Miss Purdy's Class (46 page)

No, you won’t actually
, she thought, as her eyes began to close.
Don’t you take me for granted like that.

The party was working towards another big demonstration in the Bull Ring with the the BCPL the following Saturday, in support of republican Spain. Gwen knew Daniel would be totally taken up with it and that all hands were needed, but she woke the next day even more sure she couldn’t face going in. School would start again in a couple of weeks and she wanted a bit of time to herself. And – the thought that she kept trying to push away from her – that same Saturday she had been supposed to be getting married to Edwin.

In defiant mood she lazed around in bed with a cup of tea, then pottered about, doing her washing and catching up with odd jobs. Later in the afternoon she sat in the wicker chair in her room trying to read, but it was impossible to concentrate on the book. She found thoughts about her family and Edwin crowding into her mind. If the wedding had gone ahead, how would it have been? All out in the garden at the Shackletons’ house, where they had planned their reception, tables with food, the children running up and down to see the pony in the paddock and her in that dress Mrs Twining had been making. She could hardly bear to think about Edwin and, more even than Edwin himself, his parents, whom she felt so guilty about. She knew Mr Shackleton had had a genuinely soft spot for her and she thought of him caring for Edwina so gently and unselfishly. What must they think of her? What kind of person was she, the way she had behaved? And she had cut herself off from her family completely now. The thought of this was both sad and frightening, yet when she thought about how it would feel to go home, to be back in her parents’ house, with Edwin again, she felt the old sense of claustrophobia – panic even – wash over her.

Leaning over, she picked up the framed photograph of Amy Johnson, her handsome, inscrutable face looking out from under the goggles on her forehead.
How do you find freedom to fly in this world?
she wondered sadly.
Is it ever possible to do it without hurting someone else?
She thought, painfully, about Daniel. Here she was, trying to take off and fly and she had immediately got herself tangled, tied to him.

Impatient with herself, needing relief from her feelings, she put the picture away and went out, catching a tram into Birmingham. She went looking for books for Billy and, after a long time of musing along the shelves, found a translation of Victor Hugo’s
Les Misérables
. It looked the sort of novel Billy would like and it would certainly keep him busy for a long time. Sitting in the sun near St Philip’s Cathedral she wrote him a note to go with it, saying that she hoped he had not already read it.

Two more days passed and it became almost a matter of principle to stay away from the party offices. Gwen felt guilty, knowing how busy they would be, but she wanted Daniel to come and find her, to show he cared about her as well as politics and the party. She knew it was childish, but her feelings were hurt. She sat talking idly with Millie on those warm afternoons, listening to all her woes, the windows open to the street, the sound of voices and passing traffic floating up to them. They drank homemade lemonade and made toffee in a pan, as it was the one thing Millie ‘just had to have!’ and ate it until their jaws ached. Millie seemed to want to do nothing except eat and sleep, although the baby was not due for a few weeks yet. She always left her hair loose now and wore a succession of billowy cotton dresses.

By the third day there was no sign of Daniel coming to find her.
I could be ill
, she thought self-pityingly,
and he wouldn’t know
. She felt restless, unable to settle, and longing to see him. Was he missing her? she wondered. Probably not – he would be too busy. In the end she decided she was punishing no one except herself.

If I want to see him, I should just go and do it
, she thought.
I’m being ridiculous!

Instead of going to the offices, she did the next best thing and walked to Alma Street. The school, when she passed it, was all locked up, silent in the sunshine. There was something sad, Gwen thought, about a school without any children. There were plenty of them about, though, out in the streets, playing.

Round the corner she found Lucy Fernandez sitting on the shop’s front step watching Rosa and her brothers throwing a small rubber ball to one another back and forth across the street.

‘It’s Miss Purdy,’ Gwen heard Rosa say as she approached. ‘Daniel’s not here, is he?’

Gwen was struck once more by how beautiful the girl was. Lucy was smiling shyly up at her.

‘Hello, are you having a nice break?’ Gwen said.

‘Yes, thanks.’ Lucy had on a skimpy, pale pink frock, and sat with her good leg bent, the calipered leg stuck out awkwardly in front. She leaned aside to let Gwen into the shop.

‘Hello there, Gwen!’ Theresa called from behind the counter. Gwen felt cheered immediately. She was calling out a reply when she realized someone else was standing at the back of the shop. It took her a few moments to realize who it was.

‘Afternoon, Miss Purdy,’ the woman said. It was her soft, well-spoken voice that made Gwen realize.

‘Oh – Mrs Wilson! Good afternoon.’

Alice’s mother was wearing a pretty floral dress in pinks and greens and her hair had grown since the last time they met and was tied back. Unlike the last time, her face was calm.

‘Mrs Wilson’s just popped in to tell me the good news,’ Theresa said.

‘Oh, what’s that?’ Gwen asked.

‘Well.’ Louise Wilson blushed. She seemed unable to meet Gwen’s eye. ‘Just that I’ve got myself a little job.’ She was going to be serving in a stationer’s, she told Gwen. ‘It’s not much, but it’s a start.’

‘Well, I’m very pleased for you,’ Gwen said carefully.

‘Alice can come round here after school, see,’ Theresa said. ‘Lucy’s pleased as anything.’

Gwen repeated her congratulations and looked gratefully at Theresa Fernandez.

‘Daniel’s not here, I’m afraid,’ Theresa said. ‘Course, you can stay if you want . . .’

‘No, thanks, I’d better be getting along.’

Gwen smiled and parted from them. Her smile faded once she was along the street. She had to go to the party offices or she was never going to see Daniel! Once more she went into town. As she did so her mood changed. Of course Daniel was busy! How could she be so self-centred? And she was supposed to be helping collect food and medicines for Spanish Aid, not sitting in Millie’s flat feeling sorry for herself! Ashamed, she shook off her mood of gloom and resentment. She had to put other things before her own feelings. They were working for a cause and Daniel was very committed, very adult, about it. She strode along, full of new energy.

She was waiting to cross the street when she saw Esther Lane come out of the offices.
Good
, Gwen thought,
at least she’s not going to be there.
But then she saw Daniel coming out after Esther. She didn’t know why, but she shrank back, not wanting them to see her. In any case, they were not looking her way. Esther turned her head and said something to Daniel and Gwen saw him laugh. As they walked away, Gwen’s saw Esther lazily put her arm round Daniel’s waist. With equal casualness, he laid an arm across her shoulders. Then he reached down and kissed her in an easy, familiar way on the lips.

Forty-Two

It was like being punched. The breath seemed to have left her body. All she could do was stand at the kerb watching as Daniel and Esther went off along the road, wrapped round each other, talking away nineteen to the dozen, until they disappeared into the distance. Still she could not move, almost unable to believe she wasn’t caught in a nightmare and would wake up.

‘How could you?’ She found her lips moving. ‘How
could
you?’

When she managed to move away she almost collided with several people. It was as if no one else existed. In a dream she caught the tram back to Hands-worth, but the thought of going home and facing Millie or sitting alone in her room seemed unbearable. Instead she wandered the streets until she found herself outside Ariadne’s house. Unable to think what else to do, she knocked on the door.

It opened with a waft of cheap perfume and there was Ariadne, clad in a floaty frock, navy blue and covered in tiny white polka dots. Her hair was newly dyed and caught up in a loose chignon. Even in the state she was in, Gwen couldn’t help noticing how hard and lined Ariadne’s face looked in the bright light, all powdered and with her eyebrows pencilled in. But she beamed at the sight of Gwen, seeming quite overcome.

‘Gwendolen, come in! Ooh, I’m so pleased to see you. And I’ve just made tea! Fancy you coming to see me again!’

‘I did say I would,’ Gwen murmured. She felt quite disorientated. Ariadne immediately started complaining about ‘that strumpet’ Miss Hines and her perfume.

‘I’ve told her about it,’ Ariadne said, with a censorious sniff, leading Gwen into the back room. ‘“I don’t appreciate these odours,” I said, but she gave me that look of hers.’ The tea gushed out of the spout, narrowly making it into the cups. ‘Have a cake, dear?’

‘No thank you,’ Gwen said. ‘I’m sorry – I’m just not hungry.’ It would have been a good time to eat since the Eccles cakes were obviously shop bought, but she felt too queasy with distress even to attempt it.

Ariadne sat herself down, smoothing her skirt under her in her affected way and proceeded to complain for some time about the indignities visited upon her by her lodgers. A travelling salesman called Mr Mealing had stayed for a couple of weeks with promises to be stable and long-term, and then upped and gone.

‘You can’t rely on people today – they’ve no staying power.’ She bit resentfully into an Eccles cake and looked across at Gwen, who was cradling the cup between her hands, trying to warm them.

‘You’re not cold, are you? On a day like this? Perhaps you’re sickening . . .’ She looked more closely. ‘You really look rather peaky, dear. Are you sure you’re all right?’

Gwen had no idea it was going to happen. Afterwards she realized it was the look of real motherly concern in Ariadne’s eyes that had done it, but suddenly she was sobbing, so hard that the tea started slopping out of her cup onto her skirt.

‘Dear, oh dear!’ Ariadne leapt up and took the cup from Gwen’s shaking hands. ‘My dear girl, whatever is the matter?’

Gwen shook her head, unable to speak. All she could feel was pain . . .
Daniel
,
Daniel
. . . In her mind was fixed the sight of him with Esther, so comfortable and familiar as if they had walked that way, intimately entwined, many times before. And she could hear Esther’s words, spoken in her superior tone when they were in Aberglyn, ‘
poor old you
. . .’ The sense of hurt and humiliation was so great, she couldn’t speak. She was beyond even embarrassment about having broken down in front of Ariadne.

Ariadne pulled her chair up close. Eventually, taking courage, she laid her arm round Gwen’s shoulders. Even in the state she was in, Gwen was touched by the timidity of the gesture. She could smell Ariadne’s perfume. It was quite pleasant, she realized, not like that smell in the hall.

‘You can tell me,’ Ariadne said, after letting Gwen have a cry. ‘I know what it’s like to be unhappy, dear, believe me. Has someone been playing with your heart?’

Gwen fished out her hanky and blew her nose, more tears coming as she did so.

‘I’ve been such a fool and it hurts so much . . .’

She spilled it all out then, desperate to talk to someone, all about meeting Daniel, and Edwin and the wedding and the fact that her parents never wanted her home again and, most terrible of all, what had happened this morning.

‘She’s been chasing after him for ages. I’ve seen her. I’ve tried so hard not to be jealous, but every time we do anything,
any
meeting we go to,
she’s
always there, making up to him, taking his attention . . . And she’s so
bossy
, and she’s older than he is,’ she finished petulantly. ‘Why would he want to go off with her when he’s told me he loved me so many times? I can’t understand him . . .’ Once more she dissolved into tears. She realized Ariadne was lightly stroking her back.

‘Poor child,’ she said. ‘Oh, what a thing. But that’s men for you, dear. I’ve spent my life trying to get over men. You give them everything, pour your heart out to them and they run off and leave you, and you think: one day I’ll find the one who’s different, who’ll be true . . .’ The melancholy in Ariadne’s voice cut through to Gwen and she wiped her eyes and turned to look at her.

‘But you found your George, didn’t you?’ Both their eyes went to the photograph of George in its frame on the mantelpiece, with his moustache and military stance. ‘He was different, wasn’t he?’

There was a silence. Ariadne looked down into her lap. ‘No,’ she confessed miserably. ‘He wasn’t. Not in the end.’

Gwen stared at her, unable to make sense of this. Ariadne looked up, and Gwen could see the sad, defeated look in her eyes.

‘I tell everyone I’m a widow, but it’s not true. He left me – just like the others.’

‘Oh, Ariadne!’

Ariadne withdrew her arm and looked down into her lap. ‘You get over some of them. Most of them – but I’ve never got over him. Took the heart out of me, he did. Don’t let this one do it to you. Look at you – your pretty face is all blotches! You’re too young for all that.’

It’s too late
, Gwen thought, tears welling in her eyes again.
He already has
. But she didn’t say anything to Ariadne, just leaned over and gently touched her hand. Ariadne looked up at her, nodding gently, shame and hurt in her eyes.

‘Your room’s empty, dear, since Mr Mealing went,’ she appealed. ‘I do wish you’d come back and take it.’

Gwen thought of Millie and Lance’s flat, the constant bickering and life with them at close quarters.

‘Just give me time to give them notice,’ she said.

Millie was not at all happy.