Live the Dream (8 page)

In the early years theirs had been the ideal romance, the meeting, the courtship, the sharing and growing together. Then the cracks had begun to show, with Sylvia's waywardness and selfishness. She was bored; she didn't want Luke to go to the factory; she wanted to travel…She started spending every evening out—with friends, but they were not friends he knew—and she was drinking a lot. Luke tolerated all this because he still had his dreams of their growing old together, with maybe a son who would one day take over the business from him. Then Sylvia met Arnold Stratton…

Luke still loved her now in spite of her cheating, but not in the way he had loved her before. Not with his heart and soul. Not blindly. But he had made his vows and he held her close to his heart. She was his wife, his responsibility and he would take care of her until the end of her days…or the end of his! Whichever came first.

His thoughts returned briefly to Amy as he had seen her that evening—young, care-free, laughing in the street. She was his dream, but Sylvia was his reality.

The portly cab driver was a chatty sort. I'll soon have you home, miss,' he assured Georgina proudly, 'safe and sound, just like the good man wanted.'

Deep in thoughts of a devious kind, Georgina didn't hear him.

'Decent fella…seems concerned to keep you from harm,' the cabbie went on. 'Your intended, is he?'

Coming out of her reverie with her mind made up, Georgina didn't catch his last remark. 'What's that you say?'

Half-turning his head, the cabbie apologised. 'Sorry if I offended you. I were only asking if the fella was your intended?'

Georgina smiled. 'Not officially,' she answered coyly, 'I mean, he doesn't know it yet, but I intend for us to be man and wife one day.'

The cabbie laughed out loud. 'You women!' he chuckled. 'Once you get your claws into us men, we've got no chance at all.'

He was only minutes from Park Street when she instructed, 'Turn down the next street left.'

Confused, he advised her, 'But that's Johnson Street. I were told you wanted Park Street.'

'Well, now I want Johnson Street!' she snapped. 'Keep moving until I tell you when to stop.'

Swinging the vehicle into Johnson Street, the cabbie was guided by the streetlamps. 'What number?' He peered at the door: 'This is fifteen…seventeen…' As instructed, he moved slowly on.

'Here!' Perched on the edge of her seat and ready to open the door, she screeched at him, 'STOP HERE!'

Made to halt in a dark, shadowy spot between two street- lamps, he wondered what she was up to. 'Do you want me to wait?' he asked as she climbed from the cab.

'Well, of course I want you to wait,' she replied impatiently. 'The trams have stopped running and I certainly don't intend walking home in the dark.'

He nodded. 'How long will you be?'

'I don't know,' she snapped. 'Anyway, what does it matter to you?'

'Well, if it's only a few minutes it'll make no difference. But if it's gonna be some time, then I might have to charge you a bit more.'

Georgina rounded on him. 'You'll do no such thing!' she told him. 'I saw the handful of coins he gave you, and it was more than enough. You're getting no more—not even if I'm in there till morning!'

'I see.' He had taken a real dislike to her. 'And are you likely to be in there "till morning"?'

'Well, now…" giving a sly little wink, she leaned towards him, '…we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?' With that she sauntered off, glancing up at the house numbers as she went.

Curious, he watched as she knocked on a door. Smartly groomed and dressed in expensive clothes, she was quite an eye-opener, he thought. But it didn't always follow that what looked good on the outside was good on the inside.

A naturally wary man, he decided that when she came back out, he would take her home quick as he could, and never a word of conversation between them.

Cabbies should keep their traps shut and just do their job, he decided, or who knew what trouble they might find themselves in.

After a few moments the door opened. Casting a glance up and down the street, she hurried inside.

The cab driver also glanced up and down the street. 'It's a far cry from Park Street,' he muttered thoughtfully.

A long meandering street on a deep slope towards the town, Johnson Street was typical of the roads in those parts. It was the kind of ordinary, serviceable place where folks like himself lived out their days—hard-working, God-fearing folks who worked long, back-breaking hours in the cotton- mills or the nearby factories.

One thing was certain: it was nothing like the beautifully kept, wide open streets, with their big posh houses, that ran up alongside the park. Those were reserved for wealthy folk—employers, bank managers, that kind of contented, fortunate soul.

He settled himself into the seat, closed his eyes and yawned. 'One thing's for sure, she's up to no good.' He thought about the man who had paid for her cab. 'Some women don't know when they're well off!' he muttered. 'That fella seemed a decent sort, but if he's not careful, he'll find himself hooked up to a bad lot, an' no mistake!'

Georgina followed the man into the sitting room.

'I didn't expect you tonight, Helen. What you doing 'ere at this late hour anyway?' A rough-looking fellow, but well- endowed, clad only in underpants he made a fetching sight to her eager eyes.

'Aren't you pleased to see me?' A flush of disappointment coloured her face, but she pouted seductively and slowly slipped her coat off, her eyes full of suggestion.

He gave a wily grin. 'Depends, don't it?' Looking her up and down he licked his lips. 'It's been a while since we got together.'

'I was on my way home and thought I'd come and pay a visit,' she purred.

His blue eyes coveting her, he smiled. 'If I knew where you lived, I might be able to repay the favour now and then.'

Shaking her head, she took a step forward. I'll
never
tell you where I live.'

'Hmm! Sometimes I wonder if your name really is Helen.' He gave her a wry little smile. 'Is it?'

She laughed. 'That's for me to know and you to find out.'

'You're a secretive bugger and no mistake.' Now, as he moved towards her, the light from the flickering gas-mantle played shadows on his unshaven face. 'And why is that, I wonder?'

Stroking her hands through his tousled brown hair, she murmured, 'Because I don't trust you. I don't trust anyone, but I especially don't trust men.'

Through hostile, narrowed eyes he studied her. 'All the same, it would make things easier if I knew a bit more about you. After all, you know my name, and you know where I live.'

Staring him out, she answered emphatically, 'Only because I had to bring you home when you were drunk out of your mind. You couldn't stop talking.'

They had met in the town one afternoon when Georgina's high heel had become caught between paving stones and he'd freed her. Each had liked the look of the other. He admired her bold manner and her expensive perfume, and she had always secretly lusted after rough-looking men. Good manners, she found, so often took the excitement out of sex. Sylvia must have found the same, Georgina thought. Why else had she had an affair with Arnold Stratton?

Neither had anything better to do so they'd found a hotel bar; then, when they'd drunk a fair amount, gone on to a pub he knew. There he'd become ridiculously drunk and she'd had to take him home in a taxi. She'd stayed the night and their affair had started when his hangover abated. &

'And

besides, you don't need to know my real name and address,' she now added.

'Oh, but you're wrong. As a rule I know all about my women after the first meeting.'

'I'm not one of "your women".'

'So, what are you doing here?' Leering into her face, he laughed. 'Can't resist me, is that it?'

She batted her eyelashes. 'I get lonely sometimes,' she answered. 'Is that so hard to understand?'

He took a long, slow breath. 'It is, yeah. You're an attractive woman…not short of a bob or two, by the looks of it, and here you are, slumming through the back streets to see an old lag like me.'

Smiling, she observed his muscular figure, with the first signs of a rounded stomach, and that unkempt face with its peculiar, rough appeal and, stepping forward, she stroked his bare arm. 'You're not an "old lag",' she murmured.

'Oh, but I am.' He was deliberately taunting her. 'When a man's been in prison, what else would you call him, but an old lag? I'm a bad man, Helen.' His eyes were hard like two bright marbles. 'Some of us are locked up because we deserve to be.'

She touched him tenderly, her fingers curling round the hairs on his broad chest. 'If you'd rather I left…' her voice was like silk in his ear, I'll go now…if that's what you really want?'

'O' course it's not what I want.' His features softened. 'You don't know how glad I am that you took me home that night,' he said gratefully. 'I were in a bad state—drunker than I've ever been in my life.'

She gave a soft, knowing laugh. 'You were in need of help.'

With a wicked look in his eye, he asked meaningfully, 'And are
you
in need of help?'

'You know I am. Why else would I be here?'

Grabbing her to him, he kissed her hard on the mouth, one hand undoing her dress, the other snaking round her waist.

There was little foreplay and even less tenderness. It wasn't long before they were naked and locked together, writhing on the floor in ecstasy. The coupling was fast and furious, leaving them collapsed into each other, gasping and breathless.

A short time later, the cabbie almost leaped out of his skin when she banged on the window. 'Open the door, dammit!' In the streetlight, with her face pressed to the window, she made a frightening sight to a poor wakening man.

Scrambling across the seat, he opened the door. 'What time is it?'

She was smiling like a cat who'd got the cream. 'It's time to take me home,' she said.

And because his every instinct told him she was trouble, he lost no time in taking her home as fast as he could.

Edna hurried home to Peter Street.

'I've kept the kettle on to boil.' A small, round figure with balding head and pot belly, Harry had been wed to Edna these past forty years, and he loved her now as much as he had ever done. 'Sit yerself down, lass.' Scrambling out of the chair, he began his way to the kitchen. I'll mek yer a brew.'

When the tea was made, the two of them sat before the fire, comfortable in each other's company, and as always, the low-burning fire making them drowsy. 'Everything all right when you got back there, lass?'

'Aye, in the end,' she replied.

'Don't let that woman upset you, lass. She's not worth losing a minute's sleep over.' Sliding down in the chair he closed his eyes.

Seemingly unaware that her husband was ready for his bed, Edna remarked on what she had overheard. 'That devil were calling me names again.'

Looking up, Harry scratched his head. 'What's that you say, lass?'

Edna tutted. 'Sylvia's awful sister. She were calling me names to Mr Hammond.'

He shook his head in disgust. 'She's a bad lot, is that one. Anyway, how d'yer know she were calling yer names? Did Mr Hammond mention it then?'

'Naw, course he didn't. He would never do that. He doesn't like trouble, doesn't Mr Hammond; he prefers a peaceful life. No, I overheard the two of them talking about Sylvia, and I heard her say as how I weren't fit to be looking after her. She reckons he should get somebody more suited.'

!Huh! He'll not get nobody more suited than you, lass. By! You've got more qualifications an' experience than she'll ever have!'

Edna smiled at that. 'You allus did credit me with more than I deserve.' Though she did allow herself a little pat on the back. 'But you're right o' course,' she conceded. 'I worked long and hard over the years, and if I say so meself. I look after Sylvia better than anyone else ever could…matter o' fact I don't think she'd ever agree to anybody else taking care of her. Y'see, she's come to rely on me for everything.'

Harry couldn't agree more. 'Aye! An' that's 'cos she loves you like you were her own mammy,' he retorted. 'Look, lass. You tek no notice o' that sister of hers. She's an out-and- out troublemaker. Like you say, she's got her eye on Luke Hammond, and soonever his wife is out of it, she'll be in there afore yer can thread a needle.'

Edna laughed at his boldness. 'And you're right,' she told him, with a loving pat on the hand. 'But I mentioned that to you in confidence, so you must never repeat it to another soul, or I'll be sent packing for good, and no mistake.'

By the time she'd finished speaking, he was beginning to nod off. 'Hey! Come on, you.' Shaking him fully awake, she urged, 'Off to bed with you, an' I'll be up alongside you in a few minutes.

After he'd gone, she thought about the conversation between Luke Hammond and his scheming sister-in-law. Harry's right she thought. That sister of hers is a devil in the making!

She thought of Sylvia's predicament. 'I do love that poor lass, though,' she muttered. 'By! If her sister had her way, Sylvia would be shut away in some institution or another by now, leaving the coast clear for that madam Georgina to work her wiles. But thankfully, the lass will be safe enough.' She comforted herself with the thought. While Luke Hammond has the final say, his wife will be well looked after, God willing. With me there to tend her every need.

'Come on you lazy pair!' Dave's voice sailed through the house. 'Let's be having you'

'Whats up?' Sleepy eyed, Amy leaned over the banister.

'Is there a fire or what?'

'There will be if you don't get backsides down here.'

Positioning himself on the second stair. Dave told her, 'It's ten past six. I've made the fire, boiled the kettle and now I'm ready for my breakfast.'

Amy glanced at her parents bedroom door. 'Where's Mam? Why didn't she get up with you?'

'Because she likes her bed too much, that's why.' Banging the banister again he pleaded, 'Go and knock on the door…tell her I'm ready for off.'