The Letter (8 page)

Chrissie opened the garden gate and froze in absolute horror. Sitting on the doorstep shivering and whimpering was Leo. She knew she had left him in the house, so this could only mean one thing. Her parents were already home.

Chapter 6

Chrissie fumbled in her handbag for her key. In her frenzied haste she went through the contents twice before she found the key, which was actually in her coat pocket all the time. Leo was circling round her ankles demanding to be fussed.

‘Stop it, Leo, please. I need to get in the house.’

She held her breath as she entered the hall. All was quiet and in darkness. That was very strange indeed. Maybe her parents weren’t home, after all. Perhaps she had left the back door open and Leo had escaped that way. She felt along the hallway to the kitchen and flicked on the light causing her to squint in the sudden brightness. Leo had followed her through and was now lapping thirstily at his water. The back door was locked and there were two used coffee cups on the table. Chrissie’s heart sank as she heard a creaking on the staircase. Panic turned to sheer terror as she swung round to see her father standing in the doorway. He was absolutely incandescent with rage, crimson-faced and taking deep breaths, obviously having difficulty in finding the words that would adequately convey his wrath. Chrissie stood there shaking, and Leo cowered behind her. Dr Skinner deemed words unnecessary as he took one step further, raised his hand and hit Chrissie hard across the face. She reeled backwards, fell over Leo and hit her head on the stone floor. She lay there dazed and shocked as Leo licked her face.

Without uttering one word, Dr Skinner turned abruptly on his heel and stomped back upstairs. Chrissie could taste blood in her mouth and felt herself beginning to retch. She sat up, but that made the room spin so she lay back down again on the hard, unforgiving floor and began to weep. Leo cuddled up beside her and there they spent the rest of the night in fitful slumber.

Clark thought Sunday would never come. All day Saturday, he checked his watch constantly. He checked it at eleven o’clock and then again an hour later – it was ten past eleven! He met Billy in the pub for a lunchtime pint.

‘I can’t wait, Bill,’ he said, passing a drink over to his friend.

‘So, where are you meeting her?’ asked Billy. He knew he should be pleased for Clark as he’d waited so long for a date, but Billy was jealous and finding it difficult to hide.

‘In the park, by the bandstand. She’s bringing a picnic.’

‘That’s nice. Did you kiss her?’

Clark was taken aback by the sudden question. ‘Err, no, only on the hand.’

Billy was relieved. ‘Maybe you will tomorrow then?’

‘I’m not rushing it, Billy. I don’t want to spoil things. I think she could be the one.’

‘You’ve only met her once.’

‘I know, it’s ridiculous, but she is just so warm and friendly and…’

‘Like a Labrador?’

Clark snorted on his pint. ‘Bugger off, Billy.’ He laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’

That was the trouble. Billy did know, because he felt exactly the same way.

The next day, Clark waited anxiously by the bandstand. It was ten past one already and there was no sign of Chrissie. There was no need to panic just yet, Clark reasoned to himself as he checked his watch again. The spring day was unseasonably warm and Clark was regretting wearing his suit and tie. His stomach was in knots and he felt like he needed to use the toilet yet again. There were some public conveniences within his sight, but he didn’t dare go in case Chrissie arrived in his absence and assumed he had not turned up. He bounced from one foot to the other, nervously pulling his cuffs and smoothing his tie. He stared at the park gates, willing Chrissie to skip through them. He imagined her looking all fresh-faced and glowing, carrying a brown wicker picnic basket and a tartan rug, profusely apologising for her tardiness. He would politely kiss her on the cheek and insist that no, she wasn’t that late and tell her how beautiful she looked. She would be slightly out of breath through hurrying and they would collapse on the rug together where they would lie with fingers interlocking as though they had known each other all their lives.

Unfortunately, the reality was it was now half past one and Clark knew with absolute certainty that Chrissie wasn’t coming. How could he have been so stupid to believe she ever would? Girls like Chrissie had always been out of his reach and nothing had changed. He slumped down on the grass and savagely pulled the head off a daffodil. Its petals were crusty now and past their best, soon to wither completely and become an eyesore instead of the dazzling display of hope and happiness they had once been.

Meanwhile, alone in her bedroom, Chrissie peered at her reflection in the mirror on her dressing table. The cut in her lip had now congealed with blood, but it was still swollen and her head pounded. Her heart ached as she looked at the clock – one thirty. She wondered how long Clark would wait by the bandstand before giving up and she boiled with silent rage. Her father had no right to keep her prisoner like this. She had spent the whole of Saturday locked up in her room with little to eat or drink. Now it was Sunday and there didn’t seem to be any hope of a release. She had faced a grilling from her mother and father on Saturday morning about the previous evening’s escapade.

‘I only went with Syl to the dance hall,’ she protested.

‘Which one?’ demanded her father, as if it would make any difference.

‘The Buccaneer.’

‘That den of iniquity?’ He turned to his wife. ‘I told you, Mabel, this girl’s out of control.’

Chrissie couldn’t help herself and actually laughed out loud.

‘Samuel, don’t exaggerate,’ Mabel admonished.

She turned to her daughter. ‘You should have asked us if you wanted to go out. It’s the deceit we find intolerable, you see.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t agree to it.’

‘Who was that boy you were with?’ Samuel Skinner suddenly demanded. He must have been looking out of the window. Thank God they hadn’t kissed, thought Chrissie. He would have been apoplectic.

Chrissie felt defiant. ‘His name is Clark, he is a decent chap, very polite and he saw that I got home safely.’

‘What happened to Sylvia?’ asked Mabel.

‘I left her at the dance hall with Clark’s friend, Billy.’

‘That girl is a bad influence, always has been,’ muttered Samuel.

Chrissie started to defend her friend, but she opened her mouth too wide, which caused her lip to split open again. She dabbed at the blood with a tissue. Samuel averted his gaze and had the decency to look a little ashamed.

‘Look, I’m sorry that I hit you,’ he admitted. ‘We just worry about you, that’s all. We can come to some arrangement about letting you go out a bit more if you like, but you over-stepped the mark last night and for that you need to be punished.’

As if a slap in the face and a night on the kitchen floor wasn’t punishment enough,
thought Chrissie bitterly.

‘You will spend the rest of the day in your room,’ said Mabel. She averted her eyes so she wouldn’t have to see the look of resentment on her daughter’s face.

‘Rest of the weekend,’ interrupted Samuel.

Mabel glared at her husband before continuing.

‘You will spend the rest of the
weekend
in your room.’

Chrissie thought about her meeting with Clark and began to protest.

‘But....’

Her father raised his hand to silence her and Chrissie actually flinched.

‘Enough! Go to your room at once.’

Chrissie stood up miserably and climbed the stairs.

Mabel called after her. ‘I’ll bring you a little something to eat later.’

‘Don’t forget to take Leo out, then,’ she called. ‘And the returned medicine bottles need washing before Monday. Oh and the surgery instruments need disinfecting.’ She felt this was a minor victory and a wry smile played across her lips as she closed her bedroom door.

Now she felt terrible for letting Clark down, but silently prayed that he wouldn’t come to call for her. That would incur such wrath from her father that she feared she would never see beyond the four walls of her bedroom again. She had no way of contacting him as she didn’t even know his surname, let alone where he lived. She was desperate to explain and the helplessness and guilt she felt left her breathless. Clark would believe he had been stood up and he did not deserve that. He seemed such a kind and considerate person, but beset with self-doubt and an utter lack of confidence. Chrissie recalled the expression on his face when she had agreed to meet him. A look of total disbelief, followed by elation as he realised Chrissie wanted to see him again. Now he would be simply crushed.

*

When Billy entered the pub that evening for last orders, the barman immediately nodded over to the corner of the room. There, slumped in a chair, surrounded by empty glasses and overflowing ashtrays, was Clark.

‘Been there since opening,’ informed the barman. ‘Banging on the door he was. Made a terrible racket.’

Billy walked over to Clark and pulled up a stool. His tie was askew and he had his sleeves rolled up. His eyelids drooped over his bloodshot eyes, as he gazed into yet another pint.

‘Alright there, mate,’ ventured Billy. ‘I take it this means it didn’t go well with Chrissie.’

‘It didn’t go at all.’

Billy’s heart quickened. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Didn’t show up, did she.’

Clark could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. He lit up another cigarette and coughed violently.

‘Look at the state of you,’ said Billy. ‘Don’t think you’ve had enough.’

‘Enough of what? Cigarettes, alcohol or yet more disappointment?’

‘Come on, pull yourself together and tell me what happened.’

Clark leant back in his chair and rubbed his face.

‘Like I said, she never showed up. Left me standing there like an idiot, she did. I really liked her, Billy. Why did she do this to me?’

Billy had no answer of course but tried to cheer up his friend.

‘I’m sure there must be a good reason,’ he said, hoping he was wrong. ‘She seemed keen the other night. She can’t have just changed her mind surely?’

‘I’m finished with girls, more trouble than they’re worth’ said Clark.

The next day, Monday morning, Billy stood outside the surgery in Wood Gardens. Clark had told him Chrissie’s surname and that she was a doctor’s daughter so it hadn’t needed Sherlock Holmes’ powers of deduction to work out where she lived. He wasn’t even sure why he was here, let alone what he was going to say, but he felt compelled to see Chrissie again. She had awakened something in him on Friday night that was difficult to explain. Maybe it was because she seemed more interested in Clark than him, a situation that had never occurred before. All the time he was lumbered with the beautiful but ghastly Sylvia, he could not stop thinking about Chrissie. Every time he had glanced over to where she and Clark were sitting, he had felt a stabbing pang of jealousy. Billy knew Clark had always felt inferior to him because of his popularity at school, but in truth it was Billy who was in awe of Clark. While Billy worked at the local bakery in a job that was not exactly stimulating or well paid, Clark worked for the Manchester Co-Operative Society collecting cash for goods that had been bought on credit. He had once showed Billy the huge leather-bound ledger, explaining that all the payments needed to be entered into it and then balanced. Billy had shaken his head in wonder and wished he had concentrated harder at school. Work at the bakery consisted of shift-work and Billy often toiled through the night and then slept all the next day. On the plus side however, he did receive his fair share of free custard tarts.

It was this Monday morning, when he really should have been in bed after a long shift, that he stood outside the surgery in Wood Gardens, waiting for Chrissie. He suddenly heard a dog barking and then a large black and tan, curly-coated dog appeared from the ginnel at the side of house, followed by Chrissie, pushing her bicycle. Billy watched from behind a bush as she struggled to turn her bicycle upside down. She cursed out loud as the bicycle toppled over. Billy hesitated slightly before coming out from his hiding place and opening the garden gate.

‘Need any help?’ he asked.

Leo rushed up to greet him. Family, strangers, burglars, they were all the same to Leo.

Chrissie looked up and raised her eyebrows. Billy could see she recognised him instantly.

‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’

Billy strode over and turned the bike upside down so that it now rested on its seat and handlebars. He noticed immediately the cut on her lip and a yellow bruise on her cheek.

‘The chain came off. My father was supposed to have fixed it but he forgot,’ explained Chrissie.

‘Would you like me to do it?’

‘If you don’t mind, that would be very helpful.’

Billy removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. As he knelt down, Chrissie stared at his broad shoulders and suddenly became aware of her own dishevelled appearance. Her hair was unwashed, and she wore no make-up. She instinctively covered her mouth with her hand to try and hide her injuries. In a matter of seconds, Billy had put the chain back on and returned the bike to its natural position.

‘All done,’ he said, rubbing his hands together in an effort to get rid of the oil.

Chrissie was anxious to get out of the garden before her father saw her talking to Billy. She placed the bag of medicines in the basket.

‘Are you alright, Chrissie?’ he asked gently.

Chrissie was touched by his tenderness and looked round furtively.

‘Please, come with me.’

She wheeled her bicycle down the path and Billy held the gate open for her. They walked in silence for a couple of minutes and then passed through the metal railings into the square patch of greenery from which Wood Gardens acquired its name. They found a bench and Chrissie propped her bicycle against the railings and they sat there side by side.

Billy stared directly ahead as he asked. ‘What happened to your face?’

Chrissie recounted the tale, as Billy listened in horror.