Friends and Lovers (8 page)

He accepted immediately and offered her his hand but she offered him her cheek.

‘Thank you for taking pity on me. You really are a gentleman.’

He smiled slightly, pecked her cheek, squeezed her hand and walked up the street without a backward glance.

Slowly Hilda went back into the house, wondering about the relationship between him and her daughter. He was strong, had nice cheek bones and jaw, was romantic-looking in some ways. He reminded her of the hero in a film she had seen about the Russian Revolution. Lovely eyes! She only wished she could remember just who he was.

‘You had a visitor last night.’ Hilda yawned and gazed bleary-eyed at Viv across the table.

Her daughter said nothing, tossing back a couple of Aspros and draining a glass of water. She had got up too late for church and was annoyed with herself but at least the chicken was in the oven and the vegetables peeled. She had been a fool to make such a night of it but Dot arriving at the restaurant with the letter from Aunt Flora in her hand which Viv had swiftly read had made her feel like she was walking on air. She had thought about it but not really realised what a great difference it would make to her knowing who her father was. Maybe soon she would have a face to the name. Her mother must have kept some photographs of Jimmy but why had she lied to her?

‘I said, you had a visitor last night,’ repeated Hilda.

Viv shaded her eyes with a hand and stared at her mother. ‘Who was that then?’

‘We’ll have to be getting ready.’ Hilda yawned again. ‘He said he’d be back.’

Viv sat up straight. ‘Did he give a name?’

‘I think so. But I can’t remember what it was.’

Her mother poured another coffee. She had learnt how to make good coffee in America and had bought herself a grinder in Lewis’s basement and purchased good quality coffee beans from Cooper’s.

‘Well?’ demanded Viv. ‘Was it Nick Bryce?’

‘That was his name.’ Hilda swallowed a couple of Phensic with her coffee. ‘Do you know who he is?’

Viv smiled, ‘Of course I know who he is. I’ve been out with him twice.’

‘I didn’t know him.’

‘He knows you.’

‘So he said.’ Hilda yawned again. ‘He seems to know our Flo, too.’

‘Of course he does.’ Viv was starting to feel better. She should never have been persuaded to have those two rum and blackcurrants. ‘He lived next door to her.’

‘You mean in the shop?’

‘No. Right next door.’

Hilda forced her eyelids up further. ‘What did I say his name was?’

‘Nick. Nick Bryce. You probably wouldn’t remember him. He was only a lad when last he saw you.’

‘You don’t mean his mother was Lena Bryce?’ Hilda’s hand paused halfway to her cigarette case. ‘No, you can’t mean her. I mean she was no good. She had a terrible reputation.’

Viv’s fingers tightened on her cup. ‘Nick said she’s changed … become respectable. She even has an aspidistra.’

‘An aspidistra? Hmmph!’ Hilda took a cigarette from the gold case and placed it between her lips.

‘I thought you’d given them up,’ said Viv mildly. ‘You’ll be coughing your heart up next and wondering why. And what’s wrong with Mrs Bryce having an aspidistra? She’s more respectable than you are now with your fancy man next door!’

Hilda puffed like an engine getting up steam. ‘Dom Kelly and I are just good friends,’ she snapped.

‘That’s what film stars say when they’re carrying on,’ retorted Viv, getting up. ‘You’ve got no right to judge Nick’s mother. She might have done wrong in the past but that’s all behind her now.’

‘Ha!’ Hilda stubbed out the cigarette in a saucer. ‘I see. You can say that about her but you weren’t so quick in forgiving me, your own mother!’

Viv swallowed an angry retort and said
patiently, ‘It’s Christmas Day. I don’t want us to fall out. Peace and goodwill and all that. Let’s just try and enjoy today. You said there’s some good programmes on the telly. We’ve got food and drink and crackers to pull.’

‘And presents to open. Although our Flo’s haven’t arrived yet.’

‘We’ll get them late.’ Viv debated quickly whether this was the right time to bring her father into the conversation but decided against it. ‘Aunt Flo probably thought I’d be there for Christmas so they’ll be late. Now I’m going to get washed and changed. Did Nick say what time he was coming?’

Hilda shook her head, a slight frown still clouding her brow. ‘I’ll use the sink after you. I wish we had a blinking bathroom. When I lived with Charlie I had this lovely …’

‘Oh, shut up, Mother,’ groaned Viv. ‘If everything was so marvellous in America, I don’t know how you ever forced yourself to come home.’ And she quickly walked out of the room. No, today definitely wasn’t the day to bring up the subject of her father.

Mother and daughter were in their respective bedrooms when the knocker sounded. Viv peered out of the front window but could not see anyone from that angle. Swiftly she applied lipstick and gingerly touched the hair which she had piled
up on top of her head to make her appear more sophisticated. Then she raced downstairs, the new pine green velvet skirt billowing up about her well-shaped thighs with the speed of her passing. She slowed down halfway across the front room, took several deep breaths and then opened the door.

Nick wore a burgundy sweater and dark
plum-coloured
trousers. His hair had grown even longer and was whipped into a Tony Curtis cowlick above his sooty eyebrows. Viv thought of moonlight and water and kisses. ‘Hallo, stranger,’ she said in what she hoped was a seductive voice.

He smiled. ‘I came last night, hoping, but you were out gallivanting.’

‘I couldn’t get out of it. If I’d known …’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

Suddenly Hilda appeared at Viv’s shoulder. ‘He took me out instead of you,’ she said.

‘Oh!’ Viv whirled round and looked daggers at her mother. She looked so different to the woman she had shared coffee with earlier. Somehow her mother had managed to squeeze herself into a too tight black skirt and walk downstairs in too
high-heeled
black shoes. Amber drops dangled from her ears and matching beads were a bright splash of colour against the black angora sweater that softened the swell of her bosom. Her hair was beautifully brushed and her make-up had been
applied skilfully. Viv wished she could tear the jumper off her back and pour water over her.

‘You didn’t tell me that before,’ she snapped, feeling a rush of jealousy.

‘We didn’t go anywhere special,’ said Nick swiftly.

‘No?’ The single word fell from Viv’s lips like an icicle. She was considering how he had not been in touch and what he had said about being in love with her mother when he was young. Some men liked older women. Perhaps he was one of them and may have already discovered just how sophisticated and experienced her mother was?

‘Viv! Don’t think it,’ said Nick, his eyes challenging her to trust him.

‘I thought it was very special.’ Her mother tossed the words into the sudden silence and attempted to elbow her daughter aside. ‘I really enjoyed myself. We were full of the Christmas spirit.’

‘Gin, I presume,’ muttered Viv, folding her arms across the rust-coloured sweater and refusing to budge.

‘Don’t be nasty, Viv,’ retorted her mother. ‘It’s Christmas Day. Let the man in and let me give him a kiss.’

‘Like hell I will,’ said Viv. ‘Go and check the chicken, Mother.’

Hilda sighed extravagantly. ‘I don’t know! Children these days have no respect, no sense of
humour.’ She went back inside and they heard the chink of a bottle.

‘I suppose she kissed you,’ said Viv roughly, staring at Nick.

‘What do you think?’ he drawled. ‘How was your evening? Did you have a good time?’

‘My friends and I do not need men around to enjoy ourselves,’ she said, emphasising each word.

She had given him the answer he wanted and he smiled. ‘Of course not. Are you going to ask me in?’

‘If you want to come in. I can’t offer you much in the way of sophisticated entertainment. You can have some dinner and a drink. Unless you’ve already eaten?’

‘I’ve eaten but I can eat more.’ His blue eyes glinted. ‘Your mother is a very attractive woman, Viv, but my fancy is for someone younger. Made out of the same mould but a newer model.’

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, but she gets me going sometimes.’

‘Understandable.’

‘Come in.’

Hilda was sitting in the rocking chair with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She stared at Nick and swigged at her gin and tonic. Viv waved him to the old easy chair. ‘Would you like a beer? We have some in for Mr Kelly who’s been doing some work for us.’

‘Thanks.’

She poured out a pale ale, and a small sherry for herself. Then she raised her glass. ‘Happy Christmas.’

‘The same to you.’ He leant forward and kissed her where she stood under the mistletoe. Her mother made a noise in her throat and they drew apart.

‘I’d better see to the dinner,’ said Viv, singing inside herself. ‘Sit down, Nick. I won’t be long. I’m sure Mam can entertain you.’ She cast a mischievous glance at her mother who was now gazing sulkily at the television.

A few minutes later Hilda followed her out. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Viv, but I don’t like the idea of your going out with him.’

‘What!’ Viv stared at her. ‘I hope you’re not going to start on about his mother again, Mam, because you might as well save your breath. George might believe her behaviour brushed off on him, but I don’t. Might as well accept what Mrs McCoy said about me being as bad as you. Do you think I am, Mother? Is it that you’re worried I’ll get into trouble like you?’

Two spots of colour darkened Hilda’s cheeks. ‘There’s no war on now and I should hope you’d have more sense. It’s just that I’ve remembered him. He was a quiet boy. If there was a game
of cowboys and indians he was an indian.
Soft-footed
, Viv. Easy to forget he was around. Sneaky. You don’t want someone like that, Viv. You need someone with lots of go in them. Someone who’s got the push to go up in the world.’

‘Oh, I think Nick’s got plenty of push,’ murmured Viv. ‘He had a good granny. She saw to it that he had his chances. He’s an architect, you know, Mam. He’ll go places.’

Hilda changed tack. ‘Suit yourself! But ask what kind of man takes out a woman old enough to be his mother? Ask yourself that, Viv. I think he quite fancied me.’

Her eyes darkened. ‘I don’t know what you’re playing at, Mother! I suppose you’re missing Mr Kelly. He’s just your style. Devious!’

Hilda bit back a swear word and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Nick was standing by the fire. He looked up as she entered and said pleasantly, ‘Changed your mind about me, now Hilda? You’ve placed me, haven’t you?’

‘You’re Lena Bryce’s son,’ she said harshly. ‘You can’t blame me for wanting someone better for my daughter.’

A muscle tautened in his cheek. ‘Are you sure it’s only my being my mother’s son that worries you? Nothing else?’ The tone of his voice had changed.

Hilda reached for the gin bottle and topped up her glass. She gulped at her drink. ‘What else could there be?’ she muttered.

‘Nothing if you say so.’ He paused, ‘I suffered a lot in the old days from malicious gossip. Lots of people with flapping ears, big mouths and very little heart couldn’t wait to talk behind my back – some talked to my face. So is it any wonder I believe in keeping my mouth shut? Maybe one day you’ll feel able to tell Viv the truth about her father. Maybe not. One thing’s for sure, she won’t get it from me.’

‘You’re saying you know the truth?’ she said in a brittle voice, hunching up her shoulders as if trying to get warm.

‘I was there that day.’

‘You could have been mistaken. You were only a boy. What did you understand of grown-up talk!’

Nick said softly, ‘I’m my mother’s son. I’d had years of it.’

Suddenly Hilda flared up: ‘You had no right to be there in our Flo’s yard!’

‘No,’ said Nick. ‘But don’t let’s get on to what was right or wrong, Hilda.’ A sharp laugh issued from him. ‘Can I help myself to another beer? I feel like I need it.’

She nodded, watching him, a puzzled expression on her face. He turned and smiled, raised his glass. ‘Happy Christmas, Hilda.

‘How can you say that to me?’ she said in a low voice.

‘It’s what I want for you and Viv. For all of us.’ His eyes met hers over the rim of his glass. ‘Smile, Hilda. Here she comes with the dinner.’

It was a good meal and the conversation did not touch on anything referring to the past. Nick told them of his brother’s reactions to his Christmas stocking and Viv talked of Dot’s sister giving birth two days ago. ‘She said having a new baby in the family makes this Christmas seem more special somehow.’

‘Easy to see that,’ said Hilda, keeping her eyes from Nick. ‘It gives more meaning to the Christmas story.’

Viv looked at her in surprise. ‘I never remember you taking much interest in Jesus’ birth before.’

‘I found God while I was in hospital,’ said Hilda in such a way that Viv was unsure whether she was joking or not. Especially when she swiftly changed the subject to talk about the group they had listened to last night.

Viv did not want to hear about them. She wanted to be alone with Nick and wondered how she was going to get rid of her mother. It was Nick who manipulated things her way by suggesting that he and Viv went for a walk.

She jumped at the idea. ‘I could do with some fresh air as well as the exercise,’ she said, going
for her coat before her mother could say anything against it.

‘You won’t be back late?’ said Hilda, watching Viv wind a scarf which was at least six foot long round and round her neck.

‘No. Why don’t you go and visit Doris?’ suggested Viv. ‘It would cheer her up.’

Hilda grimaced. ‘The house is so depressing and her mother doesn’t like me.’

‘Do it for Doris,’ said Viv in a coaxing voice, grabbing Nick’s arm and pushing him out of the door before her mother could say anything else.

For a while they walked without speaking. Viv was happy to be in Nick’s company and happy thinking about her father.

Her aunt had said he was a hero and a bit of a charmer. In her mind she pictured him looking like actors from several war films … Richard Todd … John Mills … Dirk Bogarde. What had he looked like? Of course she remembered his brother, Stephen Martin. Her aunt had almost married him. Perhaps that was why her mother had been so secretive? But why lie? He was no stranger she had made love to in a blackout. They had known each other for years.

Nick broke the silence. ‘What have you been doing the last few weeks? How has it been with you and your mother?’