Ellie Page 48

  Seen close up, it was hard to say who was the most beautiful. Bonny was fire and ice, Ellie more earthy; Bonny a doll, Ellie a woman.

  Whilst in the gents Basil laughingly likened it to choosing between soft and hard centres in chocolates, both equally desirable, but leaving a different taste in the mouth.

  Some time later, while Magnus danced with Bonny, holding her tightly in his arms, breathing in that heady scent of her hair and skin, he thought of her as a strawberry cream, so delicious he could hardly restrain himself biting into her.

  The girls had digs in Cowley, and though it made sense for Magnus to walk back to his hotel and leave Basil to escort the girls home in a taxi, then continue on to his school, for some reason Magnus found himself squashed in the back between the two girls.

  ‘Just meet me for lunch tomorrow,’ Bonny whispered, her tongue gliding around his ear, sending electric’ shocks to his brain. ‘Just to say goodbye. I’d like to talk to you when we’re both sober.’

  The one kiss he gave her was his undoing. He felt like he was seventeen again, flying off into space with a million shooting stars all around him.

  ‘Outside the Black Lion at half past twelve,’ she said as she got out of the taxi, then turned to kiss her finger and placed it on his lips. ‘Good-night, both of you. It’s been a wonderful night.’

  Basil was effusive in his praise of both girls as they drove back into town to drop Magnus at the hotel. ‘I’d give my right arm to see Ellie again,’ he said wistfully. ‘But she said she never goes out with married men.’

  ‘Married men’: the phrase had meant little to Magnus all evening, but as Basil used it, Magnus’s conscience was severely jolted. He could see Ruth’s sweet face before him, her brown eyes soft with reproach, and he vowed he wouldn’t meet Bonny for lunch.

  *

  ‘Weren’t they the biggest dishes we’ve ever seen?’ Bonny giggled as Ellie unlocked the front door at their digs. It was well after two-thirty and they were both quite drunk.

  Their story about celebrating their new job in Brighton was true. The manager at the Arcadia had recommended them to a friend of his who ran the summer shows on the pier and they were off to start rehearsing next week.

  They were both excited about it. To appear in Brighton was a big step up from towns like Oxford. But for Ellie, delight was tempered with sadness. In the six weeks they’d been in Oxford she’d been visiting Marleen regularly and she had seen a fast decline in her health which was very worrying.

  ‘Shh!’ Ellie warned her. Mrs Ray, their landlady, was a good sort but she could get very nasty if they woke her. ‘Married dishes,’ she whispered. ‘And Basil was too hearty and old for my taste.’

  Bonny’s behaviour had improved a little since they arrived in Oxford. At least she hadn’t actually stayed out all night. Ellie couldn’t be certain whether Bonny was really calming down, or whether it was because Ellie had been persuaded to join her on several double dates and acted as an unwitting ‘gooseberry’. Edward sarcastically claimed in his letters it was more likely she hadn’t found a man with enough money! He was working in Bristol, playing the piano at tea dances by day and working as a cocktail waiter by night. He sounded very demoralised. There was now a glut of men coming out of the forces and jobs went to them in preference to those like Edward who hadn’t seen active service.

  ‘Magnus is a dream.’ Bonny took a couple of steps towards the staircase in the dark and giggled as she stumbled.

  The light was suddenly switched on and both girls froze, looking up the stairs in alarm.

  ‘I thought you two were never coming home,’ Mrs Ray called from the upstairs landing.

  ‘Sorry,’ Ellie said quickly. ‘We didn’t mean to wake you.’

  Mrs Ray appeared at the top of the stairs. She was wearing a plaid brown dressing-gown, her hair in curlers. ‘I haven’t been to sleep,’ she said, coming down towards them. ‘I’ve been that worried.’

  The house was a thirties-style semi-detached, ordinary enough by Bonny’s standards, but Ellie considered it almost heaven to live in a bright, modern house with a real bathroom. Mrs Ray fussed over them in the motherly way Annie King had and Ellie felt guilty when they upset her.

  ‘I’m sorry we’re so late.’ Ellie tried hard to look sober, bracing herself for a telling off. Mrs Ray’s face looked sunken because she hadn’t got her teeth in and Ellie resisted the urge to giggle. ‘We were celebrating – we’ve got a new job in Brighton.’

  ‘The hospital telephoned,’ Mrs Ray blurted out, taking the last few stairs towards them in a rush. ‘It’s your auntie, Ellie. They want you to go there.’

  For a second or two Ellie could only stare at her landlady stupidly.

  ‘I’m afraid it sounds serious,’ Mrs Ray added.

  Ellie felt an icy numbness creeping all over her. ‘You mean?’ She couldn’t continue.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ Mrs Ray said gently, reaching out and putting a hand on Ellie’s arm. ‘They wouldn’t have called so late unless –’ She paused too, unable to say the word they both understood.

  Ellie was suddenly sober. She looked round at Bonny and back again to Mrs Ray. ‘I’ll have to get a taxi.’

  ‘You can’t get one now!’ Bonny said, her voice shrill in the silent hallway.

  ‘I’ll ask Mr Ray to take you.’ Mrs Ray turned back up the stairs. ‘He’s awake anyway and Bonny’s right, you can’t get a taxi at this time of night. Just go and make yourself some coffee, Ellie, he won’t be a moment.’

  Mr Ray was a miserable little man, but he always did what his wife said. He came downstairs pulling a jacket over his pyjamas. He still had the bottoms on – Ellie could see them dangling beneath his trousers as she gulped down the scalding Camp coffee.

  ‘You are so kind, Mr Ray,’ she said. ‘It’s about twenty-five miles to the hospital. It would be a fortune in a taxi, even if I could get one.’

  He merely grunted and said something about charging her for the petrol since it was still rationed, then bent down to put his shoes on.

  ‘I’ll ring you in the morning,’ Ellie said, turning to Bonny. ‘If I can’t get back by tomorrow night someone will have to stand in for me.’

  ‘I’ll see to that when you phone.’ Bonny hugged her once more, her face soft with concern. ‘I’ll be thinking about you.’

  ‘She’s been waiting for you,’ Nurse Symonds said simply as Ellie arrived at the ward, the real meaning of her words obvious. ‘She’s in a room on her own now, go on in.’

  It was so quiet in the hospital, eerie with just the dim, green night-lights glowing through glass doors. Nurse Symonds was a big, raw-faced woman whose wit and often sharp tongue had endeared her to Marleen.

  Ellie believed she’d prepared herself for the worst. But as she went into the small room and saw her aunt lying there under a small, dim light, she let out an involuntary cry of distress.

  Marleen had been growing thinner and weaker for some months, but now she was almost skeletal. No dark glasses to hide the scarred and empty eye sockets, folds of slack, grey skin revealing sharp cheekbones and her grey hair so thin she looked at least eighty. Her mouth had sunk in, lips cracked and bloodless.

  ‘About time too.’ Marleen turned her head slightly towards the sound of Ellie’s feet, her voice weak, but with all its usual acerbic sarcasm.

  ‘I came as soon as I heard you were poorly.’ Ellie was surprised that Marleen could be aware of time or sense who her visitor was when she looked so fragile. ‘I was out when they telephoned.’

  ‘Bin drinking gin, too.’ Marleen’s nostrils twitched as Ellie bent over to kiss her. ‘Wish you’d brought me some.’

  The remark was so typical of her aunt’s humour that for a moment Ellie thought the nurses and doctor were mistaken about her dying.

  ‘I would’ve done, if I’d known you were up to it,’ she said, taking hold of Marleen’s thin scraggy hand and pressing it in both of hers.

  An odd noise came from Marleen’s
chest as she tried to cough. ‘I ain’t got long now, Ellie,’ she wheezed, ‘so don’t interrupt. I just wanted to say ’ow proud I am of you. Don’t reckon I’ll end up in the same manor as Poll, but if I do I’ll tell ’er all about you.’ She paused, struggling for breath.

  Ellie took a teapot-like cup from the bedside locker and held it to Marleen’s cracked lips. ‘Don’t try to talk, Auntie,’ she urged. ‘Save your strength.’

  Marleen took one sip, but shook her head impatiently. ‘For what?’ she said, her voice quavering now, each breath a struggle. ‘I done it all, luv. I ain’t afraid to die.’

  ‘Please don’t talk like that!’ Tears ran down Ellie’s face.

  Marleen fell silent then, the only sound her laboured, wheezing breath. Ellie sat beside her, holding her hand.

  Five minutes passed, then ten.

  ‘I love you, Auntie,’ Ellie whispered, not knowing whether Marleen could still hear her, but it needed saying.

  The hand in hers moved, a weak attempt to prove she’d heard, and Ellie bent her head to kiss it.

  ‘I love you an’ all.’ Each word came out so slow and tortured Ellie could only stare in horror, clinging to that thin hand, knowing instinctively the moment of death was approaching.

  Marleen sunk into unconsciousness, her squeaking breath growing slowly fainter. The nurse came in and sat silently beside the bed.

  It had been dark when Ellie arrived, but slowly, grey then pink light pushed away the night, giving Marleen’s face a faint blush. A weak, almost imperceptible sound came from her, then utter silence.

  ‘She’s gone,’ the nurse said softly, taking the hand Ellie was holding and placing it gently with the other across Marleen’s chest. ‘Rest in peace, Marleen.’

  Ellie looked down at the wizened figure in the bed and let her mind slip back to recall her aunt as she wanted to remember her.

  A clear picture came to her, of a day at Southend when Ellie was seven. There was a talent competition on the promenade, and Marleen, urged on by Polly, took part. The number she chose was a saucy music hall song, ‘He’s Got Flirty Eyes’. Ellie could see Marleen so distinctly. Her hair was deep auburn then, a cascade of loose, shiny waves and she wore only an emerald green bathing suit. She could hear the riotous applause, the wolf whistles and calls for an encore ringing in her ears, and see Marleen’s broad grin when she won the first prize of two guineas. She insisted on spending every penny of that money on Polly and Ellie. They went on every ride in the fun fair and had candy floss, ice-creams and cockles and then supper before they went home on the train.

  But perhaps the most poignant memory of that wonderful day was Marleen’s words to Ellie as she kissed her goodbye late at night. ‘I ain’t so talented,’ she’d smiled. ‘But I’ve got nerve, Ellie, and that’s all it takes mostly. You just remember that!’

  Ellie kissed Marleen one last time, tears rolling down her cheeks. Marleen had kept her nerve, right up to the last moment. Ellie had a funny feeling that when Marleen arrived at the Pearly Gates she’d be demanding the best seat in the house.

  ‘She was such a character,’ Nurse Symonds said as she led Ellie out of the room, her arm round her. ‘We’re all going to miss her, Ellie. Now you come with me, I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.’

  It was when the nurse brought a bag of Marleen’s belongings to Ellie that she really broke down. It was such a pitifully small collection for a woman who had once needed dozens of boxes to shift her belongings from one flat to another and a reminder of how little her mother left behind too. A small teddy bear Ellie had bought her, a bottle of cheap scent perhaps given by another patient, a couple of nightdresses and a cardigan. But in an envelope were a batch of reviews for Ellie’s show at the Phoenix. Clearly Marleen had asked people to read them again and again, as they were yellow and dog-eared.

  ‘She was so very proud of you.’ Nurse Symonds patted Ellie’s shoulder soothingly as she saw her tuck them away again. ‘Those meant a great deal to her. She used to say, “Nurse, mark my words, my Ellie’s going to be a big star. When you go to the flicks and see her up on the screen, you make sure you clap and stamp your feet for me!”’

  Ellie wiped tears from her eyes.

  ‘She’d had enough,’ the nurse said softly. ‘She put on a brave face here and made us all laugh. But I know she was glad to go.’

  The nurse was right, of course. Maybe in a few days Ellie might even be able to voice the same opinion, but for now she could only feel a huge chasm where her aunt had been.

  Ellie leafed through the bundle of letters, stopping short when she saw several that weren’t from her. The handwriting looked familiar and she opened one to see who they were from.

  She was staggered to find it was Annie King – a warm, friendly letter that implied she’d been visiting too.

  ‘Did Mrs King come to visit her?’ Ellie looked up at the nurse in bewilderment.

  ‘Yes, dear. She came once a month,’ the nurse replied. ‘Didn’t your aunt tell you? They seemed like very good friends.’

  So many times Ellie had thought of visiting Annie, if only to put her side of the story about Charley, but fear of rejection had prevented her and now she felt ashamed she hadn’t appreciated how big-hearted Annie was.

  ‘No, she never said.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘I expect she was being tactful. Annie’s son was my old boyfriend.’

  ‘Would you like me to write to Mrs King then?’ the nurse asked solicitously.

  Ellie hesitated for only a moment. ‘No, I’ll call on her. I must thank her for her kindness. It wouldn’t be right for her to get such news in a letter.’

  For the first time in her life, Bonny was on time for a date. She paused in a shop doorway just around the corner from the Black Lion, took out her compact and powdered her nose, frowning at her reflection.

  If it hadn’t been for Ellie telephoning early this morning with the sad news that Marleen had passed away, Bonny would have dressed to kill in her new blue costume and matching hat. But to wear something so flamboyant didn’t seem right, even if her heart was pounding with excitement at seeing Magnus. So she put on her boring navy coat and an ordinary print dress beneath. She’d have to think of some other way of ensnaring him.

  Magnus got to the Black Lion just as a church clock was striking the half hour. Vivid images of Ruth had plagued him all morning. He could see her running to him full tilt down the platform at Harrogate station when he was demobbed, arms wide open and tears of joy in her eyes. He felt she knew by telepathy that he had spent the night with erotic dreams of another woman.

  Ruth was small, plump, with curly dark brown hair, now, at thirty-seven, sprinkled with grey. She had never been a head-turner; her charm was her keen interest in others, her unselfishness and warmth. In all these years of marriage he’d never wanted anyone else in his arms but her. So why was he waiting here to meet an empty-headed young dancer?

  He told himself he was only being polite in meeting Bonny for lunch. He would bore her with his happy marriage and his clever children, then get in his car and leave.

  He’d been waiting for less than a minute when Bonny came round the corner. He was surprised by her sensible dark coat – he’d prepared himself for something more dramatic – and a little of his unease left him.

  ‘Hello Magnus.’ She tripped lightly towards him, her smile surprisingly hesitant. ‘I almost didn’t come because I’ve been so upset. But it seemed awfully rude to just leave you here not knowing what’s happened.’

  Magnus took her across the road to a small restaurant and over an aperitif she explained how Ellie had gone to see her aunt in the early hours.

  ‘I couldn’t sleep for worrying about Ellie.’ Her eyes swam and she wiped them with her hanky. ‘She rang this morning to say Marleen had died and I’ve been crying ever since. She hasn’t got anyone but me now.’

  Magnus was deeply touched by her concern for Ellie. He listened as she explained how Ellie had gone on to London to inform someone else, bu
t that she intended to get back in time for tonight’s performance.

  ‘I haven’t got anyone either,’ Bonny sniffed. ‘My parents were killed in the war, just like Ellie’s mum.’

  Sympathy overrode Magnus’s intention to cut this lunch short and be on his way. He ordered soup and lamb chops for them both, and a bottle of wine to cheer her up.

  Somehow Magnus didn’t get around to talking about his family as he’d intended. He did speak of Craigmore and his childhood on the estate, of his student days in Oxford and his time in the RAF, but not the blissful years tucked in between when Ruth, Stephen and Sophie had been his whole world. Neither did he mention that Stephen was almost sixteen, Sophie thirteen and that both he and Ruth hoped for another child now the war was over.

  Bonny was exhilarating company. She painted such vivid pictures of the characters in both this show and previous ones. Her fluffy, girlish dreams and aspirations to get to Hollywood, her enthusiasm for life made him feel unaccountably tender towards her.

  Drinking at lunchtime always went straight to Magnus’s head, and when Bonny suggested they went for a walk in the afternoon it seemed the only answer if he was to drive to London later. Yesterday’s heavy rain had cleared the skies and the spring sunshine was very warm as he took her into the botanical gardens.

  ‘Isn’t that beautiful!’ She gasped at a magnolia tree in full blossom just inside the gates. ‘Its like a – a prayer.’

  There was something very touching and unexpected in finding she appreciated nature. Somehow he’d thought her interests wouldn’t stretch beyond the cinema and shops.

  ‘I love it here,’ she said, smiling with pure delight at a bed of red tulips and forget-me-nots. ‘One day I want to have a beautiful garden all of my own.’

  When Magnus thought about it later on that day, he wondered how they came to select the most secluded bench in the entire garden. Was it he who chose it, willing something more to happen? Or was it her? Or merely fate that no one else came that way as they sat almost concealed by two large rhododendron bushes?

  It was Bonny, however, who instigated the first kiss. ‘It turned out a nice day after all,’ she said sweetly, half turning on the seat beside him and putting her hand on his cheek. ‘Thank you for the lunch and cheering me up.’