All Fall Down (15 page)

‘You'd think he'd won the whole blinking show single handed,' a thirsty drinker complained.

Girls crowded round Ronnie to cadge cigarettes and adore his filmstar-handsome face.

‘And he ain't even seen action yet.' A second man recalled the hard-lying money he'd earned on a sub at the end of the first war. ‘Mind you, when I say action, I mean day after day creeping along the seabed waiting for the bosun's whistle and “Up Spirits!” That's all that kept us going, I can tell you.'

‘What a hero.' Gertie shoved a pint of bitter at him. ‘Don't take the shine off it for him, Sparky, there's a good chap.' She glanced up, surprised to see Meggie still sitting there. ‘Here, love, you look as if you could do with something a bit stronger than that orange juice.'

‘No, I'd best be off, ta.' She climbed down awkwardly from her stool and picked up her hat.

‘Never.' Gertie poured her a generous glass of sweet sherry. ‘Down the hatch. It's the weekend, ain't it? What have you got to rush off for?'

‘Nothing much.' Meggie didn't expect her mother back from Lancashire before Sunday at the earliest. She had no work today, and no enthusiasm now to carry on looking for Richie Palmer. Besides, the warm atmosphere of the pub and Gertie's brash cheerfulness drew her in. If she was straight with herself, so did Ronnie Elliot in his dashing uniform, with his clean-cut good looks.

‘Well then.' Gertie watched her settle back down. ‘Why not wait for things to liven up here? They'll be dancing in the aisles before too long, and you look like the sort to enjoy a good knees-up.'

She was right. The pianist ploughed on through the hubbub of greetings, the jokes, the reminiscences. Soon someone had pushed back a couple of tables and two couples took to the floor; a boy
in army uniform with a blonde-haired girl, and an older man in pinstripes, his trilby tilted forwards, arm around the elderly woman who'd been serving the sandwiches. When the music turned fast and furious to a jitterbugging number, she shrieked and protested, but her partner danced on.

‘Fancy a turn?' One of the drinkers at the bar sacrificed his stool and came to draw Meggie onto the floor. He was young and quite good looking, so she said she'd give it a go. As luck would have it, he was an expert dancer. In the crowded space he was still able to twist and turn her, swaying to the beat and guiding them with tricky sidesteps and twirls. Meggie held her end up; she was naturally rhythmic and graceful, knowing not to fight against the pattern her partner set up. Their skill soon drew admiring looks.

‘You done this before?' He held one arm aloft to let her spin by herself.

She nodded. Her hair flew back then swung in against her cheek, a solid, shiny mass. She felt her skirt lift above her knees.

‘I'm Eddie.' He held her waist and hunched his shoulders, sliding across the floor in a series of small rocking movements.

‘Meggie.'

‘I ain't seen you down here before.'

‘I ain't from round here, that's why.' The music, the movement exhilarated her.

‘You ain't one of Ronnie's girls, then?'

‘Why? Does he have lots?'

‘Lucky devil. Still, you can't blame him.' Eddie spun her round and round as the number came to a close. ‘These days you gotta make hay while the sun shines.'

They stopped at the edge of the dance floor. ‘Ta, Eddie.'

‘My pleasure.'

That was only the start of it. She had more dances throughout the afternoon with her first partner, and many others with the boys queuing up to dance with her, some with two left feet it had to be admitted, some reasonable, none as good as Eddie. The versatile piano player, a man with a ready, flashing smile, happy to play so long as they ferried drinks to him from the bar, changed his tune
from jitterbug to waltz, from music hall to jazz. Meggie loved every minute.

She was at the bar with a crowd of girls, all recovering from a scrum at the end of the hokey-cokey, breathless and laughing, when Ronnie tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to dance. Her heart gave a sudden tilt; she'd been hoping and praying that he would notice her. She nodded and blushed, put down her glass of orange juice. He led her back onto the floor.

They danced a quickstep, very sedate compared to the convulsions of the jitterbug and the hokey-cokey. Ronnie led well, but she hardly noticed what they were doing, so caught up was she in the thrill of being close to the most handsome man in the room. She thought he was wonderful, his skin smooth and fresh after the tough routine of drilling, his wavy hair very smart. He had light brown eyes – she thought you would call them hazel – and dark lashes which didn't make him look feminine, for his brows were straight and thick, his jaw firm and square. He was taller than her by a good three inches, broad shouldered, her ideal man.

‘You just moved into the Court?' He opened the conversation.

‘No. I was passing by.'

‘Glad you did?' She nodded.

‘I bet you never knew what you were walking into.'

The effort of finding something interesting to say to her was proving difficult. He cursed himself for sounding like a thickhead.

‘That's true, I never.' In a panic of her own, she began to babble. ‘Mind you, it was in my horoscope this morning. It said something unexpected would turn up.' Now he would think she was the sort who never did anything without reading her stars.

‘In the
Picture Post
?' They collided with a table. ‘Sorry.'

‘That's OK. Yes, the
Picture Post
. Silly, ain't it?'

‘What did it say, your star sign?'

‘It said to be prepared for the unexpected. Make the most of your opportunities, something like that.' She didn't say that she'd read that the moon was in line with Venus, right for romance, or some such rubbish.

‘Well, that's something.' He could hear the music drawing to a
close. It was as much as he could do to ask her to stay on the floor for another dance. His head was spinning with the drink and the welcome his mother had laid on. He'd had to dare himself to approach Meggie; she seemed different from the girls he usually went out with – a cut above. Ronnie's short time in the Navy had taught him to divide women into two groups. Meggie belonged to what he called the ‘decent' sort. ‘Fancy another?' he said, half under his breath.

She nodded. ‘Then I'll have to push off.' It was almost teatime. Walter and Annie would be wondering where she'd got to, and there might be news from Sadie.

The next number was a waltz. It emptied the floor of couples who preferred the fast dances and left space to breathe. Ronnie took the plunge and held Meggie close, ignoring the curious stares of his pals and numerous casual girlfriends. He felt his mother's beady eye on him from behind the bar.

Meggie swooned to the music and the experience of being in Ronnie Elliot's arms. She closed her eyes. Was this what it was like to fall in love? She drifted out of the present on a gentle wave of sentiment and disbelief. Was this really happening? Could it be true?

All too soon the waltz came to an end. They'd said very little, and what they had said was unsatisfactory chit-chat. But as he walked her off the floor, Ronnie wasn't ready to release her. He kept his arm around her waist, steering her to the bar.

‘I have to go.' She looked round for her hat, not daring to meet his gaze.

‘Here.' Gertie picked it up from a safe place by the till. ‘I stashed it for you.'

‘Ta.'

‘What's the rush?' Ronnie aimed for the casual, off-the-cuff comment. ‘Have you got a train to catch?'

Gertie looked on, evidently amused.

‘Tube. But I have got to get back. I never said I'd stop out late.'

‘Can't you telephone?'

She could. There was the phone in Walter's office, but she didn't
want to sound too keen. So she shook her head. ‘I've been here ages already.'

‘Well come again, now you know where to find us.' Gertie stacked glasses into the sink. ‘Mind you, we don't have a do like this every day of the week.'

‘Only when I'm twenty-one.' Hands in pockets, he waited for her to gather herself together. ‘I'll see you out if you like.'

Meggie glanced at Gertie, whose eyebrows had risen, but who said nothing. ‘Ta.' She said goodbye to the landlady and followed Ronnie through the crowd. Outside all was light, fresh and busy.

‘Where to?' He turned to wait.

‘Oh, no, you go back in and have a good time.' She stepped past him into the street.

‘No, I don't mind.' He offered her his arm and they began to stroll. ‘I need a breather in any case.'

‘Where are we?' They'd come out of the Bell on to a different road.

‘Heading for St Martin's. That's why the pub's called the Bell, see: it's practically in the shadow of the church bells.' Bleeding fascinating, he told himself. Absolutely bloody riveting.

‘So where's the tube station?'

‘Where do you have to get to?'

‘Borough.'

He stopped to search in his pockets. ‘Here, never mind the tube. Take a taxi.' He wanted to give her a handful of change.

‘Oh, no.'

But he'd already hailed a cab. He leaned in and instructed the driver, handed over the money, told him to hang on a second. ‘I don't know what they call you.' He turned back to her.

‘Meggie. Meggie Davidson.'

It was now or never. The taxi driver sat with the engine idling, casting his cynical eye over them. ‘Will you come out with me, Meggie?'

‘When?' Her heart did another mad tilt. She clutched the brim of her hat.

‘Tomorrow. Meet me. You say when.'

‘Afternoon.' She would be able to fix it, she was sure. ‘Where?'

‘Wherever you like.'

‘Here?'

‘By the church. Righto.' He ran a hand across his mouth. ‘Two o'clock, then. Champion.'

‘You getting in this cab or not?' a weary voice cut in.

Startled, Meggie jumped. Ronnie opened the door.

‘Where to?' The cabbie slid into gear.

‘Ta, Ronnie. I had a lovely time.'

‘Me too. See, it was in them stars.' He had one arm on the cab roof, leaning in.

‘Happy birthday.' She reached out to kiss him, looking straight into his hazel eyes.

He kissed her back as the cab eased away.

‘Watch out, don't fall over!'

He pretended to stagger, and she laughed and waved. ‘See you tomorrow, two o'clock!' Now he blew kisses, standing in the road.

‘Ronnie, watch out!' She pulled her head in through the window and collapsed against the seat. He was mad. She was mad. She didn't care, not now she was in love.

As soon as Sadie saw the state of Bernie and Geoff outside the bone merchant's shed, she bundled them into Jess's car. Gordon Whittaker acted the injured innocent; no wonder those boys didn't know how to behave if this was how their mother carried on. What they needed was a firm hand, not mollycoddling.

‘It's the luck of the draw,' commiserated one of the workers from the bone shed. ‘You never know what you're getting with these evacuees.'

‘Head lice and snotty noses, according to my missus,' the other chipped in. ‘And she says you can't turn your back on them for a single second, thieving little devils.'

This was one blow too many for Sadie, who might simply have walked away from the Whittakers and good riddance. But overhearing this, she couldn't let it go. Asking Grace and Jess to look after the boys, she stalked across the gravel yard and had her
say. ‘For your information, my children don't steal. And they don't tell lies.'

‘Steady on,' Whittaker said, uneasy in spite of his bluff manner.

‘No, I won't steady on. You're making out things that ain't true. For a start, what you call a firm hand I call downright cruel. It's not on to put a seven-year-old boy to work in this filthy place.' The stink from the barn was fit to make her retch.

‘We've all got to do our bit.' He spread his hands and shrugged. ‘Is that what you call it? And what about giving them a square meal once in a while? Or a hot bath, or running a comb through their hair?'

‘See?' he appealed. ‘Case proven.'

‘You need reporting, you do.' Her blood was up. ‘You never even let them see the letters we wrote, let alone making sure they wrote home, 'cos if they had we'd have found out what was going on up here and you'd have been landed in the cart straight off. Look at the state of them!' She gestured angrily towards the car. ‘I hardly even knew them myself when I set eyes on them, and it's all your fault!'

‘I said steady on.' He sniffed, ready to turn his back.

‘No!' She grabbed his arm and wheeled him round. ‘I wouldn't treat a dog the way you treated my boys, and that's God's honest truth.' Her eyes blazed, full of contempt. She didn't care whether or not he retaliated. ‘You tell that wife of yours she can take all their things and stick them on the fire, 'cos she won't see hide nor hair of my boys after this. And tell her I'm going straight to the billeting officer and I only hope they never let you take in no more evacuees ever again. You ain't fit to be let loose with children.'

‘Lay off, will you.' He wrenched himself free.

Beside herself, she stormed away back to the car, before he regained his bullying stance, where the other four peered anxiously out.

‘Feel better now?' Jess pushed open the passenger door and urged her to get in quick.

‘Loads better.' Sadie took a deep breath and sank into her seat. ‘Let's get out of here!'

Jess obeyed. ‘Think twice before you go taking on a fourteen-stone butcher in future, will you?' She turned full circle in the yard and sped away. ‘Grace and me nearly had to come out and lend a hand!'

They could laugh about it now, from a safe distance, with Geoff and Bertie perched on the back seat of Jess's car. And they could make plans. Jess was sure she would be able to find a decent outfit for each of the boys, once they got back to Manchester. Her neighbours would help out. ‘And a nice hot bath for you two,' she promised, glancing in her driver's mirror.