Authors: Catrin Collier
‘Helen showed me your poetry.’
‘And?’
‘I’m not sure I understood it.’
‘I’ll give you a line-by-line breakdown any time you like.’
‘You want to write books as well as poetry?’
‘Eventually.’ He squeezed her fingers lightly. ‘When I’ve lived enough to have something to write about.’
‘You wouldn’t have to know a great deal about life to write a film like the one we’ve just seen.’
‘On the contrary, you’d have to know what it is to fall in love – and lose the person you love, and that is everything.’
‘It’s so unfair to think that a princess can’t marry the man of her choice because he’s a commoner.’
‘I’m already amending your life story. How about noble or intellectual instead of royal blood? Russian political prisoners banished to Siberia by Stalin entrusted you to an Irish nanny who gave you her name to conceal your real identity ...’
‘How about you walking me home?’ She suddenly realised that the bus crew closest to them had fallen unnaturally silent, because they were listening intently to Joe.
‘You really are determined to stop me from giving you an interesting background.’
‘It’s interesting enough.’
‘Why settle for reality when fantasy is so much more satisfying?’
‘Because reality is what you wake up to every morning.’
‘Not if you’re a poet.’
‘So if there’s something in life you don’t like, you simply weave a story to blot it out.’
‘You understand me perfectly.’ Leaving the table, he reached for her coat and helped her on with it, before paying for their coffees and escorting her through the door.
‘What’s your earliest memory?’ she asked as they stepped into the street.
‘Dad bringing my mother home from the hospital with Helen.’ He drew her close to him as they walked through the town.
‘How old were you?’
‘Two.’
‘I wish I could remember something before I came to Uncle Roy’s and Auntie Norah’s.’
‘Be grateful nothing as traumatic as Helen happened to cause you to remember.’
‘That’s unkind.’
‘I remember being horribly, insanely jealous. Masses of Mum’s relatives and friends visiting, cooing into her cradle, smothering her with presents and ignoring me.’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t like that.’
‘Whose memory is this?’
‘Does it worry you that I don’t know anything about my family?’ she asked suddenly.
‘No.’
‘I could be illegitimate.’
‘So?’
‘Some people think that’s a disgrace.’
‘They should realise that we’re living in the twentieth century, not Dickensian times.’
‘My parents could have been horrible ...’
‘No, they couldn’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because they had a daughter like you.’ Drawing her into a shop doorway, he cupped his hands round her face and kissed her.
‘Watch my father’s dahlias this time,’ Helen whispered as Jack leapt into the soft earth of the flowerbed.
‘You should have warned me before I jumped.’ Lifting his foot, he brushed a clump of crushed blooms from the thick crepe sole of his boot.
‘Quick, before someone sees us.’ She ran up the path and under the asbestos canopy to the back door. Darting up the passage, she locked the connecting door to the rest of the house before showing Jack into the front room.
‘Are all your family out?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why are we whispering?’
‘I have no idea.’ As she’d already pulled the curtains, she turned on an old-fashioned, pink-shaded table lamp that bathed the room in a muted – and she hoped romantic glow.
‘Great.’
‘You like it.’ She switched on the Dansette record player she’d stacked ready with her ten favourite 45s. Lifting out the carrier bag she’d hidden behind the sofa, she set it on the table, laid out plates, tumblers and knives, and arranged the food she’d brought down earlier.
‘I like the look of those sandwiches.’
‘I wasn’t sure you’d be hungry but I made them just in case.’
‘I’m glad you did, I’m starving.’ He sat on the sofa and reached for a plate as the strains of the Inkpots singing ‘Unchained Melody’ filled the room.
‘Want some lemonade?’ she asked, uneasy now she was finally alone with him. The same chill was running down her spine as last Saturday, when she’d caught sight of herself in the mirror in the Ladies room in the Pier. She couldn’t help wondering if it was a forewarning that her craving for excitement might lead to a situation she’d regret later.
‘I’d prefer beer.’
‘I haven’t any.’
‘Then lemonade will have to do,’ he mumbled through a full mouth. He glanced at her as he helped himself to another sandwich. ‘If you’re waiting for me to apologise for hogging the food, you’ll wait a long time.’
‘I made them for you. I’ve eaten.’
‘I wish I had. This living with my brother and Brian isn’t the same as being at home when my mother had tea on the table when I got in.’
‘You’ve got your freedom. I’d give anything for that.’
‘Seems to me you’re doing all right.’ He looked around. ‘Your own space, your own things, doing pretty well what you want ...’
‘Inside the house.’
‘With visitors like me, you’ve no reason to go out.’
‘You can’t be here all the time. And I start work on Monday.’
‘In a solicitor’s. Katie told me you’d got the job she tried for.’
‘I didn’t know she’d applied ...’
‘It wouldn’t have made any difference if you had. You’d have got the job without even bothering to turn up for the interview. It’s a different world for people like you. Word in the right ear and you get whatever you want.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ she demanded angrily as Doris Day’s ‘Secret Love’ crashed down on the turntable to replace ‘Unchained Melody’.
‘Just making sure you realise girls like you don’t go around with boys like me before we go any further.’
‘I thought we’d sorted that out?’
‘And if your mother and father walked in on us right now?’
‘My father would be upset but he wouldn’t say very much. My mother would say a lot, and ...’
‘Kick you out,’ he finished for her.
‘Probably send me to a home for wayward girls.’ She flushed at her lack of tact.
‘From what I hear they’re not as bad as the ones for boys.’ He demolished another sandwich in two bites.
‘Of course, you’ve been in one.’
‘I like the way you said that, as if it hadn’t been a talking point in the street for two years. “Wild Jack Clay got put away, boy with his nerve got what he deserved.”’
‘Did they treat you very badly?’
‘From what I gather from Marty and Brian, being in Borstal is no worse than being a National Service conscript in the army.’
‘Did they lock you in a cell?’
‘Only at night, or if you went barking mad.’
‘You don’t mind talking about it?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It happened. It’s no big deal. I lost a couple of years of my life that I wouldn’t have done very much with anyway. I was hardly the star scholar in school.’
‘All the same ...’
‘Face it, Helen. Your mother would go spare at the thought of us together. I’m a Clay, my father’s an alcoholic who beats his wife, I’m a no-good who’s been to Borstal. You’re a Griffiths, brought up in the lap of luxury.’
‘Call this luxury ...’ she began warmly.
‘You’ve never had to eat bread and scrape, or watch your mother go out scrubbing to put even that on the table, or hidden under your bed when your father comes home drunk and starts smashing the place up, so terrified of showing your face you wet yourself rather than go to the lavatory, all the while praying that when he’s finished with the furniture he won’t start on your mother – or you.’
‘And that makes me a snob.’
‘In my book,’ he replied candidly.
‘Then why did you come round?’
‘For the sandwiches.’ He heaped another two on his plate.
‘You didn’t know I’d have food.’
‘Snobs always do. Tea and cucumber sandwiches in the afternoon.’ He mimicked her mother’s accent so accurately she almost hated him.
‘Why don’t you just go?’ She opened the door.
‘Because I don’t want to.’ He pulled her down on the sofa beside him. ‘Is this what you asked me here for, Helen?’
Setting his plate on the table, he kissed her. He tasted of lemonade mixed with bread, butter and Spam. Her initial reaction was one of distaste but even as she raised her hands and closed them into fists ready to thrust him away, he pushed her gently down on to the sofa. Her head sank into the cushions on the armrest as his tongue entered her mouth. She was acutely aware of his heart beating above hers, the sensation of his body pressing against hers through layers of clothing. She closed her eyes as a most peculiar consciousness coursed through her veins. Half excitement – half fear –
Breathless, heart pounding, she opened her eyes as he moved away from her. Sitting back at the opposite end of the sofa, he winked at her before reaching for another sandwich.
‘You ...’
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that, or weren’t expecting it.’ A mischievous light flickered in his dark-brown eyes. ‘And when I’ve finished these sandwiches there’ll be more.’
‘Jack Clay ...’
‘Having you for a girlfriend is going to be fun as well as dangerous.’
‘I can’t risk you staying more than another five minutes,’ she warned, suddenly afraid of what could happen if he stayed longer. ‘I have to clear the plates and wash them before my mother notices they’re missing from the kitchen.’
‘That’s all right, we can do a lot in five minutes.’ Reaching for her, he kissed her again.
Half hoping, half dreading another kiss lest one of the neighbours saw them and passed comment, Lily turned shyly to Joe as they reached her front door. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
‘I enjoyed it too. I’ll pick you up from work on Thursday, the same time as tonight.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘What would you like to do?’
‘We could go for a walk. Perhaps down Mumbles,’ she suggested tentatively, not wanting him to spend any more money on her. He was a student; she was working; yet he hadn’t allowed her to pay for a single thing during the evening.
‘Then we can discuss what we’re going to do on Saturday.’
‘I promised Judy and Katie I’d go to the St James’s youth club dance with them. Jack Clay’s skiffle group are playing there.’
‘Youth club!’
‘Pretty unsophisticated after your university parties.’ She smiled, taking the sting from her words. ‘But as you reminded me earlier, you are older than me.’
‘I suppose I deserved that. Keep next Sunday free and we’ll take that trip down Gower.’
‘I will.’
‘Thank you, Lily.’
She braced herself for another kiss but he vaulted the wall. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside to his whispered, ‘Goodnight, sleep well.’
‘Kettle’s boiled. Fancy some tea?’ Jack asked, as Martin walked into the kitchen of the newly whitewashed basement that they and Brian had transformed into a fairly comfortable living room.
‘If you make it.’ Martin dumped his bag of books on the table and fell into the nearest easy chair.
‘Rest your weary legs, why don’t you,’ Jack sniped as he reached for the teapot.
‘Brain more than legs. God, that class was hard going tonight. I’m not sure I can stand another couple of months of night school as well as work.’ Martin glanced at Jack as he set the kettle back on the stove. ‘You’re looking pleased with yourself.’
‘Fixed my bike.’
‘You said you couldn’t do it without help.’
‘Just call me a genius.’
‘With lipstick on his collar.’
Jack glanced in the mirror Brian had hung above the sink. The collar of his blue shirt was smeared with unmistakable pink blotches.
‘Caught you.’
Jack thumbed the mark. ‘It’s passion pink and jealousy will get you nowhere.’
‘Who is she?’
‘No one you know.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘She helped me fix my bike.’
‘Then she must be desperate – or stupid.’
‘Evening.’ Brian walked through the door and removed his helmet.
‘Aren’t you supposed to say, “Evening, all”?’
‘You’ve been watching too many police films, Jack.’ Sitting in the chair opposite Martin, Brian began to unlace his boots. ‘You making tea?’
‘Now you’re turning me into a slave as well.’ Despite his grumbles Jack reached for a third cup.
‘Ah, but you make such a good one and seeing as how you’re up, pass us the tin of biscuits.’
‘We haven’t any.’ Jack sugared Martin’s tea and handed it to him.
‘I bought one this morning, it’s in the cupboard.’
‘So you have. Tea maker gets first pick.’ Jack opened it and selected two chocolate ones before handing it over to Brian.
‘This is cosy.’ Removing his boots, Brian stretched his toes towards the single-bar electric fire as he rummaged in the tin.
‘Almost as good as having a wife to order round,’ Martin teased.
‘That’s the last favour I do for either of you two, for the next month,’ Jack growled as he handed Brian his tea and settled comfortably in the third chair.
‘Jack was just telling me about his new girlfriend.’
‘Nice shade of lipstick,’ Brian commented.
‘Passion pink,’ Martin goaded.
‘I never thought I’d see a police helmet on the kitchen table of a place I was living in,’ Jack interrupted in an effort to change the subject.
‘You thought we sleep in them?’
‘I thought you lot were robots that came fully dressed. Wind up, point in the right direction and off you go and harass innocent people.’
‘Not funny, Jack,’ Martin warned with a sideways glance at Brian.
‘I have a sense of humour.’ Brian leaned back in his chair. ‘Granted, not much of one after the shift I’ve just done, the miles I’ve walked and the way my feet feel, but it’s still there.’
‘So, who have you arrested today?’
‘No one, as it happens. I’ve been out on patrol to familiarise myself with Swansea. It’s a bit like being on a building site.’
‘Courtesy of Hitler’s bombs.’ Martin dunked a digestive in his cup.
‘It needed knocking down.’
‘Eaten razor blades today,’ Brian enquired of Jack, ‘or are you always like this?’
‘If he was, he wouldn’t have found himself a girl.’
‘Layoff, Marty,’ Jack snapped, growing testier by the minute.
‘How about a game of cards?’ Brian suggested.
‘Fine, if anyone knows where to find them.’
‘There’s a pack in the bedroom. I’ll get them.’
‘You like to live dangerously,’ Brian murmured, after Martin left the room.
‘How, do you mean?’
‘The blonde bombshell next door. It’s none of my business ...’
‘That’s right, it is none of your business.’
‘Friendly warning, that’s all.’
‘As a copper,’ Jack sneered.
‘As a mate. It’s easy to see she’s keen on you, but she’s trouble, Jack.’
‘According to everyone else around here so am I, so we’re well-matched.’
‘Who’s well-matched?’ Martin asked as he returned with the cards.
‘Us, in this flat,’ Brian answered. ‘Just take a look, anyone would think we’ve been living together for years.’
‘Well?’ Katie demanded as Lily switched off the light, threw off her dressing gown and climbed into bed beside her.
‘Well, what?’
‘Aren’t you going to say anything about your date with Joe, other than, “I had a good time”?’
‘There isn’t anything else to say. We had coffee and cake in the Kardomah, saw
Roman Holiday,
which you must see first chance you get, and went to a cafe.’
‘You must have talked about something besides the film. Did he tell you he loved you? Did he kiss you? Are you going out with him again?’
‘If I’d known you were that interested, I would have invited you along.’
‘Lily ...’
‘All right, we talked about nothing much that I remember but he did ask me out again on Thursday evening and we’ll probably go somewhere on Sunday.’
‘“Probably” doesn’t sound very romantic.’
‘It
was
our first date,’ Lily reminded heavily.
‘So why didn’t he kiss you or sweep you off your feet?’
‘Do you think that happens outside of films and books?’
‘The kissing does.’
‘As you’re obviously dying to know and won’t go to sleep until you do, yes, he did kiss me.’
‘What did it feel like?’
‘Katie!’
‘Nice – horrid – I’ve tried but I can’t imagine a big wet mouth on mine. What if his teeth are bad or his breath smells?’
‘Joe has neither problem.’
‘Helen said the first boy who kissed her put his tongue in her mouth and it tasted foul.’
‘I was there when she talked about it.’
‘Joe didn’t try to do that?’
‘No.’ Lily smiled, as she recalled the warm, soft, surprisingly gentle sensation of his lips on hers, the feel of his body against her own ...
‘But he did put his arms round you.’