Starlight (6 page)

‘About time, too,' Rusty muttered, when she told him. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you really wanted to come out with me at all. If it's so difficult for an evening, why couldn't we have met on a Sunday?'

‘Because there's nowhere open on a Sunday – you know that. And it's no' true that I don't want to see you.'

‘We could've gone for a walk and had tea somewhere. There are places to have tea.'

‘I thought you'd prefer a proper meal. Honestly, Rusty, you are being rather unfair!'

At the sight of Jess's aggrieved expression, Rusty had immediately apologized and said of course he'd be willing to go out whenever she found it convenient, take whatever she was offering.

‘I'm just the humble slave,' he'd told her. ‘Yours to command.'

At which they'd both laughed and promised not to fall out before they'd even had their first meal together.

‘Nice you're going out again,' Addie remarked, when Jess told her at breakfast about her supper date that evening. ‘You've done nothing but work since you started at that picture house.'

‘Who's the fellow?' Marguerite asked, spooning up porridge. ‘Anyone nice?'

‘His name's Rusty MacVail. He's the assistant projectionist – came up from England, started the same time as me.'

‘H'm.' Marguerite's lovely eyes were slightly glazed. ‘Thought you might have had some rich guy chatting you up at the box office.'

‘Rich guys don't usually come to the cinema on their own,' Jess said coldly. ‘And no one's chatted me up so far.'

‘I should hope not,' her mother cried, rattling some more coal into the kitchen range. ‘I worry about you, meeting all those people at the box office. And then you've to come home late.'

‘No' that late. We close up before the end of the picture. Rusty has to stay on, of course, or he said he'd walk me to the station. Not that he needs to.'

‘Sounds keen.' Marguerite commented. ‘Don't rush into anything, though.'

‘Take a leaf out of your book, eh?' Jess asked, smiling. ‘No need to worry. Rusty's sweet, but no' the one for me.'

‘Better let him know, then,' Addie advised. ‘Can cause a lot of trouble, if you just let things go on.'

‘I think he knows already.' Jess rose to clear away the breakfast things. ‘Anyway, I won't be in for tea, Ma. We're going out straight from work.'

‘Make sure you pick somewhere smart for the meal,' Marguerite advised, pausing at the kitchen mirror to smooth her hair. ‘And don't offer to go Dutch. Men don't like it.'

‘Marguerite, I have been out with a man before!' Jess cried irritably. ‘I know you're the expert, but I can sort out my own evening, thanks very much!'

‘Your sister's only trying to be helpful,' Addie said, taking a turn at the mirror to put on her hat. ‘And it's true, you've no' been out for a while. Will you tidy up, then, as you've the morning free?'

‘Don't I always?' Jess sighed, thinking she'd much rather be at work than tidying up. Of course, that day she'd only be doing the afternoon shift, anyway, after which she and Rusty would be making for the cheap cafe she'd chosen for them and she would be offering to pay her share.

As though she'd be willing to take any notice of her sister's advice! ‘Pick somewhere smart – don't offer to go Dutch . . .'

Why, the last thing Jess wanted was Rusty paying out for an expensive restaurant! And as for not going Dutch, Marguerite simply didn't understand that she and Rusty were just good friends. For what man Marguerite knew, would ever have settled for that?

As the time came for Jess and Rusty to leave for their evening out, Sally seemed delighted for them, as though all credit were due to her for spotting Rusty's interest. Why were some women so keen on that sort of matchmaking? Jess wondered. After all, it would never occur to her to talk of Sally's Arnold Adams as though they were about to get engaged at any moment, even though that might be the case. A large, cheerful man of thirty or so, he certainly popped in to see Sally often enough, sitting on a stool at the back of the box office, smoking a cigarette and waiting for a lull in customers so that he and Sally could have a giggle together.

‘Wish we could both have finished early,' Jess told Sally, buttoning up her coat, while Rusty stood champing at the bit, longing to get away. ‘Hate to leave you working.'

‘What nonsense!' Sally cried. ‘It's time you had a nice evening out. You enjoy yourself with Rusty, and don't worry about me. Anyway, Arnold will be round later on. We're going for a drink after I close up.'

‘Jess, can we go?' Rusty groaned. ‘I'm starving.'

‘Just coming.'

Outside the cinema, the October wind hit them, buffeting them across Princes Street, as they held on to their hats and their scarves whirled. Facing them was the Mound – the artificial hill created when the old Nor' Loch was excavated for the New Town – while on the skyline to their right, beyond the silhouette of the Assembly Hall, the great block of the Castle looked down. All very famous, and if they'd been tourists, they might have stopped to admire the splendour. All they wanted, however, was to get in somewhere out of the cold.

‘Shall we take a tram?' Rusty asked as they began to climb the Mound.

‘Och, no, we're only going to the High Street. No distance at all.'

‘Says you, because you're fitter than I am. This hill's pretty steep.'

‘You're too much stuck in your projection box, that's the trouble with you.'

‘I love it,' he said seriously. ‘Just like you love your box office.'

‘We're two contented people, then.'

‘Hey, I didn't exactly say I was contented.' Rusty took Jess's arm in his. ‘Listen, I wish you'd have let me take you to that good restaurant I told you about.'

‘What, The Vinery? It's far too expensive.'

‘Ben recommended it.'

‘Ben?' As they reached the top of the Mound and began to turn for the High Street, Jess kept her eyes down. ‘So? He's got more money than we have.'

‘I'm not worrying about the money, Jess. I wanted to make this evening something special.'

She turned her gaze back to his face. ‘Look, we said we'd just go out as colleagues, eh? So, I'm going to pay my way, no arguments allowed, and the place we've chosen will suit me fine.'

‘Oh, God, you're not suggesting we go Dutch? That'd spoil everything!'

Jess gave a long sigh. Don't say it, she groaned inwardly, don't say Rusty's the sort of chap Marguerite knows, who takes offence if a girl tries to pay? There were plenty who didn't mind at all, as Jess knew from experience, but seemingly Rusty felt he'd be letting himself down in some mysterious way if he let her go halves on the bill.

‘Colleagues often go Dutch,' she told him quietly. ‘Why shouldn't I share with you?'

‘Like I said, I wanted to make this evening special. Special for you.' His tone was light, but his look was serious. ‘It's already special for me, anyway, because you agreed to come.'

‘OK, let's say this time it's special,' she said, her heart softening a little. ‘But if there's another time, we'll think again.'

‘You mean, there will be another time? Jess, that'd be terrific!'

‘Come on – you said you were starving. Let's get to the cafe!' she cried. ‘I'm hungry too.'

Ten

In the High Street cafe Jess had selected for them, they ordered steak and chips with grilled tomatoes, and fruit tart to follow.

‘Of course, they're no' licensed here, so there's no drink,' Jess told Rusty, ‘but they do good meals and that's what matters.'

‘I take it you know this place well?' Rusty asked.

‘No, I've just come with friends now and again.'

‘The friends being male or female?'

Jess leaned forward. ‘Listen, if I promise I won't ask about your friends, will you promise no' to ask about mine?'

‘Done!' he answered with a grin. ‘But I can tell you this, there's nobody in my life at the moment.'

Studying him, she wondered why. There was no doubt that that was a handsome face across the table from her, and a pleasant one. She could imagine girls being attracted easily enough, especially by those unusual eyes, that smiling mouth. Yet, it seemed there was no one special, pining away for him, back in England?

‘You'll know me again,' he said suddenly, his voice very soft, and she gave a start of embarrassment.

‘Sorry, I was just wondering . . . why there was no one in your life at present.'

He grinned. ‘Does that not count as asking about my friends?'

‘Sorry.' She flushed a little. ‘Never mind, then.'

‘No, it's OK. I don't mind talking about it. Let's say, I just never found Miss Right.' He leaned forward. ‘But now I can ask – how about you?'

‘Oh, me.' Lowering her eyes, Jess worked away on her steak. ‘Let's say I'm no' looking for anyone.'

Thank goodness, Rusty needn't know, she told herself, that if she wasn't looking for anyone, it was because she'd already found him. And secretly hoped that he'd found her, even if so far he'd made no move to tell her.

‘Really love that job of yours, don't you?' Rusty asked cheerfully.

‘We did say, we liked our work.'

In an effort to distract his attention from herself, Jess asked with an apologetic smile, ‘Listen, don't think I'm nosey – though of course I am – but I wish you'd tell me how your folks came to live in England. I mean, if your father's a Scot?'

‘I don't think you're nosey, Jess. It's good you're interested in me, because I'm interested in you.'

‘But we're talking about you.'

‘OK. Thing is, it's not so strange, you know, for Scots to end up in England – they're usually looking for jobs. Anyway, before the war, my dad trained as an electrician, but there wasn't much call for his type of work then and he wasn't doing well. Somebody said he might have more luck down south, so, he upped sticks and went down to Woking.' Rusty grinned. ‘Found work, met my mother, fell in love, got married.' He raised his hands. ‘That's how a Scot came to live in England.'

‘Sounds romantic. When did you come along, then?'

‘1914, just before my dad had to join up. He was lucky, he came back.' Rusty paused. ‘Only died two years ago, in fact, just after my mum.'

‘Ah, Rusty, I'm sorry!' Jess reached over to touch his hand. ‘I didn't know you were on your own.'

‘It was a bit of a blow, I'll admit, the two of 'em going. I got the house, of course, made a bit of money from the sale, put it into savings. But . . . what's a house, Jess? What's money? When you've lost your folks?'

She pressed his hand more firmly, her eyes full of sympathy.

‘I know, Rusty, I know what it must have been like for you.'

‘Didn't help that I lost my job when the cinema where I worked shut up shop. I think I told you that, didn't I? And I couldn't find anything else locally? Finally, saw an advert for this job in Edinburgh where my dad used to live, and thought I'd go for it – make a fresh start.' Rusty's eyes rested on Jess's face. ‘So, there you are. That's my story. Your turn now.'

After some show of unwillingness, Jess finally told of her own short life – her father's early death, her mother's struggle, how she and her sister had still had a reasonably happy life in Leith – and Rusty listened closely. When she'd finished, he nodded, and for a moment pressed her hand.

‘Sounds to me like you're a pretty brave family, Jess.'

‘We've been luckier than some.'

‘Well, you and your folks made the best of things and that's to admire. One piece of luck for you, I think, was having a sister. I've always been sorry I was an only child.'

‘Oh, yes, I've got a sister,' she agreed. ‘Did we say we were having the fruit tart?'

They were silent until their puddings were brought, when Rusty said gently, ‘Am I speaking out of turn, or don't you get on with your sister?'

‘She's called Marguerite and very beautiful. So's my mother.'

‘Of course they're beautiful – they'll be like you.'

‘No, I'm no' fishing for compliments. I'm OK. They're more than that.' Jess glanced swiftly at Rusty. ‘And I love them both – I do honestly. But . . . well, the thing is . . . Marguerite, being older than me, was always more of a companion to Ma, and a help to her, you see. So, they're close . . . and I'm . . . no' quite so close. Don't think I'm complaining. I mean, they love me, too.'

‘I understand, Jess. I can see how it's been.'

They were both silent, concentrating on their fruit tart, until Rusty put his spoon down, pushed back the lock of hair on his brow and made a sign to the waitress.

‘As we can't have a drink, Jess, let's at least have coffee and get cheerful, eh?'

‘Rusty, I think anyone could be cheerful when you're around,' Jess said sincerely.

When they had settled the bill, which they did quite amicably with Jess paying her share, they had to face the cold again, and it seemed natural that they should walk arm in arm up the High Street.

The heart of the city, Jess told Rusty, for he knew little of its history. Apart from the castle, everything that was old and colourful could be experienced here, and the setts on the road, that the tourists called cobbles, had seen so many feet over the centuries – what tales could they have told?

‘Sometime, you'll have to give me a guided tour,' Rusty commented. ‘But what shall we do now?'

‘Well, it's getting late – think I'd better get back home.'

‘Late? Why, the night is young!' His face had fallen, making her feel guilty, which annoyed her. ‘We could at least go for a drink, seeing as we couldn't have one with the meal.'