Women on the Home Front (160 page)

‘Thanks. I owe you one, sis.’

‘You’ve got to sort this out for Neville’s sake. Ivy’s no paragon and she had no right to do what she did to Maria, but cheating on her doesn’t help,’ she added.

‘You’re right, as usual, Miss Goody Two-Shoes. I know about that stuff with Marco Santini…I know it was her and I feel bad about it. She gets these ideas in her head. I can’t keep up with her expectations of me.’ He sat down on the bentwood chair, his head in his hands. ‘Nothing’s turned out as I expected. I can’t seem to let go of things, memories, stuff from the war. I saw so many pals go west. Why should I be the one to survive, and now my brother’s dead? I can’t believe we’ll never see him again. I just want to blot things out. Shirley’s good fun, she takes my mind off things. Ivy just makes things worse.’

Lily recalled Diana’s words and suddenly felt for him. ‘Then put your foot down and say no to her wants, once in a while. Time to put up or shut up, Levi. Where’s your backbone? You’re a Winstanley and we’re made of granite.
You’ve a good business to run, a little son to follow you, a future to build. That’s more chances than many of your pals got. I’ll not say a word if you buck up.’

‘Thanks,’ he croaked with relief.

‘You and I haven’t seen eye to eye for months but we can try and do better if you’ll keep your hands off skirts. It’s not the answer. Besides, you’re the only brother I’ve got now.’ She touched his arm in a gesture of friendship.

He looked up sheepishly. ‘You’re a good lass. Walt should be proud to be getting you down the aisle and I’ll be proud to escort you there.’

‘We’ll see about that when the time comes. I want you to make sure Mother is looked after. You’re head of the household now. Winstanleys expect. Go on, better open up shop and let me get on or I’ll be getting the sack. Think on, Levi. No second chances at this life, I reckon.’

The funny thing was he didn’t say a word about her own little jaunt to The Coal Hole; not a flicker of curiosity or disapproval.

Suddenly all she felt was pity for the man who’d been the bane of her life for months. He was family, after all, and they must stick together now. Family First into the next generation. Whatever was happening, she hoped that they’d seen the last of Doormat Lil.

Her second visitor came in his lunch break as she was sorting out the itinerary for the coach trip to France. ‘I hope you’ve got a good explanation about last night. I can’t leave you five minutes with that lot and you make an exhibition of yourself in front of the street.
Mother hasn’t put her foot out of the door all morning because of you! I’m surprised at you in that state,’ he said, pink with indignation.

‘It was only a bit of fun.’ Where had she heard that excuse before?

‘That’s not what I’d call it, and on a Sunday night of all nights. What will your mother say? Honestly, Lily, I’m beginning to wonder about you. It’s not the first time this has happened, is it? What about the other week in the park?’

She hung her head. ‘We were just having a bit of a do, a celebration. My head’s paying for it now. Never again.’

‘Serves you right, but it’s beginning to be a habit. I thought we’d agreed to cut down on all those gallivantings with those wild friends? They only lead you astray. We don’t need people in our lives like that, do we?’

‘We need a bit of fun in our lives, a bit of adventure to compensate. If I give up the Olive Oils, I’m trusting that you’ve done right by me and sorted out that passport at long last. Avril’s banking on us to turn up and chaperone the old folks. That way we get a free trip. There has to be give and take in a marriage. I do this for you and you do that for me, even stevens. Start as we mean to go on, you told me. Humour me in this one thing and I’ll compromise on my friends.’

She watched him struggling with her words, trying to wriggle them one way and the other to his advantage.

‘They’ve been a bad influence on you. You never used to argue with me or get drunk,’ he answered, fiddling with his trilby hat.

‘I got drunk because you never show me any affection or kiss me like you meant it, not like Maria and Sylvio,’ she pleaded, knowing they must have this out once and for all.

‘Are they at it, again?’

‘“At it”? Is that all it means? I want us to desire each other so passionately that we don’t mind who sees us
at it
.’ There, her disappointment was nailed to the door.

‘That’s behaving like two dogs in the street. Sex has its place in the bedroom but it’s not the be-all and end-all of love. It’s there to control natural urges.’

‘Sometimes, Walt, I feel you’ve no urges towards me at all.’

‘It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, this sex malarkey,’ he argued.

‘How would you know? We’ve never tried it.’

‘Men just know these things. Besides, you and I are too old for all that steamy stuff. You’ve been watching too many pictures.’

‘How can you say we’re too old for passion? My mother missed my father something rotten. She worshipped him and he always had a twinkle in his eye for her.’

‘That’s not very ladylike. Mother says that nightly occurrences have to be endured, not enjoyed. Ladies do it to beget children.’

‘So that was why there was only one of you? I did wonder,’ she quipped.

‘You can be so coarse, Lil. Dad died for his country…’

‘Sorry, but I want more out of marriage than a quick fumble in the dark once every blue moon.’

‘And I want a lady for a wife, not a good-time girl cavorting round the streets at all hours, only after one thing.’ Walt was red in the face now.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lily said automatically.

‘That’s better. I’m glad you realise you’re speaking out of turn. We’ll be fine once we’re on our own; in heaven with the door closed,’ he smiled, patting her on the arm.

‘So you keep saying, but I want to be sure that you love me.’

‘Of course, I love you. I must do to put up with all of this nonsense.’

She leaped forward. ‘Then show me.’

He was backing off. ‘Not in your office. You never know who’ll come in. We save all that for the big day. It’ll be worth waiting for.’

‘OK,’ she sighed. Walter made a hasty exit, leaving her confused and disgruntled once more. Are you a stick of rock or a marshmallow? She sat down at her desk, all of a wobble.

Diana was right. The impulse of her heart was urging, Go to it, girl. It’s now or never, and it was Lee Winstanley’s voice she was hearing, not Doormat Lil’s. What was she going to do about that?

It was dawn on her wedding day when Lily poked her head out of the eiderdown. She must have dozed off for a few hours, dreaming of how it had all come to this.

Everything was in place, ready and waiting. At the end of her single bed was the half-packed suitcase on the floor, the suit hung on its coat hanger. The hat was cradled in its leather hat box. She sniffed the leather of her unworn shoes-two-toned peep-toes in white calfskin with brown trim-and felt empty. The initials on her case blazed out in the sunshine from a crack in the curtains.

It was going to be a golden day, speedwell-blue sky, dry pavements and no muddy splashes on their outfits. Just the day she’d always dreamed of, and yet…Something wasn’t right. Perhaps a few more minutes under the covers again, snuggled down, and this panic would disappear.

What was it about those initials, the wrong initials embossed on that case? How unsettling was it to see
L. W. not L. P.? Those letters had been haunting her all week; a reminder of the day she must change her name for ever, lose an identity and perhaps independence, along with the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Now everything was so muddled up in her mind.

Walt’s threats were ringing warning bells in her head, a noise she could no longer ignore. Why blame two gold letters on a suitcase for all this unease? It was too late for second thoughts.

It was all Pete Walsh’s fault for dancing with her and for kissing her and making her doubt. Perhaps it was Maria and Sylvio’s fault for showing her what real passion was about, showing up the lack of it in her own romance. Perhaps it was Ana and Su’s fault for showing her how to upsticks and follow a dream, however crazy, or Diana’s courage in facing her own loss.

Jumping from the bed, pulling open the curtains, staring out into the early morning with heart thumping, she sat down at her bureau and searched for her Conway Stewart pen among the pile of thank you letters waiting to be posted after the wedding.

Suddenly she knew what she must do. Eureka! All the fuzziness of the last frenetic days was rinsed clean away in her head by an ice-cold splash of clarity.

Her romance with Walt was one of those arrangements that had seemed so splendid at the time but felt a mystery to her now. When she conjured up Walt in her mind’s eye there was no spark of desire, no flicker of lust, nothing but an urge to mother him and sort his problems out. Doing that for the rest of her life was no basis for a marriage, surely?

When Pete Walsh danced into her dreams in his football shorts, she felt jumping jacks and Catherine wheels spinning inside, and rockets going off in all directions. He was like her favourite liquorice blackcurrants in the purple wrappers, fruity smooth on the outside but inside something to get your teeth into, rich and spicy, a sweet that lasted on the tongue.

Beside him Walt’s pecks of affection tasted of candyfloss, fluffy and sweet but all air and no substance when you tried to bite into it. It looked good until you tried it. You’d never get sweet satisfaction for your precious coupons. He wasn’t good value for money.

Her eyes were once blinkered by duty but not any longer.

The two of them were not suited and never had been. Better to call it a day now. What she was about to do was for the both of them before they made a big mistake.

How could she marry a man she didn’t fancy, and try to live a lie? Better to find it out now before the vows were promised. Now or never, that was the challenge, but how was she going to live this down?

Her hand was shaking as she rummaged in the drawer for fresh paper. The drawers were almost bare. Everything had been transferred to Well Cottage in boxes.

There was no easy way to let him down gently with this one. But start as you mean to go on was Walt’s motto.

They had hardly exchanged words since Monday, both being busy with arrangements, chasing trestle tables and linen cloths, enough chairs to sit fifty guests,
ordering ham off the bone from the butcher’s, wine glasses for the toast in Vimto cordial as the church would have no liquor on the premises.

Being busy kept doubt at bay for a while. Avoiding him put back the moment of truth a bit longer.

As the week dragged on the cage door was looming ahead, getting larger and larger. No wonder she’d been like a bear with a sore head, and the new Lee kept bobbing up with words of wisdom in her head, unsettling things even further.

Now it was crunch time. Could she salvage the day? There was still time to hold back the tide of events. It was early in the morning, chance to slip out and put the note in his letterbox and seek refuge with the Crumblehumes. They would know what to do, but first she must concentrate and put her thoughts on paper.

She foraged for an envelope and shoved in the letter, making sure it was labelled as ‘Urgent’.

Now she must write a note to her family before slipping away quietly. Mother would see that the minister was told. He would inform the registrar and so forth.

Dismantling a wedding was like knitting waiting to be unravelled, stitch by stitch, loop by loop, layer by layer. The wool could be rolled up and used for something else, given time and a bit of understanding.

Everyone’s disappointment was another matter, she sighed, closing the lid of the suitcase tight.

No one was stirring. By the time she reached Avril’s, all hell would be let loose in Division Street. Let them get on with it for a change.

Esme had tossed and turned all night, trying to remember everything on her list.

It was no good, the sweats had got her and she needed a brew to cool her down, so she waddled downstairs, hoping not to give the milk man a fright in her faded candlewick dressing gown and hairnet; no point in wasting a good shampoo and set.

She could hear movements on the landing and the creak of the third step on the stairs. She stood by the kitchen door, mesmerised as her daughter struggled with a suitcase, trying not to make a noise.