Anne Bennett - Daughter of Mine

‘And if I’m not?’

‘I don’t accept failure,’ Steve said.

Nor does he accept ‘No’, Lizzie thought. He’s like Tressa. He wants his own way all the time, for he’s used to it.

But she said none of this, for the tram had pulled into the terminus in the city centre and Steve put his arm around Lizzie as they walked along. She didn’t object, because she was thinking over Steve’s words. Would it be any better if she told him in a few weeks’ time? She didn’t know, but at least then he couldn’t say she hadn’t given it a fair crack of the whip.

‘I’ll give them all what for when I go home,’ Steve told Lizzie, convinced, whatever Lizzie had said, that it was his family’s behaviour that had made her say what she had.

‘Steve, there’s no need.’

‘There’s every need,’ Steve snapped. ‘They’ll behave better next time, I promise you. I’ll even have a go at the old woman. She could have been more welcoming.’

‘She loves you, Steve,’ Lizzie said. ‘She doesn’t want anyone, especially any woman, to be more important in your life than she is.’

‘She’ll have to learn then,’ Steve said. ‘Silly cow. She’ll do as she’s bloody well told.’

‘Hush, Steve. Try and understand her point of view,’ Lizzie said, though she had no love for the woman herself.

‘She should bloody well understand mine,’ Steve growled. ‘And she will. I’ll see to it.’

Lizzie had had quite enough of Steve’s family. ‘I’ll have to go in, Steve,’ she said. ‘I’ll be late and then I’ll catch it.’

She was glad to go, for this bad-tempered Steve unnerved her more than a little. She almost felt the anger coursing through him as he drew her into his arms. The kiss was like a stamp of ownership. It was a hard, unyielding kiss, which bruised Lizzie’s lips and pushed them against her teeth, but Lizzie bore it without complaint, for she was too nervous of Steve to protest much.

She was changed and ready to go on duty when Tressa dashed in, red-faced both from the cold and the warmth of Mike’s embrace, and the kisses which had left her breathless. She was prepared to make light of any trepidations Lizzie might have had about Steve and his family problems, though she was pleased that Lizzie had agreed to go out with Steve a little longer. Lizzie felt she was being inexorably drawn into a future she didn’t want and felt filled with apprehension as she and Tressa went down to the kitchen.

The following Saturday morning, the head waiter, who had a soft spot for Lizzie, approached her as she was finishing her breakfast stint. ‘You and your cousin were down to work tonight, but you can have the night off if you like.’

‘I thought we had a big party in?’

‘We did have, but so many have come down with flu they’ve cancelled, and the hotel isn’t exactly bursting at the seams at this time of year. So, do you and Tressa want this or shall I offer it to one of the others, because the manager won’t pay for half of you to be doing nothing?’

Lizzie didn’t need asking twice and neither did Tressa, who insisted on letting the boys know. Lizzie would have preferred for the two of them to do something together, as they used to, but she told herself she had to get used to the fact that Mike was now the most important person in Tressa’s life. She also knew that Tressa was quite capable of throwing a mammoth sulk if Lizzie refused to do what she wanted, and then the value of the Saturday night would be lost to the both of them. And so they travelled up to Edgbaston to tell Steve and Mike.

They met that evening in the Old Joint Stock again, because it was easiest, and when Tressa and Mike sloped off after the one drink, Lizzie and Steve weren’t surprised.

‘So, what do you want to do?’ Steve asked.

There was no hesitation. ‘I’d like to go down to the Bull Ring,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve never been at night, but all the other girls have told me how good it is and the entertainment to be had there on a Saturday.’

Steve had no problem with that and Lizzie was filled with excitement as she stood at the top of High Street and saw it all arrayed below them. She was glad too that she had Steve’s arm around her, for the night was a chilly one.

It was all so different from the daytime, though just as full of people. Now it was lit up by spluttering gas flares and looked almost magical. There were still the poor, hoping to get meat or vegetables cheap, but they were hidden by the darkness. The flower sellers had gone from their usual space around Nelson’s statue, along with most of the old lags selling their wares from trays around their necks, and there was no little old lady outside Woolworths urging people to buy a carrier bag. However, others had taken their places, and one was a stall selling cockles and mussels and jellied eels. ‘Are you hungry? D’you want some?’ Steve asked.

‘Ooh no, thank you,’ Lizzie said. She had no liking for cockles or mussels, and as for jellied eels…‘I’ve tried them just the once,’ she said. ‘They’re slimy.’

Steve laughed. ‘That’s the idea,’ he said, and he smacked his lips as if he was going to enjoy a great feast, as he soaked his dish liberally with vinegar. He lifted one to his mouth and sucked it in with a slurp, laughing again at Lizzie’s look of distaste. ‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘Slips down the throat a treat.’

‘You’re welcome to them,’ Lizzie told him, wrinkling her nose. ‘Give me a hot potato any day.’

‘I’ll buy you one if that’s what you want,’ Steve said. ‘Might even get one myself to fill a corner.’

‘Fill a corner!’ Lizzie said scornfully. ‘You’re always filling corners, you.’ She was right, for Steve had a voracious appetite. ‘I think you have worms.’

Steve roared with laughter. ‘Worms! Don’t be so daft, woman. There’s a lot of me to fill. I’m a big strapping chap.’

He was right there, Lizzie thought, as with the eels finished he draped a heavy arm around Lizzie once more. His fingers resting on her shoulder smelt of vinegar and fish and she turned her face away, but she said nothing and they went on through the crowd.

There was a man tied up in chains demanding more money in the hat before he tried to get free. Lizzie thought he looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘Have you ever seen him get out?’ she whispered to Steve.

‘Never,’ he said, tossing a florin into the hat, ‘though I’ve paid enough to, over the years. Mike says he’s seen it, but I doubt it.’

They got fed up waiting in the end and walked on. ‘I think it’s all a con, anyroad,’ Steve said.

‘How?’

‘Them chains can’t be real, can they? I mean, how could anyone get out of real chains when they are trussed up like he was?’ And then, seeing Lizzie’s crestfallen face, he gave a gentle laugh and tightened his arm around her. ‘Spoilt your illusions, have I?’

Lizzie didn’t answer, for her attention was taken by two stilt-walkers moving effortlessly amongst the crowds and between the stalls and barrows, and standing so immensely high that her mouth dropped open in amazement.

But Steve pushed her on to where the boxing ring was set up. ‘Me and Mike had a go here when we was lads,’ he said. ‘Knocked on our backs, the pair of us,’ he added, laughing at the memory. ‘Wouldn’t be so easy for him to do that to me today.’

‘Like to try your luck, sir?’ the man in the black top hat and red jacket encouraged, seeing Steve’s interest. The assembled crowd turned to see who he was addressing and shuffled their feet in anticipation of a fight. ‘Five pounds if you beat the champ,’ the man said.

Steve looked at the glowering champ sat in the corner of the ring. He was broad and hefty, terrifying to him as a boy, and he remembered the way the big man with fists like hams had felled him with one blow, and how he lay on the ring floor with the breath knocked out of his body and thought every bone and joint had been loosened. But the champ was running to fat now, and Steve, full-grown, well-muscled and strong, reckoned he could give the bruiser a run for his money.