The Bright One (40 page)

‘Following Jim Sutcliffe's outlines! I doubt I can draw a straight line.'

‘That's what people say,' Graham told her. ‘But you don't have to. Anyway there are no straight lines in nature. Paint what you
see
, as
you
see it – never what you think you ought to see.'

Then standing behind him on the first occasion he had painted a water colour of the river near Bolton Abbey, Breda recognized that here was real talent. The strength and exuberance of his work took her breath away: bold lines, striking colours; nothing wishy-washy, which was rather what she'd expected of a water colour.

‘It's wonderful!' she said. ‘I really had no idea . . . '

‘You shouldn't be so surprised,' Graham said. ‘I told you it was what I wanted to do for a living – though I dare say it wouldn't be much of one.'

‘Then perhaps it's what you
should
do,' Breda said thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you shouldn't be in the retail trade at all.'

What would that do to them, she wondered? Where would it leave her? It was true what he said: unless he was lucky there wouldn't be much of a living in it. Would he be able to keep a wife?

‘I could always go out to work and be the breadwinner,' she offered, thinking out loud.

He shook his head. ‘I wouldn't want that.'

He cleaned his brushes and packed away his gear, then he held up the painting and studied it critically. He was not satisfied, he would never be satisfied, but he was not too disappointed.

‘This is for you – if you like it,' he said.

‘Oh Graham! Of course I like it! But I have a better idea.'

She had decided, it had taken only seconds, that whether he was a retailer or whether he was a painter, and even if, in the latter case, she had to scrub floors to keep them both, she would stay with him, she would never let him go.

‘So what's your idea? Are you thinking I could sell it?'

‘Oh I dare say you could. But that's not what I have in mind. No. You must keep it, and we'll hang it on the wall in our very first home!'

It was at times like this, when he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her there and then, that he cursed the presence of the rest of the group; but there was no-one standing very close, and he stroked her arm.

Not all their time, however, was spent with others. They reserved the right to go occasionally for walks alone, or to the cinema, or for a cheap meal, and on these occasions he insisted on calling for her at Waterloo Terrace.

Josephine was never for a moment deceived by the casualness of their manner towards each other when he came to the house.

‘If ever I saw anyone in love,' she said to Brendan in the privacy of their bedroom, ‘it's those two. They might hide it from others but not from me. And I worry about it.'

‘Leave them be,' Brendan said. ‘Let them work it out for themselves.'

‘It
won't
work out,' Josephine said. ‘That's just the problem.'

‘Leave it be!' Brendan repeated. He had grown fond of Breda. She had become like another, much younger, daughter.

Josephine could not leave it be. It nagged at her. As the weeks went by she worried and fretted until in the end she knew she must speak to Breda. She owed that much to her sister Molly. Wasn't she, so to speak, in a mother's place?

She chose a time when Breda had just come in from an evening out with Graham, when Grandma Maguire was tucked up in bed and Brendan had gone to the Cow and Calf.

‘Did you have a nice time, love?' she asked.

‘Very nice, thank you. It was a good picture – and there was Ronald Colman in the newsreel. He's on a visit to England.'

‘Ronald Colman!' Josephine cried. ‘Oh, I should like to have seen him! He only has to speak to send shivers down my spine!'

‘Auntie Josie, you are a dark horse!' Breda said, laughing. ‘I never knew you had a crush on Ronald Colman!'

‘We all have our dreams,' Josephine said. ‘But that's as may be.' The thought of her film idol had almost, but not quite, put her off what she'd firmly intended to say. ‘Though never mind that just now. I want a word with you, love, before Brendan comes barging in.'

Breda looked up at the change in her aunt's voice. ‘Is something wrong? Have I done something?'

‘Bless you, no!' Josephine said. ‘At least . . . ' She hoped fervently that she was right about that. ‘Well, I'll come straight out with it. It's about you and Graham.'

‘What about us?' Breda asked. She hardly needed to ask. She could guess what was coming. She had seen it in her aunt's face on more than one occasion when Graham had called for her, and had been relieved that nothing had been said.

‘It's not that I've got anything against him, love. Don't think that,' Josephine said. ‘He's a nice young man. We all like him. Even Grandma likes him, which is saying something.'

‘But . . . ' Breda said. ‘I
know
you're going to say “but”.'

‘Yes I am. I'm worried that you're getting too involved with him, getting to care about him a bit too much,
and
him about you.'

If only you knew, Breda thought. If only I could tell you. More than anything else she hated keeping her feelings from her aunt, being with her every day and saying nothing.

‘You see, Breda love, it would never work out, not between you and Graham.'

‘Why wouldn't it work out . . . I mean, just supposing there was something to work out?'

‘Well, two things – and both very important. In the first place, he's not a Catholic. A good Catholic girl like you couldn't think of going outside the Church . . . '

‘I would never leave the Church,' Breda interrupted.

‘That's not what I mean. You know it isn't. And then there's another thing. He's not our class, love. We're good solid working class, and nothing to be ashamed of in that. He's different.'

‘His grandfather built up the business from nothing,' Breda said. ‘Graham told me. So did Miss Opal, come to that, and you know how much you admire her.'

‘It's not the same, is it?' Josephine said. ‘Graham was born into a well-off family. He's never known anything else. He's been to public school. Everything in his life has been different from yours. His whole background.'

‘And you mean I couldn't rise to that?'

‘Of course I don't! To my mind you could rise to anything. You have it in you. But also . . . well, I'm sure you know what I mean, Breda. I don't want you to make it harder for yourself. I'm not putting it very well, though I'm sure you understand.'

‘I do,' Breda admitted. ‘But you needn't worry, Auntie Josie. Honestly you needn't. I'm not on the point of marrying Graham, and if I were you'd be the first to know. I'll take notice of what you say, but you just don't need to worry.'

Brendan's key in the lock put an end to their conversation.

‘Did Betty call?' Breda asked her aunt as her uncle walked into the kitchen. ‘How was she?'

‘She seemed a bit better,' Josephine said. ‘She'll be glad when the day comes. It can't be long now.'

Indeed it was not. The very next week Betty had her baby, a son. Maureen's son was three months old now, and getting bigger by the minute.

‘They'll grow up together,' Josephine said happily. She could never have too many grandchildren to knit for and to love.

In July Graham had his twenty-first birthday. Knowing it was coming, Breda had thought he might go home for a weekend to celebrate it with his family.

‘I'm not going to do that,' Graham said. ‘And my father agrees with me. He doesn't want me to break into my training.'

‘Not even for a weekend?' What a stern father he must be, Breda thought.

‘He thinks it would be better if we wait until I've finished here and then we can celebrate it in more style than we could in a hurried weekend.'

Breda felt a chill when Graham spoke of the end of his training, not that he had to mention it to remind her. She was aware all the time now that it was nearing the end, only two more months to go. She tried to banish it from her thoughts. She had none of Graham's certainty that things would turn out right for them. There were too many difficulties in the way.

‘And what would you rather do?' she asked Graham.

‘If my birthday signifies anything,' he said, ‘I want to spend it with you. What else do you think? I wouldn't go home for it unless I could take you. As to what we might do – well, you can choose. I've been saving up, so we could do something special.'

Breda had no hesitation. ‘If the money will run to it, I'd like us to go to the same restaurant we went to when you gave me my gold chain.'

‘Then that's exactly what we'll do. And the theatre afterwards if there's something worth seeing.'

In the restaurant they talked about the future – their future, not the world's, which seemed to be in turmoil everywhere, just their own.

‘We shall soon have waited a year,' Graham said. ‘I'm not prepared to go beyond that. It's been necessary to do it, but the moment the time comes I want to be free of this hole-in-the-corner business.'

‘Me too,' Breda said.

‘Oh Breda, I want you to be all mine. It isn't easy going on like this. Every time I see you I want to make love to you. You understand that, don't you?'

He stretched his hand across the table and took hers, looking at her intently. She had no idea, he thought, how desirable she was, how powerful her sexuality, what she did to him. She was less conscious of her attractions than anyone he had ever met.

‘Indeed I understand,' she said. ‘Sure, 'tis not easy for me, either. Don't I have the same feelings and longings? Don't you believe 'tis different for women. That's not true.'

‘Well then . . . ?'

Breda shook her head. ‘Not before we're married, my darling. Oh, 'tis not that I'd ever try to hold you to ransom or blackmail you into marriage. 'Tis just that . . . ' She broke off.

‘It's the way you've been brought up.'

‘Perhaps. Or just the way I am. I'm sorry.'

‘No need to be sorry,' Graham said. ‘I love you for the way you are, so I'm not complaining. But we'll be married the first possible minute.'

‘And proud I'll be,' Breda said.

Two weeks later Miss Opal sent for Graham.

The summons did not surprise him. He had not seen her to speak to for several weeks now, except at a distance in her perambulations around the store, but he was sure her hand was behind his moves from department to department, and now, finally, into the office with its Accounts and Personnel sections.

There had been no more invitations to tea, though he had neither expected nor wanted them. It was better, and especially since he had now made friends in the store and seemed to have overcome the earlier suspicions of him as a member of the boss class, to keep his distance from her. Since she was a wise woman she had no doubt worked this out for herself.

But some day soon, he had realized, she would want to talk to him about his future, about where he stood, and what report she would give to his father. He had no doubt that this request to be in her office at ten o'clock tomorrow morning was it.

Breda was nervous about the interview.

‘You don't need to be,' Graham said. ‘Isn't everything a step nearer to what
we
want, you and me? Anyway, I've made up my mind about one thing.'

‘What's that?'

‘I'm going to tell her about you and me – though only if you agree. But please say you do. It's the first step and I want to take it.'

‘Oh Graham!' Breda said. ‘I don't know! Supposing she sacks me on the spot? You said she wouldn't keep us both in the store if we were engaged, and it wouldn't be
you
she'd ask to leave.'

‘Nor you,' Graham said. ‘I shall give her the news in confidence. I'm not telling the world, much as I'd like to. I'm sure she'll not break that confidence. Anyway, if she did ask you to go, I'd simply walk out with you. I don't know where, but we'd find something. I just want her to know how the land lies before she starts talking to my father. And who knows, she might be on our side?'

So now Miss Opal sat behind the desk in her tower office, a room perched on the top of the Victorian building as if it were an afterthought, and Graham sat opposite her.

‘I expect you know why I've asked you to come,' she said. ‘I thought it was now time we had some sort of assessment of how you've done; what
you
thought of it and what
I
thought of it, where we go from here. So tell me, how have the last eleven months seemed to you?'

‘I've learned a lot,' he said. ‘I know I was as green as grass when I came here. All I'd ever done in Prince and Harper was to help behind the scenes a bit in the school holidays. Playing at it, really. Mostly getting in the way, I suspect.'

‘And having gone through most of the departments here,' Miss Opal said, ‘have you decided which bit of store life you like best?'

‘I have. I think I like the behind-the-scenes stuff. The organization, the financial side, the way things work.'

‘You like the broad view?'

‘I suppose that's it,' Graham said.

‘Well, so do I. But you have to combine that with keeping an eye on the detail. Detail is what the customers notice, and without them you'd be closed down in no time at all.'