Bells of Bournville Green (47 page)

‘Oh, I’m going to miss him so much,’ Edie said. ‘But I suppose I’ll have to let go of him again. The poor boy has had such an awful time – but selfishly, I so much wished he’d settle down and stay here!’

The day of his departure sped closer. Greta was both dreading it and longing for it to be over at the same time. And then one evening she heard a tap at her bedroom door. Somehow knowing it would be him, she went to answer. She opened the door with a closed, cautious expression on her face.

David seemed lost for words for a moment, then managed to say, ‘Look – this is really difficult. The thing is, you probably know, I’ve only got a couple of days left here. I don’t want us to part as strangers when I go. Could we . . . I wondered . . . Might I take you out for a meal?’

Greta was still recovering from the words
you probably know
! Probably know! As if she could think about anything else!

‘Well,’ she said lightly, ‘that’s a nice thought, David. I’m not sure why you’d want to do that though.’

She was sure she saw him blush, but he remained in command.

‘I’ve been in a bit of a state and I don’t think I behaved very well towards you sometimes. But we . . . Well, we go back a long way and we could be friends. Would you like to come – tonight? Or do you have something else to do?’

‘No,’ she said truthfully. Her heart was beating like a drum. Did she trust herself to go out with David and ‘just be friends’? But the idea of going anywhere with him at all was more than she could resist.

‘That’d be nice,’ she said. ‘Thanks, David.’

‘D’you like curry?’ he asked as they set off. ‘There’s a place I know on the Alcester Road which is good, I think.’

‘I think I do,’ Greta said. ‘I haven’t had a lot of it.’

But she agreed that she would like to give it a try, thinking, this would have been what life with David was like, new experiences, learning things from him, the sort of things she longed for and which Trevor had found so baffling. But it was not to be.

The restaurant was dark inside, and rather scruffy. She wasn’t in the mood to take in her surroundings as she was too affected by being with David, but she had the impression of dark walls and little tables, the air full of the scents of spice and a sweet smell which David told her was incense.

‘Have you not seen joss sticks?’ he asked. ‘Sort of tapers – you light them with a match and they burn with a lovely smell?’

No, she had not seen joss sticks. She had had a sheltered life, she thought, shutting herself away while everyone was talking about the ‘Swinging Sixties’.

David helped her order from a bafflingly detailed menu, something with chicken, and rice and vegetables. The waiter was a small man who seemed to be doing his best to remain invisible. Between them on the Fablon-covered table were thick tumblers of water, a brass ashtray and a little plastic flower in a brass pot.

‘You would like
lassi
?’ the waiter asked in a rare moment of obtrusiveness.

‘It’s a drink made of yoghurt,’ David said. How did he know everything? He picked everything up quickly.

They agreed that no, they did not want
lassi
.

And then they were alone, and after the bus ride, the discussion of food, there was nothing else to hide behind.

Greta knew she could not stand a heavy silence falling so she said, ‘So – is everything arranged? Have you got somewhere to live?’

She already knew he had, Edie had told her, but it was somewhere to start.

‘Yes, the hospital will put me up to begin with,’ he said, taking a sip of water. ‘They’ve been ever so helpful. They say Americans are very hospitable and I must say it’s been a good example of that so far. It feels as if they can’t do enough for me.’

‘Oh,’ Greta said, ‘that’s good.’ She couldn’t think what else to say and felt foolish, but David started talking then, about where he was going and what he had to do to complete his training. He talked and talked as if he was afraid to stop, but it was a relief just to let him. She found herself half listening, the other part of her mind drinking in the sight of his face, the sound of him, allowing herself to pretend they had a future together, that she might sit opposite him and hear this beautiful voice for years to come.

The food came, steaming and aromatic, and there was a pause while spoons were arranged and rice and chicken laid on her plate. She liked the smell which came from it and knew she would enjoy the meal.

‘I’d like to go to India,’ David said, once the waiter had gone. ‘Actually these people are from Pakistan, I think.’

Another thing he just seemed to know.

They began eating and she forced herself to say, ‘Have you heard from Gila? Do you know how she is?’

David put his fork down, shaking his head. ‘Not a word. I haven’t contacted her either – she seemed to need to be away from me completely. Whatever happens, if there is ever contact between us, it’s going to take a very long time.’

There was a second then, a silence in which a choice was made about whether the conversation could be allowed to run deep, to touch on feelings about past and present, and both of them pulled back from it. Instead they talked about Edie, about good memories they shared of childhood, of films they had seen and about New York. They finished the meal with warm, sweet tea and walked out into the dark evening to the bus stop with an air of being casual friends. Between them, they carried the weight of things unsaid. Words sat in Greta’s chest like stones which grew heavier and more unbearable as the evening passed.

They sat on the bus side by side and things felt truly awkward then. They could not think of anything more to say and sat staring ahead of them. Greta was very glad of the other people on the bus and the lurching and squeaking of brakes which kept dragging her mind back from any desperate thoughts. She was acutely conscious of David beside her, of his brown jacket, the upper part of his arm pressing against hers. He was here, now, beside her and soon he would be gone for ever, that was all she could think.

When they got off the bus on Oak Tree Lane she was close to tears, after holding back her feelings all evening.

‘Would you like to get the other bus, or walk down?’ David asked.

Greta shrugged, not trusting herself to speak. Then she forced out the words, ‘We might as well walk. It’s not far.’

The silence went on and on as they went down the Bristol Road, as if both of them had lost the will to keep talking brightly and making light conversation. When they were almost home, it had become so unbearable that Greta could stand it no more.

‘Why did you invite me out tonight, David?’

The words burst out of her, and David looked round, startled.

‘I suppose . . . I wanted to make things right. To . . . like I said, to make sure we were friends.’

‘Well, why would you want to be friends?’ Suddenly all her hurt streamed out, raw and angry. ‘What’s the point in being friends with someone who’s not on your level, who you’re never going to see in your brand new life and who you obviously don’t care about anyway?’

He stopped abruptly, saying furiously, ‘What on earth are you talking about? Not on my level? Don’t care about? What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Well, it’s true isn’t it? You’re a doctor and I work in a factory! And you just . . . just . . .’ To her huge annoyance she started to cry and could only speak in sputtering outbursts. ‘You just played with me . . . You don’t realize, do you? . . . Just because I’m not educated like you and I don’t know things . . . It doesn’t mean I don’t feel anything. And now you’re going away after taking my heart away and I can’t bear it because I love you so much . . .’

The last came out in a rush and she put her hands over her face and sobbed, all the pent-up feelings finding release.

‘Oh God,’ she heard David say, and she assumed it was scorn or impatience in his voice, and that lack of sympathy stemmed the flow of her tears. Angrily she wiped her eyes, wondering if she had mascara all down her cheeks just to make things worse. She looked up at him defiantly.

‘That’s it – I’m stupid aren’t I? A silly little factory girl falling for a doctor and thinking she has a chance!’

‘For God’s sake, will you stop it!’ David roared at her so loudly that people turned to look, and he lowered his voice again and took her arm, forcing her to walk. In a moment they reached the Gruschovs’ drive and stepped inside. ‘What’s all this rubbish – factory girl, doctor? It’s nothing to do with that!’ He seemed on the point of exploding himself. ‘Don’t you understand that the reason I’ve got to go away is that I’m afraid of myself? I’m no good to anyone! For God’s sake, you’re a lovely girl. Don’t waste your feelings on me. You’re too good for me, Greta, and I mean that. I may be a doctor and everyone thinks that’s such a good thing and makes you a noble person, but I’m not good or noble. I’m a mess! I just go about doing damage. I’ve just got to get away from here to be able to see clearly. And then, who knows?’

Here he seemed to run out of steam. For a moment he took her by the shoulders and looked down at her with such tenderness that tears sprang into her eyes again. David shook his head. Almost as a groan, he said, ‘God you’re lovely.’

And then he released her and walked determinedly to the front door.

‘I’ll be gone in a few days. Please – live your life. And . . .’ He turned, speaking softly, ‘Look after my mother. You are so important to her.’

He held the door open for her, and she passed him, unable to look at him. Going upstairs she checked that Francesca was asleep, looking down tenderly at her. Suddenly she felt very calm, after her storm of released emotion.

‘Well, that’s that,’ she said softly, feeling herself shut down. She knew she could expect nothing from him now.

Chapter Sixty-Five

And David was gone too.

He left for America while Greta was at work. Of course she knew the precise time Edie would go with him to New Street Station to see him off on the first leg of the journey to London, knew the time of the flight. But she said nothing to him the night before, and got up for work the next morning and left without seeing him. She didn’t trust herself. All she wanted now was for him to be gone, so that she could begin to try and forget him, even though she was living in a house where photographs of him were proudly displayed on the shelves, the piano. She tried not to look at them.

That day at work she tried to be as cheerful and chatty as she could manage, and on the way out Pat said, ‘You’re in good form, aren’t you? That John seems to be doing you good.’

Greta winked at her. ‘Maybe that’s what it is!’ Quickly she switched the conversation away from herself. ‘What about you and Andrew? How’s lover boy?’

‘Oh, he’s all right,’ Pat said matter-of-factly.

‘You don’t sound too swept off your feet!’

‘I’m not the sweeping off your feet type,’ Pat said, pursing her lips. ‘Not any more, anyway.’

Greta stayed in with Edie that night. The arrangements had gone smoothly so far as she knew, Edie said. Greta could see her trying to be brave, despite her tearstained face.

‘He’ll drop me a line when he gets there, he promised,’ she said. ‘Things’ll soon settle down again and we’ll get used to it.’

The next night Greta had promised to go out with John, who was full of excitement because he was about to buy a second-hand car with the help of his Dad.

They went out together to have a coffee and Greta heard an awful lot about the car, but she was content just to let John talk, while she sat and wondered if David had landed yet, whether he had caught his first views of New York. And had he, at any time in the day, thought about her? A lump rose in her throat. This was her life now, she told herself with bitter realism. She would live with Edie and bring up her beloved Francesca, work at Cadbury’s and make do with men who bored her silly.

But as she undressed that night after John had walked her home, still enthusing about his blessed car, she sat on her stool in front of the mirror in her bedroom. In the soft light she saw her round, pretty face, blonde hair which she had let loose in waves. The mirror showed her a young woman of almost twenty-five, soft and pretty-looking, but who regarded her with wide, sad eyes. She knew she had loved David, loved him with a passion she had never felt for another man, a love which had opened her and made her raw and vulnerable. In the face of his rejection she had closed up – that was how it felt – unwilling ever to be hurt again.

He’s the only one I’m ever going to feel like that about, she thought. So what am I playing about at with John? What’s the point?

The next time she saw John she told him she wanted to call it off.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, in the face of his hurt reaction. ‘You’re a good bloke, John, but I’m just not your type. And I’m still recovering from . . . Well, from someone else. So it’s not fair on you.’

John protested, but she was firm about it, and eventually he had to accept her wishes. She went home with a sense of relief, feeling free.

The spring was well advanced now, the days warm. Gradually Edie and Greta fell into a routine, looking after Peter and Francesca between them. People were kind, work was fun and Greta started to join in with things again. Edie went back to work at Cadbury’s as well and waited to hear from David. He had arrived, and begun work at the hospital. People had been good to him and he was working very hard and finding Manhattan very stimulating. Of his feelings and personal life, he said nothing. Nor did he write very often. It was as if he needed to cut his ties and strike out alone.

Greta tried to keep on the right side of her mother and took Francesca round to see her almost every weekend. Ruby was pleased to see Francesca in short doses, and showered her with sweets and other treats. She had bought her a Cindy doll with a tiny wasp waist and a selection of outfits to squeeze her slim, rubbery limbs into, and Francesca was delighted and spent hours dressing and undressing her.

As often as not, when Greta went round, she found Ruby’s boyfriend, Mac MacPherson, there as well. She never expected much of her Mom’s men, but over the weeks, seeing more of Mac, she had come to respect and like him. She found him a solid, kind character, who had lost his first wife in a brutal way when she died of a brain haemorrhage. He was also obviously very fond of Ruby and was good with Francesca.