Hettie of Hope Street (8 page)

‘You are still thinking of this dreadful Depression,' Ellie guessed. ‘Do you think it will end soon, Gideon, and things will get better?'

‘I wish that they might, Ellie, but I don't think we've seen the worst of it yet.' He patted her hand
and told her firmly, ‘But we won't talk of such things today, eh, my love? Let's enjoy listening to our Hettie singing her heart out instead. After all, that's why you've forced me into wearing these damnably uncomfortable clothes.'

Ellie laughed softly ‘Uncomfortable, are they? You looked as proud as a turkey cock when you wore them to the Lord Mayor's dinner,' she reminded him affectionately.

‘Aye, well. That was in January, when it was cold.'

‘Shush. I think Hettie is about to sing,' Ellie warned him as the pianist finished his piece and stood up to sweep a bow to the applauding audience.

Oh, but she was so nervous and she felt so sick. Hettie had seen her family and felt a momentary surge of pride in them, especially Ellie who looked so pretty. But then she had noticed that John wasn't there and immediately she had felt upset. Where was he? He had promised he would come and now he wasn't here, and she had so much wanted him to see her and hear her sing.

But Mr Buchanan was playing her introductory notes. Hettie turned away from him to face her audience, tentatively took a deep breath, and began.

‘Oh, but when those ladies at the next table said that Hettie had the prettiest voice they had ever heard, I was so proud I wanted to burst,' Ellie
exclaimed, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief.

‘And then to give you an encore, Hettie. The waiter serving us told us he had never ever seen that happen before,' remarked Connie.

‘Aye, lass, you've got a lovely voice,' Gideon said proudly.

‘Well, Hettie, I must say I was concerned when Ellie first told me what you were to do and certainly I would never allow one of my daughters to sing in public, but having said that the Adelphi is a first class hotel and not some common playhouse,' even Cecily grudgingly admitted.

Her face flushed with happiness and excitement, Hettie listened to the praise of her family as she stood close to Ellie, her step-mother's arm around her waist as she held her close.

She had not, of course, been able to go to them afterwards in the Hall, but they had been waiting for her in the hotel lobby and now they were all on their way to Cecily's mother-in-law's for a special dinner.

‘Mam, where is John?' Hettie demanded. ‘He promised he would come to hear me sing.'

The first person she had looked for after Ellie had been John and she had been bitterly disappointed not to see his face amongst the others.

‘Well, Hettie…' Ellie began gently, unsure of what to say.

‘Hettie, you are too selfish. John is a very busy man,' Cecily interrupted Ellie. ‘He cannot be
expected to leave his business on the whim of a mere girl. Goodness me, imagine the state the country would be in if our men folk all behaved so foolishly.'

Anger flashed in Hettie's eyes as she listened to Cecily's disapproving words. ‘It is John who is the selfish one and not me. He promised he would be here.'

Suddenly she was close to tears. Why hadn't John come as he had promised he would? He may not have approved of her dress, but surely he would have had to add his praise and applause to those of everyone else if he had been here to hear her sing?

‘Hettie, you are becoming overwrought. This is your special day, don't upset yourself,' Ellie told her gently, looking anxiously at Gideon as she did so. He gave her a small negative shake of his head that Hettie was too distressed to notice.

‘I wanted John to be here. I shall hate him for ever now that he has not come,' she announced pettishly, oblivious to Ellie's sigh and the despairing look she exchanged with Gideon.

Correctly interpreting his wife's glance, Gideon put his arm around Hettie and turned her to face him. ‘There is obviously a very good reason why John could not be here, Hettie,' he told her sombrely.

He and Ellie had discussed at some length the shocking telephone call they had received from John telling them of the accident and insisting that
they were not to say a word to Hettie about it so as to avoid spoiling her special day. Ellie typically had been torn between her love for Hettie and her anxiety for her young brother, but in the end she had agreed to abide by John's wishes.

‘Mr Buchanan, may I ask you something, please?'

‘Of course, Hettie my dear. Did I tell you how very pleased I am with you, by the way? Several of the ladies have commented most favourably on your choice of songs as well as your voice.'

Hettie gave him a small nervous smile.

It was over two weeks now since she had made her debut at the Adelphi, and two more frocks had been added to her wardrobe, via a shopping trip with Connie. Connie had wanted to treat her niece to something special after her successful debut and Hettie reluctantly agreed, but only after Connie said it would be an early Christmas gift from her.

They had gone to George Henry Lee's where Connie had bought her a modern sleeveless silky dress in green with white spots on it, its neckline dipping to a ‘V' at both front and back, trimmed with white braid with its dropped waist also sashed in white. Plus a second dress – in deep cornflower
blue, with a big white collar and pin tucking all down the front – which they found reduced in price because of a small mark on the back which Connie had said could easily be removed. The advantage of their choices was that Hettie was able to wear her white t-bar shoes, and her long white gloves, with both frocks.

She tried to tell herself that if John wanted to be nasty and not get in touch to explain why he had not come to her debut, then that was his affair, and she certainly wasn't going to waste her time worrying about it. But she had been upset and a part of her still was.

Mr Buchanan was patting her arm, and Hettie longed to move away from him.

‘I have applauded Mrs Buchanan, my dear helpmate and wife, for her excellent choice. You are a pleasure to have around, my dear, unlike your ungrateful predecessor. Now, what is it you wish to ask me? If you wanted my opinion on whether or not you should add another song to your repertoire, then…'

‘No, it isn't that.' Hettie stopped him hastily, taking a deep breath before plunging doggedly into the speech she had been rehearsing all week. ‘When Mrs Buchanan spoke with my mother, she told us that once I was singing here at the Adelphi you would give me the whole of my wages, less my bed and board, and not just a small amount of spending money because then I would not have to pay for any lessons.'

‘Yes?'

‘Well, it has been two weeks now and I have not had any wages…'

Mr Buchanan had started to scowl at her and Hettie could feel her stomach churning nervously. ‘I see. Well, yes of course you must have your wages, Hettie, since you have been promised them. But I am surprised that my good lady wife seems to have forgotten to have told you that there are certain expenses that have to be deducted from them first.'

‘Expenses?' Hettie faltered.

‘Indeed. There is the cost of your sheet music for one thing, and then the cost of the room we use to practise, plus the refreshments you have.'

Hettie could feel her spirits sinking lower with every word he spoke. Her spending money had not even covered the cost of her food and she knew that without the good-hearted generosity of the other girls many a night she could have gone to bed on an empty stomach. She had been looking forward not just to having a little bit more money in her pocket but also to repaying them for their generosity, but now, from what Mr Buchanan was saying to her, it looked as though she was not going to be any better off.

‘There, Hettie, I can see how glum you are looking. You are a good girl and I don't want to see you upset. Let me have a little think and see if there isn't some way we can make things a bit better for you. It is a pleasure to have the company of such a pretty, biddable girl, and I dare say you
know how to make a man appreciate your beauty to its full, my dear. But no saying anything to Mrs Buchanan, mind, she will chastise me if she thinks that I am being over generous to you.' Smiling genially at her, Mr Buchanan slid his hand down her back to her bottom and very determinedly squeezed one cheek, causing Hettie to cry out in protest and jump away from him.

‘Now, Hettie, that wasn't very appreciative of you,' he chided her sharply. ‘I had looked for a more grateful response to my generosity. We will say no more about it on this occasion but I hope you will remember in future that if I am to be generous to you, then you will have to be correspondingly generous to me. Ah, poor child, I can see that I have upset you. Come here and let me make you feel better.'

To Hettie's horror, he had grabbed hold of her before she could escape, forcing her back against the piano with the weight of his body. She could feel his moist, panting breath against her neck, and as she tried to push past his restraining arm he put his free hand on her breast, and squeezed it.

No man had ever attempted such an intimacy with her and nor had she ever imagined that they might do so. Ellie had been a loving and very protective mother, anxious, although Hettie did not realise it, to safeguard her children from the unhappiness and danger she herself had experienced as a young girl, vulnerable and alone after her mother's death.

Hettie felt close to fainting. The sensation of Mr Buchanan's slack wet mouth pressing against her skin made her feel sick with loathing.

‘I knew you would be a hot-blooded little thing. I've heard how you orientals know a thing or two about pleasing a man.' Mr Buchanan was panting. ‘Come, my dear, and give me your hand and let me find pleasure in your hold…'

Mr Buchanan's voice had gone thick and both it and he were shaking with excitement as he pressed his body into hers, Hettie recognised in trembling fear. He was plucking, no
tearing
at the fabric of her blouse, and her breast hurt from his rough handling of it.

‘Mr Buchanan. No…Please, let me go,' she begged him frantically, but instead of obeying her he simply grunted and pushed himself harder against her.

Her head had begun to swim with panic, a horrible cold, weakening feeling taking her strength, and Hettie was mortally afraid that she might actually faint and be left to his mercy. But then to her relief someone started to turn the door handle of the practice room and, with a speed that astonished her, Mr Buchanan not only released her but stepped away from her, smoothing the black strands of hair over his forehead and keeping his back to the door as he intoned, ‘Yes. As I was saying, Hettie, about adding another song…'

When he broke off, feigning surprise at the entrance of the housekeeper, Hettie took advantage
of her opportunity to escape, hurrying out of the room, not caring that her housekeeper might think her behaviour odd.

She was still trembling several minutes later when she had left the hotel and was standing on Lime Street, longing for the comfort of Ellie's arms around her and her soothing voice assuring her that what had happened would never happen to her again.

Mr Buchanan had mentioned her red dress, though, and she hadn't forgotten how angry John had been when he had seen her wearing it. Was it somehow her own fault that Mr Buchanan had behaved the way he had? He had certainly given her to understand that it was.

Her head ached and she felt sick. If she couldn't go home to Ellie then at least she could telephone her. There was a public telephone box in the station and she hurried over to it, pulling open the heavy door and stepping inside.

When the telephonist asked her what number she required, she was trembling so much she could hardly speak, but at last she managed to say the number. Gripping the receiver with one hand and her money ready in the other, Hettie waited for someone to answer.

When at last they did it wasn't, as she had hoped, Ellie's voice she heard but instead that of Mrs Jennings, her cook-come-housekeeper.

‘Oh what a shame, Hettie, yer ma and pa have gorn up to the Lakes,' she told Hettie.

Tears filled Hettie's eyes. She replaced the receiver and walked back to Lime Street, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.

John re-read the letter he had just written, and then got up to go and stand at the cottage door and look across the airfield. At the far end where the flying machine hangar had once stood, there was now a pile of twisted metal and charred rubble, all that remained of his hopes and dreams.

He had attended the funerals of each of the young men who had lost their lives, and suffered the accusatory looks of their families at every one. He could have defended himself from them by pointing out that the person responsible for their deaths was not him but one of their own friends, but what was the point now with them dead and their families already burdened with the pain of their grief? He had no wish to add to it by telling them that they had brought the deaths on themselves by breaking the rules.

Far worse, though, had been Jim's funeral. He and Jim had been friends for almost half of John's life. It had been Jim who had tolerated his questions and curiosity when, as a young boy, he had hung around him and the other men with their flying machines, coaxing Jim to tell him everything he knew about them. Jim had been the best of men and the best of friends, and John knew he would never forgive himself for what had happened to him.

As soon as Gideon and Ellie returned from the Lakes, John intended to tell them he was leaving the area. He knew Gideon and Ellie understood why he had insisted Hettie was not to be told about what had happened, and that he had not wanted to spoil her debut with his own dreadful news. She had probably not even missed him anyway, he decided bitterly, not with all the admirers she no doubt had now, paying her compliments and wanting to walk out with her. Hettie was young. She wanted fun and laughter, and they were the last things he felt like right now.

In fact, he felt as though he had the cares of the world on his shoulders. Even if he had had the money to do so, at this moment he had neither the heart nor the stomach for starting again and building another flying school here.

He couldn't stay here because if he did there would never be a day when he didn't look across to the charred ruin and know that, if he hadn't selfishly agreed to go and listen to Hettie singing, because he had been so desperate to see her, four foolish young men and his best friend would still be alive.

The blame wasn't Hettie's – how could it be? – but it was his for putting his desire to see her before his duty.

The letter he had just finished writing was a request to Alfred asking if the job he had mentioned to him was still open. The sooner he
was away from this place and its painful memories the better.

‘Gawd, 'Ettie, yer look like you've been bawling yer eyes out, what's up?'

Hettie had hoped that she would have the attic room to herself as she returned to the boarding house, but she had forgotten that Mavis had had a fall-out with the producer and was currently understudying, which meant she was refusing to go to the theatre for rehearsals.

‘It's nothing,' she mumbled.

‘Nothing? Give over, come on, what's to do? Old man Buchanan hasn't been trying it on wiv yer, has he?'

Hettie promptly burst into tears and within less than five minutes Mavis had dragged the whole sorry story out of her.

‘Ee, he's a right nasty piece of work, doing that to yer. Only that's the way it is in this business! But keeping yer wages back, so as to get yer to give 'im what he wants…That's right mean, that is. Ee 'Ettie, yer didn't let him have his way wiv yer, did yer?'

‘No.' Hettie told her vehemently as she shuddered at the very thought of the man.

‘Well that's all right then, lass. Now dry them tears and I'll tell yer what yer have to do.'

Obediently Hettie did as she was instructed whilst Mavis settled herself comfortably on her bed and lit up a cigarette, in flagrant breach of
one of Mrs Marshall's most stringent rules.

‘Now listen to me, the next time he tries anyfink like that on yer, yer 'as ter to tell him that you're going straight to Mrs B to tell 'er what he's doing.'

Hettie gazed at her in disbelief. ‘Oh, I couldn't do that.'

‘Yer won't have to,' Mavis assured her with a grin. ‘All yer have to do is say it like yer mean it, that will put the s…the fear of God right up him,' she amended hastily.

‘But what about my wages?' Hettie asked her miserably.

‘Aye, well I fink yer can kiss goodbye to them, 'Ettie. His missus might call him ter order for messin' wiv yer, but she won't be willing to hand over yer money. Tight arsed old bat. Oh, and 'ere's another tip for yer. Allus carry an 'at pin wiv yer…'

Hettie's forehead crinkled in confusion.

‘Yer sticks it into any fella who gets too frisky wiv yer,' Mavis explained patiently. ‘Works every time, especially if yer sticks it into his best friend.'

Hettie's confusion deepened. ‘But why would sticking it into his friend help if he's the one…'

When Mavis burst into raucous laughter, Hettie gave her a pink-cheeked look of enquiry.

‘Oh, 'Ettie. Gawd but yer wet behind the ears, aren't yer. A man's best friend is his old man.'

When Hettie still looked confused, Mavis heaved a large sigh and said, ‘'Ettie, afore you
came here how much exactly did yer ma tell yer about the birds and the bees?'

Hettie's face grew even hotter. ‘I know where babies come from, if that's what you mean,' she said quellingly.

But if she had expected to stop Mavis from laughing she was disappointed because instead Mavis laughed even harder, pausing eventually to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes and to splutter, ‘Aye, but do yer know how they gets there in the first place?'

When Hettie continued to blush Mavis told her in a more kindly voice, ‘Well, his best friend, or his old man, is what a chap puts into yer…well, yer privates. It's down there
his
privates are, like. He's got his old man and his balls, and we've got our privates and they fit together like they was made for one another. Which they was, of course,' she announced matter of factly.