Winners and Losers (19 page)

‘Well, maybe I've had enough of being a dutiful little housewife,' Alice said with a note of bitterness in her voice. ‘I'm going to bed. I'm tired.'

‘And when I come you will pretend to be asleep – or you'll say you're not in the mood. What have I done? I know you are upset, but I don't know why.'

‘You should know.' She refused to look at him. ‘I don't like secrets, Dan – and you've kept this one a long time. Tell me, when did you go with her – before or after we started going out? Her son looks almost the same age as Danny.'

‘You've seen him?' Daniel's face went white. He didn't try to deny it. ‘Damn her! When did she come here? I told her I would break her neck if she came telling lies to you.' He jumped up and walked over to the window, his back stiff. ‘I didn't know about the boy. It was just one night, during an air raid in Liverpool. I was visiting Emily when she was stationed there with the Fire Service.'

‘So it was after we started going out,' Alice said bitterly. ‘Was it because I wouldn't let you for a start?'

‘No, of course it wasn't,' Daniel said. He swung round to face her, his eyes dark with anger. ‘She was drunk so I tried to get her home but the air raid started and we took shelter in a hotel. There was just one room left. I was going to sit in the chair but she asked me to get into bed with her and she started to cry.' He ran his fingers through his dark hair. ‘It just happened. It didn't mean anything. I've never known why I did it. I wasn't interested in her. I only knew her as Emily's friend. They both worked for the Fire Service. Her boyfriend had been badly injured . . .' Daniel swore under his breath. ‘The first time I saw her again was when I met her a few weeks ago in Ely. I swear I hadn't seen her or heard from her since that night. She demanded money for the boy and showed me some photographs. He looks like Danny, so I have to accept that he is mine in the circumstances.'

‘I've seen him. It was her hairdressing shop I went to just before Christmas. The boy came in and I knew he was yours almost immediately. I asked Shirley, my hairdresser, who he was. I felt sick. I couldn't wait to get out of there.'

‘So that's why you've been quiet since . . .' He walked towards her, reaching out to grip her shoulders as she would have moved away. ‘Damn it, Alice. I didn't know she had a child. I haven't seen her since that night, not until she approached me.'

‘And since then?'

‘A couple of times. She wanted money. She was going to send you the pictures.'

‘What did you give her?'

‘Five hundred pounds. She wanted much more but it was all I could spare.'

‘Where did you get it?' Alice threw him an angry look. ‘From Frances, I suppose. She lent you some money – I wondered where it came from and now I'm sure. That is how you paid off the bank and bought those cars . . .'

‘Yes, she did. I needed it, Alice. I had to give Maura something and I wanted to pay off the bank; there were other debts too.'

‘How could you do that – borrow from Frances? It's why you took me there, isn't it – so that you could borrow from your sister?'

‘It wasn't just for the money. You were tired. You needed a holiday. Don't look at me like that, Alice. I'm not a criminal!'

‘I want that money paid back as soon as possible,' Alice said. ‘It is humiliating to know that we owe Frances. How much was it?'

‘Two thousand pounds.'

‘What! How are we ever going to repay that?' Alice moved away as he held out his hand to her. ‘Don't touch me! I'm not sure if I can ever forgive you – but it certainly won't happen until you pay Frances what you owe her.'

‘I've been thinking about what Mary said the other day. If I sold the stock and put the fields to arable, I would have more time to do my repairs – and then I could save some money.'

‘It will take half our lives to pay it back – and all that time we have to scrimp and save. Well, I'm sick to death of it, Dan! I'll never trust you again.'

‘Don't be like this, Alice. I know what happened was wrong, but it is all over.'

‘I can't go back to that shop. What happens if our friends see that boy and put two and two together? It is so humiliating! Mary goes to that shop now. If she sees the boy, she's bound to wonder. I'm so angry with you, Dan.' She shot him a furious look. ‘I'm going to bed. You can sleep in Connor's room for the time being.'

‘Alice . . .' Dan sighed as she left the room. There was no point in going after her, because she wouldn't change her mind. He wasn't sure that things would ever be right between them again.

Seven

S
arah looked round the rails of good quality dresses and suits. It was her job to take them out one by one and brush away any dust that might have settled on them overnight. She quite enjoyed working in the classy dress shop in Ely High Street, and she was lucky because she got a twenty-five per cent discount on anything she wanted for herself. Her friends envied her because she could afford better clothes than they could; she had noticed that several of the girls she had known at school had started giving her odd looks when she met them at the club or the cafes they all frequented.

Phyllis said it was because they knew she was engaged to Connor Searles. It hadn't mattered when he was just one of the lads at the jazz club, but now he was on the radio and his records had been in the charts it was different. Phyllis and Ann were still her friends, but Janice hardly spoke to her these days, and a lot of the others sent some very unfriendly looks her way. Sarah knew that Connor was saving hard so that he could buy a nice house and things like that, but she couldn't help wishing that he would go back to being just the good-looking boy she had fallen in love with at the start. She longed to walk into the club with him and let everybody see it was her he wanted and not the girls he had his photograph taken with.

‘Is something wrong, Miss Jenkins?' Sarah's employer came through from the back room. ‘I want those rails straightened this morning if you don't mind – and I am thinking of having a sale.'

‘Everyone is having a sale,' Sarah said as she started on the dresses. ‘We sold such a lot at Christmas that some of the rails are a bit thin until the new stock comes in.'

‘Well, the new lines will start coming at the end of January. To make room for them, we shall select anything that has a mark or was unpopular, and I think we'll start our sale on Saturday – so that means we shall be busy for a few days. If we are lucky, we can make a clearance before the new stuff arrives.'

‘Yes, Mrs Hines. Do you want me to put out anything that has been marked? I noticed yesterday that one of the good dresses has a lipstick mark. It is too good for the sale really, but the mark will need to be got off at the dry cleaner's, I should think.'

‘People are so careless! Yes, put that and anything else you find on this rail here – I'll take these suits to the back room, because they are fairly new in. We will make this the sale rail, Sarah. Put anything you find that you think needs to be discounted and I'll have a look myself later and decide on the price.'

‘Yes, Mrs Hines.'

Sarah smiled as she began her task of tidying the rails. Some of these dresses were never going to sell for their full price, but she knew that Phyllis had her eye on a smart suit. She noticed that one of the better ones had a little thread pulled. It could easily be pulled back, but she would put it on the sale rail. If Mrs Hines reduced that, she would put it aside for her friend first thing on Saturday morning.

She smiled as she worked, thinking of Connor's passionate kisses when he'd driven her to a secluded spot the night he left. They had come closer to going all the way than ever before; she knew he had found it difficult to pull away at the last. A part of her wished that she had let him make love to her, but she was apprehensive – and not just because it would be her first time. Connor was becoming famous. She knew that a lot of girls followed the band from venue to venue, and she was afraid that the glamour and excitement of being a star would seduce him. He might fall in love with one of those beautiful girls he sometimes performed with on stage.

And yet Connor swore that he loved her. She believed him when they were together, but when he was away the doubt set in. You read about the things famous bands did in the papers and when she saw Connor's picture it made her feel that he was so far away – and not just in miles. She was just an ordinary girl. How could she be sure he wouldn't find someone else?

‘Have you seen that little blonde who keeps screaming every time you blow a kiss?' Terry said to Connor as they came off stage that night. ‘She can't be more than fifteen but she dresses as if she were older – tight sweaters that cling . . . boy do they cling!'

‘I can't say I've noticed particularly.' Connor yawned. ‘I'm whacked. Thank goodness we've got a couple of weeks at the recording studio to look forward to.'

‘I like being on the road,' Terry said. ‘Aren't you coming this evening? We've been invited to a party – there will be plenty of booze and grass.'

‘I don't touch that stuff.'

‘You don't know what you're missing.'

‘Thanks, but I'm not interested. I need some sleep.'

‘Suit yourself, but remember this won't last for ever. If our next record bombs, we'll be dropped. The rest of us are going to make the most of the chances we've got.'

‘Good luck to you.' Connor grinned. ‘Go and get laid – I've got someone waiting for me at home.'

‘She need never know,' Terry said. ‘I've got a girl at home – well, sort of – but that doesn't stop me having fun. I don't want to get married for ages. There are too many sexy girls around. I want to sleep with as many of them as possible.'

Connor laughed. ‘Casanova rides again? Good luck, mate. I would join you, but I happen to be in love.'

Terry shrugged and went off. Connor combed his hair. He was growing his sideburns and he thought they suited him. Sarah liked them and she was the one that mattered.

He slung his leather jacket over his shoulder. He had bought it recently from a junk shop and it was a genuine RAF issue from the last war. He'd only paid a few bob for it, but the others had coveted it as soon as they saw it. He was wearing black drainpipes, a black roll-neck sweater and brothel creeper suede shoes as he left the theatre by the back door. He was walking to where he'd parked his car when the shadow came towards him out of the gloom.

Connor was wary, because they had been attacked a couple of times by youths, but as the shadow moved into the light of the lamppost he saw it was a young girl. She was wearing denim pedal pushers with red high heels and a tight red sweater; her blonde hair was caught up in a ponytail. He thought she looked very young and slightly vulnerable . . . nervous.

‘What are you doing here on your own?' he asked. ‘Do you know it is nearly midnight?'

‘I wanted to see you,' she said in a rush. ‘I follow you wherever you go. I love you!'

‘No you don't,' Connor said, amused. ‘You love the man you see on stage, but that isn't me, young lady. I think you should go home to your parents. It isn't safe for a girl like you to wander about at this time of night.'

‘I only had enough money for the fare here,' she said. ‘I do love you. I've bought your records and I have your picture on my bedroom wall. Please, just talk to me for a minute. I've been waiting for hours.'

‘It's cold out here.' Connor looked at her pinched face; she was shaking with cold. ‘This is silly. I'll get you a coffee – there's an all-night stand just down the road – and then I'll give you the bus fare to get home.'

‘I want to be with you!' She rushed at him, throwing her arms about his neck. ‘I'll do anything you want – anything. I could come with you wherever you go. I love you more than anything in the world.'

Connor carefully untangled her arms from about his neck. He smiled at her, because he was conscious that his suggestive movements and the way he talked to girls in the audience had brought this on. It wasn't the first time a girl had thrown herself at him, but it usually happened when the other guys were around or on stage.

‘I'm honoured that you like me so much,' he said. ‘But I have a girlfriend. I don't know your name . . .'

‘Lisa. It's Lisa . . .' Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘You sing to me every time. The way you look at me . . . you talk just to me. I know you do.'

‘I'm sorry, Lisa, but I've never noticed you before this evening. I sing to all the girls like that, because it is good for the band's image, but I'm in love with a girl from my hometown.'

Lisa stared at him, her eyes darkening. ‘It isn't fair. I spend all my money following you. I'm in love with you and you
have
been singing to me. I know you have.'

‘No, Lisa, that isn't true. I sing for all the girls. Come on, I'll buy you that coffee and then I'll give you the money to get home. Where do you live?'

‘No!' Lisa stared at him wildly. ‘It's all a lie. You're not what you pretend to be! I hate you!'

Connor stared after her as she turned and fled into the shadows. ‘Don't be silly, Lisa. Let me help you to get home.'

There was no answer. Connor debated whether he should go after her. If she really had no money, it was dangerous for her to be on the streets of a big city like Liverpool alone at night. Anything could happen to her.

She was probably lying. She had built a fantasy in her mind about Connor, and the story about having no money was probably just a part of all that nonsense. She had hoped he would take her back to his hotel – which any of the other band members might very well have done. Connor knew that his friends regularly slept with girls who came to the shows; they couldn't understand why he didn't grab the chances that came his way.