Orphans of War (41 page)

Greg jerked to a halt and stared across the expanse of moorland.

‘I’d forgotten how grand this scenery is. One day I’ll build myself a house up here in the hills, just for the summer,’ he announced with a wide sweep of his arm.

‘You could always stay at the Brooklyn now Mrs Plum’s made a go of it,’ she suggested, but he was not listening to her, his eyes were roaming over the fells in a daydream.

‘What happened to Gerald? Was he killed?’ he asked, fumbling for his cigarette case in his pocket.

‘Nah, he went off with his fancy woman. I’m not sure if they’re divorced. She never says anything but she still wears her wedding ring.’ He offered her a cigarette and lit it with his lighter just like a film star on screen.

‘And your family. Where’s Sid?’

‘On a farm up the dale, happy as a pig in muck…You know Mam came back for us, after you left? She was going to marry a Yank but he was killed in France, or so she said. You never know with Mam. I couldn’t stick the city and ended up back here when Mrs Plum got me a job as a mother’s help. Now I’m a housekeeper
but I do my modelling on the side with Ken Silverstone Associates.’ Why had she lied to him, when it was Maddy who’d brought her back here?

‘He’s your boyfriend, this Ken?’

‘Not really. He’s my manager and finds work for me,’ she lied.

‘And Maddy–does she have someone too?’ He turned away, staring out again as if he wasn’t interested but she knew he was quizzing her for information.

‘Dunno…never in one place long enough to go steady. I’ve never heard of one but you see how she is. Never still for a moment.’ Gloria stopped smoking, feeling her belly in her throat and groaned. ‘Oh shit!’ She shot out of the car to throw up by the stone wall. This was not how it was supposed to be. You never saw that in the pictures, except in comedies.

‘Sorry,’ she croaked, getting back into the car, feeling foolish.

‘Better out than in!’ Greg laughed, until he saw her green face and drove sedately back to Sowerthwaite on the main road.

They turned into the drive just as Maddy was on the doorstep with her case. Plum was down the stairs in a flash.

‘Gregory, dear, you will give Maddy a lift to the station?’

‘I told you I can do better than that. Hop in and I’ll give you a lift back to Leeds. It’s the least I can do. I have to return this Cinderella carriage to the garage before it turns into a Morris Minor.’

Gloria fell out of the car on wobbly legs. She was still feeling sick and also miffed, knowing that she’d have to get on with her chores and leave them to it.

‘Time we had another afternoon get-together one Saturday, Maddy. Meet you outside the Queens as usual?’ she offered. It was worth a try to revive their friendship.

Maddy smiled. ‘That’ll be good. Tea and the pictures, it is?’

‘You and your friend Charlie might like to join us?’ said Gloria, not one to miss an opportunity. ‘A foursome would be fun. I can always stay over with Maddy, if it’s my weekend off.’ She threw a look of desperation to Mrs Plum, hoping for the next weekend off.

‘I’m sure we’ll think of something, Gloria. I might come and do some shopping myself and make a day of it,’ shouted Plum. ‘Keep in touch, young man.’

No, no no! Gloria groaned, not you as well. How can I get to know Greg again if the whole of the Brooklyn is watching? A chaperone was the last thing she needed.

‘We can’t both be off at the same time,’ Gloria said, hoping to nip this idea in the bud.

‘Silly me, of course not. No, you’re right. Another time, perhaps.’

‘But I’d like to take you to tea, Mrs Plum–just a little thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps the others might like to join us. I shall write and confirm a date,’ said Greg, roaring the engine back into life.

‘Tea’ll be lovely.’

No it won’t, thought Gloria. If she goes, I’ll have to
stay, and it’ll be Maddy who gets the treat, not me. It’s not fair. She waved them off half-heartedly.

‘They make a lovely couple, don’t they? Very distinguished,’ whispered Plum as she watched the car roar down the avenue.

‘Do you think so?’ Gloria replied. ‘I don’t think Greg is Maddy’s type at all. He’s only a builder.’ The east wind blew across her face and she shivered. Why didn’t all of them recognise that he was just Gloria’s type of bloke? What must she do to make him look at her twice?

They drove as far as Skipton in silence. Maddy shivered and Greg stopped to put the roof on the car when it started to sleet. They both spoke at once, breaking a strange silent tension that had grown on the journey, each aware of the other one sitting close, aware that this was the first time they had been truly alone together but not knowing what to say.

‘Thanks for the lift. I’m glad you came,’ said Maddy. ‘Do you remember picking me up outside school that time? It did the trick.’

‘I do, and those awful girls…If they could see you now…We didn’t get much time to talk, did we?’ said Greg.

‘There’ll be other times. We mustn’t lose touch again.’ She smiled, turning to him.

Greg grinned back and his eyes sparkled like dancing water. ‘The Brooklyn hasn’t changed, spruced up a bit but still the same old place, and Plum is just as kind.’

‘I wish she’d sell the damn place and get herself a
real life. She must get so lonely,’ Maddy replied, relaxing into the bucket seat.

‘Gloria’s a laugh, quite the little glamour girl. I’m surprised she’s hung around so long, what with her new career and her Ken.’

‘This Ken is very elusive,’ Maddy said. ‘According to Plum he’s not given her quite the opportunities she was dreaming about. No one has ever seen any of her portfolio shots. She’s very secretive but so desperately wants to do what I’m doing. She thinks my world is so glamorous and I keep telling her the truth of it. You saw us all hunched in the snow, standing frozen, waiting for the right light, take after take. Sometimes I get so fed up I want to scream, but it pays well, and I do get to some interesting places. I never know who I’m going to meet.’ They both laughed.

‘I bet there’s not many jobbing builders on your sites.’

‘There is now,’ she smiled, turning to him.

‘Oh, aye? And who’s that then?’ he joked. ‘Do you get much free time?’

‘Oh, it’s either a famine or a feast–frantic fittings for shows, photo shoots and sittings for magazines, and then sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. Miss Ffrost, my landlady, is not amused if I’m late with the rent.’

‘Could I take you out to dinner sometime soon, when you’re free?’ he asked, and his cheek was twitching with nerves.

‘I’d like that; then we could catch up properly. You have to tell me all about rally driving if you can bear to. I must say it looks pretty dangerous…’

They smiled and nodded and sat this time in companionable silence. She kept pointing the way to the nearest bus stop but he’d have none of it and drove her straight home to Arncliffe Road.

‘Now I know where you live I can pick you up, but it won’t be in a Morgan, I’m afraid.’

‘Four wheels will be fine or shanks’s pony,’ she laughed. She hadn’t felt this happy for years.

‘Just the two of us, on Thursday night then?’

‘Thursday night it is,’ Maddy said as she made to get out of the car. ‘Thank you.’

‘Remember when I rescued you last time, I got a reward,’ said Greg, leaning over the seat to kiss her.

She didn’t resist but kissed him back on the cheek, waving him off until the car had gone from sight. Suddenly her suitcase was lighter, her step springier. He was still the old Greg after all.

There was a message waiting on the hall table from Marshfields, asking her to report for some big buyer’s bash in Manchester from Wednesday until Thursday. Poor Greg would have to wait for his date and that thought gave her no pleasure at all.

In the weeks following that first chance encounter with Maddy, Greg couldn’t believe how his world had changed. They met every week when she was free but he was cautious. This was his first serious affair and he must pace himself.

Maddy wasn’t one of his quick conquests. She was the sort of girl who would expect him to do things properly. It was ‘Gently Bentley’ with his lovemaking. There was all the time in the world now, but he couldn’t wait. He wanted to make her his own and treat her like she deserved, no matter what it cost.

He sat on the rooftop looking out over the city, wanting to shout out to the world that he’d found his girl, the one who’d make him the proudest of men. He whistled on the job and the brickies wondered if he was drunk.

He was drunk with the scent of her, the anticipation of meeting her outside Marshfields, even if there was only time for a cup of tea in the station buffet before she disappeared off across the Pennines on another assignment.

Now there was something more in his life than making money, he thought as he whistled away, something more than creating yet more business. He was besotted with his princess.

Now he even noticed children in prams–perhaps one day they might have a family of their own–but most of all he felt that he wasn’t alone any more. Every day and evening they spent together was magical. She took him to an orchestral concert in the Town Hall, quite highbrow stuff for a rough chap like him, but the music stirred him. Then they spent a morning going round the City Art Gallery. They ate a picnic in Roundhay Park, in the car, because it was still cold, and climbed the Cow and Calf on top of Ilkley Moor. They kissed each other until he ached with wanting her, but he sensed hesitation, a reluctance to go too far so he tried not to rush things. Maddy was respectable, his perfect princess, and he still couldn’t believe she could look at him twice-but the miracle was that when she did, he was putty in her hands.

‘What’s got into you this evening?’ snapped Ken Silverstone, trying to focus his lens in on Gloria’s plump breast. ‘Your skin’s gone all blotchy. Go and powder them down.’

His subject got up from the rug and wrapped a dressing gown over her body. She wasn’t in the mood for looking sexy and come hither, dressed in only a red velvet cloak with a cotton wool trim that smelled of other unwashed bodies.

Plum had had another letter from Maddy saying
she’d lunched with Greg Byrne in a big hotel by the Otley road. He’d spared no expense. They walked in a nearby park and had got tickets for the Grand Theatre for the weekend.

This was not how it was supposed to be. She was seeing too much of him. Greg was Gloria’s challenge and target. Maddy had enough opportunities to meet with rich cronies; she didn’t need to poach the one decent man to come into Gloria’s life.

Ken had his moments, in a gruff Yorkshire sort of way, but he talked rough, and was a bit common. He’d made a real fuss of her and one night after a drink too many he’d shown her what’s what in the love department, shown her how it all fitted together. It had been a bit disappointing, going all the way on a stained rug in the studio, a bit overrated, a push and shove and, Bob’s your uncle, it was all over.

He’d suggested it was good for her career to have experience so she could have the look in her eye that men would recognise, the ‘I’ll give you a good time’ look that suggested she’d be fun in bed. It might give them a thrill, but she’d felt nothing but pain and embarrassment.

At least he’d worn a rubber johnnie. There must be no accidents. Maddy’s mess had taught that–and Mam’s too. It was all a thunder of nothing, as far as she was concerned, but Ken seemed to get excited when he took shots, fiddling with himself and getting worked up so they ended up rolling on the floor. He then carried on taking his shots naked and she thought how silly he looked, and how stupid she looked in these
costumes. ‘Mother Christmas in Santa’s Grotto!’ This was not how she’d expected to end up. It was all so cheap and made her feel dirty. Why did she keep doing it then?

He’d even asked her to do some shots with Rita, who did more specialised angles, he called them, wanting them to lie together and do silly stuff but she told him straight to cut it out, she wasn’t that sort of girl and she didn’t want to be his model any more if this was how he saw her. She was fed up at never seeing any of her shots. When she asked to do respectable work he’d laughed at her.

‘Listen, love, this is all you’re fit for. Once a tart, always a tart!’ That was when she slapped him hard and he hit her back, and things were getting nasty.

‘I’m off! I’m not coming back,’ she’d screamed. ‘You can find another muggings!’

‘There’s plenty more fish in the sea, darling,’ he’d sneered. ‘You’re not that special. Anyway, you like it really. You’ll be back. There’s a club I know that could give you a slot, stripping for gentlemen. Now that would get you on a circuit–free booze…instant stardom, Gloria. My Little Miss Redhead does it again!’

She should’ve walked out there and then, but she didn’t, and now she was back doing silly Easter Bunny shots. Why was she still pretending there was any future in this but dirty postcards?

Yet something happened when she climbed those wooden stairs to the studio that made her feel important and special and sexy. Here she was Gloria, the model, a star in her own right, not just a poor relation
or a domestic in someone else’s house. When she posed under those lights it felt as if she had an audience of hundreds drooling over her body. Ken was very persuasive, with his presents and drinks. This was her secret world no one knew about but her, where her body had the power to stir men’s lusts, or so Ken said. This was where she felt secure, in some strange way, noticed and wanted.