He had started talking to Connie before Christmas and, after the holiday was over and he had said goodbye to Ruby and the kids once again, Jimmy decided it was time to try his luck. Her response to his suggestion that they go for a drink one evening surprised him.
‘Okay,’ she said without any hesitation. ‘It’ll make a change.’ Jimmy walked out of the workroom whistling to himself, and Connie smiled at Jennie across the work bench. ‘Well it will make a change, won’t it?’ she said.
Jennie raised her hands and grinned. ‘I never said anyfing. Jus’ be careful, yer know ’e’s married.’
‘Yeah I know,’ Connie replied quickly. ‘I’m goin’ fer a drink wiv ’im, that’s all.’
Jennie saw the look in her friend’s eyes and she turned her attention to the leather strips she was stamping.
The January weather was particularly cold and the sky was heavy with gathering snow clouds. Inside the riverside pub the coke fire was banked high and the light from the flickering flames played on the low oak beams and grimy plastered ceiling. The landlord leaned on the bar counter, his chin resting on his cupped hand, his sleepy eyes struggling to stay focused on the old man facing him. They were discussing war, and the differences between trench warfare and tank battles. The old man was doing most of the talking and the landlord was striving to stay awake. The only other people in the bar were the young couple sitting near the warm fire, and they were beginning to feel the effects of the drink they had consumed that evening.
Jimmy was twirling his half-empty glass on the table. ‘Do yer fink about meetin’ somebody in the future an’ gettin’ married?’ he asked her. ‘I mean, yer young. In time yer might see fings differently.’
Connie shrugged. The whisky had started to take the coldness away and she felt strangely at ease. ‘I dunno. I try not ter look too far inter the future. I ’ad a wonderful fella an’ ’e’s gone. No one could take ’is place.’
Jimmy looked into her icy blue eyes. ‘I miss me wife an’ kids,’ he said without taking his eyes from her. ‘Loneliness is a terrible fing, Con. We both know that.’
She returned his stare. He was attractive in a weak sort of way, she thought. He was somehow childlike and open, and his suggestive look did not anger her. She felt he was playing his hand without deceit, and she decided to go along with him for a while. ‘Tell me, Jimmy,’ she said, clasping her hands on the table top. ‘Would yer cheat on yer wife?’
Jimmy was taken aback by the question. ‘Yer mean would I make love wiv somebody else?’
‘That’s what I mean,’ Connie said, a ghost of a smile touching her pale face.
‘It’s a difficult question. Ruby’s away in the country an’ I’m’ere alone. I s’pose it could ’appen, if I met somebody who I was attracted to.’
Connie’s smile broadened. ‘Did yer fink about cheatin’ on Ruby when yer asked me out fer a drink, Jimmy?’
The young man drained his glass and gritted his teeth as the spirit burned his throat. ‘You’re puttin’ me in a corner, Con. I’d better get us anuvver drink.’
She watched him walk unsteadily to the counter and saw the landlord straighten up with a thankful look on his face. What had brought her with him to this quiet pub on a freezing cold night? she wondered. Was it just for company, and a chance to get pleasantly merry, or was it really her need for physical warmth? Would lovemaking help to take away the constant ache which tormented her every waking minute? She remembered how angry she had got when Jennie looked knowingly at her at the factory that morning, and she felt a little guilty.
Jimmy had sat down at the table with their drinks and he was looking at her. ‘Yer was askin’ me about what I was finkin’ when I asked yer out. Well I tell yer, Connie, I’ve bin attracted ter yer fer a long time. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t’elp meself. Yer a very pretty woman.’
Connie smiled and watched him as he dropped his eyes and ran his finger around the rim of his glass. ‘Do yer want ter make love ter me?’ she asked him suddenly, shocked at her own forthrightness.
‘Yes, I do,’ he said simply.
She took a sip from her glass and put it down on the table. ‘I don’t want ter get involved emotionally wiv anybody, Jimmy. I couldn’t stand it. I like yer, an’ I could easily go ter bed wiv yer, but yer married an’ I’m not gonna get involved again. I couldn’t.’
He looked at her closely, his eyes unblinking. ‘Listen, Con. I fink the world of Ruby an’ the kids, an’ there’s nufink I wouldn’t do fer ’em, but right this minute I’d give anyfing ter make love ter yer. I’ve gotta be honest. Sometimes a man ’as physical needs, wivout gettin’ serious or anyfing. I’m sorry, Con, but I can’t lie ter yer.’
‘Women ’ave needs, too, Jimmy.’
They left the quiet riverside pub and walked out into the black, cold night. She took his arm and their footsteps sounded loudly on the cobbled street. Connie felt warm inside and strangely elated. He was telling her about when he was a lad, and how he often used to play down at the water’s edge. She could hear the excited lilt in his voice and felt his arm trembling a little. They entered Jamaica Road and soon they were standing outside his house. Jimmy glanced around nervously as he inserted the key and pushed on the front door. They walked into the dark, stale-smelling room and she was in his arms. His urgent kiss pressed down on her waiting lips and his hands groped about her body. The ceiling spun above her head as he eased her down on to the low divan and, as he slipped his trembling hands beneath her dress, she moved to help him. It was unreal, like a dream, and he was mute as his caresses became more intense. She was his secret adventure, his mistress for a night who he could not take to his marriage bed. She knew that it would be too much like betrayal for them to go to the bedroom. Here in the darkness, prone on the divan, the act of love would allow him some vestige of comfort. The sanctity of his marriage would not be profaned. She felt his loving and she closed her eyes. He was tender yet urgent. He was an experienced lover but he was inconsiderate, and it was over before she had become fully aroused. There was no fulfilment and no tenderness, only a sense of relief and thankfulness that she had been able to make peace with herself as a woman again. She held him as he lay exhausted against her body, and she dreamed that maybe sometime in the hazy future she would be able to give herself completely.
He left her a few doors away from the little public house in Salter Street. It was nearing midnight and when she let herself in the side door Connie saw that the kitchen light was on and Jennie was still up. Her small round face was creased in pain and anguish as she sat slumped in an upright chair beside the dying fire.
‘Did yer enjoy yer evenin’ out?’ Jennie said wincing, her hands pressing down on the tops of her thighs.
Connie took off her coat and threw it over the back of a chair, ignoring the question. She searched Jennie’s face as she stood over her. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked. ‘Yer look white as a sheet.’
Jennie screwed up her face and tensed as another sharp spasm attacked the pit of her stomach. ‘I’m in agony, Con. It’s the pills I took. They’re givin’ me ’ell.’
‘What pills? What yer talkin’ about?’
The spasm passed and Jennie sagged in the chair. ‘I’m a week overdue, and I’m always on the dot. Steve took me to a chemist ’e knows an’ we got some pills. They’re murderin’ me. I’m in agony.’
Connie leaned forward in her chair. ‘Yer silly cow. What yer let ’im talk yer inter takin’ pills for?’
The white-faced young woman dabbed at her hot forehead with a creased-up handkerchief. ‘I ’ad ter do somefink. They’d kill me if I was pregnant.’ Another spasm knotted her insides and she got up quickly, holding her stomach and making for the yard. Connie followed her to the back door and stood biting her lip as her friend doubled up in pain.
‘Leave me, Con. I’ll be all right,’ she groaned, running out through the open door.
Connie walked back into the kitchen and slumped down wearily in the armchair. For a while she stared into the white ashes, and then her eyes went to the sideboard. The bottle of whisky was still there as usual and Connie pursed her lips. Just a little one, she decided. It’ll make me sleep. She walked over to the sideboard and as she uncorked the bottle she saw a note. ‘Mr Preedy called to see Connie.’ She poured herself a drink and swallowed it quickly. The name did not mean anything to her. She poured herself some more whisky. The sound of the back yard toilet being flushed made her gulp down the drink, and as she flopped back into the chair Jennie walked in.
Jennie grinned sheepishly and slumped down in the armchair facing Connie. ‘I fink the pills are beginnin’ ter work, Con. I feel sort o’ funny,’ she said.
Connie stood up wearily. ‘Let’s get yer up ter bed. Yer’ll be all right. I’ll stay wiv yer, Jen.’
Jennie waved her friend away. ‘Don’t fuss, Con. I wanna be on me own. Don’t worry, I’ll call yer if I need to.’
‘Yer sure? I don’t like leavin’ yer like that.’
Another spasm made Jennie wince. ‘I’m sure,’ she grated.
Connie put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. ‘Yer’d better get ter bed, Jen. If yer mum sees yer like that she’ll guess somefink’s up.’
‘Yer right. I’ll get upstairs. By the way, there was an ole bloke called in ter see yer. ’E wouldn’t leave a message. ’E said’e’d come back termorrer night. ’E did tell me ’is name but I fergot it. Mum wrote it down somewhere.’
Connie got up and took her friend by the arm. ‘Look, are yer goin’ ter bed? I’ll talk ter yer more in the mornin’. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the fire’s out an’ I’ll see ter the lights.’
Jennie sighed and clutched at her stomach. ‘I’m on me way. Night, Con.’
‘Night, Jen.’
The bad weather was settling in and the German air force had stayed away for another night. The morning had been bitterly cold with frost lying like powdered glass on the cobblestones. Jennie had told her mother she was feeling sick and was going to take the day off. Before Connie left for work her friend managed to give her a reassuring wink and a knowing smile passed between them.
At work it was some time before Jimmy Pope came into the workroom. He approached Connie’s bench hesitantly and smiled at her, his face showing his embarrassment. She smiled briefly in return and carried on the conversation with her workmates. He had broken the ice and he felt better as he piled the leathers on to the work top. He had sat up until the early hours writing a long letter to Ruby. In it he had said how much he missed her and the kids and how much he loved them all. He had expressed his hope that soon, if the raids held off, she and the children might be able to return home. He felt a little better after he had finished the letter and he lay in his bed struggling with his feelings of guilt until sleep finally overtook him.
That evening the Dolphin was quiet. The bitter weather had kept all but the very hardy around their banked-up fires, but Billy Argrieves came in and stood at the counter. The collar of his navy-blue overcoat was pulled up around his ears and his cheeks glowed as he sipped his pint of ale. Connie noticed how nervous he still seemed. His hands shook as he held the glass and his eyes darted about like those of a stalked animal. He finished his drink and ordered a bottle of Guinness to take away, looking around quickly as Connie put the bottle down in front of him.
‘Bloody ’ell,’ one of the customers remarked as Billy left. ‘Did yer see that? Billy Argrieves takin’ ’is ole mum a drink. I don’t believe it.’
Connie was about to say something but Bill French had walked over. He had noticed that the vociferous customer had been sitting in front of the fire for over an hour without buying another drink. At least Billy Argrieves was one up on him, he thought as he leaned over the counter.
‘’Ere, Sharkey. Don’t yer fink it’s about time yer left the lad alone?’ he said. ‘The poor bleeder’s a bundle o’ nerves as it is.’
Sharkey looked at his friend for support. ‘Some people ’ave got short memories. I remember when Billy Argrieves was a bloody aggravator. If yer looked at ’im the wrong way yer was more than likely ter get a black eye. ’E ain’t so cocky now, is ’e?’
The landlord stood up to his full height and frowned. ‘Now listen ’ere, Sharkey. That lad spent more than two months on’is back in the ’ospital, an’ when ’e come ’ome ’e couldn’t even wash ’imself. It took a lot o’ guts fer ’im ter walk in ’ere on ’is own fer the first time. I’m not gonna stand around an’ let the likes o’ you take the piss out of ’im. Now, what I suggest yer do is shut yer trap, get yerself anuvver drink an’ give somebody else a chance to ’ave a look at the fire, ovverwise yer can piss orf out an’ find yerself anuvver pub ter drink in.’
Sharkey got up and walked over to the counter. ‘Who upset you, Bill? Your ole woman bin gettin’ on ter yer, ’as she?’ he said in a familiar tone. ‘’Ere, give us anuvver pint fer Gawd’s sake, an’ ’ave one yerself. It might put yer in a better mood.’
Later a grey-haired old man came into the public bar. He walked up to the counter rubbing his hands together, his face glowing red above his bushy moustache. ‘’Ello, girl,’ he said brightly. ‘Give us a whisky. This bleedin’ weavver’s a perisher.’
Connie placed the drink in front of him and he took a quick sip. ‘I was in ’ere last night but they told me yer was ’avin’ a night off,’ he said wiping his moustache.
‘Are you Mr Preedy?’ she asked, leaning on the counter facing him.
‘’S’right. Yer don’t remember me, do yer?’ he said smiling.
Connie stared at him, a puzzled frown on her face.
‘It mus’ be about eighteen months since I was in ’ere last,’ he went on. ‘It was wiv the darts team from the ’Orse an’ Groom. It was the August before war broke out if I remember rightly. Anyway, I was tellin’ yer ’ow me an’ yer muvver worked tergevver once. Remember now?’
Connie nodded with a sudden smile. ‘Yes, I remember,’ she said with quickening interest.
The old man took another sip from his glass. ‘I told yer I’d pop round if I ’eard anyfink o’ that Norma Cantwell. It ain’t good news I’m afraid.’