to impress Wendy with.
‘James? James who?’
‘James Kershaw. Bob’s Susan’s brother,’ Lillian explained.
‘What’s he doing here with a car?’
Gran’s heavy footsteps thudded across the room. She leaned over Lillian’s shoulder. As she did so, James got out of the car and looked up the road. Craning her neck, Lillian saw her sister walking towards him. Her heart thudded so hard in her chest that she could hardly breathe. James was leaning against the car as if he owned it. Wendy came to a stop beside him, looking it over. Lillian strained to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible with Gran keeping up a running commentary right by her ear.
‘What’s going on out there? What’s he up to? I’ll give her a piece of my mind, standing there as bold as brass in the street like that talking to a young man…’
Gran rapped on the window with her knuckles. James and Wendy both looked up, then Wendy walked down the street to the alleyway, leaving James staring after her. Something about the slump of his shoulders gave Lillian hope.
‘Go and tell her to come in here,’ Gran demanded.
Lillian went to meet her sister at the back door.
‘Gran wants to see you. She wants to know what you were doing out there with James,’ she gabbled.
Wendy cast her eyes to heaven. ‘She needn’t worry. I wouldn’t be seen dead out with a kid like that, even if he has got hold of a car.’ Muttering with irritation, she went off to obey the summons.
Lillian spun round and round, hugging herself with joy. James was safe! James was still hers! Everything was well with the world.
Or at least it was for a day or so. James did not appear at the house again. More days dragged by, long, achingly dull days with no James in them.
‘What exactly did you say to him?’ Lillian demanded of her sister.
Wendy examined her perfect nails. ‘Oh, I told him to sling his hook.’
Two weeks went by, then three. The summer visitors were flooding into the town now, and Lillian was kept busy helping her mother prepare bedrooms. But nothing could keep her heart from yearning to see James again. June turned into July. Susan announced that her brother’s call-up papers had arrived. Lillian could bear it no longer.
‘He is going to stop by and say goodbye to us, isn’t he?’
‘Oh, I expect so,’ Susan said.
‘Will you ask him to?’ Lillian insisted.
‘Stop nagging, Lill. Susan’s got better things to do than pass on messages for you,’ Bob told her.
Susan patted his arm. ‘It’s all right. I don’t mind. I think James has got a bit of a soft spot for your little sister.’
Lillian could have kissed her.
For the next three days she lived in a state of nervous excitement. And then, when she had almost given up hope, there he was at the back door.
‘James!’ she squealed, leaping up and running to meet him. ‘I thought you weren’t coming.’
She just about stopped herself from throwing her arms round him.
‘Oh, well—you know—couldn’t go without saying goodbye,’ he said.
As bad luck would have it, all the family were home and sitting in the kitchen having tea. Lillian could hardly get a word in as Bob and Frank vied to give James advice on how to survive his basic training. And then it was over, and he was shaking everyone’s hand. When he got to Lillian he tugged at her plait and gave her a quick wink.
‘Don’t let them get you down, eh?’ he whispered.
She nodded, too close to tears to speak. It might be weeks before she saw him again. The back door closed behind him, and he was gone.
Desperate to be alone, Lillian went down the yard to the shed where she kept her bike, the bike that he had helped to fix. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she cried out in amazement. There was a note propped up on the saddle. As she snatched it up, she realised that the saddle itself was different. The saggy old thing covered in a beret had been changed for a brand new one, red and black to match the paintwork. Lillian scanned the note, almost too excited to take in the contents.
Thanks for all the dance lessons. Good luck. J.
Lillian clasped it to her chest.
James had done this for her, had taken the trouble to think of what she really needed and quietly fitted it on without making a fuss in front of her family. Life was worth living after all.
Chapter Five
LILLIAN cycled along the seafront with the wind in her hair. The tide was in, the sun was sparkling on the water and the seagulls were soaring in the blue sky. It was a warm July Saturday and everyone had their summer clothes on, the women in cotton dresses and straw hats, the men in short sleeves and open-necked shirts. Everyone seemed to have a smile on their face. Everyone but Lillian, whose heart was broken.
The summer season was practically at its height. Not so many people came to Southend for a whole week any more, but the day trippers were out in force. After years of war and then of austerity, people were sick of rations and restrictions and making do and general dreariness. It was a new age, there was a new young queen on the throne, and they wanted to have fun again. Hundreds of families came down the Thames on steamers, landed at Southend pier and streamed down its mile and a quarter to spread out along the seafront. Others came by train from the City or the East End. The quieter people got out at Leigh or Chalkwell or Westcliff, looking for more genteel pleasures. The rowdy ones stayed on for Southend and headed for the Golden Mile. Clubs and workplaces booked coaches which trundled down the main roads, stopping off at pubs along the way, till they arrived at the huge coach park behind the Golden Mile, their passengers happily drunk and ready for a good knees-up.
As she approached her own street, Lillian slowed down. She had already cycled all the way along the seafront to Shoebury and back and she ought to turn in and go home. But at Sunny View there was Gran and a whole list of chores. She couldn’t face it. She hated her family and she hated doing chores. Past the top of her road she went, past the Kursaal with its fairground and its dance hall and its famous dome, along the Golden Mile and all the amusement arcades and finally under the pier and out the other side. Here she stopped at last and treated herself to an ice cream.
She leaned on the rail at the edge of the promenade and looked down at the go-karts roaring round the speedway. The whiff of petrol and exhaust fumes set off a wave of longing.
‘Oh, James,’ she said with a sigh.
She was missing him so much. He was a month into his basic training now, and it had seemed like the longest month of her life. Nothing was fun any more. Nobody cared. Even Janette was fed up with hearing her talk about him and refused to listen any more.
‘Why don’t you write to me?’ she said out loud.
She still hoped against all logic that he would, but always she was sorely disappointed. She had to rely on Susan, begging her for news of her brother every time she came round to their house. Bob was often cross with her, telling her not to bother his girlfriend, but Susan was surprisingly nice.
‘He says he’s surviving it OK,’ she told Lillian. ‘He’s not letting the NCOs get him down.’
Or, ‘He’s been square-bashing all week and he’s got blisters, but at least he knows his left from his right, which is more than some of them do.’
Or, ‘He’s enjoying the rifle practice; he says he’s quite good at it.’
Always he sent his regards to the Parker family. The family, not Lillian personally. It hurt every time.
There was still another two weeks until