Short and Sweet (3 page)

Her heart sank when she found Tom Norris waiting for her outside the Co-op after work. His face lit up at the sight of her and two of her workmates made comments about ‘young love’.

Emily hesitated. She could hardly walk past him when it was clear he’d come there specially to meet her, but she hated him to see her with a big ugly bruise on her face. In the end she took a deep breath and moved forward. ‘Hello!’

Joan and Connie – both married women – walked on, smiling broadly, which left Emily and Tom standing there together looking like a couple.

‘I’ll walk home with you,’ he said, without so much as a by-your-leave.

‘I can get home my own way, thank you very much.’ No young man had ever met her after work. The other women would tease her about this for weeks and the whole town would consider her to be going out with Tom. She could feel herself blushing. What must that look like with the bruise?

He ignored her unenthusiastic response, fell into place beside her and said, ‘Who hit you?’

‘Mind your own business!’ She walked on more quickly.

‘Tell me who did it!’

‘What’s it got to do with you?’

‘I’m going to thump him, that’s what.’

She stopped dead in her tracks. ‘Why would you do that?’

He looked sideways at her and she could see anger sparkling in his eyes. ‘Because it’s not right, hitting girls. Men who hit girls should be taken out and shot, like the mongrels they are.’

She stared at him in amazement. ‘But you hardly know me. Why should it bother you whether someone hits me or not?’

He turned bright red, swallowed hard and began walking again, hands thrust deep into his pockets. ‘I don’t like bullies.’

Emily looked sideways at him. He smelled strongly of soap and had a clean shirt on, so he must have gone home from work to wash and change before meeting her. She could feel herself softening towards him. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but he looked strong and healthy. He seemed honest, too, and gentle, in spite of the scowl presently decorating his face.

She patted his arm. ‘Look, Tom, it’s kind of you to worry about me, but there’s no need, really. He won’t do it again. Megs saw to that.’

‘So it
was
your dad!’ Tom digested this for the length of a street. ‘What did he hit you for?’

‘I cheeked him. I’m fed up of doing all the housework for him an’ Megs. It isn’t fair.’

‘He still shouldn’t have hit you. And why do
you
have to do all the housework? Your stepmother should be doing some of it, surely?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but shook his head and repeated, ‘And anyway, men shouldn’t thump women like that!’

She shook her head in exasperation. Once again, Tom Norris was proving more stubborn than she’d expected. ‘Look, it’s only happened this once and he said he was sorry, so it doesn’t matter. Right?’

‘It does matter to me.’

‘Well, I’m getting away from home next April. I’ve been saving up – I’ll go the minute I’ve enough money – so just leave things alone.’

Tom stopped walking so she had to stop, too. When he reached out towards her bruised face, the gentle butterfly touch of his fingertips made her feel funny inside. They started walking again, but neither spoke. She was sure people were peeping out of windows at them, sure word would be all round town by the next day that she was going steady with Tom Norris.

She sighed with relief as they reached her gate. ‘This is where I live. I have to go in and get Dad’s tea.’

‘Will you be all right?’

‘Yes, of course.’

He swallowed hard and said in a rush, ‘Would you come to the pictures with me on Saturday night?’

‘Pictures?’ She was going to say no, but he was looking so pink and agonized that somehow she couldn’t bear to hurt him.

‘I might. I’d have to bring my friend, Vera. We always go out together on Saturdays.’ Maybe that would stop people getting ideas about her and Tom being a couple.

‘Is Vera the girl you were with at the dance?’

‘Yes. She’s my best friend.’

‘All right, then. She can come too. But I’m not paying for her. Only for you.’

Emily jerked back to the present. ‘We can pay for ourselves, thank you very much!’

‘Not if you come out with me, you can’t!’ He thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets and scowled at her. ‘If I take you out, I’m the one who’s paying.’

‘It doesn’t matter who pays.’

‘It matters to me. I like to do things properly.’

His face was all scrunched up, he was frowning so hard. She suppressed a sudden urge to giggle. He was such a serious fellow. But nice. ‘Oh, very well!’ She’d go halves with Vera afterwards on the ticket.

Her dad hadn’t come home yet, thank goodness. She changed into an old skirt to keep her work one nice and got on with the housework.

That Tom Norris! What had got into him? She’d have to ask Vera to tell people she wasn’t going steady with him.

But would they believe that after seeing her at the pictures with him?

The sooner she got away from here the better.

Beeniup, being the main town of the district, had a proper cinema, not just film showings in the church hall. The programme at the Odeon ran from Tuesdays to Saturdays, with a new film each week, although occasionally a film was brought back a second time – ‘by popular demand’ it always said in the newspaper. Sometimes plays were put on there, too, by the amateur theatrical group or the school.

Jim Hodson had built the rough little cinema himself on a bit of spare land his family had owned for years and he was there every session, taking the money and rubbing his hands together with pleasure over the clinking coins. His wife ran the refreshment kiosk and his daughter carried round a tray of ice creams in the interval. They were fond of money, the Hodsons.

The young of Beeniup and districts patronized the cinema regularly, whatever the film showing, because there wasn’t even a café to sit around in. The only café did meals – mostly roast of the day and two veg – and closed at seven thirty sharp in the evening, and that was that. During the hot summer months, the Memorial Gardens were often full of young folk taking the air and from there they could go and walk along by the creek, where Rotary had put in a nature trail. The creek was reduced to a mere trickle during the hot, dry summer weather but it never stopped flowing, at least.

On the Saturday night Tom escorted Emily into the cinema with a proprietorial air and Vera followed. Bill met them in the foyer, pairing off with Vera straight away.

Tom bought Emily a box of chocolates, which left her speechless. No one had ever bought her a box of chocolates before and it felt – nice. But she couldn’t help being aware that they were once again the focus of considerable interest, so she kept her distance from Tom, not giving him a chance even to hold her hand.

During the interval between the shorts and the feature film, Vera stayed inside the cinema, talking and laughing with Bill. So Emily found herself walking outside alone with Tom, who claimed he needed to stretch his legs.

‘What’s wrong with Stan?’ she demanded. ‘He kept twisting round to stare at us while the shorts were on and now he’s followed us outside, and he’s
still
staring.’

‘I don’t know.’

Tom’s face was flaming again. There was something fishy going on here, Emily decided. Perhaps the other lads had dared him to invite her out. He didn’t seem the sort to take the initiative without a push. ‘Just why did you invite me out tonight, Tom?’

He had to swallow several times before he managed to say hoarsely, ‘Because I wanted to.’

‘Why? You hardly know me.’

His face was lit up like a packet of Redhead matches. ‘Because you – you’re pretty.’

She giggled suddenly. He looked so embarrassed, poor thing. He grinned back and the tension eased.

‘Sorry.’ She patted his hand. ‘I shouldn’t tease you.’

He beamed at her again.

Vera was right, she decided. He did have a nice smile.

‘You can tease me any time you like, Emily,’ he managed after much swallowing and wriggling.

Honestly, what could you do with a fellow like him? It’d be like treading on a kitten if you spoke sharply to him.

When they went back inside after the interval, Vera and Bill were cuddled up together, his arm round her shoulders, her head resting against him.

As the film began Tom fidgeted so much that in the end Emily dug him in the ribs and hissed, ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Er – this seat’s a bit narrow. Me arm keeps goin’ to sleep.’

She grinned in the darkness. Who did he think he was kidding? Why didn’t he just put his arm round her like the other lads did? She wouldn’t mind that, not with him.

He cleared his throat and opened his mouth, then shut it again and continued to fidget.

She couldn’t stand it any longer. ‘Oh, put your arm round my shoulders, Tom Norris. You know that’s what you’re after. But no monkey business!’

His arm crept around her, though he had some trouble deciding what to do with his hand. She nearly giggled aloud as it twitched to and fro, before settling chastely on her shoulder. But it would have upset him if she’d laughed and she didn’t want to do that. He was a nice bloke, Tom Norris. Much nicer than the other lads.

As the film continued, she eyed him sideways. There was no mistaking the happy expression on his face. When he saw her looking at him, he beamed at her. He didn’t try anything on, either. Ah, he was just an old softie, this one. She relaxed against him, feeling safe and happy for once.

Afterwards, they all four walked home together. Vera and Bill stopped outside her house, said goodbye and before the others could move off, were clinging to one another in a passionate goodnight kiss. Tom averted his eyes and continued walking along the street with Emily. At her gate, however, he pulled her into his arms before she’d realized what he was doing and gave her a kiss.

And she found herself kissing him back, liking the gentleness of his lips, the way his hand caressed her hair.

As they drew apart she turned and gasped. Oh no! Her father was sitting on the front veranda! And he’d seen them! ‘I have to go in!’ she gabbled at Tom, fumbling with the gate catch. ‘Thanks for taking me out. You’d better go now.’

‘Will you let me walk you home after work on Monday?’

‘Just go, will you!’

He leaned against the gate post. ‘I’ll have to have a rest first. It’s a long walk back for a disappointed man.’ He folded his arms with the air of one prepared to wait until the last trump.

She could see her father scowling at them. ‘Oh, very well! Meet me after work, then.’ She hurried through the gate.

Her father stood up as she climbed the veranda steps. ‘I thought you were going out with Vera!’

‘I did!’

‘Well, who was that, then?’

‘Who was what?’

‘None of your cheek. Who was that fellow you were with, the fellow who was kissing you?’

She could smell the beer on his breath, see him swaying from side to side. She hated it when he got drunk. She wondered where Megs was. Her stepmother was usually back from work by now. For the first time, Emily wished Megs was there to distract him.

‘Well?’ roared Arthur. ‘Who the hell is he?’

‘His name’s Tom. I met him at the church social.’

‘You’re too young to be walking out with boys. And don’t think I didn’t see him kissing you.’

‘Too young! I’m nearly eighteen! Mum was only eighteen when she married you! You didn’t think
she
was too young when you met her in England!’

Her father waggled one finger at her, so close to her face she thought he was going to hit her again. ‘Don’t answer me back, young lady! No respect nowadays, that’s what’s wrong wi’ the world!’

From nowhere, it seemed, Tom materialized. He pushed himself between Emily and her father. ‘You leave her alone, you bully!’

‘What the hell  . . .?’ It took a minute for what had happened to sink into Arthur Baker’s beer-clouded brain, then he began to sputter with rage. ‘Who do you think you are, you young tyke? Gerroff my veranda before I push you off!’

Emily tugged at Tom’s arm. ‘Come away! He wasn’t going to hit me, honest.’ But Tom only unclasped her fingers and turned back to face her father. He had that stubborn look on his face again and her heart sank when she saw it.

‘Grown men shouldn’t thump young girls,’ Tom said slowly and distinctly. ‘It’s not right.’

Arthur gaped at him. ‘It was just the once and she bloody well deserved it, the impudent young madam.’

‘Well, if you hit her while I’m around, I’ll make you regret it.’ Tom squared up to Arthur, fists clenched, jaw jutting out.

The flyscreen door crashed back on its hinges, making everyone jump, and Megs stormed out on to the veranda, all thirteen stones of her. She was wrapped in that dreadful flowery dressing gown, her feet were clacking loudly in high-heeled fluffy pink mules and she had curlers in her hair.

Emily closed her eyes and prayed fervently for lightning to strike her dead on the spot.

Megs shoved Arthur and Tom apart. ‘What’s the hell’s going on here? Can’t a lady have a bit of peace in her own home? An’ who the hell are
you
?’

‘This is Tom Norris,’ said Emily hurriedly. ‘He walked home from the cinema with me and Vera.’

Tom let his fists drop and nodded politely, holding his hand out. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Baker.’

You had to give it to him, thought Emily. He had excellent manners, much better than Bill or that dope Stan. Tom was right: they were only boys while he was a man.

Megs shook Tom’s hand and studied him carefully. ‘Pleased to meet you, too, Mr Norris.’

‘Now, look here—’ Arthur began. But the beer had got to his legs and he staggered suddenly backwards, sitting down with a thump on the old veranda couch, burping loudly and looking surprised.

‘No, you look here,’ said Tom, hands on hips, scowling down at him. ‘I’m not having you hitting Emily again, not ever. You hear me?’

Megs looked from one to the other, then nodded her head slowly as her mouth formed an ‘Oh’ of comprehension. She winked at her stepdaughter. ‘Is that what this is about? Nice of you to care, I’m sure, Mr Norris.’