all our lives.’ Jess wasn’t sure if she imagined a stiff tone in Polly’s voice. ‘Thinks the world of ’im, Mom does. ’E’s like another son to ’er.’
‘I can see why.’
Polly sat up. ‘I know yer can – it was written all over yer. Yer could’ve lit a fire off your face this afternoon. But ’e’s spoken for. Ned and Mary’ve known each other for years and now they’re wed, so it’s no good you coming ’ere getting any ideas in yer ’ead. ’E ain’t free, so it’s too late for you or anyone else!’
Eight
Ned stepped out of Albion Street fire station the next Sunday afternoon after work. The afternoon was warm and he took off the black uniform jacket and slung it over his shoulder as he automatically set off towards home. After a few yards he stopped and turned back towards town. Mary would be asleep, or round at her mom’s so he might just as well go back over to Allison Street again for a bit. There was a warm welcome there all right.
‘Making up for lost time, are yer?’ Olive said seeing him turn up again. ‘Talk about a bad flaming penny!’
‘Thought I would. Mary’s bad, at the moment.’
‘Well yer’ve missed Bert, and Polly’s out with Ernie . . .’
‘I came to see you , auntie!’ Ned said, throwing his jacket over a chair, eyes searching the room. I didn’t come to see Polly, he thought, nor Bert, nor even Olive if he was honest with himself. She was here, the cousin, the pretty one, prettier even than he remembered. He was intrigued by her, by that smile that seemed to pass right into him. He nodded at her.
‘Hello,’ Jess said. She had a pink dress on with short sleeves and her arms were tanned, the hairs on them glowing gold. The dress showed off her curves. She’s perfect, he thought. He’d never seen anyone like her before, never knew there could be anyone like her.
‘Oh Ned,’ Sis was saying. ‘Daint yer bring Bonney with yer this time?’
He dragged his attention to her. ‘Not today. I’ll bring ’er again sometime if yer want.’
‘’Ere—rsquo; Olive put a cup of tea on the table. ‘Get this down yer.’
He sat and drank his cuppa with them, listening to Sis’s chatter, answering Olive’s questions about the family. He could only hope he was saying the right things because his mind could only fasten on her, on Jess sitting opposite, close enough to touch, her strong fingers on the handle of her cup, drawing him with her eyes. There was a twist of excitement in his belly like none he’d ever had before, a married man who shouldn’t be having thoughts like undoing the buttons down the back of the pink dress, seeing it fall softly from her with her naked under it . . .
‘You awright, Ned?’ Olive asked him as he sat moving his cup round on the table.
He looked up and smiled. ‘Course – sorry. Miles away I was there, for a second.’
‘Got a lot on yer mind, I should think, with the babby coming and that. Never mind – soon he’ll be ’ere and you’ll get used to it all.’
Reality chilled him like a bucket of ice water. I don’t want to get used to it. I want another life. I want to start again.
He didn’t stay long. Said he’d better be getting back, and stood up to slip the jacket back on. He looked broader, taller in his uniform than in the old clothes he’d been wearing before. As he left he spoke to all of them politely.
‘Cheerio, Sis . . . Jess.’
‘T’ra, Ned,’ she said. Her soft voice vibrated through him. He looked away from her quickly.
His visit filled Jess with longing. However much she told herself she was being ridiculous, each brief look or exchange of words she had had with him seemed charged with significance. She relived his visit over and over that week, lying on the prickly mattress after Polly and Sis were asleep, or standing with her hands in tepid water, washing tea and coffee dregs out of thick glasses at the back of Mather’s. She kept seeing his eyes turned to her, interested, in some
‘I can see why.’
Polly sat up. ‘I know yer can – it was written all over yer. Yer could’ve lit a fire off your face this afternoon. But ’e’s spoken for. Ned and Mary’ve known each other for years and now they’re wed, so it’s no good you coming ’ere getting any ideas in yer ’ead. ’E ain’t free, so it’s too late for you or anyone else!’
Eight
Ned stepped out of Albion Street fire station the next Sunday afternoon after work. The afternoon was warm and he took off the black uniform jacket and slung it over his shoulder as he automatically set off towards home. After a few yards he stopped and turned back towards town. Mary would be asleep, or round at her mom’s so he might just as well go back over to Allison Street again for a bit. There was a warm welcome there all right.
‘Making up for lost time, are yer?’ Olive said seeing him turn up again. ‘Talk about a bad flaming penny!’
‘Thought I would. Mary’s bad, at the moment.’
‘Well yer’ve missed Bert, and Polly’s out with Ernie . . .’
‘I came to see you , auntie!’ Ned said, throwing his jacket over a chair, eyes searching the room. I didn’t come to see Polly, he thought, nor Bert, nor even Olive if he was honest with himself. She was here, the cousin, the pretty one, prettier even than he remembered. He was intrigued by her, by that smile that seemed to pass right into him. He nodded at her.
‘Hello,’ Jess said. She had a pink dress on with short sleeves and her arms were tanned, the hairs on them glowing gold. The dress showed off her curves. She’s perfect, he thought. He’d never seen anyone like her before, never knew there could be anyone like her.
‘Oh Ned,’ Sis was saying. ‘Daint yer bring Bonney with yer this time?’
He dragged his attention to her. ‘Not today. I’ll bring ’er again sometime if yer want.’
‘’Ere—rsquo; Olive put a cup of tea on the table. ‘Get this down yer.’
He sat and drank his cuppa with them, listening to Sis’s chatter, answering Olive’s questions about the family. He could only hope he was saying the right things because his mind could only fasten on her, on Jess sitting opposite, close enough to touch, her strong fingers on the handle of her cup, drawing him with her eyes. There was a twist of excitement in his belly like none he’d ever had before, a married man who shouldn’t be having thoughts like undoing the buttons down the back of the pink dress, seeing it fall softly from her with her naked under it . . .
‘You awright, Ned?’ Olive asked him as he sat moving his cup round on the table.
He looked up and smiled. ‘Course – sorry. Miles away I was there, for a second.’
‘Got a lot on yer mind, I should think, with the babby coming and that. Never mind – soon he’ll be ’ere and you’ll get used to it all.’
Reality chilled him like a bucket of ice water. I don’t want to get used to it. I want another life. I want to start again.
He didn’t stay long. Said he’d better be getting back, and stood up to slip the jacket back on. He looked broader, taller in his uniform than in the old clothes he’d been wearing before. As he left he spoke to all of them politely.
‘Cheerio, Sis . . . Jess.’
‘T’ra, Ned,’ she said. Her soft voice vibrated through him. He looked away from her quickly.
His visit filled Jess with longing. However much she told herself she was being ridiculous, each brief look or exchange of words she had had with him seemed charged with significance. She relived his visit over and over that week, lying on the prickly mattress after Polly and Sis were asleep, or standing with her hands in tepid water, washing tea and coffee dregs out of thick glasses at the back of Mather’s. She kept seeing his eyes turned to her, interested, in some
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