A Cuckoo in Candle Lane (31 page)

‘Christ, you’ve got a memory like an elephant. That was over seven years ago.’ Elsie grinned widely. ‘Do you remember her twins winning the fancy-dress competition? I think the judges were too frightened to give first prize to anyone else. And what about when her husband got drunk and flirted with that blonde piece who lives opposite Nelly?’

‘How could I forget,’ Ruth laughed. ‘It was the one and only time I’ve seen a woman lay her husband out – and with just one punch.’

‘Crumbs, it sounds like Ann and I missed all the fun,’ Sally complained. ‘If I remember rightly, we weren’t allowed to stay up for the adult party.’

‘You were too young, Sal, and it’s just as well that you were in bed. The language that issued from Joan’s mouth was enough to turn the air blue.’

They were all laughing as Sadie came in from her room. ‘What’s all this then?’ she asked, a grumpy expression on her face.

Sally smiled, knowing her gran hated missing out on anything.

‘We’re organising a party, Mum,’ Ruth told her.

‘Oh yeah, and what are we celebrating?’

The smile dropped from Elsie’s face and there was a strained silence. ‘It’s a going-away party for my Arthur,’ she answered. ‘But somehow I don’t think I’ll be celebrating.’

‘You ’ave to let them fly the nest, love,’ Sadie told her. ‘He’ll come back one day, you wait and see.’

Elsie looked at her sadly. ‘No offence, Sadie, but I wish Sally had said those words to me. Then I’d know my son was definitely coming home again.’

When they had finished making all the arrangements, Sally left them, deciding to go next door to see Ann. She stuck her head round the back door, surprised to see Arthur sitting by the fire, gazing into the flames.

‘Hello, is Ann in?’ she asked him.

Startled, he looked up. ‘Yes, she’s upstairs. How are you, Sally?’

‘I’m fine, Arthur. I hear you’ll be off to Australia soon.’

‘Yes, not long now.’ His face darkened, brows drawn together. ‘I was just sitting here thinking about it, Sally. I hope I’m doing the right thing.’

She advanced further into the room, his words making her feel strangely disturbed. ‘Are you having second thoughts? Is that it, Arthur?’

‘Not exactly. But it’s hard to see my mother in such a state. Have you noticed how much weight she’s lost?’

‘Yes, but don’t worry. She looks a lot more cheerful now, and I think she’s finally accepted that you’re g
^oi
ng.’

‘Do you think so?’ he asked eagerly.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, lowering her eyes. It was obvious to see how relieved he was, and she suddenly realised how much he must love Jenny to follow her to the other side of the world.

‘It’s strange really, Sally. You only live next door, but we hardly ever get the chance to talk, do we?’

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘Have you got over breaking up with your boyfriend?’

‘Yes, it was nearly six months ago, and I’m fine,’ she told him, feeling her face growing hot. As far as she knew, Arthur had no idea that John was homosexual. What could she say if he asked her why they had broken up?

He stood up, walking towards her and seeing the expression on his face, her heart began to thump. Smiling softly, he touched her arm, his voice tender as he said, ‘Sally, I—’

‘Hello, I thought I heard your voice,’ Ann said, bouncing into the room, totally unaware of the tension between her brother and Sally. ‘Come up to my room, Sal, I’ve got something to tell you.’

Sally tore her eyes away from Arthur’s and followed Ann upstairs, unable to understand why her knees felt so weak. ‘Right, what have you got to tell me then?’ she asked, pushing the strange feelings aside.

‘I’ve got a date with Billy,’ Ann told her, with a wide smile.

‘So you managed it at last.’

‘Yep,’ Ann said, squirming with delight. ‘Do you remember when I first saw him, Sally? He was choosing a record to play when we went to the youth club. How old were we then – fourteen, fifteen?’

‘Coming up to fifteen, I should think, and how could I forget? You’ve talked about him often enough.’ Sally sat on the side of the bed, her own memories flooding back. She flushed, remembering how she had run out of the club because Arthur had put his arm round her, and the many times since when she had been frightened by the way he looked at her.

‘We’re going to the pictures tonight. Oh, I can’t wait,’ Ann said.

Sally hardly heard her; she was remembering Arthur’s expression as they gazed at each other downstairs. It was the same look, but this time she hadn’t been frightened. It wasn’t fear that she felt – it was something else. The feelings Arthur evoked were so different from what she had felt for John. That relationship had been based on some sort of childish crush, almost hero-worship, and she realised that now.

S
ally, realising that there was nothing else she could do, managed to avoid Arthur as much as possible. Now that Ann was courting, and out most evenings with Billy, she rarely went round to Elsie’s.

She threw herself into her work at the shop, polishing, dusting, and tidying up constantly. Now, as the bell above the door rang, she looked up as a customer came in, the woman’s eyes scanning the interior in amazement.

‘I can’t believe it’s the same shop,’ she said. ‘Have you taken it over from old Sidney Jacobs?’

‘No, I just work here,’ Sally told her, smiling with pleasure at the woman’s obvious appreciation of all her hard work. She had to admit the shop did look lovely now. The mahogany drawers had been polished back to their former glory, revealing the beautiful patina of the wood, enhanced by the brass handles that gleamed after an application of Brasso and a lot of elbow grease.

Sally was standing behind the shiny glass-fronted counter that now revealed neatly arranged balls of wool on the interior shelves. Knitting patterns in large books were on display on top, alongside a rotary rack holding a good selection of buttons.

‘Well, it looks a treat. Just like it did when Mrs Jacobs was alive,’ the customer said, slowly walking forward. ‘My daughter’s having a baby, so can I look at some wool please – four-ply if you’ve got it.’

Quickly showing her a selection, Sally managed to sell her a knitting pattern too, along with some pretty buttons, and ribbon to thread through the booties of the pram-set pattern she had chosen.

As she left the shop, Sid came in from the back room. ‘You’ve increased sales already, Sally,’ he said. ‘Now go on, get yourself home. I know you’ve got a party to go to. A going-away do for your neighbour’s son, ain’t it?’

‘Yes, but it’s only four o’clock,’ Sally said, surprised by his offer.

‘It doesn’t matter. After all your hard work you deserve some time off, and I can manage on my own for an hour or so.’

‘You will be careful if you’ve got to climb the ladder?’ Sally said worriedly.

‘I won’t need to. You’ve made sure that it’s only spare stock in those top drawers, so anything I’m likely to be asked for is within reach. That was a good idea of yours – I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself. Now go on home before I change me mind.’

Sally pulled her coat on, and wrapping a thick woolly scarf around her neck, said, ‘Well, if you’re sure, I’ll be off. See you on Monday, Sid.’

‘Cheerio. Have a good time,’ he called as she left the shop.

Sally hurried down Wandsworth High Street, hands stuffed in her pockets and head bent against the sharp wind. Have a good time, Sid had said. She shook her head sadly, knowing that it would be impossible.

Later that evening, Sally sat on one of the hard wooden benches lined around the wall, a glass of gin and lemon clutched in her hand, watching Arthur dancing with his girlfriend. When the music came to an end and they crossed the floor, she noticed that Jenny looked pale, swaying slightly, despite the fact that Arthur was holding her around the waist. She suddenly clamped a hand over her mouth and made a dash for the toilets, leaving him to stare after her. Smiling ruefully, he ambled across to Sally, sitting down beside her.

‘Is Jenny all right?’ she asked.

‘She’s had too much to drink and feels sick,’ he answered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he studied her appearance. ‘You look a bit down in the mouth. Is something the matter, Sally?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ she assured him, hoping that her feelings were well hidden.

‘Would you like to dance?’ he asked. ‘Come on, it might cheer you up.’

‘No, oh no,’ she told him, a slight edge of panic in her voice. She couldn’t dance with him – she couldn’t. It would give the game away.

‘Sally, why do you always look so frightened when I come near you? You’ve been doing it for years. Crumbs, love, I only asked you to dance, yet you act as if I’m going to rape you.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, unable to tell him that it wasn’t fear she was feeling now. She looked up and saw Jenny returning to the hall, her black mascara streaked, and an inane grin on her face as she stumbled towards them.

‘Look at her,’ Arthur grinned. ‘I think I’d better take her home. See you later, Sally. If you see my mum, will you tell her I’ll be back soon?’

She nodded, rising to make her way yet again to the makeshift bar at the back of the hall. For the first time in her life she was feeling decidedly tipsy, and knew, though it didn’t stop her, that she was drowning her sorrows with drink.

As the evening wore on, Sally’s head was spinning. The music blared and couples jiving before her became a blur of swirling skirts, colourful petticoats and the occasional flash of stocking-tops and suspenders. She stood up dizzily, deciding to make her way outside, hoping that the fresh air would revive her.

She was leaning on the wall when Arthur approached. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

Tears stung her eyes as she looked at him. How could she tell him the truth? It was too late. She felt drained, emotionally vulnerable, and knew that if he held out his arms she would fall into them. Closing her eyes, she fought to hold back the overwhelming urge she felt to blurt out her feelings. Why, she thought, oh why has it taken me so long to realise that I love him?

‘Sally, please, what is it?’ he murmured, his voice gruff with concern.

Unable to help herself, she swayed forward and as his arms went around her, holding her tightly, she buried her face in his jacket. ‘Come on,’ he said huskily. ‘You’re freezing, let me take you home.’

As they walked the short journey her head was still swimming, and when they arrived at her house Arthur had to take the key from her shaky hand. He opened the door and they stepped into the small hall, turning towards each other in the dim light. Their eyes locked and Sally took an involuntary step forward. With a gasp Arthur wrapped her in his arms, murmuring her name.

Sally knew she was drunk, yet it was this very drunkenness that stripped away her inhibitions. Taking Arthur’s hand, she turned, leading him upstairs to her bedroom.

It had happened, the thing she had feared for so long, and it had been wonderful. Strangely, she felt sober now as she gazed at Arthur lying beside her, his eyes closed. She looked at his bare chest, unable to resist reaching out and running her fingers over the dark hair. Still with his eyes closed he grasped her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed her palm.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked softly.

‘Oh, yes. Thank you for being so patient with me, Arthur.’

‘I wish I’d known before, Sally. I always wondered why you acted so skittish every time I came near you. God, I’d like to get my hands on your uncle.’

‘I’m sorry I was so nervous at first.’

‘Well, that’s understandable, and thank God you told me why. Are you sure it was all right?’ he asked again worriedly.

‘It was wonderful,’ she told him, her eyes flicking to the bedside clock. ‘Arthur, look at the time! The party will be nearly over. Quick, you must go.’

He lazily turned his head and peered at the dial. ‘Christ!’ he yelped, leaping out of bed and hopping around the room on one foot as he hastily thrust one leg into his trousers. The other followed, then he stuffed on his shoes and dragged his shirt on over his head. Grabbing his coat he rushed over to the bed. ‘We must talk, Sally,’ he husked, leaning over and giving her an urgent kiss. ‘I’ll be round in the morning.’

Smiling, she watched him as he ran out of the room, and it wasn’t long before she heard the back door slam. Faintly in the distance she could hear singing, and as the sound increased Sally recognised the voices of her mum and gran. Jumping out of bed, her eyes quickly scanning the room, she saw Arthur’s tie slung across the back of a chair. Picking it up hastily and rolling it into a ball, she thrust it into the back of a drawer. Then, flinging a nightie over her head, she scrambled back into bed, frantically pulling the blankets into some semblance of order.

It wasn’t long before the bedroom door opened. ‘Are yer ashleep, Shally?’ her mum slurred.

Keeping her eyes tightly closed she didn’t answer, relieved when her mother didn’t advance any further into the room.

‘Yeah, ashleep,’ she heard Ruth mumble as the door closed.