Daughter of Mine (4 page)

‘Look,’ Steve said. ‘Do you dislike me; find me physically repulsive?’

Lizzie shook her head, for her initial dislike of Steve had frittered away, and he was a very good-looking man.

‘Do you like me, even a little?’

‘Of course I like you, but as a friend.’

‘That will do, Lizzie. I have enough love for both of us.’ ‘No, Steve. It isn’t like that.’ ‘I know, but sometimes feelings take time to grow,’

Steve urged her. ‘Give it a few more weeks, eh? Give me a chance. For God’s sake don’t pull the bleedin’ rug from under me already. We’ve only known each other a short time.’

‘And then what, after a few weeks?’

‘You’ll be madly in love with me.’

‘And if I’m not?’

‘I don’t accept failure,’ Steve said.

Nor does he accept ‘No’, Lizzie thought. He’s like Tressa. He wants his own way all the time, for he’s used to it.

But she said none of this, for the tram had pulled into the terminus in the city centre and Steve put his arm around Lizzie as they walked along. She didn’t object, because she was thinking over Steve’s words. Would it be any better if she told him in a few weeks’ time? She didn’t know, but at least then he couldn’t say she hadn’t given it a fair crack of the whip.

‘I’ll give them all what for when I go home,’ Steve told Lizzie, convinced, whatever Lizzie had said, that
it was his family’s behaviour that had made her say what she had.

‘Steve, there’s no need.’

‘There’s every need,’ Steve snapped. ‘They’ll behave better next time, I promise you. I’ll even have a go at the old woman. She could have been more welcoming.’

‘She loves you, Steve,’ Lizzie said. ‘She doesn’t want anyone, especially any woman, to be more important in your life than she is.’

‘She’ll have to learn then,’ Steve said. ‘Silly cow. She’ll do as she’s bloody well told.’

‘Hush, Steve. Try and understand her point of view,’ Lizzie said, though she had no love for the woman herself.

‘She should bloody well understand mine,’ Steve growled. ‘And she will. I’ll see to it.’

Lizzie had had quite enough of Steve’s family. ‘I’ll have to go in, Steve,’ she said. ‘I’ll be late and then I’ll catch it.’

She was glad to go, for this bad-tempered Steve unnerved her more than a little. She almost felt the anger coursing through him as he drew her into his arms. The kiss was like a stamp of ownership. It was a hard, unyielding kiss, which bruised Lizzie’s lips and pushed them against her teeth, but Lizzie bore it without complaint, for she was too nervous of Steve to protest much.

She was changed and ready to go on duty when Tressa dashed in, red-faced both from the cold and the warmth of Mike’s embrace, and the kisses which had left her breathless. She was prepared to make light of any trepidations Lizzie might have had about Steve and
his family problems, though she was pleased that Lizzie had agreed to go out with Steve a little longer. Lizzie felt she was being inexorably drawn into a future she didn’t want and felt filled with apprehension as she and Tressa went down to the kitchen.

The following Saturday morning, the head waiter, who had a soft spot for Lizzie, approached her as she was finishing her breakfast stint. ‘You and your cousin were down to work tonight, but you can have the night off if you like.’

‘I thought we had a big party in?’

‘We did have, but so many have come down with flu they’ve cancelled, and the hotel isn’t exactly bursting at the seams at this time of year. So, do you and Tressa want this or shall I offer it to one of the others, because the manager won’t pay for half of you to be doing nothing?’

Lizzie didn’t need asking twice and neither did Tressa, who insisted on letting the boys know. Lizzie would have preferred for the two of them to do something together, as they used to, but she told herself she had to get used to the fact that Mike was now the most important person in Tressa’s life. She also knew that Tressa was quite capable of throwing a mammoth sulk if Lizzie refused to do what she wanted, and then the value of the Saturday night would be lost to the both of them. And so they travelled up to Edgbaston to tell Steve and Mike.

They met that evening in the Old Joint Stock again, because it was easiest, and when Tressa and Mike sloped off after the one drink, Lizzie and Steve weren’t surprised.

‘So, what do you want to do?’ Steve asked.

There was no hesitation. ‘I’d like to go down to the Bull Ring,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve never been at night, but all the other girls have told me how good it is and the entertainment to be had there on a Saturday.’

Steve had no problem with that and Lizzie was filled with excitement as she stood at the top of High Street and saw it all arrayed below them. She was glad too that she had Steve’s arm around her, for the night was a chilly one.

It was all so different from the daytime, though just as full of people. Now it was lit up by spluttering gas flares and looked almost magical. There were still the poor, hoping to get meat or vegetables cheap, but they were hidden by the darkness. The flower sellers had gone from their usual space around Nelson’s statue, along with most of the old lags selling their wares from trays around their necks, and there was no little old lady outside Woolworths urging people to buy a carrier bag. However, others had taken their places, and one was a stall selling cockles and mussels and jellied eels. ‘Are you hungry? D’you want some?’ Steve asked.

‘Ooh no, thank you,’ Lizzie said. She had no liking for cockles or mussels, and as for jellied eels…‘I’ve tried them just the once,’ she said. ‘They’re slimy.’

Steve laughed. ‘That’s the idea,’ he said, and he smacked his lips as if he was going to enjoy a great feast, as he soaked his dish liberally with vinegar. He lifted one to his mouth and sucked it in with a slurp, laughing again at Lizzie’s look of distaste. ‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘Slips down the throat a treat.’

‘You’re welcome to them,’ Lizzie told him, wrinkling
her nose. ‘Give me a hot potato any day.’

‘I’ll buy you one if that’s what you want,’ Steve said. ‘Might even get one myself to fill a corner.’

‘Fill a corner!’ Lizzie said scornfully. ‘You’re always filling corners, you.’ She was right, for Steve had a voracious appetite. ‘I think you have worms.’

Steve roared with laughter. ‘Worms! Don’t be so daft, woman. There’s a lot of me to fill. I’m a big strapping chap.’

He was right there, Lizzie thought, as with the eels finished he draped a heavy arm around Lizzie once more. His fingers resting on her shoulder smelt of vinegar and fish and she turned her face away, but she said nothing and they went on through the crowd.

There was a man tied up in chains demanding more money in the hat before he tried to get free. Lizzie thought he looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘Have you ever seen him get out?’ she whispered to Steve.

‘Never,’ he said, tossing a florin into the hat, ‘though I’ve paid enough to, over the years. Mike says he’s seen it, but I doubt it.’

They got fed up waiting in the end and walked on. ‘I think it’s all a con, anyroad,’ Steve said.

‘How?’

‘Them chains can’t be real, can they? I mean, how could anyone get out of real chains when they are trussed up like he was?’ And then, seeing Lizzie’s crestfallen face, he gave a gentle laugh and tightened his arm around her. ‘Spoilt your illusions, have I?’

Lizzie didn’t answer, for her attention was taken by two stilt-walkers moving effortlessly amongst the crowds and between the stalls and barrows, and
standing so immensely high that her mouth dropped open in amazement.

But Steve pushed her on to where the boxing ring was set up. ‘Me and Mike had a go here when we was lads,’ he said. ‘Knocked on our backs, the pair of us,’ he added, laughing at the memory. ‘Wouldn’t be so easy for him to do that to me today.’

‘Like to try your luck, sir?’ the man in the black top hat and red jacket encouraged, seeing Steve’s interest. The assembled crowd turned to see who he was addressing and shuffled their feet in anticipation of a fight. ‘Five pounds if you beat the champ,’ the man said.

Steve looked at the glowering champ sat in the corner of the ring. He was broad and hefty, terrifying to him as a boy, and he remembered the way the big man with fists like hams had felled him with one blow, and how he lay on the ring floor with the breath knocked out of his body and thought every bone and joint had been loosened. But the champ was running to fat now, and Steve, full-grown, well-muscled and strong, reckoned he could give the bruiser a run for his money.

‘Don’t, Steve.’

‘Five pounds is five pounds, pet,’ Steve said. But it wasn’t the money. It was the thought of the fight wiping the supercilious smile off the champ’s face, maybe making Lizzie proud of him. He didn’t know that such an action would not make Lizzie proud; that she hated violence.

‘I could beat that bastard with one hand tied behind my back,’ Steve sneered, and Lizzie pressed against him
and felt the excitement pounding through his body.

The champ snarled at him. ‘Words is cheap, mate. Come up here and prove it. I’ll pound you into the ground, you cheeky young pup.’

‘Right,’ Steve cried, and tried to disentangle himself from Lizzie, but she held on to his coat. ‘No, Steve. Please don’t.’

‘Come on, darling, it’s only a bit of fun.’

‘Please, I can’t bear it. For my sake, don’t do this.’

Steve was pleased that Lizzie was showing such obvious concern for him. He hadn’t been aware she felt so strongly about him getting hurt and it gave him a glimmer of hope. No way was he going to risk upsetting her, so he smiled ruefully and said, ‘We’ll have to settle the score some other time, mate. I’ve got my orders for the moment.’

There was understanding laughter amongst the crowd and Lizzie was embarrassed by everyone looking at them. ‘Come on.’

‘I would have been all right, you know,’ Steve said when they were out of earshot.

‘I don’t care.’

‘You didn’t want me face messed up, is that it?’

‘I didn’t want you hurt at all,’ Lizzie said.

‘I didn’t think you cared.’

‘Of course I care.’

Steve pressed her close. ‘You don’t know how good it makes me feel when you say things like that.’

Lizzie’s heart gave a lurch. She didn’t mean it that way at all, but before she was able to explain this Steve had grabbed her arm. ‘Look, there’s the man who lies on the bed of nails,’ he said, and taking her hand he
pulled her into the ring of onlookers watching the man, lying seemingly unconcerned.

‘Who’d like to stand on my stomach?’ the man said as they approached, scanning the women in the crowd. ‘You, darling, or you? Come on. Don’t be shy. Promise I won’t look up your skirt.’

Eventually, a girl stepped forward. She would have been about Lizzie’s age, and she was out with a crowd of similar-aged girls who were egging her on. In horrified fascination, Lizzie watched the girl remove her shoes and step gingerly onto the man’s stomach. Lizzie was glad of Steve’s arm around her, glad that she could bury her face in his coat and not see the nails sinking into the man’s flesh to the sympathetic ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ of the crowd.

Coins splattered into the bucket, but Steve led Lizzie away. The accordions and fiddles had begun their tunes, and as they passed the hot potato man, Steve bought them one each, served in a poke of paper folded into a triangle to protect hands.

The tunes being played at first reminded Lizzie of Ireland and they lifted her spirits. She had the urge to lift up her skirts and dance the jigs and reels of her youth, but she didn’t, for she guessed Steve wouldn’t like her to make such an exhibition of herself. She contented herself by leaning against Steve and tapping her foot to the music as she ate her potato. Then they changed to the popular songs of the music hall that Lizzie had learnt during her time in Birmingham. They began with, ‘By the Light of the Silvery Moon’ and went on to ‘Just a Song at Twilight’, before changing tempo to, ‘I’m Getting Married in the Morning’. By
the time they’d got to ‘Daisy, Daisy’ the crowd had begun to sway and they really belted out ‘Roll Out the Barrel’, ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’ and ‘Knees up, Mother Brown’ before the musicians ended the impromptu concert with ‘The Old Bull and Bush’.

Lizzie had had a wonderful time, finishing off her visit to the Bull Ring singing the hymns with the Salvation Army band until they marched back to the Citadel with the tramps and the destitute trailing behind them, confident of a good feed. She acknowledged that Steve had been kind, generous and good fun to be with. He’d also been the perfect gentleman and had not done or said anything even mildly suggestive, and so she relaxed against him as they sauntered back to the pub for a drink before Steve would leave Lizzie at the back door of the hotel.

Steve had also felt the difference in Lizzie, but he put a totally different interpretation on her behaviour, especially when he remembered how she’d reacted at the boxing ring when there was the possibility he could have been hurt.

In the pub, they talked easily of that night and the things they’d seen, and they discussed the budding romance between Mike and Tressa. As they made their way back to the hotel, Lizzie realised she might have had a totally miserable time without Steve, for she’d not have wanted to tag along after Mike and Tressa, even if they had allowed her to, so at the doorway she said, ‘Thanks for tonight, Steve.’

‘S’all right. My pleasure.’

‘Well, I truly appreciated it,’ Lizzie continued. ‘I’ve had a wonderful time.’

It was on the tip of Steve’s tongue to say he could think of a more satisfactory way of finishing the evening, where she could show him just how appreciative she was. But he bit the words back. Nor did he force her lips open when she kissed him goodnight, though he was so filled with desire that he shook slightly, and his groin ached so much he knew he’d have to seek relief before he made for home that night. And yet, despite his frustration, he went home whistling because he really thought Lizzie was warming to him, as he’d prophesised she would in time.

The days slid one into another and the girls went out to the pub, theatre, music hall, cinema or dancing, and when Lizzie could stop feeling guilty about leading Steve a dance she enjoyed herself immensely.

When the two girls had first come to England and explained they were cousins, the office staff had tried to work it so their free time co-ordinated. As they had each other, they didn’t need to make deep friendships with the others, though they liked them well enough, and Lizzie knew that if she hadn’t had Steve she’d have been a lot lonelier.

However, she didn’t think that was a good enough reason to go out with someone, but Steve seemed happy with it. What he wasn’t happy with was the way he’d got no further than a kiss on the lips, linking arms as they walked along the street and holding hands in the cinema.

He knew Mike was getting much further with Tressa, because Mike had told him, boasted of it even. Lizzie knew it too, but she wasn’t going down that road with a man she was dating almost as a convenience. So,
when Steve asked her to go again to tea, she hesitated. She had no desire to go near the place, but she pleased Steve in so very little and he was incredibly generous buying drinks, dinners and tickets for the threatre or cinema with money he near sweated blood for. ‘Won’t they think…I mean we’re not a committed couple, are we?’

‘Who gives a sod what they think?’

‘Well you must. They are your family and they don’t seem to have taken to me at all. Not that that matters, except that I don’t know why you want me there.’

‘I just do,’ Steve said obstinately. ‘And it would please me if you came. They will behave better this time, I guarantee it. I’ve warned them all.’

Against her better judgement Lizzie went, and she found the atmosphere much as before. This time, in an attempt to stop Flo extolling the virtues of Steve, she tried to get to know his brother Neil. She didn’t like him much, for he’d been surly and barely polite at their first meeting and he hadn’t improved. But, she excused him. Surely such blatant favouritism of the first-born, who already had everything going for him, would affect anyone?

She knew Neil hadn’t gone into the brass industry like his father and brother, but had been taken on as an apprentice in a bespoke tailors’ in the Bull Ring. Steve had told her that and said it was a bone of contention in the family, but after the tea, which had been eaten in almost total silence, Lizzie asked Neil about his job. ‘We can make up a suit, with a waistcoat thrown in, for thirty bob,’ Neil said with a hint of pride. ‘You wouldn’t get me near brass. Makes old
men out of young ones. You should see the state of this pair when they gets in of a night.’

‘It’s a living, ain’t it?’ Rodney growled.

‘Some living.’

‘You ungrateful sod!’ Rodney exploded. ‘Many of the barefoot, bare-arsed and starving kids around these doors would have been glad of their fathers working any damned place, and most of the poor buggers out of work that cluster on the street corners would give their right arms to earn half as much as me. You don’t get that kind of money sitting on your arse stitching clothes for toffs.’

‘Yeah,’ Steve put in. ‘Just how much do you put into the house, our kid?’

‘I know I don’t earn much yet,’ Neil said, ‘but when I finish my apprenticeship in two years I’ll be on a good enough wack.’

‘You mind they don’t finish you then,’ Rodney warned. ‘Happens in the factories all the time, and the bloody shipyards.’

‘They won’t.’

‘You’re sure of yourself,’ Steve said. ‘I hope you’re right. Sometimes you haven’t money to bless yourself with, never mind give a woman a good time.’ He put his arm around Lizzie, who was by his side. She didn’t shake him off, she wouldn’t shame him that way before his family, but she did wish she’d never started the conversation that had developed into these heated words. In fact, if she was totally honest, she wished she’d never set eyes on Steve Gillespie and his dysfunctional family at all.

‘Give a woman a good time,’ Neil said sarcastically.
‘I know what manner of good time you like to give a woman. Maybe some of us are more choosy and like to keep it in their trousers more.’

Flo clouted Neil on the side of the head. ‘Less of that dirty talk.’

Neil looked across the room where Lizzie stood, her face crimson. ‘Dirty talk, Mom, dirty talk!’ he cried scornfully. ‘Why don’t you complain about the dirty deeds your sainted son gets up to.’

‘Shut your mouth!’ Lizzie felt the anger flooding through Steve, so even the arm he had around her shoulders trembled slightly and she saw the whitening of his fisted knuckles.

Neil ignored his brother and, addressing himself to Lizzie, said, ‘See, our Steve here likes variety, goes down the streets like a dose of salts, sampling them all.’

‘I said, shut your gob, or by Christ I’ll shut it for you.’

Lizzie put a hand on Steve’s arm and said gently, ‘It doesn’t matter.’ But Steve could tell by Neil’s sly eyes what he was going to say next unless he put a stop to it. He and Mike both had very high sex drives and when between girlfriends, or going out with girls that gave them little sexual satisfaction, or perhaps just for a change, they often frequented places where they could pick up a woman of the night. They never considered it a problem and it meant they didn’t have to force the girls they were dating to go further than they wanted to.

Often, after Steve left Lizzie he’d be so worked up that he’d be forced to seek solace elsewhere. How had
Neil found that out? Steve did not know, but he saw Neil knew all right: he could see it in the little shit’s eyes. He also knew that if Lizzie was made aware of it, he’d never get near her again.

Neil smiled at his brother. It was good seeing him squirm for a change. ‘Lizzie has a right to know what she’s taking on,’ he said. ‘Does she know, for example, that some of the women…’

Steve had dropped his arm from Lizzie’s shoulder and was across the room in an instant. He almost lifted Neil from the floor with his left arm, while his right fist powered into Neil’s face.

Lizzie watched, horrified. No one seemed surprised or went to the aid of the boy, who slid down the wall as Steve released him. Neil’s mouth and nose spurted blood and Lizzie noticed that one of his teeth had been knocked clean out.

Flo, with a sigh, crossed to the fire and filled a bowl from the kettle to the side of it, got a clean rag from the line above the hearth and carried it over to Neil. ‘You asked for that,’ she said as she handed it to him. ‘Why couldn’t you stay quiet when you had the chance?’

‘Why should I?’ Neil’s words were slurred because of his thick lips but his eyes still held contempt. ‘Just because big brother says so?’

‘If you want more of the same, I’m willing to oblige,’ Steve growled out. ‘Only this time I’ll not stop at one punch, you little shit. I’ll beat you to pulp.’

Lizzie crossed to Steve. ‘Please, don’t fight any more.’

She was totally shocked. The angry, hate-filled words had been bad enough, but fighting! And yet the family took it almost as a matter of course, so much so that
Rodney hadn’t even raised his head from where he sat, staring into the fire.

Steve looked at Lizzie and regretted she’d seen any of this. ‘Get your coat,’ he snapped.

‘What?’

‘Are you deaf? Get your coat!’

Lizzie hurried to obey him. She knew it wasn’t her that Steve was so cross with, but she was still unnerved by the angry, curt way he had spoken.

They walked side by side in silence, Lizzie knowing anything she said would be wrong. She didn’t care about Steve’s past, she didn’t really care about his future either, because she wasn’t going to figure in it. This had decided her. She’d dallied long enough and really had made a monkey of the man, and the sooner she came clean the better. Neil’s phrase—‘what she’s taking on,’—had filled her with dread. Someone else would have to fill that role; it would certainly not be her.

She kissed Steve when he left her at the hotel, but on the cheek only, and turned without even a hug and opened the door to the stairs.

Christ Almighty!
Steve thought. He knew the rage, still burning within him, needed some outlet. Sex would fit the bill nicely and he turned to make for one of his familiar haunts, where he knew one or two of the women liked him to be a bit rough.

Lizzie waited for Tressa to come in that night, not a thing she did now as a rule, but she needed to talk to her about Steve. They both had the whole evening off and so, after tea with the family, Mike had probably taken Tressa out somewhere. Steve might have
done the same if that distressing scene at the house hadn’t happened. It seemed to have upset Steve totally, and whether he’d forgotten Lizzie had the evening off or whether he’d wanted to be by himself, she didn’t know nor care. In the few hours she’d been with the family, she had had enough of them all; enough to last a lifetime. How could one simple question start such a barrage? She was glad to reach the peace and quiet of her room, for her nerves were still jangling, and she lay down on her bed fully clothed and thought about it.

She was woken by Betty and Pat, who’d been on duty, coming in and complaining about their feet. They’d turned the light on before they noticed Lizzie.

‘Sorry!’

‘That’s all right,’ Lizzie said. ‘I must have dropped off.’

‘You’re back early.’

‘Aye, let’s say it wasn’t a total success.’

‘Oh!’

‘Aye, Steve had a row with his brother, which turned into a fight.’

‘That’s men all over,’ Betty said. ‘Solve everything with their bloody fists.’

‘Well, I was glad to leave anyway,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s not my idea of a pleasant Sunday afternoon. I’ll wait for Tressa and see what she makes of it.’

‘You won’t see your cousin for some time yet,’ Pat said.

‘How late is it usually then?’ Lizzie said. ‘I never hear her come in.’

‘I know you don’t hear her,’ Betty told her. ‘You must be a deep sleeper. It’s always the early hours when
she arrives home. She’s woken me a few times. She has an arrangement with the night porter to let her in when she knocks in a certain way.’

‘The early hours!’ Lizzie repeated. ‘What does she do till the early hours?’

The two girls giggled. ‘Don’t you know about the birds and the bees?’ Pat said with a smirk. ‘I’d have a good guess at what she’s up to, her and that feller she has. Lead you on, blokes do. You’ve got to keep your wits about you. I tell you, Lizzie, it would be good to warn her, like. A girl needs to watch herself.’

‘Yeah, and she’s in a state sometimes,’ Betty put in.

‘A state?’

‘Yeah, drunk, like, or very near it, anyroad.’

‘I had no idea, though I know she’s hard to rouse sometimes, but then she has never been easy to get up.’

‘Thought you hadn’t guessed,’ Betty said. ‘Glad to have told you. You’re the only one to have a word. She’d not listen to us.’

‘She’ll probably not listen to me where Mike’s concerned.’

‘Well, at least you’ll have tried,’ Betty said. ‘Sorry, I won’t be able to keep you company if you’re set on sitting up for her, I’m jiggered.’

‘Me too,’ Pat agreed. ‘And me feet are burning.’

‘I don’t need company,’ Lizzie said. ‘You get to bed, you’ve been at it all day.’

She lay quiet until the girls’ even breathing told her they were asleep and then she got softly out of bed. The clock at St Phillip’s Cathedral tower, opposite the hotel, said nearly eleven o’clock, and she decided to
get herself ready for bed and then if she did drop off in the wait it didn’t matter.

Before half-eleven she’d finished her ablutions and was undressed, her Sunday clothes put back in the wardrobe and her uniform for work in the morning hanging on the picture rail. She was in her nightdress and tucked up in bed, with just the lights on her side of the room lit, and was reading a book she’d bought from a stall in the market.

Twice she got up to go to the toilet and looked at the clock, and twice she dropped to sleep, the book still in her hands, and was jerked awake. By half past one she decided Tressa could go hang herself for all she cared, she was too tired to wait any more and both of them were on earlies the following day. She put the book down, padded across the floor to put out the light, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her.

The light flooding the room pulled her back from the edge of a wonderful dream and she opened her eyes wearily, blinking in the sudden brightness to see her cousin standing there. Her face was aglow, as if a light had been lit behind it, and there was an inane grin on her face. Betty’s words came back to her.

‘You’re drunk,’ she said.

Tressa giggled. ‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘We were celebrating.’

The blood in Lizzie’s veins suddenly felt like ice. ‘Celebrating what?’

‘Getting engaged!’

‘Getting engaged!’ Lizzie repeated, relieved it wasn’t something worse.

‘No ring yet,’ Tressa said. ‘I mean, Mike asked me
to marry him tonight, and I said “yes” of course, and then he said he must ask Mammy and Daddy and do the thing properly, but that won’t be a problem. I’ve told them about Mike every week and how wonderful he is.’

‘You’re so young to be engaged.’

‘No I’m not,’ Tressa protested. ‘I’ll be twenty in July. We’re not getting married yet awhile. We have to save quite a bit first, Mike said. But an engagement is a commitment.’

‘I’ll say,’ Lizzie agreed. She got out of bed and crossed to the window. ‘It’s turned two o’clock.’

‘Who cares,’ Tressa laughed, turning a pirouette in the room. ‘Mike bought a bottle of champagne.’

‘Put a sock in it, why don’t you,’ Pat’s weary voice said from the other side of the room, and Tressa, her face still wreathed in smiles, put her finger to her lips in the exaggerated manner of a drunk. ‘Ssh.’

‘Tressa, get to bed, we’ve work in the morning,’ Lizzie advised.

Tressa tossed her head and went on, but in a whisper, ‘I care nothing about tomorrow. It’s another day. What I care about is Mike, I love him so much I ache. I want to be near him all day and lie curled around him every night.’

‘Tressa!’ Lizzie said in dread. ‘Tressa, you haven’t…?’