My Sweet Valentine (20 page)

There was nothing she could say that would persuade Dulcie to change her mind, Tilly knew, just as she knew how shocked and disapproving her mother would be if she were to learn the truth about the dress.

There was one person she intended to exclude from Dulcie’s ban on her mentioning what had happened, though, and that was Drew.

‘Come on, there’s a shop down here where they rent out fur jackets, and I want to see what they’ve got.’

Tilly looked at her watch. It was one o’clock. Drew would be meeting his contact any minute now. She would far rather be with him than going looking at fur jackets with Dulcie, and she suspected that if he had seen what had happened this morning even Drew would have agreed that she would be safer with him than with Dulcie.

‘I’m going to Fleet Street to see Drew,’ she told Dulcie, feeling very grown up and independent. ‘I’ll meet you back home.’

‘All right,’ Dulcie agreed, adding unexpectedly, ‘Here, you take this and put it in your handbag,’ thrusting the dress at Tilly. ‘Just in case anyone decides to try and take it back,’ she explained when Tilly looked surprised.

Immediately Tilly’s surprise turned to concern.

‘You don’t think they will, do you?’

‘You never know with people like that,’ Dulcie told her. ‘And just be careful with it,’ she warned.

‘It will be dreadfully creased up,’ Tilly protested.

‘That’s all right, your ma will know how to press out the creases,’ Dulcie assured her.

They parted on the corner of the street, Dulcie to go in search of a fur jacket, and Tilly heading for Fleet Street, her heart already lifting at the thought of being with Drew. He would remonstrate with her, of course, but he wouldn’t send her away. Tilly smiled happily to herself.

Half an hour later she pushed open the door to their favourite Fleet Street pub, Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, and breathed in the now familiar smell of beer and cigarettes, pausing for a moment to let her ears adjust to the level of noise in the busy public house. Then she headed straight for the room where she and Drew normally sat.

A couple of the regulars at the bar, newsmen to whom Drew had introduced her, nodded in her direction. Tilly smiled back but didn’t stop, her heart lifting as she stood up on her tiptoes to look past the busy bar along which drinkers were crowded three and four deep.

She could see Drew. He was seated at their favourite table, alone. Tilly frowned, feeling both disappointed that she was going to miss out on such an exciting interview and pleased that she would now have Drew all to herself.

He hadn’t seen her so she sneaked up behind him, placing her hands over his eyes as she mimicked the voice Dulcie had used earlier with the stall holder to demand teasingly, ‘Guess who?’

Immediately, Drew stiffened and reached up to remove her hands, as soon as he touched them, exclaiming, ‘Tilly, you wretch, you scared me half to death.’

He had recognised her simply from touching her hands? Tilly felt thrilled to know this as he pulled up a chair for her.

‘What are you doing here anyway? You promised me …’

‘I know but I had my fingers crossed behind my back,’ she told him. ‘I’m obviously too late, though. What did he say, Drew? What did he tell you? Was it—’

‘He didn’t show up,’ Drew stopped her. ‘I guess he was either handing me a line or someone frightened him off.’

He looked so disappointed that Tilly immediately tried to cheer him up, announcing, ‘Well, wait until I tell you what happened when I was out with Dulcie this morning …’

After she had finished explaining about the stall holder, the showgirls and the dresses she asked, ‘Do you think it’s true that the dresses were stolen to order, Drew?’

‘It certainly sounds like it.’

Tilly moved closer to him. She would far rather
spend her afternoon here with him than shopping with Dulcie.

‘Oh, Sergeant Dawson.’ Self-consciously aware of how flustered she sounded, Olive stepped back into the hallway. What an idiot she was, behaving like this. It wasn’t Archie Dawson’s fault. It was just her being silly. She needed to start behaving like the respectable widow she was. After all, she had known Archie Dawson for going on for twenty years – twenty years during which she had looked upon him only as a kind neighbour and a good husband. Nothing had changed. Except that she herself was perhaps approaching what was often referred to as ‘a funny age’. She’d heard of gossipy tales of respectable women suddenly shocking people by going off the rails – they all had. Such tales were the meat and veg of gossip to people like Nancy, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the subject of one of them. The mere thought was enough to have her getting a firm grip on herself.

‘Archie,’ the sergeant reminded Olive, before following her into the house. ‘And I just thought I’d pop round and make sure that you are happy about using that stirrup pump.’

‘That’s really kind of you.’ Olive was determined to put her thoughts into actions as she showed him into the kitchen, adding, ‘I’ve just put the kettle on, if you’ve got time for a cup of tea?’ The sooner she got back to normal and treated Archie Dawson as she had always done, the better.

‘Oh, I’ve always got time for a brew,’ the sergeant assured her.

Olive snatched a quick look at him. To her relief there
was certainly nothing in his manner toward her that even hinted that she might have given him the wrong impression – about anything.

Feeling heartened, Olive told him, ‘I’ve just been trying to work out who ought to be paired up with whom.’ She pulled a small face as she waved her hand in the direction of the piece of paper and pencil on the table.

‘Would you like me to give you a hand with it?’

For a moment she hesitated, a refusal trembling on her lips, but then she reminded herself of her vow to behave normally.

‘That would be very kind of you,’ she told him truthfully, adding, ‘I’ve made a list of all those who’ve volunteered to take part. And Agnes, bless her, has actually asked if she could be with the Misses Barker. I was going to put Tilly with them but I dare say if I did she’d start complaining that she wants to be with Drew.’

Olive didn’t realise how much the tone of her voice had given her away until Sergeant Dawson said gently, ‘Something’s upsetting you, Olive, I can tell. If you’d like to get it off your chest then I can promise you that it won’t go any further.’

Olive was glad to have the excuse to turn her back on the sergeant as she felt tears stinging her eyes.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ she answered, hoping that he wouldn’t detect the small quiver in her voice that she was fighting so hard to control. ‘But I’m sure you’re far too busy to have the time to listen to my problems. Mrs Dawson—’

‘Mrs Dawson has taken Barney out with her to buy him some new clothes. She said it would be easier if just the two of them went.’

Was that a note of sadness she could hear in his voice? How lucky Mrs Dawson was to have a husband who wanted to share in such a task with her. Was he perhaps feeling excluded because of the close bond Mrs Dawson had formed with Barney, just as she was feeling excluded because of the close bond Tilly had formed with Drew?

‘Barney’s grown a good two inches since he came to us. He’s a smashing lad,’ Archie Dawson continued proudly.

‘He’s a very lucky boy to have you and Mrs Dawson to take him in,’ Olive told him.

The sergeant shook his head. ‘No, we’re the ones who are that. Best thing we ever did was take him in. Mrs Dawson—’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘I don’t need to tell you the difference it’s made to her, Olive. She was only saying the other day how kind you’ve been, always making a point of stopping and speaking with her when she’s out. Not like some. Nancy was round at our house again this morning complaining about Barney. That is one thing about the lad: he doesn’t seem to understand that he needs to keep to the rules when it comes to things like going to school. I’m having to keep a bit of an eye on him in that regard, but don’t let on to Nancy that I told you that. Now,’ he continued firmly, ‘let’s have that cup of tea and you can tell me what’s troubling you.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ Olive protested.

‘I can promise you that whatever you tell me will not go outside these four walls,’ the sergeant assured her.

Weakly Olive took a deep breath. It would be such a relief to confide in the sergeant and to get a man’s point
of view, and in the end it was surprisingly easy to sit companionably across the table from him as she tried to explain to him her concerns for Tilly.

‘She behaves as though I am her enemy instead of a mother who loves her and wants to protect her. She says that I don’t understand, and that I want to deny her the pleas— the comfort of being married to Drew,’ Olive corrected herself, flushing a little as she tried not to feel self-conscious about accidentally bringing up the pleasure that could come from a happy marriage. She didn’t want the sergeant to think that she was being too ‘forward’ or, even worse, drawing his attention to the lack of that pleasure in her life as a widow. Once such thoughts would never have occurred to her, but now, thanks to Nancy, she was acutely aware of them.

‘I’m worried that she might do something that she might later regret.’

‘Tilly’s not the sort to do that,’ the sergeant reassured her, ‘and that young man of hers certainly isn’t the sort to encourage anything like that.’

‘No, he isn’t. I like Drew but he is American and … well, I know it’s selfish of me but …’

‘You don’t want to think of your Tilly going off to live in America. That isn’t selfish. That’s only natural. If your Jim was still alive he’d soon have young Tilly sorted out.’

‘Yes, I’ve been thinking that myself,’ Olive agreed. ‘Tilly is just at that age where she needs a father’s wise words. She’s such a good daughter, and we’ve always been so close, but now …’

Olive’s voice trembled and then so did her body when,
unexpectedly, the sergeant reached across the table and placed his hand over hers.

It was just the kind gesture of a good neighbour, of course, and the sergeant would be horrified if he knew about that sudden shameful pounding of her heart. It was only because she was so worked up over Tilly, of course. Nothing more than that.

‘Where is Tilly now?’

‘She’s out shopping with Dulcie. Drew and Wilder are taking the girls to the Café de Paris this evening – Wilder’s treat to Dulcie to make up for not taking her out on Valentine’s Day.’

‘Wilder? Now there’s a young man I wouldn’t want to see walking out with my daughter if I had one,’ the sergeant told Olive forthrightly.

‘No, I must admit that I can’t really take to him myself. Oh goodness, is that time?’ Olive looked at her watch and then pushed back her chair to stand up. ‘I’ve taken up far too much of your time. What must you think of me?’

The sergeant had stood up too and now, as she turned towards the kitchen door, to her bemusement he came up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. Then reaching for both her hands he held them in his own and told her gently, ‘What I think of you, Olive, is that Jim was a lucky man to have been married to you, and I know he felt the same way. I can remember how proud he was of you and Tilly. Said he’d got the best girls in the whole world.’

‘His mother certainly didn’t think that. She never really wanted him to marry me, and then when his parents had
to take us in she soon let me know that she wasn’t happy about that. Jim’s parents did stand by me, though, when Jim died. Without them I don’t know what would have happened to me and Tilly. That’s what Tilly doesn’t understand.’

‘You can’t blame her too much for that, Olive. Tilly knows how much you love her and that you’ll always support her. Be honest, if she was to find herself in the same situation you were in, there’d be no question about you taking Tilly and your grandchild in, would there?’

‘Of course not.’

The sergeant smiled. ‘Perhaps part of the reason Tilly can’t understand your fears for her is because she can’t ever imagine being in the situation you were in. She knows that she will always have you to turn to and I can’t imagine you ever wanting that to be any other way. It must have been very frightening for you: you had a very sick husband who was dying, a young baby, no parents or family of your own to turn to. You must have very felt alone.’

‘I did,’ Olive admitted. And she still sometimes felt very alone now, but of course she couldn’t say that.

‘I’ve taken up enough of your time,’ she said instead.

But the sergeant merely smiled again and told her firmly, ‘Let’s have a look at that list of yours, and then I’ll run through the stirrup pump again. You’ve got your sand delivered now, have you?’

‘Yes. It came this morning. Mr King’s happy for us to have the sand at the Longs’ old house, especially with four of his houses being empty at the moment. Every household is going to have a bucket of sand that they’ll keep filled from the stockpile at number 49.
Drew, bless him, has organised the wheelbarrows to collect the empty buckets and then deliver them to all the houses. We couldn’t expect the likes of the Misses Barker to carry heavy buckets of sand around. I do like Drew, and if Tilly was older and there wasn’t a war on, and if …’

‘He wasn’t American,’ Archie Dawson teased her gently.

‘Am I being selfish and unfair?’ Olive asked him anxiously.

‘No,’ the sergeant told her firmly, ‘you’re being a mother, and you’re a damned fine one too, Olive.’

TEN

‘Oh, Dulcie, you look ever so glamorous, just like a film star,’ Agnes gasped, awestruck as Dulcie twirled round the kitchen to show off her new dress. ‘It’s ever such a lovely frock.’

‘Of course it is,’ Dulcie agreed. ‘It’s Norman Hartnell. And it’s not a frock, it’s a
gown
.’

It was a beautiful dress, Olive acknowledged, as she watched the light catching on the thousands of tiny crystals sewn onto the midnight-blue silk, just a few sprinkled here and there on the bodice, growing in number the further down the skirt they were. It wasn’t just the fabric that made the dress so outstandingly glamorous, though. There was also the cut – on the bias – and, Olive thought privately, made for a girl who had been slightly more slender than Dulcie on the bust and the hip, so that its fit on Dulcie was such that any susceptible young male would be stopped in his tracks, Olive suspected. Not that it was in any way vulgar. That would have been impossible for such a dress. No, the overall effect was, as Agnes had so rightly announced, one of film-star glamour.