Birmingham Friends (10 page)

I looked up at him. His face was rather blurred even at this distance. ‘I must look such a fright.’

‘No. You look lovely.’ He spoke so kindly that I nearly started crying again, but he was embarrassed and covered it with a joke. ‘My, my, grandmother, what big eyes you’ve got!’

We laughed together. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have a hanky to offer,’ he apologized. I pulled out my own and he wiped my face softly with it, then leaned forward, coming suddenly into focus, and kissed my damp cheek. It didn’t startle me as much as it did him, and he leapt away from me almost as if he’d been electrocuted.

Then he went all brisk and said, ‘I’d better be off now. Prep for tomorrow. Do cheer up, won’t you?’

Confused, but warmed, I watched him go.

‘What’s going on with you and Angus?’ Olivia demanded. Her voice was tight and angry. ‘You’re all sort of stiff with each other. And he keeps eyeing you up all the time.’

I tried to look surprised. ‘Nothing – really.’ Even now the new emotions between Angus and me were too fresh and untried to talk about, to Olivia or anyone. And I didn’t like her phrase ‘eyeing you up’. It sounded dirty.

‘Katie,’ Olivia wheedled, putting on her very best appealing face. ‘We never keep secrets from each other, do we?’

I shook my head, though I knew this was far from the truth nowadays: I couldn’t talk about Angus; even less could Olivia bring any words to the surface about her mother, and I no longer dared ask. When Elizabeth had returned home she had been frighteningly thin, her face drained white with bruise-coloured dents under her eyes. Even her hair had a deadened look, its sheen quite gone. Very slowly over the months her colour had begun to return. Smiles appeared dutifully at her lips. She was forever resting. I visited. I tried to be concerned and helpful. But not once did we talk of what had happened. And I knew instinctively that I must never mention Elizabeth’s visit to our house last summer. I was afraid. I could feel changes nudging at us. Although mostly we tried to put aside any difficulties and were as affectionate with each other as ever, there were times when these things which I knew, or half knew, became a burden, and an obstacle between us.

As soon as she noticed the changes between Angus and me it got much worse. It’s hard for me to express my feelings for Angus, how they gradually grew and intensified. I’d known him for so long and our lives had been very much a part of each other’s. Our more adult feelings grew directly out of that. But of course it meant letting go a part of our childhood which had always included Livy and William. And I assumed Olivia was jealous, simply that.

‘I wondered if Katie’d like to come for a walk with me?’ Angus asked shyly.

He had appeared at the front door instead of coming round the back, in the hope of avoiding William. Mummy was startled. The realization that she had a daughter who was now sixteen and who might not want to wear hand-me-downs and be counted for ever as one of the boys had scarcely dawned on her.

I was up with Granny, who beamed triumphantly on hearing Angus’s invitation. I was immediately flustered. ‘Me – on my own?’

‘Go on with you,’ Granny commanded. ‘I told you he’d get round to it one day. He’ll not bite you. Just relax and enjoy yourself. After all, you’ve known the boy since you were knee high.’

He watched me walk downstairs, smiling. He was dressed in cream flannel trousers and a pale blue shirt and I laughed nervously and said, ‘Look – we match today!’ My skirt was pleated cream with a print of cornflowers. I had slimmed down a bit now I’d grown taller and liked to think of myself as ‘curvaceous’. I took more trouble with my hair too, curling the ends and pinning it back so that it waved round my shoulders instead of pulling it into any old Alice band. I did feel self-conscious about the size of my bust, though. It pushed rebelliously at the buttons of every blouse I wore.

‘It’s so heavy and embarrassing,’ I complained to Granny.

‘Never you mind,’ she told me serenely. ‘You may not appreciate it, but believe me, there’ll be others who will. Now stop finicking. You’re lovely.’

‘I was wondering if you’d fancy a walk to Cannon Hill Park?’ Angus said. ‘It’s such a good day.’

‘I’d love to come.’ Then just in case I’d got him wrong, I added, ‘Shall I fetch William as well?’

‘I’d much rather you didn’t,’ he said quickly.

It was beautifully warm outside, with lilac and laburnum coming into flower and bluebells still in some of the gardens. We walked through the shade of the mature trees at the end of Chantry Road and down the hill towards the park.

I felt very conscious that we were alone. Since Angus had kissed me that day we had scarcely had any time without someone else’s company. We had all met, of course, with Olivia home for the Christmas holidays, had talked and joked together and been to the park and the pictures. And Angus had often called round at the house, but everyone assumed he had come to see William and we’d ended up as a threesome or more. But even then, I knew that every time Angus and I were close there was more between us than was spoken. We were inhibited of course. Angus was shyer even than I was, but an undercurrent of glances and thoughts developed between us, which of course Olivia had not failed to notice.

At first we walked in silence. I was acutely aware of his every movement, as I’m sure he was of mine. Eventually I said, ‘So next term’s your last? Things won’t be the same when you get a job, will they? No more long hols.’

‘I’ll still be a student really. Though I don’t know what we get in the way of time off yet.’

Angus had gained a place at the Vittoria Street school to learn jewellery-making and silversmithing.

‘I thought when you said you wanted to make things, it would be cars or furniture or something?’

‘There’s a lot of design involved in those, of course. And it’d certainly be a challenge. But when I saw the sort of work you can do in the Jewellery Quarter I knew I should like that much better. I’d like to make things that are beautiful as well as useful.’

‘You’re lucky.’ I sighed. ‘I wish I was good with my hands. Olivia’s clever at the piano and there’s you . . . Granny says William and I are doomed to be ham-fisted for life, and I’m afraid she’s right.’

Angus laughed. ‘Yes, I wouldn’t set William loose on a lathe or any other kind of tool. But he’s got more than his fair share of talents I’d say.’

I knew William often went out of his way to appear superior to Angus.

‘But William’s so ridiculous!’ I protested. ‘I know he’s awfully brainy and all that, but you can’t have a decent conversation with him. It’s like trying to talk to a shire horse – big and strong and quite intelligent but awfully dopy. I can talk to you so much more easily.’

Angus laughed. ‘Well, that’s something anyway.’

We turned through the wrought-iron gates. It was Birmingham’s biggest and proudest park, the expanse of grass sloping softly down from the bandstand under the chestnut trees to the fish ponds where there were boats for hire in summer.

We strolled round the murky oval of water. Ducks slid alongside us in hope of food.

‘I don’t know,’ I said gloomily, after a while.

‘What? What’s the rest of that sentence?’

I smiled. If I’d said that to William he’d just have ignored me. One of the things I’d always liked about Angus was the way he listened to you.

‘I’m not sure I like growing up really. The way you realize certain things suddenly.’

‘Such as?’

‘Mummy and Daddy were talking about those poor people in Spain this morning.’ The bombing of Guernica had reached our households in bold newspaper headlines. ‘How can people do things like that? I thought the League of Nations was going to stop there being any more wars?’

‘Not if countries defy the League. The Germans already have, remember.’

We found a spot to sit on the grass in the shade of a tree, near the park’s large war memorial. I was frowning. I felt heavy and preoccupied when what I really wanted to do was laugh and be good company. But I was already wondering whether our walk would cause trouble.

‘I can tell there’s a thought in there trying to get out,’ Angus said, leaning round to look into my eyes.

I laughed reluctantly. ‘It’s just, Angus, would you say your family was happy? I mean they seem happy to me.’ I’d thought a lot about the Harveys recently. Angus’s father, James, owned a business crafting pianos and harpsichords. He was kind, jovial. There was Mrs Harvey with her friendly, welcoming face, who spent her time reading and reading, and John and Mary, Angus’s younger brother and sister. I’d begun searching for undercurrents, wondering if there was something I’d missed in every family, even my own.

‘Yes, I s’pose I would,’ Angus said. ‘You know, just normal. We rub along.’

I told him some of my feelings of unease about Olivia, though I didn’t mention Elizabeth’s mysterious visit. ‘I don’t know what it is I’m trying to tell you really,’ I said. ‘It’s just that they can behave rather oddly. I’ve been noticing it more recently, but even that holiday I went on with them – you know, a couple of years ago – they were certainly different from how they seem normally.’

‘Wouldn’t any family be if you were living closely with them for a week or two?’

‘No. Not like that. There’s something not right, but Olivia won’t talk to me. I can’t seem to get near her any more. And I don’t like that.’ I looked into Angus’s face. ‘I know you all find her a bit of a trial at times, but she’s so nice really, and so different when we’re on our own. I’m really very fond of her.’

‘I know. I can see. But if there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about then you can’t make her, can you? You know Olivia, she likes attention. If there was anything she wanted you to know she’d soon tell you.’

‘We used to be able to tell each other everything,’ I said sadly. ‘And now she’s gone all chilly because she thinks you and I . . .’ Face burning, I stared down at the grass, feeling I’d said too much.

I sensed Angus waiting tensely beside me. We sat in silence for a moment. Then he reached over and gently took my hand. I felt him trembling slightly.

Neither of us could think of anything to say. The silence grew longer, our shyness and lack of certainty about what to do next inhibiting us completely. We sat for a time, the palms of our hands growing sticky from being pressed together.

In the end I slowly withdrew mine. ‘Shall we go back now?’

‘Where were you this morning?’ Olivia demanded, marching across our lawn towards me. ‘I came round looking for you and your mother said you’d gone out with Angus.’

‘I did. He came and asked me to go for a walk with him in the park. I’m sorry.’ Immediately I resented feeling obliged to apologize.

‘Did William go too?’

I shook my head. Olivia looked at me through narrowed eyes. ‘You could have waited for me. I spent the morning on my own.’

‘I’m sorry – I wasn’t expecting it. He just came over and asked me. Look, sit down and I’ll go and fetch something to drink.’

But she couldn’t leave the subject alone. ‘Well,’ she demanded harshly when I returned to the garden with a jug of lemonade and biscuits. ‘Did he kiss you?’

I flushed, annoyed now instead of apologetic. It really was none of Olivia’s business, but I tried to keep calm.

‘No, I told you, we just went for a walk, that’s all.’

‘But he’s obviously sweet on you.’ She looked shrewishly at me. ‘Do tell me what he said.’

I remembered the awkwardness of that part of the morning when Angus had held my hand. ‘Really, nothing very much,’ I said, selecting a biscuit as casually as I could. ‘We talked about the League of Nations if you must know.’

Olivia brought out a mirthless laugh. ‘Really? How dull of you!’

‘Well if my walk with Angus was so dull, why are we discussing it?’ I retorted. We teetered on the edge of a serious quarrel. But I couldn’t bear to fight with Livy.

Eventually I persuaded her to go inside with me and play the Chopin waltz she’d been practising. The piano was a fine one, from James Harvey’s works. Absorbed in the music, Olivia’s mood softened. I watched her, my anger dying. I loved it when Livy played. I was always moved by the sight of her, taken up by it, her body no longer deliberately poised as it usually was, coy yet somehow closed. She was more fully herself than at any other time when she played for me. I’d seen her play for her father’s guests and I knew she found it a torture. Then she was formal, mean with the music, giving nothing of herself. But now she was playing without a score in front of her, and at times she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, her long hair reaching down her back against her sea-green frock. She finished the Chopin and, not heeding my applause – ‘That was wonderful, Livy’ – moved straight into a Beethoven
adagio
which was one of my favourites. This she knew very well so she had no need to look at all. I watched and listened to the notes flowing from the piano. Olivia’s eyes fluttered closed and her body swayed, taut and sensual.

She was oblivious to the fact that as she was reaching the concluding bars of the piece the boys slipped into the room, William, Angus and John, all lured by the sound of the music as they came in from cricket. They sat quietly, wiping their hands on their thighs, foreheads beaded with sweat, and waited for the end.

Olivia played the final chords and lifted her hands, wrists leading, from the keys. When she opened her eyes she leapt to her feet as if boiling water had landed in her lap.

‘Oh!’ she cried. ‘How could you? How
could
you?’ She rushed from the room, out into the garden.

‘What on earth have we done?’ William asked, laughing in total bafflement. ‘Honestly, she gets more peculiar by the day, she really does.’

‘Don’t laugh at her,’ I snapped. ‘You probably just made her jump. I’ll go and see.’

I found Olivia sitting curled on the slabs by the edge of the pond, her head resting on her bent up knees.

‘How could you?’ she said again as I knelt down beside her. She reached for her hanky, her face already pink from crying. ‘How could you let them see me like that?’