,’ said George, dismayed. ‘Surely you can look after a one-year-old child. You’ve had two of your own.’

‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘He just doesn’t respond to me at all. If I pick him up, he screams.’

‘Babies sense fear, so they say, Mum,’ he said. ‘Maybe that has something to do with it.’

George sat Betty in an armchair and she promptly went to sleep. He picked up his son, who immediately stopped crying. ‘Come on, little man,’ he said gently. ‘Let’s get you back into your cot and settled, then I’ll see about getting your mother to bed.’

‘And you’ll need to change his nappy,’ said his mother crossly. ‘He screamed blue murder when I tried to do it, so I just had to give up trying.’

‘Oh well, happy birthday, George,’ he said to himself as he carried his pungent son up the stairs. ‘So much for a birthday celebration.’

The next morning May received a visit from an ashen-faced Betty, who was bug eyed and complaining of a shocking headache.

‘George said I have to come round to apologise for ruining our night out last night.’

‘It was a shame but it’s over and done with now.’

‘He also tells me that I said some mean things to you,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about that too.’

‘Forget it,’ said May.

‘Blimey, I feel as though I’ve been hit by a bus,’ said Betty. ‘I don’t know what happened.’

‘You wouldn’t lay off the booze, that’s what happened,’ May reminded her.

‘I suppose so,’ she agreed. ‘It made me feel so nice at first I couldn’t get enough of it. I don’t feel at all nice now, though, so that’ll teach me.’

‘Mm.’

‘Anyway, the three of us will have to have a night out again some other time and I’ll promise not to experiment with the gin,’ suggested Betty.

May muttered something vague. She knew in her heart that the three of them together didn’t work any more. She also believed that Betty had meant every word last night when she’d said that May overshadowed her with George. It was something that just seemed to happen unintentionally that neither May nor George could do anything about.

Because she was seeing him out of context, May didn’t instantly recognise the colourful character who swept into the Pavilion a few days later wearing a blazer with a bright blue bow tie and fashionable baggy trousers. His blond hair was worn slightly longer than most men of May’s acquaintance, and flopped on to his brow.

‘Doug from Ashburn,’ she said when recognition finally dawned. ‘How lovely to see you again. What brings you to this neck of the woods?’

‘I’m looking for you, as it happens,’ he replied casually. ‘And it wasn’t difficult to track you down, as you told me about your area and the Green Street Pavilion during the chat we had at that Christmas party at Ashburn.’

‘Ooh, that seems a long time ago. Fancy you remembering.’ She paused, looking at him. ‘Is there any particular reason why you want to see me?’ she enquired, hoping he wasn’t the bearer of bad news about his health.

‘No, not really. I was thinking about Ashburn and remembered that you didn’t live too far from me. I thought you would have left by now. It’s a bit cheeky of me to turn up out of the blue, but I thought you could soon send me packing if I was a nuisance, so I hopped on a bus and here I am,’ he explained. ‘I just wondered how you were getting on.’

‘I’m doing fine now,’ she told him, ‘but it hasn’t been all plain sailing.’

Overhearing their conversation, Flo suggested that they continue their chat in the café and said she would bring some tea over. May introduced the two of them and led Doug out on to the veranda, where the geraniums were in full colour, a glorious mixture of red, orange and pink.

As it was quite a while since May had last seen Doug, they had a lot of catching up to do. She told him about the success of her operation, and her job-hunting and the prejudice she’d encountered with the latter; he said he’d experienced similar discrimination when he tried to join the ARP.

‘So are you managing to sell enough paintings to earn a living these days?’ she enquired in a friendly manner.

‘Just about,’ he told her. ‘I have an occasional exhibition and get shopkeepers to have my paintings on display on a commission-only basis. Just when I think I’m about to be on my uppers, I sell enough work to keep me going for a while longer. It isn’t the most secure of professions but I don’t do too badly.’

He asked her if she’d kept in touch with anyone else that he knew from Ashburn.

‘Yes, Connie and I write to each other,’ she told him. ‘She’s also left Ashburn and we intend to get round to meeting up at some point, which will be nice. She’s managed to get a job in a sewing factory, apparently. She wormed her way in by not telling them about her medical history.’

‘I don’t blame her for keeping it dark, but she shouldn’t have to hide it.’

‘I quite agree.’

They had been talking for a while and May noticed that her mother was very busy at the counter, so she felt obliged to go back to work.

‘Perhaps we could continue our chat another time as you can’t stop now,’ suggested Doug.

‘That’s a good idea,’ she agreed. ‘I’d like that.’

‘When would it be convenient for me to come back?’ he asked.

‘We could meet in central London to save you coming all the way over here,’ she suggested quickly. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind and wanted to avoid a whole lot of parental speculation at this stage.

‘Whichever is best for you. I don’t mind how we work it,’ he told her. ‘But I would like to see you again.’

They made arrangements to meet at Marble Ach the following Sunday afternoon, then Doug bade Flo a polite farewell and sauntered off down the street, leaving May feeling rather excited. The age gap seemed to have disappeared now that she was grown up. She wasn’t sure if their meeting was a date as such, or just a friendly get-together of two fellow sufferers, but it should be fun whatever the purpose. She’d never had a proper boyfriend; maybe Doug would change that.

Predictably there was an inquisition that evening over their meal.

‘So who is this bloke who came to see you, May?’ asked her father. ‘Your mother tells me he’s a bit flash.’

‘I know him from Ashburn,’ she replied. ‘And he isn’t flash, not really. He just looks a bit different to the men round here, that’s all, probably because he’s an artist.’

‘An artist. Oh my Gawd,’ exclaimed her father. ‘What does that mean exactly?’

‘He paints.’

‘Pictures?’

‘I suppose they are pictures but I’ve never seen any of his work,’ she said. ‘Some artists do abstract stuff, I think. I’ve no idea what he specialises in.’

‘And does he make a living at it?’

‘It varies apparently, but he does all right.’

‘It varies: well that isn’t very promising, is it?’ said Dick. ‘That won’t put food on the table.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Dad,’ she began in a strong tone of admonition. ‘I’m meeting him for a chat. Not to marry him.’

‘Meeting him?’ he queried, sounding outraged. ‘Why isn’t he coming to call for you like any decent man would?’

‘Because I don’t want him to be cross-questioned by you,’ she explained. ‘I’m a big girl now. Quite old enough to go out without being collected.’

‘When I was courting your mother I always used to go and call for her,’ he insisted. ‘It’s only good manners.’

‘But he isn’t courting me,’ May pointed out.

‘Sounds to me as though he’d like to be.’

‘I hardly know the man,’ she said.

‘He’s a lot older than her too,’ her mother piped up.

‘Seven years, that’s all,’ May informed them.

‘This is getting worse by the minute,’ exclaimed Dick. ‘Why on earth can’t you go out with a boy of your own age?’

Because the only one of those I want to be with is taken, she thought, but said, ‘I probably will at some point, but on Sunday I’m meeting up with Doug.’

‘You are a young girl who has been very ill,’ her father lectured. ‘I don’t want you traipsing about on your own.’

‘Doug has been very ill too,’ she said.

‘All the more reason to steer clear,’ he retorted.

That remark infuriated May. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say and just the sort of attitude people like Doug and me are fighting against,’ she said sharply.

‘Look, I’m your father,’ began Dick in a reasoning manner. ‘It’s only natural I want you to have someone who can look after you. This man is ill so obviously can’t do the job properly.’

‘
Was
ill, Dad,’ she emphasised. ‘In the past tense, like me. He’s fine now.’

‘If you say so.’ He didn’t seem convinced.

‘Look, I appreciate your concern, but I want to go on Sunday and I won’t come to any harm,’ his daughter assured him. ‘If I go out with him again after that, I’ll make sure he comes to call for me so that you can give him the once-over. But this first time I’d rather meet him in London.’

‘Where does he live?’

‘Richmond.’

‘Ooh, posh,’ said Dick.

‘On the river in a houseboat,’ she added.

‘Cor blimey,’ her father blurted out. ‘What sort of a way is that to live?’

‘I think a boat is quite respectable, dear,’ put in her mother mildly. ‘It isn’t as if it’s a caravan.’

‘As near as,’ he grunted.

‘I’ve always thought houseboats were supposed to be quite posh,’ May mentioned.

‘They are when they are moored at the end of the garden of a big house to go off on at weekends, not when you are living on one all the time,’ her father said.

‘Well I still think it’s exciting,’ said May. ‘I’d love to see it.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ he ordered, holding his head in despair. ‘Who knows what might happen if he takes you there?’