ANNIE, HURRYING HOME after her day’s work, turned into Browning Street from the Walworth Road and almost bumped into Will, who was on his way to see Dr McManus.
Startled, she still managed to say, ‘Watch out, mind my knee.’
‘Hello, Annie.’
‘Hello yourself,’ said Annie. ‘’Ave you been laid up?’ It was a whole three days since Sunday and the Serpentine. And the weather was cold. She thought Will looked manly in a new overcoat, and as brown as ever. The sun of India had burned the brown into his face. But she thought he was a little bit drawn. Will had had three attacks during the day.
‘Laid up?’ he said.
‘Well, I ’aven’t seen you for ages, have I?’ said Annie, then wished she hadn’t said that because he really did look a bit drawn. ‘No, I mean, ’aven’t you been well?’
‘A bit of a cold on me chest,’ said Will. ‘Let’s see, d’you fancy the pictures tomorrow evening? There’s a Tom Mix film on.’
‘Honest?’ said Annie.
‘That’s what my sister Sally told me.’
‘No, I mean, you’re invitin’ me honest?’
‘Lovaduck, Annie Ford, is there another way of invitin’ you, then?’ said Will, showing his amiable grin.
‘I’ll have you know me dad told me some young men have got crafty ways of invitin’ young ladies,’ said Annie, ‘but I’ll let him know my young man invited me honest.’
‘I’ll call for you at half-seven,’ said Will, ’and you’ll find out how honest I am in the back row of the Golden Domes.’
‘I’ll scream for the manager,’ said Annie happily.
‘That won’t help you,’ said Will, ‘he’s my uncle. See you tomorrow, then, Annie?’
‘Yes, I’ll risk it,’ she said, ‘but I think I’ll bring a ’atpin.’
Will laughed. Annie couldn’t help herself. She fell in love.
Susie mentioned to Boots the next day that her mum and dad had had a letter from Polly Simms. Polly was one of the many wedding guests. But she wasn’t coming, after all, said Susie, she’d written to apologize for crying off, but she was having to go abroad as soon as the schools broke up for the Easter holidays at the end of this week.
‘That’s news to me,’ said Boots without changing expression.
‘Yes, she gives Rosie extra lessons at your house two evenings a week, doesn’t she?’ said Susie. ‘I can’t think why she didn’t tell you. It’s a pity she won’t be with us, she’s such good fun. I wonder what she’s goin’ abroad for?’
‘Fun, I suppose,’ said Boots.
He took time off from the office in the afternoon, and was at the school at twenty to four. Classes finished at four. Polly, called from her class by the headmaster, went to the teachers’ room where Boots was waiting for her. Dressed in professional fashion, in a pale grey blouse and a dark grey skirt, she nevertheless managed to look as vivaciously appealing as always, her Colleen Moore bob curving to points that lightly kissed her cheeks.
‘Hello, old thing,’ she said, and her brittle smile arrived. Boots, standing with his back to the fireplace, his hat off and his overcoat unbuttoned, regarded her frowningly. ‘Oh, dear,’ she said, ‘am I in the doghouse?’
‘Why are you having to go abroad?’ he asked.
‘Who told you I was?’
‘Susie. You wrote to her parents.’
‘Well, one must do the right thing sometimes,’ said Polly.
‘Why are you having to go abroad?’ asked Boots again.
‘To get away from you,’ said Polly. ‘Darling, I love you dearly, but you give me nothing. You care for me, but you give me nothing. I’m expected to live with that kind of frustration? It’s killing me. At home, I get on stepmama’s nerves, I get on my father’s nerves, and I get on my own nerves. If you care for me but won’t love me, what’s the point of my life here? There’s my teaching, but that’s not enough. I have to get away, and far enough to know you’re not just around the corner. So I’m going to Kenya to stay with family friends out there, and to find a less frustrating life for myself. I’m leaving by boat this Saturday. The school breaks up on Friday.’
‘Why haven’t you told me anything of this?’ asked Boots.
‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I, old thing? I was intending to let you know tonight, when giving Rosie her last cramming lesson. Look, old dear, I admit I’ve had my passage booked for some time, but gave myself the option of cancelling it in the hope you’d still become my lover. But you’re too much of a family man, so I’m chucking you to give myself the chance of a new life by getting you out of my system. I’ll never be able to do that while I stay here, using Rosie to find out what you’re doing and even what you’re saying. I must give Rosie up. I shan’t bother either of you any more.’ There was just a touch of bitterness to that remark. She had tried, God knows she had, but she accepted now that he was never going to be unfaithful to Emily.
‘Bother us?’ Boots looked disappointed in her. ‘That’s not up to your usual standard, Polly. You can’t really believe you’ve ever bothered Rosie, and certainly not me. Your friendship and affection have always been special to me.’
‘Affection?’ Polly drew a deep breath of exasperation. ‘Is that what you think it is, affection? God, if it was only that, I’d be laughing, not running away.’
‘Must you run?’
‘Yes, I must.’
Boots let out a little sigh. He was a more sophisticated man than either of his brothers, but he was as much his mother’s son as Tommy or Sammy. He believed marriage really was for better or worse, unless a wife or husband was totally impossible to live with. Emily was far from that. To make Polly his mistress would be to destroy all three of them in the long run.
‘I’m going to miss you badly, Polly,’ he said.
Polly regarded him in melancholy. She had known thousands of Tommies in France and Flanders during her years as an ambulance driver. Of them all, Boots was the finest, a man without airs and graces, a man with a whimsical tolerance of clowns and idiots, a man born in the heart of cockney Walworth who had come out of it simply as a man.
‘Let me ask you for the last time,’ she said, ‘will you be my lover?’
‘Polly—’
‘No, you won’t, will you?’ The bitterness surfaced then. ‘Well, damn you, ducky, for giving me nothing. I wish I’d never met you.’
She turned on her heel, a swift and willowy figure. She left. It was a gesture of finality. Boots stood there. Was it for the best? What a cliché. It did nothing for his emotions. He turned his hat in his hands and listened to the sounds of the school, a place of the young, the active and irrepressible young.
The door opened.
‘Daddy?’
He looked at her, his Rosie, nearly eleven and already heart-breakingly pretty, her fair hair black-ribboned, her blue eyes a little sad.
‘Hello, kitten.’
‘Miss Simms said you were here. I’ve just finished classes. Daddy, Miss Simms – she’s leaving us.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘She said goodbye to me, and asked if you’d mind if she didn’t come this evening.’
‘Well, it’s a blow, Rosie, but for a long time now she’s been convinced you’ll walk that scholarship exam next January.’
‘But I’m sad, Daddy, aren’t you?’
‘People come and go, Rosie, friends come and go, it’s all part of life.’
But he was sad, Rosie knew he was. Every gesture of his, every mood and, at times, every word, registered with her. He was the man who had given her a home and the warmth and security of family life. He loved her. More than anything else, that counted with her.
‘I shan’t ever come and go, Daddy.’
‘You will, you know, later on.’
‘No, I’m never going to leave you, never.’
And Rosie meant it.
Will, setting off to pick up Annie, was in a cheerful frame of mind. Dr McManus had been more open than the Army doctors, and was quite willing to offer a second opinion, while pointing out he was a general practitioner, not a specialist. He could say, however, that the cause of an attack was the swelling of the lining membrane of the minor bronchial tubes, but how this came about couldn’t be generally determined. It might be because a patient was allergic to something like a feather pillow, but on others it might have no effect whatever. Certain foods such as eggs or strawberries could bring about the spasm that caused the swelling that caused the attack. Some sufferers were affected by living in a city or town, others by living in the country. How long had Will been home from India? About four weeks. And how many attacks had he had in that time? About eight or nine. That’s two a week. That’s not bad at all, said Dr McManus.
‘Except that I’ve had most of them during the last ten days,’ said Will.
‘Which makes you think it’s catching up on you?’
‘It makes me think I’ve got asthma,’ said Will, and Dr McManus smiled.
‘Well, you have, Will,’ he said. He’d conducted an examination and asked questions. ‘Let’s see, you were fairly free from attacks up to the last ten days. Have you been eating food generally different from what you had during your first two weeks home?’
‘Not really,’ said Will. ‘Plain, but well-cooked and pretty nourishin’.’
‘Let’s look at your activities, then. What’s been different about your activities over the last ten days?’
‘Nothing,’ said Will, ‘I’ve been taking things easily gen’rally.’
‘Was your condition worse in Indian towns and cities, than in open country?’
‘No, definitely not,’ said Will.
‘Are you sure that over the last ten days your life hasn’t seen a little difference?’
‘Are you talkin’ about excitement?’ asked Will.
‘Good question,’ said Dr McManus.
‘D’you mean I could be affected by the excitement of winnin’ a bet on a horse race or landin’ a job at five quid a week?’
‘Stimulation of an asthmatic condition can be caused by a variety of agencies, Will, external or internal. It can be caused by the air you breathe, if the air contains an irritating factor, or an infection of the nose or throat. Or simply by the infectious nature of simple excitement. Have you had a winning bet lately?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Will. His little grin appeared. ‘But I met a girl about a fortnight ago.’
‘What kind of a girl?’
‘Lively,’ said Will. ‘Stands up for herself and answers me back. Name of Annie Ford. Would you know her?’
‘Yes,’ said Dr McManus, ‘if she lives in Blackwood Street with her family.’
‘That’s her,’ said Will.
‘And you’ve been seeing her?’
‘Frequently,’ said Will.
‘Well, that’s a change in your pattern of life, isn’t it?’ said the doctor.
‘Hell’s bells, I meet a girl and that affects my asthma?’
‘Would you say, as a young man, that you find her exciting?’
‘She’s a saucebox,’ said Will.
‘Yes, an engaging girl.’
‘I had an idea,’ said Will, ‘that physical exertion, such as rowing a boat on the Serpentine, caused attacks.’
‘That and a difference in your routine might have done it. Look, next time you have an attack, make a note afterwards of exactly what you were doing at the time, what your last meal consisted of, if you’d been sneezing or not, and whether you were in or out of doors. Then come and see me again.’
‘I’ll do that, doctor, and thanks.’
Annie found him in top form on the way to the cinema, and was sure he might be a candidate for a thick ear if he secured seats in the back row. But she was spared having to set about him, for he bought sixpenny seats halfway up the stalls.
‘Lucky for you you changed your mind,’ she whispered.
‘Lucky for you, you mean,’ he whispered back.
‘Young men ought to be respectful to their young ladies.’
‘And young ladies ought to say sir to their young men.’
‘Yes, sir, three bags full, sir.’ Annie was happy. She liked being with him and sitting close to him in the cinema, their shoulders touching. She really felt like his young lady. They enjoyed the programme. A Mack Sennett comedy featuring the Keystone Cops preceded the Tom Mix film. It made the audience roar. In the big film, Tom Mix was his usual breezy self. His cowboy and Indian films often had an amusing side, and he could sometimes give the impression he was taking the mickey out of the Wild West. Will bought ice creams before the film started, and Annie said he was getting to be quite a nice feller.
They went home on a tram, Will relieved he’d had no attack all day. He thought about what Dr McManus had said. Did it excite him to have met Annie and to take her out? Well, he had to admit she wasn’t exactly unexciting, and her legs were a treat to his eye.
‘You’re a bit quiet,’ she said.
‘I’m thinking would it help to be a cowboy?’
‘What sort of ’elp do you need, then?’
‘All those wide open spaces must be good for most people. And I might leave the Army.’
‘Honest?’ said Annie. ‘Oh, that’s good.’
‘What’s good about it?’
Well, I’d like it, thought Annie, I’d like to have him just a few streets away from me all the time.
‘What’s makin’ you think about leavin’?’ she asked.
‘Cowboys and Indians, I suppose,’ said Will. The tram was running smoothly, the traffic light at this time of night, and he liked the feel of Annie close beside him, thigh, hip and shoulder. Steady, mate, he thought, don’t get excited, you might be allergic to excitement; your doctor said so. ‘Is that good?’
‘Is what good?’ asked Annie.
‘Leavin’ the Army for the wide open spaces, joinin’ the cowboys and Indians,’ said Will. ‘Didn’t you say it was?’
‘Oh, you daft thing,’ said Annie, ‘there’s wide open spaces down near Brighton in Sussex. Dad took us there once, on the train. Besides, cowboys and Indians ride ’orses. You can’t ride ’orses, can you?’
‘Not without fallin’ off,’ said Will, ‘but I can ride a bike.’
Annie laughed. Other passengers glanced at her. They saw a girl in happiness. Will saw a girl bright and alive, her hip and thigh communicating feminine warmth to his. His body, vigorous and healthy despite his asthmatic condition, stirred reactively. Steady, he told himself again.
They alighted at East Street.
Feeling peckish, Will said, ‘Fancy some fish and chips, Annie?’
‘Oh, who wouldn’t?’ said Annie, liking the offer because it was just the kind of treat a girl could expect from a young man when she was his young lady.
So they walked along the Walworth Road to the fish and chip shop near Manor Place, where Will bought two helpings of rock salmon and chips. They put salt and vinegar on, and spent a happy time eating them out of the newspaper wrapping on their way back to East Street. Annie deposited the newspaper in the wire basket fixed to the lamp-post on the corner of the street, and then Will walked her home.
In the doorway of the Ford house, the cold night darkly enclosed them. Annie looked up at him. Her face seemed misty.
‘Will, thanks ever so much for a lovely evenin’,’ she said a little throatily.
Will kissed her. He couldn’t help himself. Blissfully, Annie received the kiss, her first romantic one. Oh, help, swoony. Her mouth clung to his, and she pressed close. Ruddy fire and hell, thought Will, as warning signals arrived. Kissing a girl was doing it to his tubes? He released her.
‘Bless you, Annie,’ he said.
‘Oh, bless you too,’ she said, breathless and rapturous. ‘You’ll come in, won’t you, and see Dad and ’ave a cup of tea?’
Will’s chest was tightening, but he felt it would be like giving her a slap in the face if he said no.
‘A cup of tea sounds just what the doctor ordered,’ he said. Annie opened the door and they entered, she in a quick way, he moving carefully, nursing his condition.
The Gaffer was up, the rest of his children in bed. He greeted Will with cockney heartiness, and Annie put the kettle on. Then she set about making some corned beef sandwiches with pickle for her dad.
‘Good film, Will?’ enquired the Gaffer, sitting at the table with him.
‘Tom Mix? You bet,’ said Will.
‘Will was sayin’ on the tram that he might leave the Army and go and be a cowboy,’ said Annie, bobbed hair dancing a little as she sliced bread.
‘Ruddy good idea,’ said the Gaffer. ‘Let’s all push off an’ get away from bosses in top ’ats an’ gold watch-chains. Let’s all be cowboys.’
‘Me as well?’ said Annie, a little glow on her face.
‘I like the picture,’ said Will.
‘What picture?’ asked Annie, spreading margarine on the slices.
‘I reckon ’e means you on a cowboy’s ’orse in yer ’ighly fashionable frock, Annie,’ grinned the Gaffer.
‘Dad, you’re gettin’ as bad as Will, and if you don’t leave off I’ll make you stand in a corner.’
‘Gawd ’elp us,’ said the Gaffer.
‘Sounds fierce,’ said Will. The tightness was easing.
‘Yes, I’m the boss in this kitchen,’ said Annie, and made the tea and the sandwiches. Then she sat down with Will and her dad. Her dad tucked into the sandwiches and they drank the hot tea. Will mentioned that Susie was getting married at St John’s Church next Saturday week. Annie, at once intrigued, wanted to know who the bridegroom was. Will said Sammy Adams, and that he’d once run a glass and china stall down the market, where he’d first met Susie.
‘Oh, I know ’im,’ said Annie. ‘I mean, I saw him lots there. He’s a real lively feller, and good-lookin’ too. I bet he’s never put a girl in a—’ She stopped. The Gaffer coughed.
‘In a pushcart?’ said Will.
‘Blimey, yer done it now, Will,’ said the Gaffer, ‘that’s a word that’s forbidden in this ’ouse.’
‘What do I do now, then, duck under the table?’ said Will.
‘What’s he doin’, where’s he gone?’ asked Annie, as his head and shoulders disappeared. She shrieked, knowing that under the table she was all legs. Will’s head re-emerged.
‘Dropped me teaspoon,’ he said.
‘I bet,’ said Annie. ‘I don’t know how you can just sit there grinnin’, Dad.’
‘Well, a bloke can’t ’elp droppin’ ’is teaspoon,’ said the Gaffer, frankly tickled by what was developing between his lovable daughter and her likeable soldier. He knew Annie far too well not to realize she was in high spirits and uncommonly happy. She’d had a tough time since the death of her mum, and she’d taken on all kinds of responsibilities while doing a job as well. It hadn’t got her down, even though she’d never had much time to spare for herself or for boys. Now, when she was in her eighteenth year, it looked as if she’d got a young man. It was making her come alive. Well, Will was a bit of all right, and he’d got a nice sense of humour.
Will, remembering that a wedding guest had cried off, someone called Polly Simms, said, ‘Like to come, Annie?’
‘Come where?’ she asked.
‘To Susie’s weddin’.’
‘Me?’ said Annie, eyes opening wide.
‘There’s room for you. There’ll be dancin’ at the Institute in the evenin’.’
‘But your parents must’ve done all the arrangement,’ said Annie, ‘they couldn’t take an extra guest now, could they?’
‘Not extra big and fat ones, no,’ said Will, ‘but you’re not big and fat. We could fit you in nicely.’
Annie went warm with pleasure, then made a face.
‘Oh, I couldn’t, Saturdays are Mr Urcott’s busiest days, I couldn’t ask ’im for the afternoon off.’
‘Well, come to the Institute when you’ve finished work,’ said Will.
‘Oh, I’d love to,’ said Annie.
‘Good,’ said Will, ‘and now I think I’d better push off. Good night, Mr Ford.’
‘Best of luck, Will,’ said the Gaffer.
Annie saw Will to the front door.
‘Thanks for the tea,’ he said.
‘It’s been a lovely evenin’,’ said Annie, wondering if he was going to kiss her again. ‘Oh, and thanks ever so much for the weddin’ invite.’
‘Wear your high fashion knockout,’ said Will. ‘Like to go to Ruskin Park on Sunday afternoon?’
‘You’re gettin’ quite nicer all the time,’ she said.
‘Hope I can keep it up,’ said Will, and went off with a smile, but without kissing her.
I’ll have to go and see Dr McManus again, he thought, and ask him if kissing a girl is fatal to me asthma.