Playing With Fire Page 25

  ‘Well, all I can say is, he must be very stupid not to have guessed.’

  ‘Perhaps Susan is deliberately keeping him in the dark?’

  Rachel’s brows rose. ‘Why would she, if he was free and willing to give the child his name? If he’s married he definitely won’t want to know.’

  ‘Hush, she’s coming back!’ Alison hissed.

  Susan was aware, by the sudden silence and embarrassed glances in her direction when she entered the room, that she had been the topic of conversation. Serenely she crossed the floor and gently laid the sleeping child in his cradle, then turned to face them all. ‘That coffee smells delicious. May I have a cup, please Mam?’ Thus setting them all at ease.

  Alison helped herself from the trolley and settled next to Graham on the settee. ‘Just think, Graham, if you hadn’t been in that accident, we would be sitting here planning our wedding for next month.’

  ‘Oh, if only you were. It would be great to be up to one’s neck in wedding plans,’ Rachel cried. ‘Have you thought of another date yet?’

  ‘No!’ Graham said abruptly. ‘It won’t be this year, I fear. Not the state my legs are in.’

  The look that Alison turned on him was full of amazement. ‘But we talked about a Christmas wedding,’ she cried. ‘Your mam has her heart set on it.’

  ‘I know! But to be truthful, I’d like to walk down the aisle completely cured. Not shuffling along on a stick. Surely you can’t blame me for that? There’s no big hurry, is there, Alison?’

  Alison’s shrug was dismissive. ‘So long as you can convince your mother how you feel, it will be all right with me. But please get her off my back, Graham. She thinks I’m the one holding back.’ With a disgruntled look on her face she pushed herself free of the settee and, with a muttered excuse, left the room.

  Graham gazed after her in bewilderment and made futile efforts to rise.

  ‘Don’t you be getting up, Graham. I’ll make sure she’s all right.’ Susan found her sister sitting at the kitchen table, head buried in her hands.

  ‘Alison, don’t think I’m interfering, but do you not think it better to wait until the spring to get married?’

  Pushing her hair back from her face with a tired gesture, Alison cried, ‘To be truthful, I’ve reached the stage where I don’t care if we never get married. Since his accident Graham is getting on like a zombie. He never shows any affection. As for his mother! She’s changed her tune. Before the accident I got the idea I wasn’t good enough for her precious son. Now she can’t get us married quickly enough.’ She fell silent for some moments, then cried in a rush, ‘Sometimes I wonder if Graham will ever be really well. Maybe he will be lame all his life. What if she knows something I don’t?’

  ‘I doubt that, Graham wouldn’t deceive you.’

  ‘But what if he doesn’t know? Or, what if he does know and that’s why he’s postponing the wedding?’

  ‘Nonsense! The doctors wouldn’t keep him in the dark about anything that serious. As he said, he wants to be really fit before he gets married.’

  Alison looked unconvinced. ‘I don’t know about that.’

  Pulling a chair away from the table, Susan sat down beside her sister and gazed earnestly at her. ‘Listen, Alison. If you’re unsure of your feelings, if you feel you don’t love Graham enough, take my advice and agree to a separation for a time.’

  ‘Love? What’s love? I’m very, very fond of Graham. I know we can make a go of it. So if we’re going to marry, the sooner the better.’

  Susan slumped in her chair, woebegone. She had thought that if her sister and Graham had a trial separation, Graham would have no excuse to frequent their home. But by the sound of it, he would soon be part of the family. He was no match for Alison and his mother.

  It was a beautiful day, the middle of June and the sun shone brightly, throwing down a heavy heat. Cherry trees were in full bloom along the avenue where Susan was walking with her pram. She had been to the park and William lay spreadeagled, a parasol protecting his little arms and legs from the direct rays of the sun. Turning into the driveway she pushed the pram around the house to the back garden and parked it in the shade of the oak tree. Covering it with a protective net, she entered the house in search of a cool drink.

  Her mother met her in the hall. ‘Someone rang a short time ago. He said he would call back later.’

  ‘Did he give a name?’

  ‘Of course. How silly of me. He said to tell you that Jim Brady had called and would ring back later.’

  Rachel watched as delight lit up her daughter’s face with a rosy hue. ‘Do you know him, then?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know him.’

  ‘Is he . . .’ Her voice trailed off.

  Anticipating the question, Susan shook her head. ‘No, he is not William’s father.’

  ‘Is he important to you?’

  ‘He’s just a friend, Mam, but I do like him a lot.’

  Worry puckered Rachel’s face. ‘You will be careful, won’t you?’

  Susan laughed. ‘Mam, it’s only a phone call, so it is. And he probably just wants to ask after my and William’s welfare.’

  ‘Just be careful, love. Won’t you?’

  Annoyed at her mother’s persistence, Susan answered curtly. ‘Don’t be silly, Mam. I’m not likely to make the same mistake again. What time did he phone?’

  Rachel glanced at her watch. ‘About an hour ago.’

  Just then the phone rang and Susan hurried through the kitchen and into the hall to answer it.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that you, Susan?’

  ‘Yes. Who’s speaking, please?’ As if she didn’t know. But she intended playing it cool.

  ‘Jim . . . Jim Brady. How are you?’

  ‘Oh, hello, Jim. It’s nice to hear from you. I’m fine. What about you?’

  ‘I’m all right. I’ve been thinking a lot about you.’ There was a pregnant pause as he waited for her to return the compliment. For the life of her she couldn’t. What with caring for William and fighting off Graham, he hadn’t been on her mind all that often, lately. ‘Are you still there, Susan?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I’m still here, Jim.’

  ‘Can we meet?’

  ‘I’d like that, Jim. I’ll have to arrange for a babysitter, of course. When suits you?’

  ‘Let’s make it Saturday night, shall we? There’s a big band playing at the Orpheus and I thought we could go there. Is that all right with you?’

  ‘Yes, sounds great. I’d like that. I’m sure my mam will look after William.’

  ‘Smashing! I’ll pick you up at half-past seven. Goodbye till then.’

  ‘Pick me up?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got a car now, a Hillman Minx. Nothing great, but it gets me from A to B. See you on Saturday then.’

  ‘Right! Goodbye, Jim.’

  Fearing the sensual feelings that his voice had aroused would be evident on her face, Susan hurried upstairs. She didn’t want her mother to see and worry about her. In the bathroom she gazed at her reflection in the mirror and was surprised to find that, except for a brightness in her eyes, she looked no different. With a rueful smile she retraced her steps and went to join her mother.

  ‘Well, was that your friend?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘Yes. Mam?’ A raised brow invited Susan to continue. ‘Jim has asked me to go out with him on Saturday night. Is there any chance of you babysitting? I promise not to be home late.’

  ‘You know I’ll be only too glad to look after William any time, Susan.’

  ‘Thanks, Mam. Oh, I think I hear him. He’ll be hungry. I’d better go out before he starts yelling the place down.’

  Susan’s milk was drying up and the nurse at the clinic had advised her to wean him on to the bottle, before it disappeared completely. Placing her crochet work to one side, Rachel rose to her feet. ‘I’ll make him a bottle. I’m glad he’ll not be depending on you for a feed when you return to work. It will make it easier all round.’

&nb
sp; Susan met Ruth as usual the next day, a Wednesday. Ruth was waiting at the bus stop to help her off with the pram.

  ‘You’re looking very smug today,’ Susan greeted her friend as she adjusted the pram and, reaching for her son, settled him in it.

  ‘Oh, he’s lovely, and awake for a change. That’s the first time I’ve actually seen his eyes.’

  ‘Stop changing the subject. What’s that look in aid of?’

  A hand was thrust towards her displaying an engagement ring.

  Susan gasped, delighted for her friend. ‘Oh! It’s beautiful! No wonder you look so smug. Congratulations. I take it Dougie bought it?’ Her eyes twinkled teasingly.

  ‘Of course! Who else would have me?’

  ‘Oh, now, there are plenty who’d have you, and you know it. When’s the big day then?’

  ‘We haven’t decided yet. Probably sometime next year.’

  ‘That’s an event to look forward to. Would you like to take a walk around the shops today, Ruth? I’ve decided to treat myself to a new dress.’

  ‘Oh . . . for any special occasion?’

  ‘Not exactly. However, I am going to the Orpheus with Jim Brady on Saturday night, and if I get something nice I’ll wear it then,’ Susan informed her casually.

  Ruth’s smile widened. ‘You’re joking me, aren’t you?’

  Susan suppressed a laugh at her friend’s expression. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

  ‘That’s wonderful news, so it is.’

  ‘Don’t read anything into it. It’s only a date, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘Huh! He must still be keen all the same, or he wouldn’t have bothered. What with the baby and all.’

  Susan had been thinking along similar lines herself, but she wasn’t going to let Ruth know her thoughts. ‘Time will tell,’ she said.

  ‘I noticed when I passed on the bus earlier on, there’s a sale on in the London Mantle Warehouse. Let’s walk up there and see what they have to offer.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  They walked along Donegall Place and up Castle Street to the long, narrow shop with the grand name, which stood on the corner of Chapel Lane. Susan examined the window displays and was not impressed. ‘That was a wasted effort. There’s nothing there to lure me inside,’ she decided.

  ‘I know what you mean. It’s all a bit old-fashioned-looking, isn’t it? You want something special to make Jim sit up and take notice.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go as far as to say that. No, it’s not just for Jim’s benefit. Anything I buy I’ll have to really like. It will have to last a long time. I can’t afford to be extravagant any more. I’ve William to think of now.’

  They headed back down towards the centre of town, stopping to look in shop windows along the way.

  In Fountain Lane Ruth stopped in front of a small boutique. A solitary dress was displayed in the window, with no sign of a price tag. ‘Isn’t that classy, Susan?’

  ‘It certainly is. Let’s move on.’

  ‘They’ve got a sale on.’

  ‘Believe me, sale or no sale, it will still be too expensive for my budget.’

  ‘It would suit you down to the ground, so it would.’

  ‘That’s neither here nor there. I simply couldn’t afford it.’

  ‘How do you know? It costs nothing to look.’

  Susan looked intently at the dress. Draped against a black velvet background, its deep ruby colour seemed to glow; the design was simplicity itself, the material soft and clinging. With breast-feeding William and exercising to strengthen her muscles, she had regained most of her figure and could picture herself in this creation. Oh to be rich and not have to count the cost. Once she was back at work things would be different, but for now she must be careful with her money. There was always the chance Graham would make it impossible for her to stay in Belfast and she would need her savings to settle in Darlington. With a sad shake of the head she walked determinedly on. Reluctantly Ruth followed her.

  They had afternoon tea in a café where there was room for the pram, the Ulster Milk Bar being too narrow and confined. Ruth was very quiet and Susan was worried about her. Lifting her friend’s left hand, she examined the ring. ‘Why so quiet, Ruth? Are you worried about getting married?’

  ‘Don’t be daft! Dougie is the best thing that ever happened to me. It’s you I’m worried about. I want you to knock Jim Brady sideways on Saturday night. I want him to propose to you again.’

  ‘And do you really think a dress will make all that much difference?’

  ‘Not to Jim, but it will make you feel a lot more confident. ’

  Inwardly Susan agreed. Ruth saw her wavering and urged, ‘Just try it on. If it looks awful then nothing’s lost.’

  ‘What if it looks good, what then, eh?’

  ‘Just to please me, at least try it on.’

  ‘Oh, come on then. But mind you, nothing will induce me to buy it if it’s too expensive, okay?’

  They retraced their steps to Fountain Lane and, with trepidation, entered the small shop. A tall, very thin woman hurried towards them frowning disdainfully at the pram. ‘I’m very sorry, but prams are not allowed on these premises.’

  Looking politely around her, Ruth asked in her best posh voice, ‘And where does it say so?’

  The woman’s nostrils flared and she stretched taller still at the audacity of this young woman. ‘It doesn’t, but surely it’s obvious that such a small establishment cannot cater for prams?’

  Susan began to edge out backwards, but with a hand on the pram Ruth stopped her. ‘As you can see, the child is sleeping. We shall not take up too much of your precious time.’ With these words she headed towards the rear of the shop to a rail with a sale sign on it.

  Flashing an apologetic look at the woman, Susan left the pram inside the doorway and followed Ruth. Only two dresses on the rail were her size. One she disliked immediately and quickly replaced. A glance at the price tag on the other one caused her to gasp aloud and make to hang it up again.

  ‘Try it on,’ Ruth whispered furiously. ‘I won’t please her,’ with a nod in the assistant’s direction, ‘to let her know we can’t afford her creations.’

  ‘But I can’t afford it! Besides, I don’t even like it.’

  ‘How do you know? It might look lovely on.’

  ‘No!’ Susan was adamant. ‘I don’t like the colour. It’s just not me.’

  ‘Oh, Susan!’ In despair, Ruth approached the woman and peered at the name tag attached to her jacket. ‘Ah, Lynette, what size is the dress in the window?’

  ‘Twelve.’

  ‘Is it in the sale?’

  An abrupt nod confirmed it was indeed in the sale.

  ‘Can my friend try it on, please?’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not allowed to interfere with the window display.’ Lynette was looking down her nose from her superior height, causing Ruth’s temper to rise.

  ‘That’s all right, I’ll remove it for you.’ She had the access door to the window display open before a horrified Lynette could intervene.

  ‘Here, you can’t do that.’ Lynette grabbed her arm. ‘Only Mrs Donovan can do that.’

  ‘And who, may I ask, is Mrs Donovan?’

  ‘The proprietor.’

  ‘And where is she?’

  ‘She’s off work for a few days.’

  ‘And are you not in charge while she’s away?’

  ‘I am, yes, but . . .’

  Ruth interrupted her. ‘If you’re in charge, you can take that dress out of the window and let my friend try it on.’

  Lynette’s more-superior-than-thou attitude was quickly evaporating and she was practically wringing her hands with indecision. ‘I’m afraid . . .’

  ‘Well, don’t be,’ Ruth interrupted. ‘If it doesn’t suit I will help you to drape it round the stand again. And if it does suit my friend,’ tongue-in-cheek she said, ‘you will have made a cash sale and Mrs Donovan should surely be pleased.’

  With more than a li
ttle reluctance, the dress was carefully taken from the window. Lynette took great pains to remove all the pins that kept it tucked into shape. Reverently she placed the dress over Ruth’s outstretched arm. ‘Please be careful with it.’

  ‘We have tried on dresses before, if I may boldly inform one,’ Ruth assured her in her continuing posh accent. ‘And without any accidents, if I may add.’ She motioned Susan into the small cubicle and, following her, drew the curtain across.

  Quickly removing her blouse and skirt, Susan pulled the dress over her head and, smoothing it down over her hips, surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She was amazed at the transformation before her eyes. The dress was cut low at the front and even lower at the back. Her shoulders rose above it in creamy splendour. The deep ruby red of the dress darkened the grey of her eyes and her skin seemed to glow. Only the offending straps of her bra spoiled the effect.

  Ruth gazed at her in awe. ‘Take your bra off!’ Susan tucked the straps out of sight and Ruth whispered, ‘You look absolutely gorgeous. I told you it was you! You just have to buy it, Susan.’

  ‘I’m afraid to look at the price,’ Susan wailed. ‘It’s bound to be too expensive.’

  The tag was hanging on the back of the dress and, with trembling fingers, Ruth turned it over.

  ‘Well . . . it’s not as dear as the other one,’ she said. ‘And it does look lovely on you.’

  ‘Just give me the bottom line, Ruth, and get it over with,’ Susan ordered, only to gasp in dismay when her friend told her.

  Feverishly she started to remove the dress. ‘Hold on a minute, Susan. At least let me get another look at you before you take it off. You’ll never look so lovely again.’

  Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Susan agreed with her. Twisting her hair into a knot on top of her head, she pouted and sighed at her image. ‘I really do suit it, don’t I?’

  ‘You look absolutely gorgeous in it. Can you not possibly afford it?’

  ‘It would take up a big chunk of my savings. I can’t justify buying it. It would be a sin to waste all that money.’

  ‘It’s a pity, though. Jim Brady wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you in that outfit.’

  ‘Can I be of any assistance to you ladies?’ Lynette’s voice reached them.