quicker that a hare round a race track – as their Danny would say.
If she had known Frank was coming home on leave she would have … what? What would she have done? Washed her hair? Left her turban off? What would be the point? Kitty knew that he was joking when he said she was pretty. She had never seen him look at girls like her. She was not one for wearing lippy and rouge. Living in a house of men, she had never given a thought to such things. Therefore, what hope was there of Frank Feeny seeing her as anything other than another sister? Relieved to be back outdoors and away from Frank’s unsettling presence, she smiled: fancy having all these daft notions. It was amazing what an imminent wedding could do to your head.
Outside in the sunshine she breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. Oh, he was a joker, that Frank Feeny, she thought dreamily. The girl who got him would be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world.
Now Dolly called from the doorway as Kitty was just about to cross the road. ‘Kitty! Hang on a minute!’
She stopped and turned round.
‘Here, you put this in your purse. You’ve earned it.’ Kitty opened her mouth to protest when Aunty Dolly raised her chin, a sign that she would not take ‘no’ for an answer and the matter was closed. When Dolly had hurried back into the house, Kitty looked down at the roll of pound notes and gasped in surprise. There was enough for Tommy’s clothes and his shoes.
‘Oh, thank God for you, Aunty Doll,’ Kitty whispered as her throat tightened, bringing a tearful sigh of relief. The extra money would allow her to get a little present for Tommy’s birthday too. He would soon be nine years old.
‘How are you feeling, Tom?’ As soon as she was back, Kitty took her young brother another drink and this time she also brought some Ashton & Parsons Infants’ Powders. Dolly had said it would work wonders and even if it did not, at least Tommy would feel as if something was being done. Sometimes mind over matter was the best cure, she’d added.
‘I’m feeling much better now,’ Tommy said, eyeing the powder on the end of the teaspoon.
‘Well, just in case you still feel a bit under the weather, have this.’
Tommy did not look keen. ‘I know you wouldn’t poison me deliberately, Kit,’ he said, wrinkling his nose and taking the powder.
‘You’ll be as right as rain,’ Kitty smiled, ‘and tomorrow we are going out to buy you some new clothes for the wedding.’
Tommy’s eyes were wide in amazement. ‘Truly, Kit?’ Tommy had never had new clothes before; they were usually second- or even third-hand from Cazneau Street market. Kitty, smiling, nodded.
‘I’m feeling better already.’
‘Right, well, it’s about time I shut that front door. It’s been open all day and the pub’s cat keeps wandering in.’ As Kitty made to close the door, she saw Nancy’s best friend and chief bridesmaid-to-be, Gloria, arm in arm with a dashing Royal Air Force officer in immaculate uniform. They made a lovely couple.
‘Going somewhere nice?’ Kitty asked, friendly as ever.
Gloria’s crimson lips parted to reveal perfect teeth. ‘We’re going to the Adelphi and then on to a jazz club.’
‘That sounds lovely,’ Kitty said, wondering what it must feel like to be dressed in beautiful clothes and taken somewhere as posh as the Adelphi Hotel. Still, she would not dwell on the matter. What she never had she couldn’t miss. Although, somehow … she did.
Gloria watched over the rim of her champagne glass as Giles, her debonair escort, beckoned over the maître d’hôtel in the swish lounge of the fashionable Adelphi.
Giles whispered something into his ear and the waiter nodded and accepted the folded note Giles slipped into his hand. Gloria did not catch what he was saying above the sound of the band playing.
‘Certainly, sir,’ the waiter answered. ‘I can arrange that for you.’
‘And while you’re at it,’ said Giles, ‘another bottle of your finest champagne.’
‘Of course, sir,’ the waiter said with the reverence reserved for an officer in uniform who had plenty of cash to throw around.
‘Happy, darling?’ Giles smiled. He reached across the candle-lit table for Gloria’s hand, his lips delicately caressing the perfectly manicured nails that matched her pouting ruby-coloured lips, which were just begging to be kissed.
‘Couldn’t be happier,’ Gloria answered, her elbow resting elegantly on the arm of the velvet-covered chair, aware the position showed her slim neck and décolletage to the best advantage.
‘Shall we dance?’ Giles asked, eager to hold her close and feel the smooth voluptuous contours of her body against his own.
‘Let’s dance after I’ve taken my spot.’ Gloria stood up, and with the fluid grace of a sensual stretching cat she sashayed across the dance floor towards the band, aware of all eyes upon her as her exquisite silver gown shimmered in the half-light. She took in the fashionable clientele with a single sweep of her lengthened lashes and a ripple of pleasure coursed through her. What woman would not want such attention? She walked with the confidence of one who knew all male eyes would be fully appreciative, regardless of the attractions of their female companions. Leaning over the rail, she whispered to the bandleader, who smiled before announcing loudly, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce Miss Gloria Arden.’
Gloria let the applause die down completely before she opened her glossy lips to sing.
War was turning from a possibility to an inevitability, and many uniforms graced the swish tables. After her first song, Gloria was encouraged to sing again and again, enjoying the attention and laughing aloud at each order to ‘Sing another one!’
Eventually she held up her hand to let the audience know this was going to be her last song. Giles, although smiling and clapping enthusiastically, looked a little lonely out there all on his own. Gloria finished her set with a rousing rendition of ‘There’ll Always Be an England’, which had the audience on their feet, waving and singing along.
The applause was deafening, and Gloria felt ten feet tall as she walked back to Giles with shouts of ‘Encore!’ ringing in her ears. It was then that she saw, among a group of people sitting at a table just off the dance floor, Sid Kerrigan. His arm was draped around a woman who looked as if she had more money than dress sense, given the tight-fitting frock she was wearing, and he certainly didn’t look like a man who was ready to marry Gloria’s best friend in two days’ time.
Rita stood back and looked at the table, resplendent with a new white tablecloth and five cotton napkins, each folded into a bishop’s mitre.
She had worked hard getting the food ready for her and Charlie’s anniversary. She had cooked Charlie’s favourite, steak and kidney pudding, which always put him in a good mood. The suet pastry cases filled with meat in rich gravy had been steaming all afternoon. Rita had had to leave the shop frequently to check the pan had not boiled dry. Much to her mother-in-law’s annoyance, in the end she’d asked if she could take the rest of the afternoon off.
