‘You’ve not been fighting with the Irishmen again?’ Grace frowned at the bruise on Chris’s forehead, then brushed a finger along his grazed cheek. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him looking battle-scarred.
‘It’s nothing; it happened earlier in the week,’ Chris replied quietly, as he saw Shirley emerge from the kitchen. ‘You ready?’
‘Dear me … you’ve been in the wars, Christopher!’
‘Had a bit of rubble fall on me at work, Mrs Coleman,’ Chris slickly said. He knew Shirley already thought him a rough handful; if she knew the truth of it she’d probably banish him from darkening her doorstep.
‘Cup of tea before you go out?’ Shirley offered brightly.
It was unusual for Christopher to enter the house. Shirley was aware that Grace normally made sure to be ready and waiting when he pulled up, so she could simply call goodbye when shutting the front door. Her daughter wanted to keep her and Christopher apart to avoid any awkward questions arising. Grace was always telling her to stop prying, because when there was something to know, she’d come out with it.
But Shirley thought she had a right to find out a few things now, seeing as they’d been going steady for months, and her daughter invariably returned home after a night out with Chris looking dishevelled and dreamy-eyed. A bit of kissing and cuddling didn’t bother Shirley, so Grace’s tousled hair and swollen rosy lips were overlooked. She waited up for her daughter’s return to run an eagle eye over her for tell-tale undone buttons and a skew-whiff skirt. Grace was more than old enough to be a mother herself, but to Shirley she was a spinster daughter who was too headstrong to heed advice, and might allow a horny charmer to get her into trouble and ruin her future.
After Hugh had thrown Grace over, Shirley had panicked, wondering if her daughter had been daft enough to go all the way with the two-timing swine before getting the ring that mattered on her finger. She’d had visions of Grace with a swollen belly in a few months’ time and no man in sight to marry her.
Eventually Grace had had enough of her nagging and had shouted at her she was still a virgin so she had nothing to worry about, and in future to mind her own business. But that had been some years ago. Grace was now twenty-three and had been left behind by most of her contemporaries. Shirley had seen a wistful look flit over her daughter’s face a few weeks ago when they’d bumped into one of her old school chums pushing a pram in Wood Green High Street. Shirley knew such longing could be more dangerous than a randy, determined man, in addling a woman’s wits.
Considering Christopher was a handsome rogue, with a nice line in patter – Shirley remembered his smooth, confident manner the first day she’d seen him at Matilda’s – he no doubt attracted lots of girls. Shirley thought it likely he’d been trying it on with her daughter and what she wanted to know was how successful he’d been, and whether he’d yet asked Grace to get engaged. Shirley knew she’d have mixed feelings if he had; she still thought her pretty daughter could do better for herself than a good-looking builder from a notoriously bad family.
Grace worked in an environment teeming with respectable men, with good pay and prospects, who arrived home clean and tidy. Hugh might have been a bad lot but at least he had turned up to take Grace out in a smart Hillman saloon rather than a dirty Bedford van.
For fifteen years Wilf Coleman had came home reeking of raw meat, because he’d worked in a food-processing factory until the war gave him a way out. Shirley had never let him near her until he’d bathed, and even then the odour seemed to cling to his flesh and turn her stomach. She’d had high hopes of Grace doing better for herself …
‘Where’re you two off to then?’ Shirley asked, hoping to delay them to slip in a few probing questions.
‘Wood Green Gaumont; “The Lavender Hill Mob” is showing.’
‘Oh, that’s a good film. I saw that with Miriam after work one evening; we did have a laugh.’ Shirley came further into the hallway. After doing her shift in a Woolworth’s store in Wood Green High Street she occasionally had an evening out at the Gaumont, followed by a bite to eat, with a colleague.
She ran a look of grudging approval over Christopher’s attire. Shirley had to admit he turned up to take Grace out smelling fresh and looking smart though she had noticed bruises on his face a couple of times. Being as he worked on a building site, and his father had recently come a dreadful cropper, she was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt about the rubble, rather than jump to the conclusion that he’d been brawling.
‘Better be off,’ Grace said, edging Chris towards the door. She’d noticed her mother scrutinising Chris’s face. ‘If we don’t get going we’ll miss the start …’
‘Don’t be late back!’ Shirley grimaced disappointment as the couple disappeared. She’d not managed to find out a thing.
‘Fancy some chips?’
‘No thanks … I had a big tea before I came out.’ Grace smiled.
They’d just descended the steps of the Gaumont surrounded by the dispersing audience who’d enjoyed the antics of Alec Guinness and the rest of the madcap cast of ‘The Lavender Hill Mob’. They started walking in the September dusk towards Turnpike Lane, where Chris had parked the van.
Grace slipped a hand through his arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘You’re a convincing liar, you know. This evening when you told my mum rubble fell on you I almost believed you myself.’
‘Rubble did fall on me earlier in the week,’ he insisted, giving her a subtle smile.
‘Maybe it did, but I’d put money on it that somebody’s knuckles left those marks on your face.’
He stooped to brush a kiss on her cheek. ‘Shhh … they’re almost healed and I’ve had enough listening to the lads going on about the pikeys all day long. Shall we go for a coffee? Or stop off at a pub?’
Grace shook her head.
‘What d’you want to do?’
‘Go for a drive?’
He slanted a look at her. ‘Right … now if I reckoned you’d suggested that ’cos you were gonna ask me to park up somewhere nice and quiet so we could …’
Grace gave a tiny laugh and averted her pink face. ‘You’ve got a one-track mind, Christopher Wild. Can’t we just park up and have a talk about things?’
‘No …’
‘Why not?’
‘’Cos I know what things you want to talk about,’ he said levelly, ‘and every time that subject comes up we end up arguing. I had enough nagging off the lads at work today.’
Grace withdrew her arm from his and, halting by a brightly lit shop window, rested her back against the glass. She gazed up indignantly at him, noting impatience in his expression, but choosing to ignore it.
‘Don’t snap at me; it’s not my fault you’ve got a lot of problems at work,’ she said tartly.
‘I didn’t say it was.’
‘And I don’t nag you about contacting your mum. I just think you should.’
Christopher spun on his heel away from her and took out a packet of Players. He had a cigarette alight in a matter of seconds.
‘You can have a fight every day of the week yet you can’t find the courage to drive to Bexleyheath to say hello to your mother?’
He walked away a few steps, dragging deeply on the cigarette. ‘Come on … I fancy a cold beer.’ He shot out a hand behind him for her to take.
But Grace stayed where she was despite feeling a bit chilled. She had on a pretty sleeveless summer dress with just a cardigan over it. But the night air was fresher than she’d anticipated. Wrapping her arms about her middle she settled back mutinously. She wasn’t going to let him ignore her. Too often he changed the subject, or started kissing and caressing her, when there was an issue he wanted to avoid talking about. If he used the latter method of shutting her up, it worked a treat for him, she realised sourly.
He pivoted about and their eyes clashed across a few separating yards of pavement, both too proud and stubborn to back down or close the gap.
‘Why do you go on about it every bloody time we go out?’ He sounded angry and frustrated. ‘I wish I’d never told you about her at all. I want to relax when I’m with you, Grace, not get an ear-bashing.’
‘Is that all you want?’ Grace asked tightly.
‘No … but as there’s not much chance of that I’ll settle for the cinema and a cold beer,’ he said, a touch too sarcastically.
‘I wondered when we’d get around to that,’ Grace murmured.
‘Well, it’s not as if you’re sweet sixteen, is it?’ he muttered.
‘I wondered when we’d get around to that too …’
Chris stuck the cigarette in his mouth and shoved a hand through his dark hair. ‘It doesn’t matter … swear. I know you’ve had the dirty done on you by another bloke, and you’re gonna be cautious for a while about trusting men.’ Spontaneously his hungry eyes roved over her curvy figure and slender, bare legs. ‘I promise I’m not like him … I won’t up ’n’ leave …’
Grace laughed acidly. ‘Only you could turn a conversation about finding your mother into a complaint about me not going all the way with you.’
‘That works both ways.’ Chris drawled and ground the cigarette butt beneath his shoe. He glanced up, holding her gaze with his dark, sleepy eyes. ‘You told me it’s my decision whether I go to Bexleyheath to look for her, and I reckon you were right, so back off and leave me alone.’
‘Yeah … I certainly will …’ Grace replied in a suffocated voice, pushing away from the window and starting back the way they’d just come.
In a few seconds Christopher was at her side, spinning her about by gripping her arm. ‘What game you havin’?’
‘I’m not playing, that’s the point,’ Grace said tremulously, shaking him off and continuing walking briskly. ‘You’re the one behaving like a sulky kid and I’ve had enough.’
He crowded her back against a brick wall. ‘I’m the one acting like a kid? You’re twenty-three, you’ve been engaged, and you’re acting like a fucking virgin …’
‘Perhaps that’s because I am,’ she stormed.
She punched at his arm to move him but he kept her penned while frowning at her.
‘Really?’ he eventually said hoarsely.
‘No … I just said it to piss you off, like everything else I come out with.’ She ducked beneath one of his braced arms and darted across the road.
He weaved between traffic and caught up with her. This time Grace came to a halt. She knew trying to outrun him was silly and undignified. She waited for a couple to amble past arm-in-arm before she said, ‘I think … it’s time we had a break from seeing each other.’
‘You’re giving me the brush-off?’ He sounded incredulous. ‘Why? Because I won’t let you order me about?’
‘I’m not ordering you about.’ Grace made a despairing little gesture. ‘Can’t you understand that’s the problem … you just see it that way?’ She swallowed the tears blocking her throat. ‘I think it’s best if we have a break,’ she repeated, attempting to smile. ‘Perhaps you need to have some time on your own to work out what to do …’ Her voice tailed away then sprang again into life. ‘Before I came along and complicated things you seemed certain you wanted to contact your mum.’
‘It’s nothing to do with you coming along and complicating things. Me dad’s been in hospital, in case you’ve forgotten. He’s not long been home and I’m not going to upset him again by going off looking for someone who was a lazy slut and didn’t want me anyhow …’
‘You don’t know that …’
‘You think me dad’s lying to me?’
‘No … but things aren’t always so cut and dried, and I think your mum deserves to be heard.’
‘She’s never bothered to come and find me and ask me to listen to her side.’
‘Perhaps that’s because she knew what sort of reception she’d get.’
‘I know what fuckin’ reception I’ll get!’ he ground out through his teeth. ‘Now I know a bit more about her, I know she’s gonna tell me to get lost and stay out of her life!’
‘Well, at least then you’ll know,’ Grace reasoned. ‘You said Matilda was encouraging you to find her too; if you won’t listen to me, I know you’ll listen to her advice.’
‘Me aunt wouldn’t have mentioned her name if I hadn’t kept on about it. If she thought Pam Plummer was worth finding, she’d have told me to go looking years ago. That’s what Matilda’s like: all fair ’n’ square. The only reason she wants me to meet her is ’cos she knows once I’ve done it I’ll never ask about me mum again.’
Grace raised her glistening eyes heavenwards. ‘It’s no use, Chris,’ she said despairingly. ‘Thanks for taking me to the pictures tonight, I can get the bus back home …’
He gripped her wrist and dragged her roughly into an alley between two shop-fronts.
‘You all right, miss?’ A middle-aged man had observed their altercation and was now hovering at the mouth of the narrow opening.
‘She’s fine, piss off,’ Chris growled without turning to look at him.
‘I’m fine,’ Grace called in a tremulous voice. ‘See what I mean about you?’ She gave a gulp of humourless laughter while watching the fellow shake his head then disappear.
Chris raised a hand to cup her face. ‘I’m sorry … it’s just you drive me nuts, Grace …’
‘I’m sorry too, ’cos you drive me nuts …’ Grace sighed. ‘I meant what I said … I think it’d be best if we don’t see each other for a while …’
He plunged his mouth hard on hers, curving a hand about her nape to move her forward and prevent her scalp scraping against the brick. He knew he could have her if he wanted to. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t, and always courteously brought her back outside her house to kiss her goodnight and ask if she was ready to stay away somewhere on Saturday. It’d taken him one date to discover she was putty in his hands after a bit of clever petting. He was confident that if he eased them a way further up the alley now, and kept up the onslaught, he could take her against the wall, in the same way he had numerous other girls he barely remembered. But he wouldn’t forget Grace …
He heard the little moan as he tantalised her mouth and throat with deliberately sweet, seductive kisses. To satisfy his conceit he suddenly twisted them further into darkness and lifted her, wedging himself with practised ease between her parted legs. Her lids flew up and she gazed at him with startled doe eyes. But she didn’t struggle and he knew if he was slow and artful he could have her hate him tomorrow.
He tilted his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, then lowered her slowly to the ground. He turned away and shook out his cigarettes so clumsily some scattered on the concrete.
‘I’m just going to get the bus home,’ Grace said in a husky, quavering voice. She moved a hand as though to touch his arm in farewell but withdrew her fingers again almost immediately.
‘I’ll see you to the bus stop,’ he said and set off towards the High Street, outpacing her along the alley by yards.
They walked in silence and stood at the stop together for no more than a minute before a trolley bus pulled up in a squelch of brakes.
Grace gripped the metal pole and turned to say goodbye but the word withered on her tongue. He was already a distance away, striding swiftly towards Turnpike Lane with his head down and his hands thrust into his pockets.