Starlight (20 page)

If it had come at some other time, yes, she would have celebrated. Now, though, she had to think not only of George, sitting in the circle instead of at this very desk, but of the war that was now taking a new toll, with the bombing in the south, and of all who'd be involved. Maybe her own Rusty, who'd be finishing his course soon? Maybe Ben, who'd be in the danger zone, even if not flying. All the people who'd be at risk if Hitler started bombing cities, as he'd said he'd do.

Oh, what was the point of a job like hers, then? She'd always thought so much of it. Stocking the silver screen. Keeping the projectors turning. Taking people's minds off their troubles, transporting them to Never-Never Land, where, let's face it, she'd spent some time herself. Was any of it worth doing? Shouldn't she just go out and join up, as Sally had done, and Marguerite?

No. She straightened her shoulders. That wasn't the way to look at things. The Princes did do a good job. She did a good job, too. People did need what she and the silver screen could provide, for life was dark enough for most of them without taking that away. She'd keep on. She'd have to, for her life too would have been dark without her work.

Setting herself the target of tidying her desk, which usually made her feel better, she jumped as though shot when her telephone rang.

‘Princes Street Picture House,' she intoned. ‘How can I help you?'

‘Jess, is that you?' she heard a man's voice say, and before he'd given his name had recognized it. ‘This is John Syme speaking. Can you spare a minute?'

‘Certainly, John,' she replied. ‘Only too happy.'

Thirty-Six

‘Well, well, Jess, that's something, isn't it?'

Ben, acting the perfect host for Marguerite's family visiting his father's house, was smiling, though keeping his eyebrows raised. ‘Manager of the Princes, at your age! Amazing.'

‘I told you in one of my letters that she'd been made manager,' Marguerite said sharply. ‘No need to look so surprised.'

‘That was temporary, though. This is permanent. Makes a difference.'

‘It does,' Addie chimed in. ‘I think she's done very well.'

‘And so do I,' Mr Daniel agreed, with a smile for Jess. ‘You've obviously impressed those bosses, eh?'

‘Not all of 'em,' Jess felt constrained to admit. ‘It was Mr Syme who wanted me to get the job. I suppose there wasn't a lot of choice.'

‘Now, don't run yourself down,' Addie told her. ‘They wouldn't have appointed you if you weren't right.' She stood up and looked across to Marguerite. ‘Want me to give you a hand with that fish pie, pet?'

‘Oh, yes, please, Ma,' Marguerite cried. ‘I thought you'd never ask!'

When Jess was left alone with Ben and his father, she looked around the little front room, and politely remarked on its pleasantness. Privately, she was surprised that Marguerite had not so far left her mark on a room so carefully furnished by her late mother-in-law. But then she hadn't had much time to do anything before joining up, and also wouldn't want to upset Ben's father. No doubt he wanted to keep all the antimacassars embroidered by his wife, and her choice of framed lithographs, artificial flowers and enough ornaments to set up a shop. Yet, Jess had been sincere when she'd said the room was pleasant. There was an atmosphere of a couple's shared affection here which still lingered, though only one half of the couple remained; the sort of atmosphere Jess, in fact, rather envied.

‘How are things with Rusty?' Ben asked, coming to sit next to her on the sofa, while his father nodded in his chair. ‘Isn't he due to finish his course soon?'

‘Yes, quite soon. He's been doing very well.'

Ben lit a cigarette. ‘Met a chap from Kenlin the other day who knows him. Said he was a good guy.'

‘So he is.'

‘But this chap mentioned he hadn't seemed so fit lately. OK on the job, but a bit – you know – nervy off it.'

Jess looked away from Ben's intent gaze. ‘I don't know why he should've said that. Rusty's fine.'

‘That's good, then. I'm glad to hear it.'

‘I tell you, that fellow doesn't know what he's talking about!'

‘Yes, all right, he got it wrong.' Ben hesitated a moment. ‘But, if you should ever need any help, Jess, remember, you've got a brother now.'

‘That's very kind of you, Ben, but why should I need help?'

He shrugged. ‘I suppose everybody needs help, the way things are. We're so alone, aren't we? Now that France has fallen, who's left? Hitler's going to step up this bombing, you know. It'll be the cities next.'

‘You weren't talking about the bombing just then, though, were you?'

‘Well, you've had experience of it.'

She raised her eyes to his. ‘Why don't you say straight out what's worrying you?'

Again, he hesitated.

‘Seems, in fact, I've rather worried you. Didn't mean to. I'm sorry. All I wanted to say was that if ever you do need a friendly shoulder and I'm home, you can count on mine.'

‘But you're being posted down south, aren't you?'

‘That's right, but I'll get leave.'

‘I hope you'll be all right,' she said quietly.

‘As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to it.' He gave a wry grin. ‘I've got over not being aircrew, you know. Planes in the sky need work on the ground, and chaps like me can do it.'

‘Of course you can!' she cried. ‘I bet you'll be rocketing up the promotion lists in no time!'

His expression softened. ‘So I've been told. But, what's it matter? We all do what we can, don't we?' He stubbed out his cigarette and rose. ‘I see Dad's waking up, and I'm starving – don't know about you? Shall we find out what Marguerite and your ma are doing in the kitchen?'

After the evening had passed very pleasantly and they'd all enjoyed Marguerite's meal – ‘Ma's', really,' she'd said modestly, ‘I only found the cod.' – Ben walked Addie and Jess to the tram stop where they kissed him goodbye. He was leaving the next day.

‘Take care,' Addie said, putting her hand on his shoulder. ‘Come back safely to Marguerite, eh?'

‘You bet. And you two look after yourselves as well.' He glanced at Jess. ‘Hope all goes well for Rusty,' he murmured. ‘Drop me a line if you've time.'

‘I will,' she promised, watching him walk away, waving, but as she waved too, her heart was heavy in her breast. He knows, she thought. He knows about Rusty. He didn't put it into words, but she could tell he knew, all the same. That was why he'd asked her to call on him if she needed help. But how could she do that? How could she talk about Rusty's problems with Ben?

‘Here's mine!' Addie cried, as her tram came into sight. ‘Jess, come round day after tomorrow, eh, to say goodbye to Marguerite? Poor lassie, she's to go back to Drem and she'll be all the time thinking of Ben, down there with all the jerry planes!'

‘I'll be there,' Jess assured her, seeing her on to the tram, then standing back to wave goodbye.

‘Yours next!' Addie cried from the platform.

‘Hope so!' Jess called.

But as she stood at the stop, still waiting, her thoughts had returned to Rusty. What did the future hold for him? If his superiors discovered his drinking, would he be court-martialled? He'd sworn he never took risks at work and she believed him, because he'd never risk other lives as well as his own, but someone had said something to Ben and Ben had drawn his own conclusions. If only she could see Rusty – find out what was going on.

‘You wanting this one, hen?' a woman asked in her ear, and giving a start of surprise, Jess saw her tram was beside her at the stop. Although folk said the trams made enough noise to wake the dead, she'd been so deep in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard her number and almost missed it.

‘Oh, I do!' she cried, ‘thanks!'

And jumping on to the platform, she was borne away to her lonely home.

Thirty-Seven

On a warm, thundery afternoon in August, Jess was in her office, working on a plan she had for children's Saturday morning cinema, still trying not to think of what was happening in the south where the Battle of Britain continued to rage.

Every day, the planes from the Luftwaffe came over, attacking airfields and radar stations, and every day, the planes of the British Fighter Command went up to do battle. How long could it go on? Until Hitler realised he wasn't going to win, and turned to something else. And everyone was pretty sure what that would be – bombing British cities. He was never going to forget the reprisal raids by the British over Berlin in return for an earlier, mistaken, attack on London. It would only be a matter of time before the raids came, and might invasion follow? In the meantime, the fights in the skies went on.

There was nothing the onlookers of the country could do except, as the order went, ‘carry on' – with their own lives, their own work, which was why Jess was concentrating hard on her new project for the children.

It was not something the Princes had offered before, but Jess was keen to make her cinema more a part of the community, and with so many children now returned from the country districts where they'd been sent as evacuees, she was sure her idea would be welcome. After all, cinemas in other areas had been doing it for years – why not the Princes, the best in the city?

Mustn't appear to believe we're too grand, she thought, pencilling in the types of film that would appeal to her new audience. Mickey Mouse and the Disney cartoons, of course, and Popeye, and maybe some of the old
Our Gang
series. But then they'd need a few educational films as well – geographical stuff, maybe, and animal welfare. Maybe she should set up some meetings with the schools – see what they'd recommend.

‘Hello, hello, anybody home?' came a voice at her door, and it was Sally's.

‘Sally! How nice to see you!' Jess cried, jumping to her feet. ‘I didn't know you were on leave.'

‘Permanent leave,' Sally answered with a laugh, as they hugged each other. ‘Oh, my word, Jess, aren't you the grand one! Manager of the Princes, no less! Didn't I always say you'd do well?'

Settling herself in the interview chair, Sally's round blue eyes rested appraisingly on Jess.

‘But, oh, lassie, you've lost weight, eh? Is it worrying over Rusty, then? Has he got his posting yet?'

‘No' yet, but I'm expecting him home any time for leave after the course. Then, he'll be away.' Jess tried to smile. ‘Like Ben, you know. He's been posted to the south of England.'

‘Poor Marguerite.' Sally shook her head. ‘At least Arnold's still in Scotland. Och, what a time we're all having, eh? Poor George, as well. I was that upset when I heard about him, you know. Thank the Lord you were around to take over!'

‘I'd never have got the job if it hadn't been for the circumstances, Sally. I'm no' going to pretend otherwise.'

‘You'd have got it eventually, Jess. I always knew you weren't going to stay in the box office. But listen . . . I've something to tell you.' Sally leaned forward and put out her left hand. ‘See that, dear?'

Jess stared. ‘A wedding ring, Sally? You're married? And you never said a word!'

‘It was all very hush-hush. Special licence. Just the two of us and a couple of witnesses. But I'm here to tell you all about it now.'

‘Why, though, Sally? Why'd you suddenly decide to get married, when you said you wouldn't?'

‘Come on, now, you're the bright one, eh? Why do folk sometimes get married in a hurry?'

‘You're no'. . . you're no' telling me you're . . .'

‘I am, dear.' Sally gave one of her famous chuckles. ‘I'm expecting. And after our two mothers, you're one of the first to know.'

‘I can't believe it,' Jess was murmuring. ‘I just can't take it in.'

‘Haven't you noticed anything unusual about me, then? And I don't mean I'm showing, because at the moment I'm just my usual overweight self. But something's different.'

Hair's blonder, face is plumper – Jess, frowning, suddenly cried, ‘Why, Sally, where's your uniform?'

‘First prize to Mrs MacVail! And why I'm no' wearing my uniform is because I'm on that permanent leave I mentioned. I'm out, Jess, out of the army. For me – the war is over!'

At the dazed expression on Jess's face, Sally chuckled again.

‘For obvious reasons, expectant mums are given the boot, and as I'm expecting, that's me out. It's a joke, eh? After all the advice I gave you, to go and fall for a baby myself?'

‘Listen, I think I'll get us some tea.'

‘And biscuits, if you've got any, dear!' Sally called. ‘I'm starving.'

Over the tea and the ginger snaps Edie had produced, Sally explained how she'd been, as she put it, caught out.

‘Aye, caught out, Jess. Caught in the trap. Thing was, Arnold and me'd had no leave together, and then we wangled a weekend pass and went to a hotel for a bit of a treat. We were that excited, we just clean forgot our you know what, and Arnold said, “What the hell, we'll be all right for once.”'

‘Talk about famous last words!' Sally cheerfully drank her tea. ‘Next thing I knew, I was saying goodbye to the girls and on my way home, having to tell my mother and Arnold's and putting up with all the wailing and gnashing of teeth etcetera. Thank God I'd got my wedding ring!'

Sally pressed Jess's hand.

‘Sorry you weren't there to see me married, dear, but I've come round soon as I could to tell you.'

‘And I appreciate it. But when's the great day for the baby?'

‘Oh, not till January. A nice long way off. Before that, Arnold and me are going to rent our own flat. There'll be no staying with my ma or Arnold's. My baby's going to have his own home. Or her own home, as the case may be.'