A Step In Time (28 page)

‘There’s always a strange atmosphere with the men the night before we go someplace, but I like the way we all pull together at these times. I’m scared of going back to Europe, but knowing Cora’s waiting for me will make me even more determined to come home

‘
Tell Lois I miss her, and tell Wally to stay out of my room. And I miss him, too. I’ll see you all soon
.

‘
Your loving son, Donald
’

Amy took a deep, juddering breath and looked at me.

‘He really loved you, Cora,’ she said. ‘He didn’t run out on you. He loved you and he wanted to marry you.’

I pulled my hanky out of my sleeve and wiped my eyes.

‘I loved him, too,’ I said. ‘I loved him so much. We could have had a wonderful life together.’

Amy squeezed my hand gently.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know.’

She put her arm round me and I cried and cried. She cried too. And Patrick made more tea and put his arms round us both and said soothing things as the room grew dark.

Eventually, when I had no more tears to cry, I started to think about the implications of all this.

‘Ginny,’ I said. ‘Oh, my word. I have to tell Ginny.’

‘Does she know who her dad was?’ Amy said.

I shook my head.

‘Bits and pieces,’ I admitted. ‘I once had a friend who told me that the best lies are full of truths. When Donnie left …’ I caught myself. ‘When Donnie died, I called myself Cora Devonshire, as you know. I told everyone – including my mother, and Ginny – that I’d married a GI who’d been killed in action.’

Amy was looking shocked.

‘It wasn’t easy being a single mother in those days,’ I said. ‘War or no war. It was much better to be a widow.’

She nodded.

‘Did Ginny never ask?’

I shrugged.

‘She knew his name – Jackson Devonshire – and I told her all the photos were lost,’ I said. ‘Lots of her friends had lost their fathers in the war. It wasn’t so strange. A couple of times she tried to find his family, but that was before the internet, of course, and because Jackson Devonshire didn’t exist, she didn’t get very far.’

I could tell Amy thought I’d done a terrible thing. Maybe I had. I’d lied to Ginny for so long it almost didn’t feel like a lie any more. But I’d done it to protect myself. It was part of a barrier I’d put up round myself and I’d done what I had to do to survive. People had done all sorts of things in the war – things they were proud of and things they weren’t so proud of – and it was hard for Amy and Patrick and Natasha and everyone who was so far away from it to understand. I wondered if Ginny would realise that I’d done what I did simply for self-preservation. I hoped so.

‘I’m very tired,’ I said, feeling exhaustion hit me like a wave. ‘Amy, darling, could you help me to bed?’

Fussing over me like a mother hen, Amy took me into the bedroom and helped me put on my nightdress. I remembered Audrey doing the same to me once upon a time. I’d been so lucky having Audrey as a friend, and now I had Amy, too. It was female friendships that had kept me on track all these years, I realised. Audrey would have loved Amy. And she’d definitely be pleased Donnie had turned out to be a ‘goodun’ after all, I thought. I wondered if they were together somewhere looking down – or up, more likely, given Audrey’s antics over the years – at me and saying: ‘Stop moping, you silly old cow.’

Gently, Amy lifted my feet up and tucked me into bed. Then she kissed me on the forehead.

‘Night, Cora,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry this has all been such a shock.’ I caught her hand.

‘It is a shock,’ I said. ‘It’s been a terrible shock. But Amy, I’m so glad to finally know what happened. I’ve doubted myself all these years and you’ve changed my whole world.’

She gave my hand a gentle squeeze, mindful of my arthritis.

‘You’ve changed mine,’ she said. ‘I’ve never had many friends. Just Phil, really. And now I have you. You’re my best friend and my surrogate granny all rolled into one.’

I felt teary again so I pulled Amy close to me and hugged her tightly so she couldn’t see I was about to cry.

‘You’re a special woman,’ I said.

She returned my hug, then she stood up and treated me to one of her dazzling smiles.

‘Nah,’ she said. ‘You’re the special one.’

She blew me a kiss, and turned off the light.

Chapter Forty-Nine

The dressing room at
Strictly Stars Dancing
was frighteningly empty. We’d gone from ten couples to four and suddenly I could see just how far we’d come in the competition.

Along with me and Patrick, there was Martin the rugby player, who was surprisingly agile for a man of his size. There was Leo, who’d been in a boy band fifteen years earlier. I’d fancied him rotten when I was twelve and I couldn’t even speak to him properly now in case I told him I’d had his
Smash Hits
sticker on my pencil case in year seven. And there was Alice, a sporty, jolly-hockey-sticks kind of girl. She’d started out in kids’ television but now did all sorts of stuff from consumer affairs to royal weddings. She was very pretty, very nice and a really, really good dancer.

I was in a frenzy of excitement and nerves rolled into one. I jiggled in the make-up chair and laughed when the stylist told me off.

‘I can’t help it,’ I said. ‘I’m so desperate to get going.’

I was wearing my rumba dress. It was a scrap of white material, with a flesh-coloured leotard thing underneath. It was beautiful and I felt a bit like a fairy from
A Midsummer’s Night Dream
in it. I couldn’t wait to dance in it – it was so perfect for Patrick’s choreography, which was emotional and a bit flighty.

‘You’re done,’ said the stylist and I slid off the chair and wafted about the room in my dress.

‘You look gorgeous,’ said Alice, who was having her hair teased into a nineteen-twenties-style bob for her Charleston. ‘Wish I had your figure.’

‘I basically don’t eat,’ I told her cheerfully. ‘And I see my personal trainer more than I see my friends. It’s no life for someone nice like you.’

She laughed and I carried on wafting, dancing a few steps of our rumba here and a bit of our foxtrot there. I was buzzing with nervous energy.

Patrick came into the room, looking – I had to admit – amazing in his rumba costume. He was wearing tight-fitting black trousers and a shirt open to his waist.

‘Amy,’ he babbled, grabbing my hand. ‘Are you busy? Are you done? Can we talk?’

He was obviously just as nervously excited as I was. I grinned at him.

‘What?’ I said. ‘What’s up?’

‘I’ve got an email from Charlie,’ he said, bouncing up and down on his toes like a little kid. ‘He wants to come over. With his wife, and his kids and their families. He wants to meet Cora.’

‘No way,’ I said. ‘Do you think she’ll be up for it?’

I thought about how Cora had dealt with the news that Donnie hadn’t ditched her after all. She’d had an astonishing physical reaction – reading all the letters from the war had exhausted her completely and she’d gone to bed for a whole day. But now a few days had passed and she was beginning to seem more like her old self. Patrick had printed everything out for her and she could read it all when she wanted to. She hadn’t told her daughter yet, though, despite me urging her to, and I thought that was the most important thing, really.

‘I think she’ll want to meet them,’ Patrick said. ‘But she’s going to have to tell Ginny the truth if she does.’

‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ I said. ‘So when are they going to come?’

‘Charlie’s not sure, but he asked if we could maybe have a little memorial service at the spot where the bomb fell,’ Patrick said. ‘I think that’s kind of nice.’

‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ I said. ‘Cora would finally get a chance to say goodbye.’

Alice had been listening to our conversation.

‘Is this your landlady?’ she said. ‘The one who dances?’

I nodded.

‘She’s just found out that the man she was supposed to marry died in the war,’ I explained. ‘She thought he’d jilted her at the altar but Patrick did some research and found out he’d been killed.’

‘Oh, that’s terribly sad,’ said Alice.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘So sad.’

A runner poked her head round the door and told us we had five minutes.

‘Come on then,’ Patrick said, taking my hand. ‘Let’s go and show them what we’re made of.’

Because it was the semi-final, we had two dances each. Our rumba was first, obviously. I loved the dance but I found it made me very emotional. Because we’d been rehearsing it so much this week, while we were completely wrapped up in everything that had happened with Cora and Donnie, I associated it with their story. It was quite a sad dance in my opinion, and when I threw myself into it – like I did then – I felt all sorts of emotions bubbling up.

And that meant when we finished dancing, I burst into tears.

‘Ooh, what’s wrong?’ said Melissa, putting her arms round me as we faced the judges. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong?’

‘No,’ I sniffed. ‘I just find that dance so sad.’

Patrick took my hand.

‘It’s been quite an emotional week,’ he said. ‘It’s bound to have an effect.’

Frank, the head judge, gave me a wink.

‘You’ve got nothing to cry about, my love,’ he said. ‘That was your best dance yet. I loved it.’

By the time we got our scores I had composed myself a bit. But then we got full marks – the first time we’d achieved that – and that made me cry all over again.

Our foxtrot also went really well. That was a joyful dance, and I adored it, so luckily it didn’t make me cry. But it still made me think of Cora. I wondered if she’d watch some Ginger Rogers films with me now.

This time we didn’t get full marks but we were close. We were top of the leader board and I was desperate to get through to the final, but I was even more desperate to check on Cora.

I rang her in the break we had before the audience votes were counted.

‘Darling,’ she said. ‘What a triumph.’

I was thrilled. Hearing the audience whoop and cheer for us was amazing, obviously, but gaining Cora’s approval meant an awful lot to me.

‘Your timing was a bit off in the middle of the foxtrot,’ she carried on. ‘But only someone with eagle eyes would have spotted that one.’

I giggled.

‘How are you feeling?’ I said.

‘Oh, not too bad,’ she huffed. ‘Ginny’s back in the country.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Have you seen her?’

‘Not yet. She’s coming over tomorrow.’

‘Will you tell her?’

Cora paused. I heard her breathing down the line.

‘I think so,’ she said.

I played with the skirt on my dress.

‘Want me to be there?’

‘No,’ said Cora. ‘I’m an adult. I can handle this.’

‘Really?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Would you mind? You can explain how you tracked him down.’

I didn’t mind at all. I told her so, and then we were being called back to the studio so I hung up and raced back to Patrick’s side.

It was poor Martin who went home. I was sad to see him go, but overwhelmed to be in the final. We’d dance our favourite dance from the competition, which I thought would be the Charleston, the judges would choose one – I had a horrible feeling they’d choose our tango – and then we’d do a fancy show dance. We’d been practising bits here and there over the weeks but we had a lot of work to do.

As we headed for home, Patrick threw his arm round my shoulder. He seemed to be having no trouble whatsoever keeping our relationship in the friend zone. I, however, was struggling a bit. I knew that being single while I sorted my life out was the right thing to do. But he was just so handsome. And so close to me the whole time. Now I looked down at his hand, which was casually resting on my shoulder, and felt dizzy. He had strong fingers, dusted with freckles and with a sprinkling of golden hairs. I remembered – which in itself was remarkable given how much I’d drunk the night we spent together – how it had felt to have those hands on my body.

‘We did good,’ he said. ‘You can have tomorrow off but then we’ve got a lot of work to do.’

I looked away, hoping my flushed cheeks wouldn’t give any clue what I’d been thinking about.’

‘Great,’ I said. ‘I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow anyway. I’m going to be with Cora when she tells Ginny, and I’m going to meet Babs, too. I’ve got to put my “serious” actress plan into action.’

Patrick grinned.

‘I’ve got something up my sleeve, too,’ he said. ‘Show you on Monday. Good luck with Cora. Let me know how you get on?’

‘I will,’ I said, getting into the car. ‘See you on Monday.’

I wondered what he was up to for about thirty seconds and then I fell asleep. Being a finalist on
Strictly Stars Dancing
was an exhausting business.

Chapter Fifty

I was up and at it bright and early the next day. I was determined not to miss any opportunities and being in the final of
Strictly Stars Dancing
was the best one yet.

I sat at my laptop and made a list of all the shows I was interested in.
Downton
was top, of course, but I included some crime dramas, a spy thriller, and some adaptations of classic novels that I’d heard were in the pipeline. I thought I’d probably missed the
Poldark
boat, but anything like that would suit me. I googled casting directors, I researched what TV shows had been given the green light and which had already been cancelled. In short, I did what Babs should have done.

I spent about an hour choosing what to wear to meet Babs in town. Eventually I settled on skinny jeans, with flat over-the-knee boots and a slouchy jumper layered over a vest top. Smart but casual. Informal yet businesslike. I pulled my hair off my face into a tiny bun, and put on an extra coat of lipstick for courage. Then, armed with my list of agents and info, I headed off to meet her for lunch.

I was very nervous. An actor lives and breathes according to their agent and I knew I’d really annoyed Babs by dumping Matty and ignoring her calls. But I also knew that she’d lost sight of my ambitions – just as I had – and I had to remind her of what I wanted or find someone new. Though the very idea of telling her I wanted a new agent gave me palpitations. I’d have to cross that bridge when I came to it.