Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweet Shop of Dreams
Page 61

‘You tell them!’ said Rosie in exasperation. A good turn for the conversation, she felt, would have been for him to say something along the lines of ‘I’ve really been missing you’ or ‘You look great’ or ‘Tell me about setting up the shop.’
‘Can’t you?’ said Gerard. ‘You’re the local.’
Why were they being so snippy with each other? Normally she found Gerard cute. She tried to remember how sweet he’d been with Edison earlier. It was nearly helping. He was already halfway down his fresh pint. Sighing slightly, she got up out of her seat and was heading to the bar again, pinkly conscious of all the faces in the room following her, when the door of the lounge bar crashed open and all eyes turned.
1943
‘No, no, it’s not you.’
Henry looked half-crazed, completely wild-eyed, as they stood, heart to heart, both of them breathless and panting.
‘It’s not you. It’s never you. It’s always been you.’
Henry was holding her shoulders now, though Lilian felt that if she didn’t kiss him again, right now, she was going to explode. She could barely breathe. What was he saying to her? She couldn’t take it in at all.
‘Kiss me again,’ she said, suddenly emboldened by the great moon, and the smell of him, and the feel of being wrapped so tightly in his arms; she had to feel it again, she had to.
Instead, Henry wrenched himself free, with a huge effort of will, and gradually lowered her arms, holding her thin wrists in his huge hands.
‘I don’t …’ Lilian’s voice sounded strange, even to herself, like a child talking. She couldn’t keep the wobble out of it. ‘I don’t understand.’
Henry turned his head away. Lilian wanted to force him to look at her.
‘What is it?’
Then from his mouth came the worst words, the words she was dreading hearing, in a voice so low she had to strain to catch it above the rustle of the trees.
‘It’s Ida,’ he muttered. ‘From months back. She’s only up the bloody pole.’
Lilian had forced her arms from his as if they were on fire.
‘What?’ she said, thinking it was possible she’d misunderstood.
Henry crouched down at the side of the road and put his hands over his head. Then he pulled himself together and stood up. He had a look on his face that Lilian recognised from her brothers when they’d received their call-up papers; that of condemned men.
‘I … I,’ he started. ‘Me and Ida … that night. That night at the dance. I came looking for you and I couldn’t find you and … oh, I were so stupid, but she was all over me and I thought that would be it, you know. I mean, I wanted to see you so badly and I thought …’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve messed up, Lilian. I’ve messed up, right badly.’
Lilian thought about Gertie Fanshawe last year, who’d been spirited away from town and came back about five months later. Her mother insisted it had been a bad bout of influenza and she’d been on a rest cure. Nobody said anything about it, of course they didn’t. It would be unthinkably rude, to Gertie and her family, to bring it up at all. But Lilian remembered Gertie at school: wild, and funny, and uncontrollable; smart as a whip, but she only really loved her horses down at the Fanshawe place. Lilian remembered seeing her, flying across hedgerows whenever she got five minutes off from working the farm – which wasn’t often – her long hair in the wind behind her; one time, even, with her feet bare. People talked, but Lilian had never thought Gertie cared; thought she was deaf to town gossip, only wanted to be free.
When she returned, she didn’t ride any more. She was hardly seen. When Lilian saw her she was shocked at how thin she’d become, how meek. No more cutting remarks or the yearning looks she’d always given to the classroom window. It was as if something vital inside her had vanished; something had died.
Six weeks after she returned to her family, Gertie Fanshawe had left without a word and no one had ever seen her again.
‘I … I have to marry her,’ stuttered Henry. ‘You know. I have to. Remember …’
Lilian nodded. ‘I do. I do remember.’
‘I can’t … I can’t let that happen to Ida. It’s inhuman. She’d be ruined.’
Lilian shook her head. Her hands were still shaking, but she was, she knew, practical, sensible Lilian. Always ready to help. Always with her feet on the ground. That’s what everybody thought.
What she felt inside was, get me pregnant too then. Get me pregnant too.
All she said was, ‘Her mother is going to make your life a living hell.’
Henry looked up at her from the roadside.
‘At the moment, that couldn’t be any worse than how I feel.’
‘Henry?’ a familiar voice screeched down the road. It sounded exasperated. ‘Henry? Darling? Where are you? Where are you?’
‘I’ll go,’ said Lilian quickly, her mind working. This didn’t need to be any worse than it already was. Henry looked at her with desperate eyes.
‘I don’t … I don’t want you to go,’ he said, furious with himself; bitter, and ashamed, and choked up with emotion. ‘I never ever wanted to let you go. Ever.’
‘If only …’ Lilian wasn’t going to say that sentence, although she would dwell on it for a long, long time. If only she had let her feelings be known earlier. If only she had swallowed her stupid pride when he’d asked her to the dance. If only she’d been bolder, stronger, more of a woman. If only, if only, if only.
The voice was getting closer. Henry stiffened, and stood up to his full height, trying to look stoic in the face of what lay ahead. Lilian saw, suddenly, a glimpse of what he would look like in uniform, but it was only a trick of the moonlight, and the wind waving through the trees. Then, quick as a flash, she turned and took the back way through the woods, running until she felt as if her heart would burst; running because she wanted her heart to burst, wanted it to burst its very banks, and carry her away, and let her drown in it all.
The door to the pub banged back against the stained-glass siding, and everyone turned to look as cooler air whooshed in from outside. Standing silhouetted against the dark street, white as a piece of paper, listing to the left, was Stephen. Rosie leapt forward, and Moray jumped up from the far table.