Christmas Wishes (45 page)

Gillian had seen that Mrs Dodman, as usual, had hit the nail on the head, but had clung stubbornly to the belief that she would have come to her senses before things had got out of hand.

‘Liverpool Lime Street!’

The porter’s voice had Gillian hopping up and dragging her bag from the rack. It was Saturday, so Joy would not be working, but Gillian had not mentioned which train she would be catching. She had had to make several changes, and had not wanted either her twin or Alex to waste a perfectly good day hanging about the station, so she climbed down without looking round and headed for the street.

‘Gillian? Over here!’

Gillian jumped and looked wildly about her, so keen to see her twin that she missed her completely and was accordingly nearly bowled over by Joy’s impetuous hug. ‘Darling, darling twin! Oh, I was sure you’d arrive around now … Edward brought me down to the station but he pointed you out – your general direction, that is – and then went off. Dear Edward, he’s so tactful!’

‘And boring,’ Gillian said before she could stop herself, and could have bitten her tongue out. This was the sort of remark that she had made too often, not consciously meaning to denigrate her twin’s friends yet managing to do so with odd snide comments. She felt Joy withdraw a little, saw her sister’s mouth tighten, and burst into speech. ‘Joy, I’m so sorry; what a dreadful thing to say! You couldn’t have a better friend than Edward; he’s totally reliable and always willing to help in any way he can.’

‘And boring,’ Joy said regretfully. ‘But then I’m pretty boring myself.’ She gave herself a little shake and tucked her hand into Gillian’s arm. ‘Edward’s just a friend, you know; I’m not planning to spend the rest of my life with him or anything like that. Oh, Gillian, it’s so good to have you back! I know you’ve only been gone a couple of weeks, but I’ve not had a single flash of sight in all that time. Odd, isn’t it? But probably it was just because I was anxious about you.’

‘Well, you needn’t be anxious any more,’ Gillian said, laughing. ‘We’re just approaching the end of the tram queue so we might as well join it, because judging by its length there’s one due any minute.’

‘Right,’ Joy said. ‘Dad’s on Watch and Mrs Clarke has gone up to the church hall to help with the Scouts’ jumble sale, so we’ll have the house to ourselves for a bit.’

As they joined the end of the queue, Gillian stood her bag down for a moment and took both her twin’s hands in a warm clasp. ‘D’you know, Joy, as the train got near Liverpool I began to wonder if you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me for inventing that quarrel so that I had a reason for running away. I actually imagined you’d give me the cold shoulder and refuse to speak to me. I should have known better; you’ve always been so generous and loving.’

Gillian had dropped her voice to a whisper but Joy spoke normally. ‘How could you be so daft! Sisters fall out and have rows; even twins can get a cob on from time to time. But we never mean it and never will. So now, Gillian, you can tell me why you ran off. Don’t pretend you just went to visit the Dodmans, because once you’d admitted that the barney was your own invention it’s clear even to boring old me that you must have had some much more interesting reason for bobbying off. And I’ll guess it had something to do with that young doctor—’

‘Hush,’ Gillian hissed, suddenly certain that every person in the queue was listening with great interest to their conversation. ‘You’re right, of course, but we can’t discuss it now. Wait until we’re home. If Auntie Clarke and Dad are still out, as you say, I can tell you exactly what happened to me and you can tell me what everyone here thinks. Did you tell Keith I was all right before he went back to Cambridge?’

Joy nodded. ‘Yes, of course, and he accepted my explanation that we’d had a disagreement and you’d gone flouncing off to Devon without a murmur.’ She grinned. ‘I won’t say Keith’s boring, because it isn’t true, but he’s certainly not the suspicious kind.’

‘I thank God for it,’ Gillian said devoutly. ‘Oh, Joy, I’ve been such a fool … but I won’t say any more until we’re somewhere slightly less public.’

In the event, both girls’ stories were soon told and Joy was triumphant when her sister revealed that Jason was a confidence trickster and not a doctor at all. ‘So he wasn’t even Dr Slocombe’s son, but his chauffeur! He fooled us both, didn’t he?’

Gillian nodded. ‘Only of course you would probably have guessed he wasn’t a doctor if you had been able to see his face when he tried to get pally with you on the train.’

‘But
you
saw his face, though admittedly not on the train, and you never guessed he wasn’t a doctor,’ Joy pointed out. ‘I don’t think that seeing or not seeing, in this instance at least, makes any difference. So it wasn’t his father – I mean Dr Slocombe – on the train either?’

‘No, it was Jason. But I hope it’s taught me a lesson; I’ll never be so perishin’ gullible again,’ Gillian said. They were sitting in the kitchen, munching toast and warming their hands round mugs of tea, for although there was no snow in Liverpool it was very cold. ‘And now let’s put it all behind us. I’ll go back to St Hilda’s – I wrote to tell the head that I was snowed up and would be late back – and you’re already back at Wittard’s, of course. I’m quite looking forward to seeing old Keith, but I suppose I won’t do so until his Easter vac.’ She sighed and stretched. ‘I wrote to him from the farm, but Mrs Dodman thinks I should tell him that I’m too young to be going steady with anyone. After all, when I go to college I’ll meet heaps of young men and I don’t want to feel guilty every time I smile at one of them.’

‘Then you ought to tell Keith to back off a bit,’ Joy observed. ‘If you explain …’

‘I’m sick and tired of explanations,’ Gillian said. ‘He’s not my perishin’ keeper. And now let’s decide exactly how much to tell Dad and Auntie Clarke.’

That night, with all the telling over, Joy lay on her back in her bed, listening to Gillian’s snuffling snores and the familiar sounds floating up both from the street outside and from their kitchen below, where Alex and Auntie Clarke were having a last mug of tea before Auntie Clarke went home.

Gillian’s story had been placidly accepted, though she had had to employ some fairly nifty footwork in order to avoid mentioning the episode in Barnstaple. The twins had decided that the quarrel would have to be a sufficient reason for Gillian’s flight, so had exaggerated the bad feeling between the two of them. Alex had pulled a rueful face – he hated to admit that his daughters were capable of such bitter feuding – but Joy had sensed that Auntie Clarke knew more than she was prepared to admit and hoped that her dear old friend would manage to satisfy Alex that the quarrel, though violent, was now over and forgotten.

As soon as I can, Joy planned drowsily as sleep began to overtake her, I’ll have a word with Auntie Clarke. Dad would be terribly worried and upset to know that Gillian was taken in by that wicked Jason Crawford, but Auntie Clarke’s a woman and understands such things. She’s always been against Gillian tying herself down, as she puts it, before she even goes to university. She’d probably say that the Jason business has taught Gillian a valuable lesson – if she knew about it, that is. Only I suspect she’s twigged that there was more to Gillian’s running away than either of us cared to explain.

Joy turned her head towards the window, pulled back the curtain a little way, and rested the palm of her hand on the pane. The glass was cold, but not frosted, and by leaning forward and pressing her cheek against it she could just hear the gentle sound of falling rain. She smiled to herself. Spring was just round the corner, she and her twin were back together again, and all was right with their world.

Joy slept.

Chapter Seventeen

By the time summer arrived Joy and Gillian had almost forgotten the ‘Jason episode’, as they called it. Gillian was working far more wholeheartedly than ever before in order to gain her Higher School Certificate, whilst Joy was well regarded at Wittard’s. She had made several friends, and Ducky, who had served her six months as tea girl and messenger, had been promoted to the most junior member of the typing pool, which meant that she no longer had to arrive early. The two girls had formed the habit of meeting at the tram stop nearest Joy’s home and travelling to work together.

For all her flighty ways, Ducky was proving to be not only a good friend but also sensible and helpful. She understood Joy’s needs and went out of her way to be around when necessary, though, as Joy told Gillian, she did this as unobtrusively as Edward.

Standing by the tram stop now, waiting for her, Joy thought back to an occasion a few weeks earlier when she and Gillian had taken Mrs Clarke out one weekend. They had gone ostensibly to admire the floods of daffodils and other spring flowers in the park, but really to explain more fully to Mrs Clarke what had happened when Gillian had run away from home. ‘I think it’s only fair, because she’s been as good as a mother to us,’ Joy had said. ‘I suppose you really ought to ’fess up to Dad as well, but I think we’ll let Auntie Clarke decide how much he should know.’

Mrs Clarke had nodded wisely when the story had been told. ‘No point in worrying Alex,’ she had said serenely. ‘Not since it came to nothing. In fact, my dears, the person who should be told is Keith.’ She had turned rather a stern look upon Gillian, the first such look the older twin had received from that good lady. ‘Have you examined your feelings for Keith? You’re eighteen now, love – your mother was married to your father at eighteen, and expecting you. So you’re not too young to decide how you feel.’

‘I’ve told him everything,’ Gillian had said quietly, and Joy had turned quickly away so that her twin should not read her surprise. ‘I explained that the business with Jason was just a sort of super-crush, or pash, or whatever you like to call it. I told him that it had made me realise that it was him I loved.’

They had been in the park café, sipping a welcome coffee, and Joy had turned her head towards where she knew her sister was sitting. ‘You never told
me
Keith knew,’ she had said reproachfully. ‘I thought we told each other everything!’

‘Now that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Know-all,’ Gillian had said rather sharply. ‘I didn’t intend to tell you, Auntie Clarke, but you sort of lulled me into it. And I’m not sorry, that I told, I mean, because you’d have noticed sooner or later that I’ve stopped pushing Keith away when he gets lovey-dovey. He still wants to get engaged, but I don’t want to do that until I’ve got my degree. It’s not that I’m doubtful any longer, because I’m sure Keith is the man for me, but—’

‘I’ve always said you shouldn’t be tied down until you’ve seen a bit more of life,’ Mrs Clarke had interposed. Joy had heard the click as the older woman replaced her cup in her saucer and the rustle as she stood up. ‘I take it I am now in possession of
all
the facts and not just half? Very well then; you promised to take me on the boating lake, so we’d best go down there and hire something large and comfortable.’

Right now, however, Joy heard the clatter of a tram approaching and guessed that the tap-tapping of someone’s shoes as they flew along the pavement would almost certainly be Ducky. Blessed with an easy-going mother and four or five younger brothers and sisters, Ducky was in the habit of helping her parent to get the younger ones ready for school, so was always in a rush.

‘Made it!’ Joy heard Ducky’s breathless voice in her ear, even as her friend’s hand tucked itself confidently into Joy’s own. ‘Gosh, it were a rush this morning! Emmy could only find one sock, Freddie spilt porridge all down his clean shirt and I burnt the first batch of toast to a cinder. Still an’ all, I made it.’ The queue began to shuffle forward and Ducky gave Joy’s hand a pinch. ‘Here’s your pal Edward, very red in the face; looks as though he’s been running. Does he want this tram? I’ve give him a wave, so he’s comin’ to join us … Mornin’, Edward!’

‘Good morning, ladies,’ Edward said breathlessly; clearly Ducky’s guess had been right, Joy thought, as she echoed her friend’s greeting. ‘Joy, are you doing anything in your lunch hour? Only we need to talk.’

‘Ooh, what about? Anything exciting?’ Joy asked hopefully. ‘I won’t ask if you mean to buy me lunch because Auntie Clarke made Cornish pasties last night, so I’ve got one of them, an apple and a couple of ginger snaps.’

Edward laughed. ‘Mine’s corned beef sandwiches and brown sauce and I’ve got an apple an’ all,’ he said. ‘We’ll take ’em down to the Mersey – the tide will be out – and watch the kids mudlarking whilst we eat. I’ll watch, I mean, and tell you if they find anything interesting.’

‘Sounds fun; reckon I’ll come along an’ all,’ Ducky said cheekily.

Edward began to protest as they climbed aboard the tram, but Joy grabbed his shoulder, felt up his neck and plonked a hand across his mouth. ‘She was only joking, you twit,’ she said reprovingly. ‘Today’s Friday, which is her canteen day, isn’t it, Ducky?’

Ducky squeezed between them, strap-hanging as they were, and giggled. ‘’S right, only kiddin’,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘Why’s your face so red, Edward? Ooh, that reminds me, I promised me mam I’d buy half a pound of tomatoes so she can make a salad for tonight’s supper.’

‘Are you trying to say my face is the colour of a tomato …?’ Edward stopped speaking as the tram ground to a halt at the next stop, and the conductor began to push his passengers as hard as he could in order to get a further half-dozen people aboard. ‘You all right, Joy? Keep a good hold of that strap and I’ll keep a good hold of you.’

‘I’m fine, if a trifle squashed,’ Joy assured him as the tram lurched into motion. ‘It’s poor Ducky who gets trampled underfoot ’cos she’s so little …’

‘I am not – little I mean,’ Ducky squeaked. ‘It’s only because your mate Edward here is a great overgrown beanpole that I seem little. Last time I measured meself I were five foot four.’

‘You? Five foot four? Four foot five perhaps,’ Edward said, just as the tram stopped again with a jerk which caused several passengers to crash into one another and complain vociferously.

‘I were in a cattle truck on the Burma railway during the war and I swear this is as bad,’ one passenger shouted. He turned to address the conductor. ‘The only difference is you ain’t a little fiend, like what the perishin’ Japs are.’