Rainbow's End (32 page)

‘No, I don’t,’ Ellen said crossly. She pulled away from him. ‘Oh, go to sea, Tolly; you’re probably right, that’s the best way.’

‘Now you’re cross,’ Tolly said. ‘It were your idea to try it out, Ellen, not mine. I
told
you I thought there might be somethin’ wrong wi’ me.’

‘So you did,’ Ellen said. She broke away from him and began to run as fast as she could along the damp sand. Further up the beach some kids had set up a tent and were cooking something over a small fire; she just hoped they hadn’t seen the exhibition she had just made of herself, that was all! I’d die if I thought anyone knew I’d made Tolly kiss me and then got cross because he didn’t seem to care for it much, she thought, feeling the heat surge into her cheeks. Well, let that teach you a lesson, Ellen Docherty, she told herself, pounding along the beach. Girls who chase fellers never get anywhere . . . not when the fellers are having doubts about themselves, anyway.

Far behind her on the beach she heard Tolly shout, but she took no notice. How shall I face him, sit beside him on the train going home? she thought miserably. We’re supposed to be going for a cup of tea . . . what’ll we talk about when we’re sitting in the tea-rooms? We’ll just look at each other and Tolly will think how disgusting I am and I’ll think . . . well, I’ll think that I must be repugnant to him. I’m not going back! I’ll catch a bus, or walk . . . but I can’t go back with Tolly!

The twins had had a marvellous day – were still having it, in fact. They had taken half a crown – all Deirdre’s next week’s wages – out of the teapot on the mantel and used it, Deirdre told herself, wisely. They had bought bottles of lemonade, because everyone knows if you drink seawater you go mad, and a large bag of bruised apples and some bananas. From their mother’s cupboard they had removed a large, rather misshapen loaf of bread, a medium-sized piece of cheese and a bottle of pickled onions. Then, of course, they had had to borrow the old perambulator to push their loot down to the docker’s umbrella, because there was no way they could have managed it between them, not with the tent and all.

The pickled onions had turned out to be a mistake, but other than that they couldn’t have done better if they’d been practising for years, Deirdre thought complacently. She was sitting on the soft sand and watching their driftwood fire burning briskly, whilst Donal poked cautiously at some mussels they had bought, cooking in an old Glaxo tin. Yes, apart from the pickled onions this was definitely the life! And she didn’t see why they shouldn’t stay here so long as the weather lasted. She said as much to Donal. ‘Ain’t this jest what the doctor ordered, Donny? Them mussels smell good!’

They didn’t, but it sounded . . . right, somehow, Deirdre decided.

Donal, however, was more practical. ‘I don’t see how you can smell anythin’ bar pickled onions,’ he said unkindly, for the onions had been Deirdre’s idea, and it had been she who had knocked them over too. ‘Every time I bleedin’
move
the pong near on knocks me out.’

‘Oh, it ain’t bad out here,’ Deirdre protested. ‘It’s only inside the tent it’s a bit strong, like. An’ it’ll go soon enough. Smells wear off, you know.’

‘Not that smell,’ Donal said. ‘That smell’s here to stay. I’m goin’ to sleep outside, on t’other side o’ the fire.’

‘That’s daft,’ Deirdre said, rather alarmed. ‘Wharrif it rains? Besides, we brung the tent to sleep in, not to . . . to look at.’

‘You like pickled onions,’ Donal pointed out. ‘I hates ’em.’

‘Ye-es, but just because you hate a smell that doesn’t mean . . .’

‘Dee, for once in your life, don’t
argufy
,’ Donal said with spirit. ‘I’m sleepin’ on the sand, so there. Until the stink goes, tharris.’

‘Oh. Right. Tell you what, Donny, what say I gerra lemonade bottle full o’ sea, and chuck it at the tent? D’you reckon . . .’

‘No, I
don’t
,’ Donal howled. ‘Shurrup about smells, our Dee, an’ tell me if them mussels is cooked.’

Deirdre approached the mussels with all the caution of one who has never willingly cooked so much as a boiled egg in her life and stuck a piece of driftwood into the nearest shell. It was, of course, hard, but then she hadn’t really expected it to soften. Well, she supposed it might have done . . . but Donal was looking at her with respect; he was sure that, being a woman, she would know everything about cooking. So Deirdre hooked a mussel out of the pan and looked in through the gap in the two shells at the little blob of rubber within. ‘Just about perfect,’ she pronounced, wondering whether that was really all a mussel ought to contain. ‘Come on, gi’s a cut o’ bread an’ we’ll start eatin’.’

‘How do we eat ’em, though?’ Donal asked presently, when Deirdre had clattered the shells, and their contents, on to the perambulator cover. ‘They’s hot!’

‘We leave ’em to cool for a bit, then we hooks ’em out o’ the shells an’ puts ’em on the bread, an’ has a feast,’ Deirdre said, crossing her fingers behind her back. This would be her first taste of mussels, though she often had crab when one of the boys brought one home. ‘You’ll love ’em, our Donny!’

In the event, neither she nor Donal was particularly keen on the mussels, but Deirdre dared not say so. She ate manfully, squashing the rubbery creatures between two thick slices of bread, and it was whilst they were washing down their ‘feast’ with lemonade and munching the softening apples that Deirdre spotted they were no longer alone.

When they’d first reached the sands they had been not exactly crowded, but certainly well-peopled, but as the day dwindled so the beach seemed to lose its attraction and by the time the mussels were plopped into the Glaxo tin Deirdre and Donal were alone, save for the odd person walking a dog, or elderly people strolling along admiring the sunset.

But as the sun sank and the pale blue of the sky became streaked with crimson and gold, a young couple came down on to the sands. They strolled for a bit, presumably talking, and the twins took no notice of them at all due to the fact that they were further along the shore and Donal and Deirdre had pitched their tent at the very top of the beach. But then something happened which caught their attention. The couple got closer and closer . . .

‘They’re kissin’!’ Donal exclaimed, much disgusted. ‘In the open, wi’ us havin’ to see ’em at it! I call that disgustin’.’

‘Ay up,’ Deirdre said, having a long look. ‘The feller’s Tolly!’

‘Can’t be,’ Donal said, shading his eyes against the brilliance of the sunset sky. ‘Tolly wouldn’t act so daft.’

‘It is, I tell you. Well, stone the bleedin’ crows!’

‘An’ the gal’s our Ellen,’ Donal said after a moment. ‘Ooh, if our mam knew our Ellen was canoodlin’ in public wi’ Tolly, she’d be that cross!’

‘It’s only kissin’,’ Deirdre said. She stared some more. ‘Oh Jeez . . .
now
what’s happenin’?’

For Ellen had broken away from Tolly and was running along the beach as fast as she could go.

‘Oh Gawd, has she seen us?’ Donal said, but it was soon clear that she had not. She was belting along the beach, clearly trying to put as much distance between herself and her kisser as possible.

‘No, it ain’t us, she’s fell out wi’ Tolly/ Deirdre said at length. ‘Our Ellen can’t half run though, Donny, I hope she remembers there’s quicksands out there! Wonder what he did?’

‘Kissed her,’ Donny said. ‘Don’t you have no eyes in your head, gal?’

‘Ellen wouldn’t mind no kissin’,’ Deirdre said wisely. ‘Tolly’s that nice . . . I wouldn’t mind it meself, wi’ Tolly.’

Donal made a rude noise and suggested that Ellen was running because they were about to play relievio.

‘Nowhere to hide,’ Deirdre said, glancing around. ‘Besides, they’re too old for games. No, Tolly must of said somethin’ what our Ellen din’t like.’

‘Tolly’s runnin’ too, now,’ Donal said presently. ‘Cor, watch him go! He’s catchin’ her up, he’s catchin’ her up . . . she’s stopped! Wonder if they’ll have a set-to now, or whether they’ll start all that sloppy business again?’

But they did neither. They stood there on the beach for a moment, Tolly with his hand on Ellen’s arm, Ellen staring up at him, then they fell into step with one another and continued their walk along the beach.

‘Funny,’ Deirdre said, when Ellen and Tolly were out of sight. ‘Now! Shall us have a walk up the beach afore we settle down for the night?’

‘No, it’s gettin’ dark,’ Donal said. ‘I wonder if there’s wolves around Seaforth?’

‘Wolves?’ Deirdre said derisively. ‘Huh! You’ll be askin’ about sharks, next.’

‘You don’t have sharks in cold waters, I know that,’ Donal said. ‘I know there aren’t no wolves, really. But you might get big dogs. Or big foxes, I suppose.’

‘You’re right there,’ Deirdre said, smitten by a brilliant idea. ‘I wouldn’t sleep out on the sand if you paid me, norrif I might find meself bein’ snuffled at by a big dog. Or a fox. No, I’d sooner be in the tent.’

There was a thoughtful silence. Then Donal said: ‘But that smell, our Dee! It turns me up. No, I reckon I’ll kip down on the sand.’

Deirdre, damping down the fire and putting their food and other belongings away in the tent, just shrugged. There was a time for words and a time to let ideas simmer, she decided. She wished they’d brought a lamp, but they did have a candle, so she lit it from the fire’s glowing embers and crawled into the tent. She dug the candle down in the sand and pulled the perambulator across the entrance. It was snug in the tent with the candlelight flickering on the white walls and the blanket they had brought spread out over the cold sand. As she settled down for the night Deirdre decided smugly that she was a good deal better off than Donal, who would have the moonlight and the black shadows, the chilly night breeze and his own wild imaginings for company, instead of the candle’s friendly flicker and the warmth of their blanket. ‘It’s ever so nice in here, Donny,’ she called enticingly, presently. ‘Warm, too. Norra ghost in sight . . . is the moon up yet?’

There was no answer for a moment, then the perambulator was pushed roughly aside and Donny catapulted into the tent. His eyes were round and black with fear and his normally ruddy face was very pale. ‘I were gettin’ chilly,’ he announced, heaving the perambulator back across the doorway. ‘The wind’s gettin’ up pretty strong now. Come on, shove over, lemme have some blanket.’

Deirdre toyed with the idea of saying
told you so
, but dismissed it. She merely rolled over so that Donal could have half the blanket and said in a small voice: ‘Tell me when to blow out the candle.’

Donal grunted, ‘Don’t know as you need; it’ll last the night out.’

‘Right, we’ll leave it then,’ Deirdre said. Outside, she knew, the beach would be huge and cold and empty, with the moon shining down on it and God knew what coming up out of the water to stare at their little tent. She could hear the wind – she was sure it was only the wind – beginning to whine and gust, but so long as the denizens of the deep only stared at the little tent and didn’t try to get inside . . .

‘Wonder whether Ellen’s home yet,’ she said a little later. ‘An’ Tolly, of course.’

‘Dunno,’ Donal droned, his voice heavy with sleep. ‘Goo’night, Dee.’

‘Goo’night, Donny.’

Peace reigned in the makeshift tent.

It hadn’t been as bad as Ellen had feared, for when Tolly did catch her up he was truly sorry that he had sent her off, even if he didn’t quite understand her flight.

‘Ellen, I reckon I behaved real bad, an’ when you run off I were that afraid you’d run into the quicksands,’ he said, panting and breathless, but clinging to her arm and refusing to let her break free. ‘I never should have told you what I did, and it were nice kissin’ you, course it was, it’s just that . . . oh, I believe I’m scared of the whole business . . . fallin’ in love, marryin’, havin’ kids. And I did want you to understand why I was goin’ to join a ship. You’re me best pal, the only person I could tell about . . . about how I am. An’. . . an’ when I get meself sorted you’ll be the first to know, I promise.’

‘It was my fault,’ Ellen said, falling into step beside him. Tolly might never be more than her good friend but she preferred that to losing him altogether. ‘I only meant to help . . . but I should have known better’n to encourage you to . . . Oh, let’s forget it, shall we? I could do wi’ that cuppa, I’m tellin’ you, after all that runnin’ along the beach.’

‘Right; an’ I’ll mug you to a cake an’ all,’ Tolly said remorsefully. ‘Oh Ellen, will you forgive me? Wharra way to behave!’

‘Course I will. An’ I’ll write to you, too, when you’re at sea,’ Ellen said. ‘Tell you what’s goin’ on at home, like. Keep you up to date wi’ things.’

‘You’ll not stay in the hospital though, I guess,’ Tolly said. Ellen tried not to show her surprise at this shrewd remark. ‘I been thinkin’ for a while now that you’d not stick it for much longer. It’s that Crawford; you can’t do your job proper wi’ Sisters like her on the wards. Most of us have felt that way.’

‘But what the dickens can I do to get away from her?’ Ellen said. ‘I’m stuck wi’ the woman, from wharr I can see.’

‘No you ain’t. You could ask for a transfer; go to Matron an’ explain that you’ve been on female medical for six months an’ would like wider experience,’ Tolly said at once. ‘They like a nurse to want wider experience, I’m tellin’ you, it works nine times out o’ ten.’

‘An’ I’m tellin’ you that if it don’t work I’m out,’ Ellen said. ‘Oh, Tolly, you may not believe me, but I’m downright glad we’ve had this talk. I feel a lot better about it now – about work, about you, about almost everything.’

‘Me, too,’ Tolly said. ‘I handed in me notice this evenin’, and at the end o’ the week I’m goin’ to put me name down as cabin staff aboard one o’ the big liners.’ He gave her arm an affectionate squeeze. ‘But I couldn’t go until I’d explained to you what I was goin’ to do an’ why,’ he finished.

‘I’m sure you’re doin’ the right thing, but you’ll miss your music, an’ the Army,’ Ellen said rather helplessly. Having listened to what Tolly had been saying she realised that this was a problem which only he could solve, but she knew how desperately she would miss him.