Ironmonger's Daughter (20 page)

The card contained the message: ‘To Connie, with fondest love, Mum’.

Connie put the open card down on the chair beside the bed and stared at it sadly for a few moments. She was due to visit her mother on Sunday and had not expected her to post the card. It was an unexpected gesture. Connie turned her attention to the remaining envelope and inspected the handwriting. It was in a flourishing style and the postmark was smudged and illegible. Puzzled, she opened the envelope and removed the card. It was from Robert, and below the words ‘Happy Birthday’ he had written the message, ‘To my special friend. I have two tickets for the best show in London. Please say yes. Robert’. She hugged it to her chest happily.

Later that morning, when Connie took the weekly shopping into the Bartletts, she was given two small parcels which were wrapped in brown paper.

‘Go on, Con. Open ’em up,’ Molly laughed.

Connie sat down in the chair beside the table and tore the wrappings from the first parcel. Inside was a green woollen cardigan which Helen had knitted.

‘Cor! Fanks Aunt ’Elen. It’s jus’ what I wanted,’ she said, jumping up and kissing the embarrassed woman on the cheek.

‘Go on, Con. Open mine,’ Molly said eagerly, sitting down at the table facing her cousin.

Connie removed the paper and took out a small tortoiseshell powder compact. Her eyes lit up and she cuddled Molly. ‘’Ow did yer guess I needed a compact? It’s beautiful.’

The Bartletts’ daughter cupped her chin in her thick fingers and grinned, her round face lighting up and her large eyes fixed on her embarrassed cousin. ‘I reckoned yer might need a compact, now yer courtin’.’ Helen and Matthew exchanged glances and Connie flushed slightly as she recognised the way Molly emphasised the last word. What would they think if they knew I’d been dated by the factory owner’s son, she thought. Molly was staring at her with a strange look in her eyes. Behind her cousin’s happy expression there seemed to be a look of sadness and envy. Connie understood her and pitied her without anger. Poor Molly was going through a difficult time. She was looking for a suitable job while, at home, all around her there were arguments raging. And Connie knew there would be precious few chances for Molly to meet someone who would love her as she deserved to be loved.

Connie had stayed with the Bartletts awhile, helping to clear away the dinner things and giving Helen a hand with the household chores. She felt better by helping out. The family had been kind to her and Helen said that Molly always became more cheerful after her visits. In the afternoon Connie went to her flat and, as she opened the front door, she saw a small plain envelope lying on the mat. Intrigued, she tore it open and removed the single sheet of paper. Her heart leaped as she read the message.

 

He must have knocked earlier and got no answer, Connie reasoned. Or maybe he got someone to deliver the note. Whatever, it was sudden and exciting. He was not willing to take no for an answer, but she must say no. It wouldn’t be fair to Michael if she accepted the offer. Besides, Robert would think she wanted the relationship to blossom. No, it was too risky. But he was so persuasive and good looking and the combination was something Connie knew she couldn’t resist. All right, it was one thing to fantasise and to succumb to fanciful dreams, but it was another thing entirely to start going out regularly to shows with the factory owner’s son. She was not his kind and it was altogether too dangerous. It wouldn’t hurt him to wait in vain – after all, she could have something else planned that evening. He was being too presumptuous – she wasn’t one to come running, and he had better realise it.

 

The clock on Connie’s mantelshelf showed fifteen minutes past the hour of six. The wireless was playing and the soft music lulled her into a state of quiet calm. The fire burned brightly and windy noises in the chimney told her it was going to be a cold night. She had washed and done her hair, using a hard brush to pull out the tangles and bring out the golden sheen. And now she added a touch of face powder from the compact Molly had given her, then slipped into her best dress and put on a precious pair of silk stockings. Before putting on her high-heeled shoes Connie breathed on the black patent leather and polished it on a towel. She had carefully brushed her winter coat and hung it behind the door. The music became more dreamy and as Connie looked at the clock once more she felt wicked. Why had she tried to fool herself? Why pretend? The young man who would be waiting for her that evening was not going to be disappointed. She knew it was something she couldn’t fight; she felt too attracted to him. He had made her feel beautiful and grown up. He was sophisticated and worldly – and he seemed to want to be with her, when he could have any woman he wanted. She shivered with excitement and anticipation. What if he wanted to make love to her? Would he take her in his arms and love her with the passion for which she had always longed? Bring her the ecstasy and fulfilment she had not experienced with Michael? Poor Michael. She knew now she would never love him, and she hoped that he would accept his loss quietly, and that he would want to remain a dear friend. She knew though that she was being optimistic. He was bound to feel hurt and betrayed.

As she put on her coat and closed the front door behind her Connie knew she was entering into a game of subterfuge and deceit. Earlier she had gone down to tell Helen that one of the girls at work had invited her round to a party that evening and she would most probably be back late. Molly had seemed disappointed that her cousin would not be spending the evening with her but had tried to disguise her chagrin. Now, as Connie hurried down the dark wooden stairs and paused to check her stocking seams before stepping out into the cold night air, she felt a tightening in her insides. It was madness. Sheer madness to allow herself to walk knowingly into a situation which would almost certainly change her life dramatically.

 

As the orchestra struck up for the finale and the cast took their curtain calls to rapturous applause, Connie sat enthralled. A thick glossy programme lay on her lap along with the small box of chocolates. Robert glanced around at her and, as he smiled, she glimpsed the whiteness of his even teeth. Her eyes travelled over his face and she looked again at his clean-shaven jaw and rather unruly fair hair. Connie caught the faint aroma of what she guessed to be an aftershave, as he reached over and gently squeezed her hand. He looked debonair in his dark grey suit and his large-knotted blue silk tie, and the collar of his white shirt almost glowed in the darkness. His eyes seemed to challenge hers, and Connie looked away quickly at the sea of colour on the stage. As the final curtain fell, the auditorium lights went on. People made their way from the theatre and out into the windy night. Robert took her arm as they left the warm building and walked down to Trafalgar Square and up into Charing Cross Road. The air was crisp and the streetlamps bathed the pavements in golden light as he led her along a small dark road and into Leicester Square. Taxis and buses thronged the thoroughfare and theatre-goers were mingling with sightseers and pleasure-takers. The blaze of light seemed to make it less cold, although Connie shivered and pulled her coat collar up around her ears as they strolled along to Piccadilly Circus. Robert suddenly steered her towards a narrow alley and she gave him a quizzical glance. They stopped outside a dimly lit restaurant and he turned to her. ‘Hungry?’ he asked.

She shook her head and tried to see into the restaurant through the steamy windows.

‘It’s a nice place, Con, very good food. I often come here when I’m in the West End. Even if you’re not very hungry we can at least get warm.’

She allowed him to steer her into the cosy interior and immediately a waiter approached them. He seemed to know Robert and after a few mumbled words which Connie could not catch the waiter led them into a secluded corner.

The table for, two was partially hidden from other customers by a bamboo screen. A large-leaf plant had grown up from a huge pewter pot and its tendrils had woven themselves in and out of the knotted poles. Olive-green leaves hung limply over their heads, their undersides lit strangely by a thick red candle set into a gun-metal holder on the centre of the table. The white tablecloth hung down around the edges and as the two sat facing each other, sipping hot thick tomato soup, they exchanged coy glances.

Robert had spilt some of the soup on his chin and he dabbed at it with a napkin square. Connie was terrified in case she should spill her soup on the spotless tablecloth and she ate slowly. It was the first time she had eaten out in a posh restaurant and it fascinated her how the waiters managed to carry so many plates at once. She thought they looked Italian or maybe Spanish. They all seemed to have sleeked-down, jet-black hair and expressionless faces. Presently one of the waiters came over and removed the empty soup bowls. He came back immediately with fresh plates and knives and forks. Connie was overawed by the whole procedure. The menu was difficult to understand and Robert helped her to order. The grilled plaice seemed to be the most straightforward choice and Connie agreed quickly with Robert’s suggestion.

They chatted together as they ate the main course and Connie wondered whether or not she should eat the sprig of parsley which had been placed on the side of her plate. Robert had left his, so she left hers, too. The wine had been opened and Robert partially filled the two glasses. He looked amused as she sipped the wine and pulled a face. ‘It tastes sort o’ sharp,’ she remarked, thinking that it was nothing like the bottling-store wine.

He smiled broadly, captivated by her innocence. His eyes appraised her, and he noticed how her hair shone in the light of the candle. Her blue eyes remained wide open with controlled excitement, and her expressive lips curled and made tantalising shapes as she chatted about the show. As he stared at her facing him in the flickering light, excitement grew within him. Connie saw the desire in his pale eyes and she felt her cheeks growing hot. He dropped his gaze and they finished the meal in silence.

They had been in the restaurant for some time. Ice-cream had followed the fish course and they were now sipping their coffee. Connie marvelled at the tiny cups and she felt clumsy as she lifted the coffee to her lips. Robert took a silver cigarette case from the inside pocket of his coat and took a tipped cigarette from it. Connie had never seen him smoke before. He had never smoked in the factory as far as she could recall and she watched as he lit the cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

Suddenly his hand reached across the table and rested on hers. ‘Have you enjoyed tonight, Connie?’ he asked earnestly.

She nodded quickly. ‘It’s bin wonderful. I’ve never experienced anyfing like this.’

His face became serious. ‘You know how much I like being with you, Con. I’ve not stopped thinking about you. You know that, don’t you?’

She was very aware of his hand touching hers and she looked into his eyes. The look in them made her feel weak and fragile. It was inevitable. She had known all along that he wanted her. She had known the first time he had taken her out, and it both frightened and excited her. For a moment she wanted to get up and run from the table, out into the dark night. She wanted to get lost in the crowds and allow herself time to get back to reality. This was wrong, very wrong, and yet she could not move. His hand sent an urgent message into her very being, and she trembled inside.

‘I know, Robert,’ she said, in a voice she hardly recognised. ‘I’ve known all along.’

‘We’re good for each other, Con,’ he whispered. ‘We should be together.’

Needle-pricks of warning pierced her mind and she hesitated. Robert saw the sudden look of concern on her face and he reached across the table for her other hand.

‘Listen, Connie. You shouldn’t think that anyone has claims on you. Happiness is not always easy to come by. If you really want to be happy you sometimes have to make certain decisions. At times those decisions aren’t easy to make. Don’t shut me out of your life, Connie. I want to be part of it. Can you understand?’

His hands held hers on the table and his touch seemed to make everything all right. At that very moment it didn’t matter to her that she was being deceitful and unfaithful to Michael. All that mattered was the young man facing her across the table. She felt she was experiencing for the first time what sexual desire really meant. With Michael she had been left wondering how much love had not yet touched her. How much better it could have been with him if they had not been so rushed, so fumbling. Michael had gone away and left her with memories only of what might have been. Here and now, she was in the company of someone who desired her and made her feel weak with longing. There was magic in the moment. It mustn’t end, she told herself, not yet.

Out in the cold night the crowds had thinned. Connie had no sense of time. She nestled close to him as his arm encircled her waist. The lights still shone brightly and traffic rumbled past. They had taken a narrow pathway which led out into Charing Cross Road and suddenly she was in his arms. He kissed her eager mouth and his arms pressed her to him firmly and tenderly. The kiss was over quickly and they started to walk on slowly. Connie realised it was the first time she had tasted his lips on hers.

The night was becoming colder. Hoar-frost was forming on the pavement and as the two reached Trafalgar Square they looked down into the almost deserted area where the fountains played and the sitting lions guarded the tall stone column. Robert’s coat collar was turned up against the wind. His pace was slow and measured and Connie slipped into step with him. Their bodies moved together as they skirted the Square and started back into the Strand. It was still rather busy as they passed Charing Cross Station. It was then that Robert spoke.