Freda Lightfoot - Peace In My Heart

He went rabbiting on about the GIs and Joanne firmly shut her ears to his complaints. She stared at him, noticing a cold hardness in his eyes and a certain arrogance in his twisted smile. Some instinct made her turn her head away and to her surprise she saw Bernie standing in the doorway watching her and looking a little concerned. He did seem to be making a habit of keeping a close eye on her as if anxious to ensure she was safe, even this afternoon in spite of her refusal to accept his offer of a date.

‘Actually,’ she said, interrupting Clive Ramsbotham, this cocky wing commander, ‘you wouldn’t believe how happy I am that this war is now over and I’m no longer pestered by cheeky men. I’ve no wish to be harassed by you either, sir. Fortunately, an old friend is waiting for me so I must return to work now. Thanks for the tea and goodbye.’ Highly amused when his jaw fell open in shock, she jumped to her feet and smartly walked away. When Joanne reached Bernie at the door in the far corner, she linked her arm with his, burst into a giggle and said, ‘Do help me escape from that dreadful man.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said, giving a chuckle too, and they happily trotted down the stairs then along the promenade back to Jubilee House.

Fortunately, cocky Clive quickly departed and over the following days Joanne readily agreed to take a few walks with Bernie, feeling much safer with him. She always made sure Megan accompanied them, believing that to be far more appropriate. Bernie did at times seem to be increasingly attentive, often bringing her small bunches of wild flowers to express his growing interest in her. Joanne was stunned one afternoon following a show he’d taken them to on the North Pier when he attempted to kiss her cheek. She quickly turned away so that he caught her ear instead.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Just wanted to let you know how I appreciate your company.’

She heard Megan give a little giggle as Joanne politely accepted his apology. He was apparently attempting to be reliable and kind. Did that mean her sister was right to encourage her to go on a date with him? But how could she trust any man, let alone fall in love with this one?

All necessary jobs now done, thanks to Davie’s painting and Evie having made the house much more clean and neat, she rose early on Saturday morning, took a little cereal and toast, then quickly washed up. She felt eager to meet her niece Cathie at Campfield Market and tell her what she’d achieved. It was as Evie put on her coat and headscarf that there came a knock on the door. As it banged open, she heard the call of an all-too-familiar voice and the sound of loud footsteps approaching. To her dismay, she saw Harold Mullins marching towards her. All too aware he could be most domineering, Evie felt a spark of resentment that he believed he had the right to walk in without an invitation. This would be because he was the owner of this small house, even though she’d already paid him the first week’s rent and hadn’t yet begun working for him.

‘I hope you don’t want me to start on this job today, as I’ve spent the last week busily smartening up this house and am now on my way out shopping,’ she informed him politely, feeling a shudder of discontent within her.

‘Hold yer horses, lady. You may be in a hurry but don’t rush off. As you know I’m putting a bit of business your way. I’ve quite a few clients who’ve so far refused to cough up what they owe me. Here’s the list of those who essentially must pay their betting bills,’ he said, handing her a sheet bearing a long list of names and addresses. ‘You can start calling on them right now, then the rest on Monday morning and insist they pay up.’

Evie met his unyielding gaze in consternation, realizing she was not in a position to refuse. There was probably much more to this job than she’d imagined. She hadn’t at all taken into account that some folk would avoid paying his betting company. ‘How do I do that?’ she asked in alarm.

‘With firm determination and politeness, at which you’re most efficient. And tek no notice if they claim to be poor or hide away pretending they’re not home. Keep hammering on their flaming door till they let you in. Then deliver the payments you receive to me this evening and every evening thereafter.’

‘Heck, not sure I’ll be any good at this,’ she said, dreading the prospect of being demanding of people in poverty or difficult strangers addicted to gambling to hand over to her what they owed to Mullins, let alone walking the streets each evening to his house in the dark. Why had she ever agreed to take on such a task? The reason was obvious. Because of this house he’d offered her to rent, she reminded herself, glancing around with pride at the improvements already achieved. Something she’d been desperately in need of.

Giving her a smarmy grin, he said, ‘Aye, you’ll have to be good at this job, lass, otherwise you’ll be bloody sacked and chucked out of this house.’ Having made this cutting remark, he marched away.

Chapter Eight

When Bernie again asked her to attend a dance with him at the Tower Ballroom, Joanne felt sorely tempted to accept. Maybe she should be making a fresh start in life, as well as finding an answer to her problem. ‘OK, why not? You’re right, I do love dancing. We’ll give it a go,’ she said with a smile.

It was a delight to see Reginald Dixon come sliding up seated before the Wurlitzer organ this time, which he’d used to play at the Tower before joining the RAF. ‘He often came to give concerts,’ Bernie told her. ‘Now he’s planning to return for good, no doubt once he’s been demobbed. Good to see him here.’

Holding her quite professionally, Joanne was surprised to find what a good dancer he was and easily kept in step with him. Presumably living near the Tower Ballroom had provided Bernie with plenty of opportunity to learn how to dance, often coming along to the afternoon sessions, as he did that time he rescued her from that dreadful wing commander. She happily danced with him, thankful that he was nowhere near as demanding or flirtatious.

Over the summer she’d taken several more walks with Bernie on the beach. On occasions he would escort her and Megan to the Winter Gardens to listen to music playing or watch various shows on the North and Central Piers or at the Grand Theatre. Her sister rarely accompanied them these days, it being almost September and she was generally engaged in preparing herself for this new school. Aunt Annie had made her the required uniform and was teaching her how to knit and sew. Aunt Sadie was engrossed in finding her good books to read from the local library and encouraging her to draw and paint. They were so supportive of her sister, Joanne wondered if she should seek their help too.

Aware of how Bernie was holding her close as they danced, she could feel the warmth of him, which was raising an odd sort of expectation within her. Bernie did seem to be most friendly and there were moments when she almost felt the urge to become quite fond of him. Not that she believed that would ever happen, although could he provide the answer to her problem? She dismissed this nonsense with a sigh. He was a little more considerate and attentive than Teddy had been and happily content to work with his aunts. Yet there was a boring sameness about him, showing no plans to make changes to his life. He did sometimes gaze at her closely for no good reason, his eyes clouding a little beneath his furrowed brow. She gave a shiver. Why on earth would she wish to imply that she liked him much at all?

As if seeing a sign of anguish in her face, he said, ‘I know you’ve not been eating too well lately, are you feeling any better?’

‘I’m fine,’ she stoutly remarked.

Noticing how she kept looking around, avoiding his gaze, he gave her a grin. ‘You look very pretty in that floral frock and with those clips in your curly hair. Did you agree to accompany me because you wanted to show yourself off, as you obviously like to do with us chaps? Well, why not when you look so gorgeous?’