Memories of You (30 page)

 

In his office high above the track Raymond tossed the newspaper down in disgust. ‘We'll have to play it straight for a while, Joe. Can't have that nosy reporter finding anything that could send you off to prison.'

‘Prison? Me?'

‘Yeah, I reckon you'd get at least eighteen months, and prison wouldn't be kind to a lad like you.'

‘But why would I go to prison? You told me to do it.'

‘Can you prove that? I'd simply deny all knowledge. I'd say you were bribed by gangsters. After all, this is a respectable dog track. Why would I muddy my own pitch?'

‘That's something I've never understood.' Raymond and Joe looked over to where Dr Balodis was sitting in the corner. He leaned over and picked up the newspaper from the floor. ‘Why do you do it, Raymond? You make a good living here. Why get involved with crooked trainers – and worse?'

‘You know why. Why do you supply the drugs? The money's good, very good. I don't see you saying no.'

‘You're right. I am as bad as you. But the lad here, you wouldn't – how shall I put it? – throw him to the dogs, would you?'

‘He's no innocent. And he didn't take much persuading. So there's no need to feel sorry for him. And besides, if we keep our noses clean until the heat dies down I don't see there's going to be any trouble.'

‘Except from your masters.'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘The men who come to see you late at night. The men who bring you your orders.'

Raymond got up from his desk and went to stand by the window. The lights were still on, flooding the track below. The punters had gone and the bookmakers were packing up their stands. ‘They'll understand,' he said. They'll just have to wait until the heat dies down. We can't risk any dogs being tested.'

‘When big money is involved people tend to get impatient.'

‘Pack it in, Balodis. If you can't say anything helpful just keep your trap shut.'

Dr Balodis smiled. ‘Well, you'll get nothing from me for a while but there are other ways to nobble the dogs, aren't there, Joe? A big bowl of water or a couple of steak and kidney pies will slow a dog down and there'd be nothing to show for it.'

Raymond shook his head. ‘So long as that reporter is hanging about there'll be nothing doing. And that means there'll be nothing extra in your pay packet, understand, Joe?'

Joe nodded but he resented the way Raymond was talking as though he'd ever been keen to do this. He looked around the room: the walls covered with yellowing posters, the battered office furniture, the cracked lino, all illumined by a single bulb without a shade. The ashtray on the desk was overflowing and the room smelled of stale tobacco and the lingering aroma of pies and chips drenched in vinegar.

Suddenly Joe felt sick and not just physically. He was sick with himself and the grubby way he had been living. He had gone along with it because of the money, the money he had needed to look after himself and Danny.

Now he wondered if there was any way out of this. But when he thought of the shady characters that Dr Balodis referred to as Raymond's masters he was filled with foreboding. He knew too much, that was the problem. They would never let him go.

 

 

‘Isn't she lovely?' Shirley said wistfully.

She and Annette watched as Elise glided gracefully across the ice. ‘Oh, for sure,' Annette said. ‘In her white boots and that cute furtrimmed skating dress she looks just like Sonja Henie. It'll be off to Hollywood next.'

Shirley laughed. ‘Do I detect a note of sarcasm?'

Annette sighed. ‘I'm sorry to say you do. But don't you ever get tired of hearing people say how beautiful Elise is?'

‘No, I don't. It's a fact of life. Elise is beautiful, you with your blue eyes and your freckles are delightfully wholesome and I am – well, I am good old Shirley. I always will be.'

Annette looked at her fondly. ‘You are attractive, you know.'

‘Don't feel you have to say so.'

‘But it's true. Your complexion is good; you have a good figure and a fine head of hair.'

Shirley burst out laughing. ‘You make me sound like some sort of farm animal you are about to send to market.'

The two friends fell silent for a moment as they watched Elise glide along to the music.

‘I'm sorry I was so begrudging before,' Annette said. ‘She is lovely. But do you realize, neither of us has mentioned Ernestine?'

‘Ah, Ernestine. I still can't believe it.'

Suddenly Elise swirled towards them across the ice. She was smiling. ‘Are you going to stand there all day?' she asked. ‘Or are you going to come and join me? After all, this is my party, you know.' When she saw their serious expressions her smile faded. ‘What's the matter? Aren't you enjoying yourselves? Was this a bad idea, just me and my best friends coming to the ice rink?'

‘No,' Shirley said quickly. ‘It was a very fun idea, much better than a kids' party, and as soon as we get our courage up we'll be joining you on the ice. We were just thinking of Ernestine and how she should be here with us. That's all.'

‘Oh, Ernestine. I still can't believe it,' Elise said, echoing what had just been said before.

‘What on earth made her do it?' Annette said.

‘Her aunt,' Shirley said. ‘She's her guardian. She's in control.'

‘But Ernestine could have said no,' Annette protested. ‘I mean, no one can make you get married if you don't want to, can they?'

‘Perhaps she did want to,' Elise said.

‘I don't believe it. She's sixteen. He's old enough to be her father – no, her grandfather! And have you seen him?'

‘I saw the wedding photographs in the
Tatler
.'

‘They're almost indecent. Him so stooped and wrinkled and so . . .'

‘Royal,' Annette interjected.

‘Royal?' Shirley said indignantly. ‘What is he? A potty little prince of a potty little kingdom somewhere in Europe. A kingdom that probably won't even exist after the war everyone says is coming.'

‘He's an Archduke,' Annette said. ‘His family go back to the days of the Holy Roman Empire. Didn't you read the article that went with the pictures? He has all kinds of titles and Ernestine will share some of them.'

‘While old Otto helps himself to her fortune in an attempt to keep his kingdom afloat.'

Elise had been listening quietly. ‘A wedding should be a happy occasion and you both make it sound so sad, sordid even. Whilst I suspect you're right about Otto I just can't believe Ernestine would marry someone just for a few royal titles.'

‘Surely you don't think she could possibly be in love with him?' Shirley challenged.

‘Well, you never know. She has a pretty miserable life with her aunt. Perhaps her new husband is kind and indulgent and . . . and . . .'

‘Fatherly?' Annette said. She was smiling.

‘Yes – no – oh, I don't know what I meant. I just want Ernestine to be happy.'

‘Oh dear, Elise, you believe in romantic love, don't you?'

‘What's wrong with that?'

‘Oh, there's nothing wrong with it,' Annette said. ‘I mean, we can all have our dreams but there are other reasons why people like us get married.'

‘People like us?'

‘Rich people. We have to marry other rich people, or important people, or as Ernestine has done, aristocratic people. None of our fathers, no matter how indulgent, would take kindly to us marrying some poor man who just happened to be in love with us.'

‘They would think he was after our money,' Shirley added.

‘But that's dreadful,' Elise said.

‘No, it isn't,' Shirley replied. ‘I mean, we're all vulnerable. There are men out there who are simply fortune hunters. How could we ever be sure he was sincere? But cheer up; it's not the Dark Ages. We can still choose someone we could be happy with and you never know, we may actually make a love match. But I can't believe Ernestine will be happy with that old crock. Can you?'

The three friends looked at each other and then Annette said, ‘It may not be for long.'

‘What do you mean?' Shirley asked.

‘She's bound to outlive him and then she'll be a merry widow with her titles and her money, and next time she can marry anyone she chooses to, even someone totally unsuitable like a racing driver, or a crooner, or a film star.'

Shirley stared at Annette for a moment and laughed. ‘I hadn't realized you were so cynical.'

‘Not cynical. Just realistic.'

‘Well, let's hope if it happens her Archduke won't have squandered her entire fortune. But look, we've shocked Elise; she's actually shivering with horror.'

‘I'm not horrified, I'm cold,' Elise said, ‘and it's time you two monsters stepped out on to the ice. Come on, take my hands, one of you at each side of me, we'll go around together.'

The three friends set off to the strains of a Viennese waltz, Shirley and Annette clumsy but enthusiastic, laughing as they tried to match Elise's sure movements. Elise, looking even more graceful in comparison to her friends, tried to smile but she had been truly shocked by Annette and Shirley's views on love and marriage.

She tried to imagine what her father's attitude would be. He had married for love and his bride had not been from a truly wealthy family. But Elise supposed it was different for men. If it was the man with the fortune rather than the woman he could probably marry anyone he pleased.

Unless you were the King of England, of course. Elise, like all the other girls, had joined in the gossip at school about the handsome young king and the divorced American woman he wanted to marry. Some of the girls were scandalized and wanted Wallis Simpson to be locked up in the tower or sent home to America forthwith. Other girls were taken up by the romance of it all and were hoping that the King would be able to marry the woman he loved. Elise knew very well which side her two friends would take but she would never agree with them. When it came to marriage, surely love was the most important consideration of all.

When they had had enough of skating they changed out of their fashionable skating clothes and went to the restaurant. A table had been reserved for them and there was a feast of sandwiches and cream cakes.

Shirley smiled her approval then sat down and said, ‘Now I suppose it's the right time to give you this.'

She pushed a small gift-wrapped box across the table. Elise opened it to find a bracelet of gold links.

‘It's a charm bracelet,' Shirley said. ‘They're all the rage and I know you wanted one. But a charm bracelet is no use unless it has charms.'

‘So here you are,' Annette said as she handed Elise an even smaller box. ‘Look, I've started you off with one charm.' Inside the box was an exquisite little golden ballerina. ‘All the charms have meanings, you know,' Annette said.

‘Well, they do if you believe in that sort of thing,' Shirley interjected. She laughed.

Annette gave her a mock frown and carried on. ‘A ballerina means your dreams will come true. I found this little book all about charm bracelets. I think my mother got it from Tiffany's or Cartier's when she was a girl. The three of us chose our gifts together.'

‘Three of you?'

‘Yes, Ernestine as well. And when I think about it, she must have known at the time that she wouldn't be here for your birthday. What a sly puss she turned out to be!'

Annette handed Elise another box and inside this one was a golden flower. ‘That means love will blossom for you soon. Gosh, I've just thought, did Ernestine choose that one because love had already blossomed for her? Or at least she imagined it had. Oh, but look. Is that coming our way?'

The three friends turned to see a waitress carrying a cake towards their table. The pink and white confection was ablaze with birthday candles. Heads turned, people smiled and someone started singing, ‘Happy Birthday'. Soon everyone had joined in and as the waitress placed the cake on their table someone said, ‘Blow the candles out! Make a wish!'