A Lesser Evil (6 page)

Her excitement was infectious and Dan caught it. ‘I can’t think of anything better than waking up with you in the morning and coming home again at night to you,’ he said, his eyes shining. ‘We could save so much money if we didn’t have to keep spending it on pictures and pubs.’

‘I’ve got about thirty pounds in the bank now,’ Fifi said excitedly. ‘That’s more than enough to buy some bed linen, crockery and stuff. Let’s go down to the registry office now and ask about it!’

Dan kissed her. ‘It’s still pouring,’ he reminded her, amused at her impetuosity. ‘And they’ll be really busy on a Saturday anyway. You could go in on Monday in your lunch hour. I don’t suppose we need anything more than our birth certificates.’

Fifi’s face clouded over for a moment, as she remembered her mother kept the whole family’s in a box in her bedroom.

‘Problem?’ Dan asked.

‘I’ll have to raid Mum’s special box. But that’s okay, I expect I can do it on Sunday while she’s getting the lunch ready. But what about you? Have you got one?’

He nodded. ‘Yeah, they gave me that, a bible and a fiver when I left the children’s home. I’ve got the distinction of having two unknown parents. I was registered by the police, I think. I suppose one of them named me.’

Fifi looked at him askance. Even though she knew he’d been abandoned as a baby, it hadn’t occurred to her what that really meant, or that his name had just been made up by someone else.

‘Don’t look like that,’ he said, and laughed. ‘It could have been worse; they could have called me Oliver Twist or something.’

‘I wonder why your mother left you,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘Lack of money, I expect.’ He sighed. ‘It was 1937, the Depression and all that. I was only a couple of days old, so she must have been absolutely desperate. The police never traced her, so that suggests she had me all alone.’

Fifi shuddered. Just the thought of giving birth alone, without help, was too ghastly to dwell on, let alone thinking about his mother’s state of mind. ‘Oh, Dan,’ she said softly, stroking his cheek tenderly. ‘Poor you!’

‘Poor me?’ he chuckled. ‘With someone as lovely as you going to be my wife? But you’ve got to give it some more thought, Fifi. It’s a huge step, and you’ve got to be sure you want to do it for something more than putting two fingers up to your mother.’

‘That’s not why I want to do it,’ she insisted, but laughed because she knew it was the ultimate revenge. ‘It’s only because I love you too much to want to waste any more time.’

‘Even if your parents cut you off for ever?’

‘The way they are at the moment I’d be quite glad,’ she said firmly. ‘Anyway, once they see a fait accompli, they’ll come round.’

‘I really hope so, sweetheart,’ he said, cuddling her. ‘But we can’t count on it.’

‘This one looks so very elegant, madam,’ said the saleswoman in Bright’s department store in Clifton as she zipped up the back of Fifi’s dress. ‘And with the little jacket you won’t be chilly.’

Fifi put on the short fitted jacket and looked critically at herself in the mirror. It was by far the best outfit she’d seen, cream light-weight wool, and the dress had the little pleats around the bottom of the skirt that had become so fashionable since the Twist started. It didn’t look obviously wed-dingy either, so she could wear it afterwards.

‘I could hold it for a day or two if you want a friend’s or your mother’s opinion,’ the woman said. She was about fifty and rather stout, with a flame-red beehive that made her look like a pantomime dame. She was beginning to look bored, clearly thinking Fifi was only a time-waster, for she’d tried on almost everything in her size, and she’d already had this one on twice before.

‘No, I’ll take it,’ Fifi said. ‘It’s a bit more than I wanted to pay, but it
is
right.’

‘Very wise, madam,’ the woman said ingratiatingly. ‘You looked lovely in all of them; you have such a good figure. But this one looks stunning.’

Fifi left the shop and hurried on down Park Street back to work. She’d managed to get two hours for lunch, but she’d have to make up the time tomorrow. Her head was reeling with all the things she still had to do with only a week to go, and the secrecy involved. But now she had her wedding outfit and a flat, she thought she might be able to calm down.

No one, not even the people at work, knew she was planning to marry on 20 September. Dan had told his foreman, and he and his wife were going to be their witnesses. Tonight after work she’d take the new outfit up to the flat, along with a small bag of clothes she’d smuggled out from home this morning.

The flat was the biggest joy, for they’d been really lucky to get it. They’d been to see dozens, and most were horrible or far too expensive, and they were getting worried they wouldn’t find anything in time. But two days ago it just happened that Mr Pettigrew, a landlord who used the firm of solicitors she worked for, came into the office, and she overheard him telling her boss that he had a vacant flat in one of his properties in Kingsdown.

Kingsdown was considered rough by some people, but only because it was all big old houses which had been divided up into flats, and lots of students lived there. But it was within walking distance down the hill from the city centre, and a lively place.

She waylaid Mr Pettigrew when he was leaving the office and asked if he’d consider her as a tenant. He seemed delighted to think he might not need to advertise the flat, and arranged to let her see it when she finished work.

It was only one room, with a tiny kitchen and bathroom, but it was clean and bright, with views right over Bristol. She paid the deposit and advance rent straight away and he gave her the keys. Fifi was so excited she ran almost the whole way down to Dan’s in Gloucester Road, and arrived so out of breath she could barely speak.

This Saturday they intended to go shopping for all the things they needed in the flat. She could hardly wait to make up the double bed with their own sheets and blankets, put food in the cupboards and hang her clothes in the wardrobe. A week from today Dan would be carrying her over the threshold as his bride.

It was a bit sad they’d have no friends at the wedding, but having cut herself off from her old ones earlier in the summer when their mothers began talking to Clara, Fifi didn’t dare contact them now, in case the same thing happened again. But maybe they could have a little party later on at the flat, so they could all get to know Dan.

She’d always imagined getting married in church, bells ringing, the organ playing and Patty as her bridesmaid. But she was so excited about leaving home for good, making meals for Dan and having a little home of their own, that the lack of wedding presents, a honeymoon and all the other trappings just didn’t seem important.

There was a nip of autumn in the air now; the leaves on the trees were beginning to change to gold and russet. She couldn’t wait to be snuggled up by the fire with Dan instead of walking around the streets or sitting in a smoky pub.

On the morning of 20 September, Fifi sat and ate her cornflakes for breakfast as if it was any other work day. Her father was sitting on the other side of the kitchen table reading his paper, and her mother was rushing about as she always did in the mornings, making toast, feeding the cat, opening mail, now and then going out into the hall to shout to Peter and Robin to make them hurry up. Patty had already gone to work.

Fifi had thought of nothing but this day ever since they booked the wedding at the registry office. But now it had come, and she knew she wouldn’t be coming back this evening, she was scared. Everything suddenly seemed to be so dear to her. The larder door covered in old photographs, some right back from when she was a toddler. The drying rack up on the ceiling, as always full of drying or airing clothes. She knew that if she were to lift the lid of the three-tier cake tin it would hold flapjacks, gingerbread or maybe a Victoria sandwich. In future she’d have to make her own breakfast, wash and iron her clothes and Dan’s too. Everything from toothpaste to washing powder would need to be bought by her.

She glanced at her mother. As always she was fully dressed, right down to proper shoes; she never slopped around in slippers and a dressing-gown. She was looking in the larder, making a list of things she needed from the grocer’s. She had probably already decided what they would be having for the evening meal tonight.

Fifi wondered if she’d cry when she got the call to say her daughter was now Mrs Reynolds and wouldn’t be coming home any more. It was odd that the thought of her mother being angry didn’t bother her at all, but she couldn’t bear the thought of tears.

‘You’d better get a move on, Fifi, or you’ll be late,’ Clara said, for once without her more customary sharpness. ‘You look a bit pale this morning. Are you feeling all right?’

‘I’m fine,’ Fifi replied, drinking the last of her tea and getting up. ‘Thank goodness it’s not raining this morning, I’ve got to work wet every day this week.’

She felt guilty now. She wasn’t going into the office at all. First she was going to the hairdresser’s, then to pick up her corsage of flowers, finally to the flat to change into her wedding clothes and wait for the taxi she’d ordered to take her to the registry office in Broadmead. Her father ought to be in that taxi with her, and Patty too, wearing a new dress. Could she really do it all on her own?

‘I’m going to make a steak and kidney pie for dinner tonight, so for goodness’ sake come straight home instead of hanging around to meet that worthless article.’

At that spiteful order from her mother Fifi snapped out of her sentimental mood. ‘Why did you have to spoil the day by saying something so nasty?’ she asked.

Clara looked at her contemptuously. ‘You spoil every day for me by lusting after a piece of filth like that. But believe you me, the moment you tell him you’re carrying his child, you won’t see him for dust.’

For a second Fifi was tempted to slap her mother’s face. But she resisted; what she intended to do later would hurt her far more. Besides, she didn’t give a damn about this house or her parents any more. She was glad she would never have to spend another night here.

‘You are so wrong about Dan,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘It makes me wonder what kinds of filth you mixed with before you met Dad; you seem to know an awful lot about it.’

‘Only you would jump to that conclusion,’ her mother retorted haughtily. ‘Now get off to work or you’ll be late.’

Later at the hairdresser’s Fifi was nervous that someone who knew her would come in and ask why she wasn’t at work. She painted her nails pink while she was under the dryer and tried very hard to think only about the night ahead with Dan. But her thoughts kept straying to Patty.

She would be very hurt that Fifi hadn’t confided in her. She would probably never understand that it was because Fifi didn’t want her in the firing line of her parents’ anger.

At half past one, with just fifteen minutes until the taxi arrived, Fifi had stomach cramps with nervousness. Alone in her new flat, everything seemed so strange. She’d had a bath, put on her new outfit and makeup and pinned the pink rose spray to her jacket. But now, completely ready, her pink ‘Jackie Kennedy’ pill-box hat secured firmly to her hair, stockings and shoes on, she had suddenly become frightened.

The double bed, made up with new bed linen, and covered with a dark blue candlewick bedspread, seemed almost threatening. What if she didn’t like sex? Suppose Dan did something to her that she didn’t like?

She could remember a woman at work telling her and the other girls that on her wedding night her new husband wanted her to put his penis in her mouth. All the girls had laughed because she said, ‘It wasn’t his thing I minded so much, but all the attachments.’

Yet even through the laughter Fifi had felt disgusted that a man would want his wife to do that. She was sure she’d be sick.

Growing up with two brothers, Fifi had always known exactly what the male anatomy was like, and there had been several men, Dan included, who’d got her to hold their penises, so it wasn’t going to be shock and horror when Dan stripped off. But suppose it wasn’t lovely, as she imagined now? What if it really hurt?

To take her mind off such things, she opened the fridge and checked that the champagne Dan had bought at the weekend was really cold. It was funny looking at all the other stuff in there, butter, cheese, bacon and eggs. She hoped she wouldn’t mess up the first breakfast she cooked him, she so much wanted everything to be perfect. But she knew she was a hopeless cook; her mother always said she couldn’t even boil an egg. Maybe she should have warned Dan about that?

Right now that didn’t seem to be as important as the clothes and personal belongings she’d left at home. So far she’d only been able to bring small bags of stuff so her mother wouldn’t notice anything had gone. Would she let her back into the house later to collect more?

The doorbell made her jump; she grabbed her handbag and gloves and rushed to the door, only pausing momentarily to check once more in the mirror. She looked fine, though a bit pale. She just wished she had someone to go with her.

Chapter Three

‘You look gorgeous and I love you,’ Dan whispered as the registrar pronounced them man and wife. ‘Tonight I do intend to eat you.’

Fifi giggled at the reminder of Dan’s very first words to her. ‘You’re supposed to kiss me, not talk dirty,’ she whispered back.

All her stomach cramps and nervousness were gone. The moment she saw Dan in his new navy blue suit, waiting at the door of Quaker Friars registry office, all her doubts vanished. Now she was Mrs Reynolds and their life together was going to be wonderful.

Dan’s foreman, Mike, a short but burly man in his forties, came forward to congratulate them both, with his wife Sheila, wearing a red hat, just one step behind him.

‘Perhaps he’ll be able to keep his mind on the job in future,’ Mike joked. ‘He’s been off with the fairies for months.’

Sheila kissed Fifi’s cheek. ‘We both hope you’ll have a long and happy life together,’ she said. ‘Dan’s a good man, hardworking and very honest. He’ll make a fine husband.’