Angel Cake (11 page)

‘If I don’t spout too much crap,’ Rob said, ‘this might lead to some really useful contacts.’

I was extremely surprised when he said to me, ‘I don’t want you to tell anyone, OK, Alison? This is between ourselves.’

‘You’re not going to tell anyone?’ I repeated stupidly.

‘I’m telling
you
,’ Rob said, ‘but I’m not telling any of the
gang. I don’t want a load of stupid jokes about selling out to the system.’

My joy at being the only one to share his secret was only slightly tempered by a personal dilemma. I had already decided I would tell Mrs Queripel, since she spends all her evenings stuck fast in front of her television. Then she could take a good look at my ‘Robert’ and tell me what she thought of him.

‘We spent our honeymoon in Eastbourne, of course. We stayed at the Queen’s Hotel. It must have cost poor dear Leonard a fortune, because everything had to be the best; we had cut flowers in the room and whatever took our fancy for dinner. We went on lovely outings and we didn’t deny ourselves anything. It was the most beautiful week of my life. Of the whole seven days, only two were rainy. And honeymoon couples don’t pay much attention to the weather.’ Alicia stopped and gave Alison a searching look. ‘Of course, it’s not like that any more today, is it? You’ve all had your honeymoon ten times over before you get anywhere near the altar.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ said Alison.

‘Oh, don’t you? Don’t play the ingenue with me, dear. It won’t wash. You’re not going to tell me that you and your Robert have never so much as kissed on the mouth?’

Alison giggled. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘There you are! I feel sorry for you young ones sometimes, really I do. When I think of the mystery and the romance we had, and the magic of the moment – it’s not the same.’

‘But we have the mystery and the magic too, you know,’ said Alison. ‘We just don’t have to wait and wait for it the way you did.’

Alicia shook her head disparagingly. ‘It was the wait which gave the moment half its magic, child. Imagine you’d been passionately in love with one another for two long years, but forced to worship from afar, and then one day, in the most heavenly surroundings, you were granted your every wish. It was as though the gates had opened and we’d been let into Paradise. Why are you grinning? What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing, nothing. I was just trying to imagine Rob, my friend, being romantic.’

‘Isn’t he that way inclined?’

‘Oh gosh, not in the least. Romantic is a dirty word as far as he’s concerned. He’s very much a realist, you see; he doesn’t believe in all that business.’

‘Well, that’s not very nice.’

‘No, no, you must see his point; it’s gift wrapping really, isn’t it? It’s not real. It makes the woman out to be just a prettily done-up package.’

‘Well, he’s certainly filled your head with a lot of nonsense. Package, whoever said anything about a package? Anyway, with Leonard and me, it was real. I wore my white with a conscience to match. My sister and my mother had made the dress, with fittings each time I was back in London between tours. I had my mother’s veil for something old, beautiful stockings from my sister for something borrowed and Clara Willoughby, that actress who had left the company in a huff, to show that all was forgiven, sent a lovely lawn hanky embroidered with forget-me-nots for something blue. My going-away outfit was the sweetest coral pink, with a hat my sister and I had decorated to match. Because my father had passed away and there was no brother to give me away, Leonard and I decided it should be someone from the company, since they had become my second family. We decided on Harry Levy, after a lot of discussion. There were people who’d been in the company for longer, who didn’t have his drawback. Maybe it wasn’t the wisest choice, but at least we knew he’d look the part. May the ninth, 1931.’

‘Where did you have the reception?’

‘We booked a room not too far from the church. We were over fifty for the wedding breakfast. Then, in the middle of the fun, Leonard and I made our farewells. We had a taxi waiting to take us to Victoria and we caught the train to Eastbourne. It was the 4.17, I remember.’

‘Oh, it does sound so beautiful,’ Alison agreed. ‘I mean, I know if I ever got married to anyone, it wouldn’t be anything like that.’

‘Anyone?’ Alicia said disapprovingly. ‘What do you mean: anyone? Isn’t it on the cards?’

Alison fidgeted. ‘It’s hard to explain without making him sound a … a cad. We’ve never really talked about it. You see, it’s not the kind of thing he’d do.’

‘Not the kind of thing he’d do?’ Alicia echoed indignantly. ‘Whatever’s that supposed to mean?’

She noticed that Alison was looking more and more uncomfortable, but she pressed on regardless. It was years since she had been in a position to make someone else feel worse off than herself. ‘He’s not a rover, is he?’

Alison giggled. ‘He is, in a way. But that’s not really the problem. The thing is, I’m not sure we have the sort of relationship which would make a very successful marriage. Oh dear, I don’t mean to be rude, you know, but times have changed.’

Alicia gave her a chilly stare. She folded her hands smugly on her lap and she tilted her chin in the air. ‘Men haven’t.

‘What Leonard and I had isn’t granted to everyone, of course. A meeting of minds, it was.’ She smiled coyly. ‘And much more than minds. Yes, it must be sad for you all nowadays with nothing special any more, nothing sacred. You want to taste the forbidden fruit far too soon and then you wonder why everything’s gone sour. You can’t have your cake and eat it, can you now?’

She thought she had said something terribly clever, but it was spoilt by a sudden vision of one of the fancies, the pink one, sitting in its pleated paper cup, mouldering in her biscuit box. Even though she knew they were all eaten, she had a frightful urge to go and check in the kitchen that it was not sitting there forgotten. It distracted her from what she was trying to say.

‘How old’s your Robert?’

‘He was just thirty-five a fortnight ago.’

‘That’s a very good age to settle down.’

‘Mrs Queripel, please, you must understand – things just aren’t like that between us. It’s not anyone’s fault, he’s not a … a bounder or anything, he’s not taking advantage of me; we’re just not on that sort of footing. I mean, I suppose it’s just possible that it might come to that one day, but I’m not counting on it.’

Alicia considered the curtains, as though Alison had not
spoken. ‘It wasn’t a common or garden thing in our day. You’re all at it all the time now. I’ve seen on the television. For us, it was something really special, unique and wonderful. Our honeymoon –’ She broke off and gave Alison a penetrating look. ‘If it came to it, he would take you on a honeymoon at least, wouldn’t he?’

Alison wrung her hands. It was no use pretending that she hadn’t meant to upset the girl, Alicia told herself, when she knew perfectly well that she had. She wanted to show her what was what and she wanted to punish her for riding away every Sunday evening to her happy hearth. But she took pity on her when she saw how distressed she was getting. ‘One man’s meat, I suppose,’ she concluded coldly.

She didn’t like to ask when Alison got up to go, if she was going to come over Christmas. There was only one more Sunday left before Christmas, and then the one after that was Boxing Day. She didn’t like to ask because it might lead Alison to think that she had nothing on over Christmas and, if there was one thing worse than not having anything on over the two longest days of the year, it was having to pretend bravely that you did. So she let Alison get right to the front door before she said brightly, ‘All right, off you go then. Done all your Christmas shopping?’

‘I
make
most of my presents,’ Alison answered proudly.

‘Do you?’ Alicia said in disappointment. It was an answer which did not get her anywhere.

‘Yes, I do,’ Alison went on. ‘I love making things. I mean, it’s partly economy, I suppose, but mainly it’s just that I far prefer making things to all that sweaty tramping around crowded shops. Especially replicas of old things; you know, little painted tins and copies of old jewellery, that sort of thing. Still, I mustn’t say too much or you’ll guess what I’m making for you. You’ll have to wait two more weeks to find out, I’m afraid.’

Alicia was so delighted to hear news of this unexpected pleasure, falling as it would in the ideal middle of the four long days of public holiday, so that she could look forward to it on the first day and then dwell on it for the last two, that for a minute she couldn’t say a word. Then she pulled
herself together. ‘Aha, just you wait and see what I’m giving you,’ she lied.

Watching Alison tie the tatty fur, she felt a moment’s retrospective guilt at the thought that she had been so unkind to her and here she was, bravely setting out back to that good-for-nothing. Alison turned to give Alicia her usual little wave from the gate.

‘Keep your pecker up,’ called Alicia.

She searched high and low for something she could give Alison for Christmas. It wasn’t that the house was bare, far from it, but everything had some all-important association with which she could not bear to part. This way, she considered and rejected, there and then in the front room, three things which she had already carried downstairs: a hairbrush with a pattern of dried flowers set in its glazed back, a white porcelain figurine of a little lady flinging up her hands in ecstasy, and a mauve dish which had once held cachou violets. The hairbrush had belonged to her dear dead sister, who had loved to brush her beautiful hair, even in the days when it was only half a dozen sad white strands. The figurine had been a gift from an admirer who had sat in the best seats in the stalls all one season at Scarborough. And the dish for sweets came from the boarding-house. She would have to look further afield upstairs.

Over the past few weeks, she had got into the habit of restricting her daily trips up and down the stairs to two; one down in the morning and one up at night. This was feasible, though uncomfortable, if she used the make-do lavatory by the scullery out at the back. But it reminded her of the urgent need to install the downstairs of the house comfortably for the day when the stairs at last became too much for her. She ought to have been concentrating on this problem in recent weeks, since the stairs were clearly winning. But she had had other things on her mind of course: Alison, the changes brought about by her visits and the cloud of memories which her questions had stirred up. Also, how on earth could she contemplate bedding down in the front room when she now had a regular weekly visitor whom she entertained in there? Toiling up the stairs in the half-darkness reminded her how long it was since she had made an extra trip up and down.
She had to pause after every step to draw breath and to think about rocking-chairs and hammocks.

At the top of the stairs, everything was black and she wondered for a moment if she had passed out. Then it occurred to her that the light bulb on the landing must have gone. She would never get round to replacing it now. The thought sent a little spurt of panic through her and she hurried forward into the front bedroom as though she might be struck down at any moment. Her attempts at furniture removal had left a few clear spaces in the bedroom, but there was still plenty up there to choose from. She pottered about for a while, picking things up, examining them and then deciding that she could no more bear to part with them than with some bit of her body. That went for a hand mirror which was so fly-blown it made you look as though you had the measles, a cut-glass vase and a string of pinkish paste beads. Eventually, she thought of going to look in the back bedroom where there was nothing much but junk, discarded furniture and a wardrobe full of clothes which she never wore any more. It smelt a little stale in there, she was displeased to notice, and she made a few feeble clapping gestures with her arms to stir the air. She poked around amidst the stacked clutter and then, out of idle curiosity, she looked into the wardrobe. The obvious present hung right in front of her: a ginger fox fur, missing one glass eye. Despite its age, it was in much better condition than Alison’s and although the trimmings – the eye, the little folded paws and the black sealing-wax nose – were a bit battered, the fur itself was intact. It wasn’t even something which Leonard had given her, since she remembered treating herself to it one bitter winter in Manchester. But she couldn’t give the girl a fur – a fur, that was the height of extravagance. She shut the wardrobe and, after a minute or two, rather angrily left the bedroom. She would give her a card and maybe some sweets. The fur dangled in her mind’s eye as she climbed downstairs; in her imagination, it draped itself around Alison’s neck and its nonchalant crossed paws bobbed in the wind as she sped away on her bicycle. Alicia was furious. She wished she had never seen the fox. For the rest of that week, it kept popping up in her mind’s eye where she wasn’t expecting it, and
irritating her no end. She wasn’t going to give the girl a fur which had cost her good money in its day, and that was that.

On Wednesday, Pearl came and was a welcome distraction. Not that Alicia’s harsh attitude to Pearl had mellowed, but at least she gave Alicia something different to be displeased about. Alicia was sick of hearing about Pearl’s wretched boy. It was touch and go whether he would be allowed out of hospital for Christmas and every week Pearl brought her the latest bulletin. It sounded as though he ought really to stay in there; his leg wasn’t mending as it should but, according to Pearl, he was ‘making the nurses so mad’ that they would be glad to get rid of him. Christmas in Pearl’s family sounded like a madhouse. Her eldest daughter and her two children and her husband, her second eldest daughter and her two children, Pearl’s two sons and
her
husband all gathered for a Christmas lunch which started in mid-afternoon and lasted until the early hours of Boxing Day. Pearl told her what she was cooking for them and it sounded like nothing on earth to Alicia. It annoyed her intensely that Pearl should characteristically suffer from overcrowding at Christmas, too much festivity, too many dinner guests, seasonal good cheer bursting out of the tight confines of her council flat, while she, Alicia, stayed cold and alone in her empty house.