Christmas Wishes (33 page)

Joy laughed and capitulated, trying to match her stride to his. ‘All right, all right, I give in; you’re coming to Llandudno come hell or high water, and don’t blame me if you’re bored to tears.’

Chapter Twelve

It was late when the two girls climbed the stairs to their bedroom, but Gillian was still longing to tell her story. Yet where to start? She sat Joy down on her bed and settled beside her, going back in her mind to the moment when she had left her sister, safely tucked away, with the branches of some tree or other – Gillian was no naturalist – hiding most of her from view.

As she began to speak, she was transported back in time, living again the extraordinary experience which she had so longed for her sister to share. In her head she could see it like a cinema show, slowly unwinding before her inner eyes, exactly as it had happened. Haltingly at first, she began to tell her story …

Gillian glanced back at Joy and saw that she was as well hidden as possible, then walked quietly along the pavement until she reached the green-painted door in the wall. She had counted the doors and gates as she went along, and was pretty sure that this was the one attached to the house with Dr Slocombe’s brass plate upon it. For a moment she paused, then decided that since she had no desire to steal from or otherwise desecrate the doctor’s premises, there was really nothing to stop her just opening the door …

She put her hand on the latch, reflecting that she might well find it would not give to her touch. But it opened easily, though it gave the sort of creak that might have drawn attention. This caused Gillian to pause once more and put her head round the door to view the property intently. There were two large ground-floor windows, both covered with crisp white net curtains, and a back door, neatly painted and bearing a small brass knocker. This seemed strange until Gillian remembered hearing that many of the upper floors in Rodney Street were let as flats, sometimes to the person who acted as caretaker; that would be why the back door to the house was so well maintained.

She waited a moment in case the creaking of the door which she had cautiously pulled to behind her had been heard by one of the house’s occupants. Then she stole across the yard, hoping to be able to see at least something as she neared the infuriating nets. She was halfway to the house when, to her horror, she saw the back door open, and a man emerged with what appeared to be a bag of rubbish in his arms. He was speaking over his shoulder to someone she could not see, but his words came to her clearly. ‘I’ll just put the sack out ready for the dustmen tomorrow … My God!’

It was at this point that the man turned his head and stopped short, his mouth dropping open. Realising he had seen her, she gave a wavering smile, trying desperately to think of a good reason both for being on someone else’s property and for lurking amongst the dustbins. She cleared her throat and began to say, of all things: ‘Oh, I believe I’m in the wrong …’

But the man interrupted her, a scowl marring his features. ‘What the devil are you up to, young lady?’ he said harshly. ‘How dare you …’

Gillian began to mumble yet another unlikely explanation as the man dumped the bag he was carrying and reached out as though to grab her. ‘No you don’t!’ he shouted. ‘When I get my hands on you …’

Gillian took one scared look at the fury writ large upon his face and pushed the nearest dustbin towards him with all her might. It caught him across the knees; there was a yell of pain, a tremendous crash as the bin clattered to the cobbles, and then Gillian was away, jerking open the door into the back street and running with all her might towards where she had left her twin.

Her plan, if she had one, had been to grab Joy and make for Rodney Street, where there were people who might get in the pursuer’s way … they would be able to dodge amongst them, being both smaller and slighter than their enemy. But the man, despite being bowled over by the dustbin, was already close on her heels and Gillian, panicking, made no sign as she passed her sister, pounding round the corner at full speed and setting off along the pavement in the direction of the part-built Anglican cathedral. There were side streets to dodge down, jiggers and alleyways which positively invited her to nip into them, but she continued to make for the cathedral. There would be hiding places there where she could tuck herself out of sight, but surely her pursuer would begin to grow tired before then? What, after all, could he do to her? She had stolen nothing, broken or spoiled nothing – the tipping over of the bin had been an accident, she told herself righteously, if untruthfully. In fact, now that they had left Dr Slocombe’s premises behind, there was nothing of which he could accuse her, save of mistaking one courtyard for another.

She reached the cathedral and went to ground behind a large pile of stone blocks. She was breathing hard, her heart hammering, but she thought that she must have outwitted her pursuer. She was peeping hopefully out from behind the sheltering stones when someone grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back into the tiny space into which she had bolted, blocking any hope of escape with his body.

‘Gerrout! Gerroff!’ Gillian squeaked breathlessly. She tried to hit him, to push past him, but though his chest was heaving and his face flushed he held her prisoner apparently effortlessly.

‘I’ll let you go when you tell me what you were doing in our yard,’ he said. ‘Come on; the truth now! If you weren’t up to some mischief then why throw the dustbin at me and run for your life? Only the guilty behave like that; believe me, I should know. I did my National Service in the Royal Air Force as a snowcap – that’s a member of the military police, to you – and the only people who ran away from us were guilty as hell, and knew it.’

Gillian let her shoulders droop, hoping that he would move back a bit, but he stayed just where he was, staring at her with a grim expression. ‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’

‘That’s the oldest line in the book,’ she muttered. She remembered he had spent time in the train with Joy, but her twin had been wearing dark glasses and she doubted whether he could have picked up on the likeness after such a short acquaintance.

He must have dismissed it, for he returned to his original point without waiting for her to say more. ‘What were you doing in our yard?’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was
your
yard, but when you started to bawl at me I was scared and like a fool I ran,’ she said defiantly. ‘For heaven’s sake, what is there to steal in your dustbins, answer me that!

Her captor shrugged. ‘God knows,’ he said. ‘But what’s rubbish to one man may be precious to another. And anyway, I’m asking the questions, young lady! Just what were you after? The truth, please!’

Gillian sighed; this hateful man would have to know the truth. ‘I have a sister who is blind and met a man on a train who told her he was Dr Slocombe,’ she said slowly, choosing her words with great care. ‘He said he had a practice in Rodney Street but I’m afraid she didn’t believe him because he then went on to say that he was a faith healer. So you see—’

The man interrupted. ‘So you came up to take a look. I can well understand that,’ he said, and his tone was less belligerent; he even took a step back and for the first time his frown disappeared and he gave her a reluctant grin. ‘Well, I can assure you that Dr Slocombe is genuine all right. He is also deeply religious and believes in the power of faith. In fact, he’s my father – I’m a doctor too. But why were you so keen to check up on him?’

‘I suppose natural curiosity,’ Gillian said. ‘But what does it matter? You’ve told me that Dr Slocombe really is a doctor and not some sort of confidence trickster, and I’ve told you why I was in your back yard, so if you don’t mind I’ll make my way back to the main road and catch a tram, or I’ll be late for my tea.’

Her captor stepped back and Gillian moved to pass him, but as she did so he caught hold of her upper arms and pulled her towards him. Puzzled, she looked up into the dark face above her own. ‘What on earth …?’ she began, only to be interrupted.

‘I still don’t know exactly what your game is, because I find it difficult to believe your sister could have met my father and not realised he was genuine,’ he said. ‘Still, I accept your word that it was so, and now it’s paying the price time.’ And to Gillian’s astonishment he dragged her against his chest, kissed her hard and long, and then pushed her away from him.

Startled and appalled, Gillian put a hand up to wipe her lips, then turned to flee, scarcely heeding the words he called after her. ‘That’s what you get for trespassing,’ he shouted. ‘And if you trespass a second time, you’ll get more of the same.’

Gillian, scrambling back on to the road, cast a quick glance behind her. He was not following her, but standing where she had left him, rolling a cigarette with finicky care and not so much as looking up from the task in hand. Even as she turned away she saw a mocking smile cross his face; a knowing smile. But Gillian did not intend to linger, and set off once more in the direction of her twin.

‘He
kissed
you!’ Joy’s voice rose. ‘He actually kissed you? What a nasty old man. I hope you smacked his face good and hard.’

Gillian giggled rather self-consciously. ‘No, no, you’ve got quite the wrong idea; this was Dr Slocombe’s
son
, remember. He’s a doctor too, so I agree he’s not young, probably late twenties or early thirties. As for slapping his face, that was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to get away because I’d abandoned you in that back street and was worried that you might get into some sort of trouble.’

‘What did he look like?’ Joy asked curiously, beginning to undress. ‘It’s hard for me to imagine a young man, because somehow just the title “Doctor” conjures up a picture of someone elderly; that’s all I keep seeing whenever I think of that train journey.’

‘Yes, but I told you, I never did see Dr Slocombe, only his son, and I imagine it was the father you met on the train,’ Gillian pointed out. ‘I’m awful sorry, but I never even got a glimpse of him. The son, however, is dark, with a thin face, very black brows which meet across his nose, and dark eyes.’ She giggled again. ‘To tell you the truth, Joy, most of the time he was so furious with me that I hardly liked to look into his face, but I think most girls would consider him good-looking.’

Joy pulled her dress over her head and went across to the alcove where the girls kept their clothes to hang it up, speaking over her shoulder. ‘Well, queen, you certainly did have an adventure! But why on earth did he kiss you? I think it was a great cheek. If you’d screamed …’

Gillian laughed. ‘No one was working on the cathedral, and so far as I can remember there wasn’t a soul on St James Road, so what would have been the use of screaming? There would have been no knight on a white charger to come to my aid. Not that I needed one; he didn’t try to chase me, and when I looked back he was just standing there, laughing.’ She tossed her head. ‘However, should we chance to meet again, I’ll give him a good slap round the chops and tell him it comes from my sister.’

Gillian was already in her nightdress, having visited the bathroom before telling her story, and now she climbed into bed and watched as her sister followed suit. ‘I notice you told young Slocombe I was your sister, not your twin,’ Joy said as she got between the sheets. ‘I’m glad, because he might describe you to his father and I’d rather Dr Slocombe never knew it was me checking up on him through you, so to speak.’ She snuggled down the bed. ‘How frightening to think he might have caught me!’ She chuckled. ‘I bet if he had done, I should have been the one getting a slap round the chops!’

Gillian giggled. ‘Didn’t I hear Edward telling you not to keep putting yourself down?’ she demanded. ‘Young Slocombe seems rather fond of kissing pretty girls, so he would have kissed you just as he kissed me.’

Joy snorted. ‘Don’t want to be kissed by anyone, except you and Dad,’ she said sleepily. ‘I wonder if Dr Slocombe really could help me to regain my sight, though? Perhaps I’ll go and see him one day; or perhaps I won’t.’

‘I wonder what sort of doctor the son is?’ Gillian said idly. ‘Perhaps he’s a specialist of some sort, because his father is, judging by the miles of letters after his name.’ She gave an enormous yawn. ‘Ah well, I dare say we’ll never know because we’re unlikely to meet again.’

But though she made the remark confidently enough, in her heart Gillian felt that Dr Slocombe’s son would make it his business to find her before much more time had passed.

Alex got down from the fire engine and rubbed a dirty hand across a dirtier forehead. It was two a.m., and Blue Watch was on the night shift, which meant they were on duty from six p.m. to nine a.m. the following day. They had been fighting a warehouse fire since ten the previous evening, and now that it was out at last the crews had been able to leave the scene.

‘Awright, boss?’ Chalky fell into step beside him as Alex headed for the washroom. ‘Got any plans? We’re off for the next three days so I thought, the weather being so fine, I’d nip off to my uncle’s farm on the Wirral where I’ve worked before, in me time off.’ He stretched luxuriously. ‘He’s always glad of a hand at harvest time.’

Alex grinned at the younger man. ‘The girls are off to the seaside for the day and I’ve got a date with a young lady,’ he said, and watched his companion’s eyebrows climb towards his hair. ‘No, no, it’s nothing serious – it’s just that Irene, Fred Finnigan’s girl, has got a day off. She can’t go with the twins because the coach is full, so I said I’d take her on a steamer to the Isle of Man; she’s never been there and it would make up for missing Llandudno.’

‘And what does your other girlfriend say to that?’ Chalky asked. ‘Or should I say girlfriends, because Mrs Clarke’s still got that ’orrible pug, hasn’t she?’

‘She has, but I wouldn’t describe her as a girlfriend exactly; I’m nearly forty and she must be six or seven years older than me,’ Alex said. ‘Mind, you couldn’t have a better pal than Ada Clarke. As you know, she works for us from time to time, but she also does a lot extra and won’t take a penny for it.’