Forgotten Dreams (6 page)
‘What makes you say that?’ Lottie asked.
Kenny looked surprised. ‘I dunno,’ he said slowly. ‘I just . . . I dunno. I say, Lottie, you know what he said about your hair?’
Lottie nodded vigorously. ‘I were thinkin’ the same: me hair’s only blonde because Louella bleaches it so’s we look more alike. But it
couldn’t
be me he were talking about, could it? I mean Sassy sounds nothing like Lottie.’
couldn’t
be me he were talking about, could it? I mean Sassy sounds nothing like Lottie.’
Kenny considered, then shook his head. ‘Nah, I reckon he made a mistake, like he said. Only it’s kind o’ weird, him thinkin’ he knew you an’ you havin’ forgot such a big chunk of your life. Why, the only thing you know is that you were in Rhyl before you came to Liverpool, and this is Rhyl.’ He struck his forehead dramatically with the back of his hand. ‘We should have asked him his name, told him that you
had
lived in Rhyl! If he really did know you when you were here, he could fill in a lot o’ gaps. Who’s the old ’un, for example? Did he mean your father?’
had
lived in Rhyl! If he really did know you when you were here, he could fill in a lot o’ gaps. Who’s the old ’un, for example? Did he mean your father?’
‘No, of course not. My father wasn’t old. And anyway, I thought he said “she” when he talked about the old ’un,’ Lottie said. ‘I’m almost sure he said “she”.’
Kenny, however, was adamant that the boy had said ‘he’ and they were still wrangling over the point when the other children began to join them under the clock. And presently they were ordered to form into a crocodile so that the teachers might count them before marching them to the Seagull restaurant.
Naturally, Kenny and Lottie were almost at the head of the crocodile since they had been the first to arrive, and as they marched briskly towards the restaurant Kenny was struck by an idea. He turned to Lottie. ‘Tell you what. Ask your mammy what your billing was when you lived in Rhyl,’ he suggested. ‘And if she says it was Miss Lottie, like now, you could ask her who Sassy is.’
Lottie frowned thoughtfully down at the pavement. ‘Maybe Louella was right when she said it might be dangerous to come back to Rhyl; that boy was certainly cross enough to box my ears when he thought he knew me,’ she said rather confusedly. ‘To tell you the truth, Kenny, I were so frightened when he grabbed hold of me that I didn’t listen awfully well. What
had
Sassy done that made him so cross?’
had
Sassy done that made him so cross?’
‘Gone off without telling anyone where she were bound,’ Kenny said briefly. ‘I don’t gerrit. If this Sassy was a kid, like you are, she couldn’t just go off, ’cos kids can’t. You were only five or six when you left Rhyl, weren’t you? Well, there you are then. He were definitely talkin’ about someone else. But I still think you ought to ask Louella what your billing was and whether she’s heard of a girl called Sassy.’
‘But that’ll mean telling her I’ve been to Rhyl,’ Lottie said uneasily. ‘I don’t like to deceive Mammy – I mean Louella – but it seems more sensible than letting her get in a state. And you know, in a way she were right: I come to Rhyl, and what happens? Some boy I don’t know comes slap bang up to me, grabs me arm and thinks I’m someone he knows. No, I don’t reckon I’ll tell Mammy anything at all.’
Kenny was beginning to argue when he suddenly gave a crow of laughter and poked Lottie so hard in the ribs that she gasped. ‘Oh aye?’ he said. ‘You’re going to stick to your story that we spent the day in Llandudno, and you’re going to hand her some rock with “A present from Rhyl” writ all the way through it! You stupid little sausage, that rock’s a dead giveaway, so it is!’
Lottie groaned, then giggled. ‘Oh well, then I’ll have to tell her, I suppose. But I shan’t say anything about that horrid boy; it would only upset her. I’ll just say we had a grand day out, which is true, and sort of drop Rhyl into the conversation . . . I’ll say she must have misunderstood me . . . after all, I never
said
we were going to Llandudno.’
said
we were going to Llandudno.’
‘I’ll back you up,’ Kenny said heroically. He craned forward, for by now they had reached the double glass doors of the restaurant and could see what awaited them inside. ‘I say, that teacher weren’t foolin’! Look at them sausage rolls . . . and the Cornish pasties!’
‘I’m looking,’ Lottie said reverently. ‘There’s a huge iced cake, all pink and white, on that side table, and heaps of jellies. Me favourite’s the green one . . . or do I like orange best?’
‘It don’t matter. We’re first in line so we’ll have time to help ourselves to both,’ Kenny hissed. ‘Mam said we’d get a meal afore we left Rhyl so she wouldn’t save us no supper, and I thought I’d be missin’ out, but what do I care now? She and Dad was only havin’ scrag-end stew and spuds, but we can eat ourselves square on this little lot!’
They did eat themselves, if not square, at least round-stomached, and when they tottered back to the coaches the teachers freely prophesied that their charges would sleep all the way home. However, if they were looking forward to a peaceful journey, they were to be disappointed. Comfortably full of the best food they had eaten for a long time, the children still bounced up and down, occasionally fought, jeered at one another and eventually began to sing. The coach driver bawled for some quiet, but he had little chance of being heard. This was the school treat and the pupils intended to enjoy themselves, come what may. They sang ‘Pack up your troubles’, ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’, and ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles’, before rounding off a perfect day with a drunken-sounding rendering of ‘Show me the way to go home’. Lottie leaned against Kenny’s shoulder and almost fell asleep, but when they arrived back outside the school she and Kenny were amongst the first to climb down. They thanked their teachers sincerely for a lovely day and then Lottie hung around until the coach carrying Baz drew up. Kenny, with apologies, had gone off as soon as the coach arrived back, for little Daisy was jiggling up and down and longing, she said, for a piddle, and her older sisters were nowhere to be seen, so he meant to hurry her off home before she disgraced him, he confided to Lottie, by squatting in the gutter. Normally, Lottie would have accompanied the Brocklehursts, but she had decided that this was a good opportunity to talk to Baz and ask him a few questions. He would be mellow and happy after his day out and thus easier to approach than he sometimes was, she thought.
And so it proved. Baz looped a long arm round her shoulders and asked if she’d had as good a day as he himself had enjoyed, and Lottie was able to assure him, truthfully, that she had. ‘But an odd thing happened,’ she said as they walked along the Scottie in the direction of Victoria Court. ‘A feller came up to me and called me Sassy. He – he said he remembered me from way back. You know I can’t remember anything, really, from before the accident. We didn’t think to ask his name and when he realised I weren’t this Sassy he backed off and disappeared. What d’you think, Baz? Might it have been someone who really knowed me, from the time before?’
‘It could have been, I suppose, but then it’s easy to think you recognise someone from a distance and then discover, when you get closer, that it’s someone completely different – I know, for I’ve done it meself. Did you enjoy yourself today, queen? That tea were grand, weren’t it?’
They chatted happily until they reached the court, where they hurried up the steps of No. 2 and through the door, which had been left unlocked for them. The pair of them staggered into the kitchen, Lottie almost asleep on her feet, to find Max and Louella about to go up to bed. Louella came sleepily over and kissed her daughter fondly, then said, on a yawn, that they would hear all about the coach trip on the morrow, and would Lottie like a cup of cocoa before she went up?
Lottie, full to bursting, said that she couldn’t eat or drink another thing, and the four of them went their separate ways, for though folk might think Louella and Max were married, they went to their own rooms each night. Lottie meant to rehearse her story of how they had come to end up in Rhyl before she slept, but though she did her best to stay awake, it was useless. She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
And dreamed.
The dream started ordinarily enough. She was on the Rhyl promenade, walking towards the clock, knowing that something exciting was about to happen. There were people about though no one took any notice of her. She saw a teacher she knew and smiled but the woman seemed to look straight through her. And this was odd because Lottie could feel the warmth of the sun on her shoulders and a gentle salt-scented breeze in her face. When the boy came slap bang up to her, she recognised him at once, even though his golden-brown eyes were gentle now. She half expected him to walk past her as the teacher had done, but he stopped right in front of her and spoke urgently. ‘You’ll have to go back,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to go back even further than Sassy, right back to the very beginning. It’s the only way, you see.’
‘Back where?’ Lottie said blankly. ‘Back to Victoria Court? But I’ve not had me tea yet and Kenny’s teacher said there were a grand spread. Besides, the coach doesn’t leave for ages and I don’t believe I could walk all the way home. It would take days and days.’
She tried to dodge, to sidestep the boy, but though he never appeared to move he was always in front of her, barring her way. Suddenly frightened, she turned round, meaning to run in the opposite direction, but it did not work. He was in front of her again and this time he was smiling. It was not an unpleasant smile, though there was an edge of mockery to it. ‘You can’t escape, you know,’ he said gently. ‘Not if you
really
want to know what happened. You’ve simply got to go back . . . back . . . back . . .’
really
want to know what happened. You’ve simply got to go back . . . back . . . back . . .’
As he said the last words, his voice became fainter and fainter and rang hollowly in her ears, reminding her of the dreadful day when Mammy had taken her to the dentist to have a tooth removed because it was growing sideways and impeding the one next to it. The dentist had held a mask to her face and the room had whirled round and round, getting smaller and smaller until it was no bigger than a full stop, and the dentist’s voice had boomed strangely, echoing round her skull until it faded to a whisper.
Now, she tried to resist, to escape from the boy’s gaze and from the whirling dance of promenade, sky and people. Thoroughly frightened, she gave a choked little gasp, and began to fight her way up from sleep to the reality of wakefulness. She half opened her eyes and saw her own little room, with the clutter of her possessions all about her. Thankfully, she sat up on her elbow. What a horrible dream! And yet it had only turned frightening when she had decided to run away from the boy. Perhaps if she had been sensible, allowed him to explain what he meant . . .
Once more, Lottie glanced thankfully around her room. It was a nice room, furnished especially for her. There was a little dressing table with a mirror and three drawers, and a marble-topped washstand upon which stood a jug and ewer, brightly patterned with poppies and cornflowers. The curtains at the window were cream cotton with more flowers printed upon the material, and the little wardrobe, which Mam had bought on Paddy’s market, had a garland of flowers stencilled round the door. There was a shelf for books, for Louella always encouraged her daughter to read, and another shelf for toys. Golly, Baby Susan and Teddy were prime favourites at present, but there was a pink rabbit with only one ear, a rag doll whose features had been rubbed away by constant use, and a wooden zebra which had once had a red handle and four wheels, although such appurtenances had fallen off years ago.
Lottie had no idea what the time was but she knew it was still night, so she hopped out of bed, grabbed the rag doll and the teddy bear, and snuggled down once more. She would go back to sleep, and if she dreamed the dream again, she would be more sensible. Why had she tried to run away from the boy with the golden-brown eyes? He had seemed to be telling her that if she wanted to know about the past, then she must go back, whatever that might mean. Drowsily, she looked around her once more and remembered Mrs Brocklehurst saying that Louella had put a lot of care into the making of this room. It just goes to show how much my mammy loves me, not that I ever doubted it for one moment, Lottie thought sleepily. I’ll tell her the truth about Rhyl because I’m sure she’ll understand, and now I’m going back to sleep and I’ll try as hard as ever I can to dream myself back to that boy and find out what he meant.
But dreams are tricksy, fickle things which do not simply come because you want them to. Lottie dreamed about Rhyl and the golden sands, and her own small feet, seen through the glittering water, but she could not feel the sun on her shoulders or the water washing around them, and when she picked up the little pink shells, she could not feel them in the palm of her hand. Nevertheless, it was a good dream, and when she woke she had only the haziest recollection of what the boy with the golden-brown eyes had said. She knew it was something about going back, but it no longer seemed important.
When she went downstairs, her mother and Max were sitting at the kitchen table eating porridge and planning a trip to Prince’s Park because the weather was hot and sunny, and the theatre did not have a matinée on Fridays. ‘Ooh, can I ask Kenny to come with us?’ Lottie begged. ‘We had such a good time in Rhyl.’ She handed over the sticks of rock she had purchased. ‘We gave two of our pennies each to the Punch and Judy man. He was ever so funny, Louella. We ought to have a Punch and Judy man at the theatre. He said: “Squashages? Who’s going to cook these lovely squashages for my breakfast?” And then Dog Toby grabbed the sausages and Mr Punch pulled one end and Dog Toby pulled the other, and the string of sausages broke and they both tumbled off the stage and into the audience. I picked Dog Toby up. He looked soft and cuddly but he’s really made of wood. Then we went to the rock factory . . .’
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