The Forgotten Girl (19 page)

‘He's a brilliant photographer, but he is a bit eccentric,' he said. ‘He loves that cape. Watch him swirl it when he goes round the corner.'

We both looked as the man whipped his cape round as he turned into Beak Street, and collapsed into giggles.

‘Here to see Frank?' George asked, jumping off the car and brushing off his trousers.

‘No,' I said. ‘I'm here to see you. Suze and I have a favour to ask.'

‘Interesting,' said George with a grin. He offered me his arm. ‘Shall we walk and talk?'

I looped my arm through his and we strolled off down Carnaby Street, towards Oxford Circus.

‘Suze and I have decided to throw everything at getting a job on Mode magazine,' I explained. ‘We're making our own magazine and we wondered if you could give us a hand with some layouts.'

George looked pleased.

‘Me?' he said. ‘Really? But I'm a photographer.'

‘I know that, silly,' I said, chuckling. ‘But you've got a good eye, haven't you. You're artier than we are – we're just good with words.'

‘I'd love to,' he said, squeezing my arm. I felt a shiver run right through me. It was so right, walking arm in arm with George. I didn't feel awkward or embarrassed like I did when Billy took my hand. I was proud and I wanted to see people I knew and have them see me and George together, like a unit.

We reached the end of Carnaby Street and turned right onto Great Marlborough Street.

‘So,' George said, ultra-casual. ‘I suppose we'll have to spend a lot of time together.'

‘Yes,' I said. ‘A lot of time. Every day, I think. Will it be awful for you?'

George stopped walking and pulled on my arm so I turned to face him.

‘It's going to be terrible,' he said, bending to kiss me. Immediately my legs turned to mush again – he had such an effect on me, it was incredible. I let myself relax into his kiss for a moment, then I pulled away.

‘George,' I said.

‘Uh-oh, that sounds bad,' he said, studying my face. ‘I didn't like how you said my name.'

I grinned.

‘It's not bad,' I said. ‘Well, it sounds bad, but it's not, honestly. It's just complicated.'

I threaded my arm through his again and we carried on walking.

‘I'm engaged,' I said.

George stopped again and stared at me. I could see he was hurt and it made me feel awful so I hurried on.

‘I'm breaking it off,' I said. ‘I don't want to marry him. I don't want to marry anyone. I didn't mean to get engaged.'

‘It was an accident, was it?' he said.

I shrugged.

‘It was, a bit,' I said.

I sat on a bench close to where we stood.

‘Can I explain?' I asked.

Reluctantly, George sat down next to me. He looked wary.

Slowly, I started to tell him what my dad was like, how my mum had died and how Dad drank and lashed out because he was grieving.

‘When I was younger, I just wanted a way out,' I said. ‘Billy was part of that.'

George nodded. His lips were pressed together into a thin white line.

‘He didn't even ask me to marry him, not properly,' I went on. ‘It was just assumed that's what we'd do. I thought marrying Billy would save me but now I know it won't. I have to save myself.'

George nodded again.

‘Go on.'

‘Suze and I are going to get a flat,' I said. ‘And I'm going to break up with Billy. I don't want that life. And I don't want Billy.'

George watched a bus rumble down Great Marlborough Street.

‘What do you want?' he said.

I took his hand, thankful he didn't resist.

‘I want to work at Mode,' I said. ‘I want to live in a flat with Suze and I want you to be my boyfriend.'

George gave me a small smile.

‘What about Billy?' he said.

‘Billy's a nice man,' I said. ‘He's a good person and he'll make a lovely husband for someone. But not for me.'

George played with my fingers.

‘When are you going to do it?' he said.

‘I'm going to see him tonight,' I said, making my mind up on the spot. ‘I really like you George and I want us to be together. But Billy hasn't done anything wrong. It wouldn't be fair for me to be with you while I'm still engaged to him.'

George smiled properly now.

‘You're a softie, Nancy,' he said. ‘Lots of girls wouldn't care. They'd have blokes all over London. But not you.'

I shook my head.

‘I tell lies every day,' I said. ‘My dad doesn't even know I work on a magazine. He thinks I work in insurance.'

George laughed.

‘Amazing,' he said, sounding quite impressed. ‘Nothing will stand in your way, will it?'

‘Nothing,' I said, astonished at how bold I was being. ‘I want to work on Mode. I want to live with Suze, and I want you to be my boyfriend.'

‘Then who am I to stand in your way,' George said. He stood up again. ‘I would love to be your boyfriend, Nancy. Just as soon as you break poor Billy's heart.'

‘Oh don't,' I said, hunching my shoulders. I looped my arm through George's again, and we began walking back towards my office. ‘I'm dreading it.'

George looked right at me.

‘This is the start of your new life,' he said. ‘It starts here.'

Chapter 30

Breaking up with Billy was harder than I'd imagined it could be. He was terribly upset and I felt awful.

We were in the park, sitting by the bandstand watching a group of teenage boys who were pretending to be the Beatles.

‘I don't understand,' he said, looking at me with bewildered eyes. ‘We had a party. People bought us presents.'

We actually hadn't opened the presents yet. They were all still in a pile on the dressing table in my bedroom.

‘We'll send them back,' I said. ‘The presents don't matter.'

‘It was all arranged,' Billy said.

‘It wasn't,' I pointed out. ‘We hadn't set a date.'

Billy glared at me.

‘But I gave you a ring,' he said. ‘We agreed.'

I had taken my ring off earlier and put it back in the small velvet box from the jewellery shop on the high street. I'd been gripping it in the pocket of my mac, and now I took it out and handed it to him.

‘Sorry,' I said, trying not to mind that he hadn't said anything about love. ‘You'll realise this is the best thing to do.'

‘For who?' Billy said. ‘For you?'

I watched one of the teenage boys do a passable impression of Paul McCartney's tilty head, then I looked at Billy.

‘Yes, actually,' I said. ‘For me.'

He stared at me, eyes narrowed.

‘And you're the only one who matters, are you?'

‘No,' I said. ‘But the world's changing, Billy. I want more than just being a wife and a mother.'

He shook his head.

‘What do you want?'

‘I want it all,' I said simply. ‘I want a job and a flat and friends. There's so much happening out there – music and films and television and magazines – and I want to be a part of it.'

I waved my arm in the vague direction of the Crystal Palace tower and beyond it, the centre of town.

‘It's all so exciting,' I began. But Billy was gazing at me, understanding spreading across his face.

‘You're not interested in accounts,' he said.

I looked at my feet.

‘You're not spending all this time learning about book keeping, are you?'

I grimaced, wondering what to say.

‘Is there someone else?' Billy said. ‘Is that what all this is about? You're not spending any time with me, so there must be someone else.'

‘No,' I said, trying not to think of George. ‘Of course not.'

Billy looked at me through narrowed eyes, clearly suspecting me of lying. Which I was, I supposed, in a way.

‘Then it's your job,' Billy said, in a flash of uncharacteristic insight. ‘You're lying about your job.'

Reluctantly I nodded.

‘I don't work for an insurance company,' I admitted.

‘Do you work at a magazine?' he said. He knew how much I loved the mags my dad sold, so it wasn't a huge jump for him to make.

I nodded again.

‘I do.'

Billy was silent.

‘I would have told you,' I said. ‘But I didn't want you to be part of my lie.'

‘Which one?' he said.

‘Pardon?'

‘Which magazine?'

‘It's called Home & Hearth,' I said. ‘It's for housewives.'

‘Those terrible housewives,' Billy said, raising an eyebrow. ‘The ones you can't bear to think of ever being like.'

‘I mostly type recipes,' I said, making a face. ‘I should be a wonderful cook by now.'

Billy almost – almost – smiled.

‘What about if I said I didn't mind,' he said. ‘I'm a modern man. I would be proud to have a wife who worked.'

I stared at him.

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean, let's just carry on as we are. You can go to work and we'll plan the wedding and when we're married, you can keep working.'

I forced myself to smile.

‘You're such a nice man,' I said. ‘You really are. But it wouldn't work, Bill. I need to be part of it all. It's long hours…'

‘Like this project,' he said suddenly. ‘The one that means you're always at work. Is that what you mean?'

‘There's a chance of a job on a new magazine,' I told him. ‘It's going to be for young women, like me. But there will be lots of writers going for it so my application has to be perfect.'

‘Writers?' Billy said. ‘You're a writer, are you?'

I nodded.

‘I've written some pieces for Home & Hearth, and I've just done a series for the London Post. Suze…'

I broke off, feeling strangely that I didn't want to discuss Suze with Billy.

‘Who's Suze?' Billy said.

‘She's my friend,' I said. ‘She's written for Viva. She's going to interview the Beatles.'

Despite himself Billy looked impressed.

‘So she works with you, does she? Suze?'

‘Not yet,' I said. ‘But we're hoping we'll both get a job on Mode – that's the new magazine. Then we can get a flat together.'

Billy's face was flushed.

‘You've got it all worked out,' he said, his voice cracking slightly. ‘It sounds great.'

I felt a wave of guilt again.

‘I really am sorry,' I said. ‘I would only make you miserable if we got married. I think you're a lovely man,' I continued. ‘And I think you'll make someone a wonderful husband. But not me, Billy. I'm not the right woman for you.'

Billy's jaw was set. He stared straight ahead.

‘So that's it, is it?'

‘Sorry,' I said again. ‘I just wanted to be honest with you.'

He gave me a grimace that I thought was supposed to be a smile.

‘Bye then,' he said. He went to stand up but I caught his hand.

‘Billy,' I said. ‘There's something else.'

He laughed, a short sharp bark that had no humour in it.

‘Oh, what else?' he said. ‘What now?'

‘I need you to keep this secret,' I said. ‘I thought perhaps we could just tell everyone we decided we were too young to settle down? I'm…'

I took a breath.

‘I'm scared of what Dad might do if he finds out.'

Billy's eyes softened a tiny bit.

‘How long are you planning to keep this up?'

‘Not much longer,' I said. ‘We've been saving up, Suze and me, and we've almost got enough to rent a flat together. Once I can leave, I'll tell Dad.'

‘You're set on this?' Billy said. ‘This new life?'

‘I'm afraid so,' I said. ‘But I don't want to rock the boat before I have to. That's why I don't want Dad to know all this yet. So please, please, will you just go along with the story that we're too young?'

There was a pause. My heart was beating so hard that I thought Billy must be able to hear it pounding. Then, eventually, he nodded.

‘All right,' he said. ‘I'll go along with it.'

He looked sad for a moment.

‘We'd have had a good life, Nance,' he said.

I nodded.

‘I know,' I said. ‘But it wouldn't have been enough.'

I leaned over and kissed him gently.

‘Bye, Billy,' I said.

He got up and I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn't that upset after all. But as he went to walk away, he paused and looked back.

‘My mum always says pride comes before a fall,' he said. For the first time I saw real anger in his face. ‘You're so full of yourself, Nancy Harrison. Thinking you're better than all of us with your fancy clothes and short bloody skirts, and your magazines.'

‘That's not what I think,' I began, but Billy carried on.

‘You're a liar,' he said, as though he'd just worked it out. ‘You've been lying to me for months, since the beginning.'

‘No,' I said. ‘No, that's not how it was. I didn't mean all this to happen, Billy.'

He looked at me for a minute, then his face crumpled.

‘I thought we were going to be happy,' he said. I could see tears glistening in his eyes and I felt terrible. ‘I thought we were going to be like my mum and dad.'

I shook my head.

‘We wouldn't be happy,' I said. ‘I wouldn't be happy.'

‘Selfish,' he breathed, but I shook my head again.

‘I'm not selfish,' I said honestly. ‘I'm just trying to survive.'

But Billy wasn't convinced. He didn't look like he hated me any more. Instead, I saw disappointment mixed with the tears in his eyes and strangely, that was worse.

‘Fine,' he said, with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. ‘Fine. You do what you want. But don't expect me to keep your stupid secrets. Good luck with your amazing life. I hope it's bloody miserable.'