Bye Bye Love. Patricia Burns
a pity about the shirts. They were perfectly all right for another year, but they no longer did up over her swelling breasts. What she needed as well was a bra, but she couldn’t possibly tell him that. The yearning for her mother came over her yet again. It would have been so nice to go shopping for bras with her mum.
‘I need a skirt and a jumper and a tie and a mac and a beastly beret,’ she said, blinking back the threatening tears.
‘Oh, dear. That’s going to add up to a pretty penny, isn’t it?’
‘But I’ve got to have them, Dad. I can’t go to school without the uniform.’
It was going to be horrible enough starting somewhere where she didn’t know anyone at all and everyone else had their own groups of friends. At her last school she had known everyone in her own year and quite a few of the older and younger girls.
Victor felt in the pockets of the trousers he had hung over the bedhead. He produced some grubby notes and a handful of silver.
‘See how far that goes, love, and if it ain’t enough, I’ll see if I can get a sub off the Guv’nor.’
As he handed her the money, she caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath. It wasn’t the first time.
‘You been drinking, Dad?’
He avoided her eyes. ‘No, no. I had one or two last night, that’s all. Now, off you go and see what you can buy, there’s a good girl.’
‘You could come with me,’ she said. ‘It’s your day off today, isn’t it?’
Victor rubbed the back of his neck.
‘Ah…well…now…I’d like to, love, but I’m really tired, you know? Trekking round the shops, it’s hard on the feet. I was thinking of catching up with the shut-eye.’
‘That’s all you ever do,’ Scarlett grumbled.
It was always a terrible job getting him out of bed in the mornings and, when she wasn’t out all day herself, she would find him back in bed again between midday and evening opening times. What was more, he always had a Scotch or two then before closing his eyes. She sometimes had to take the bottle out of his limp hand and set it on the table.
Victor gave an apologetic smile. ‘Your poor old dad’s not as young as he used to be, you know, love. This place—it’s a bit different from the dear old Lion. On the go all the time. And it’s hard taking orders after being the boss.’
‘I suppose,’ Scarlett said.
She realised that he was having to work a lot harder. Instead of having her and her mum running round doing all the donkey work, he was having to graft himself. And his hours behind the bar were quite different too. There was no leaning on the bar or sitting on a stool yarning with the regulars, it was non-stop serving. He did look tired. The film star looks that her mother had fallen for had collapsed into a lined and weary face. The carefree air had disappeared. Just looking at him made Scarlett feel anxious, but she didn’t know what to do to help him. She fell back on her mother’s fix-all remedy.
‘Would you like another cuppa?’ she offered.
Victor patted her hand.
‘That’d be lovely. You’re a good girl, Scarlett. Take after your mum. You know—’ he paused and sighed, staring up at the flaking grey paint on the ceiling ‘—I just miss her so much. I don’t know what to do without her, and that’s a fact.’
‘I know,’ Scarlett agreed.
Nothing could fill the gap left by her mother, but at least she did have Jonathan. It wasn’t the same, but it was wonderful and exciting. Sometimes she felt as if she could spread her arms and fly. She had all that, and her father didn’t. No wonder he was tired. She gave up making demands on him and went to get the money she had earned from several washing-up sessions. She had been saving it to get some smart clothes for the winter and a farewell present for Jonathan, but starting school in the wrong colour was unthinkable, so that had to come first.
It was as they were walking back down the High Street with carrier bags full of stiff new clothes that she realised that Jonathan was unusually quiet.
‘What’s up with you, don’t you like shopping?’ she asked. After all, it was supposed to be a women’s occupation. Other girls had been out with their mothers choosing things.
‘No, it’s not that. At least—I’m not keen usually but it’s different with you. Everything’s fun when we do it together.’
Scarlett glowed with pleasure. ‘That’s just how I feel,’ she said.
They squeezed each other’s hands and smiled. But she could see that something was still troubling him.
‘Come on, spit it out,’ she said.
They sat down on a bench at the top of Pier Hill. The last of the summer trippers were flooding down the pier from the steamers, everyone dressed up and cheerful despite the grey day and the threat of rain in the air.
‘Look…er…this is a bit difficult,’ Jonathan started.
A sinking feeling of doom formed in Scarlett’s stomach. Last time he had spoken like this, it had been to tell her that he was going to France.
‘Go on.’
‘Well…Mum and Dad, they have these downs on people. It doesn’t really mean anything, but…well, at the moment they seem to have their knife into your father. They keep going on about his timekeeping and stuff—’
‘That is so unfair!’ Scarlett flared and, even as she said it, she knew that it was nothing of the kind. She was always having to remind him to go and start work.
‘I know, but…well, it’s not just that. It’s…well, there’s been quite a run on the Scotch and Mum marked the optics and someone’s been using them out of hours—’
The feeling of doom was making her quite queasy.
‘I hope they’re not saying my dad’s taking it?’ she said, fear making her aggressive. It all added up. She hated herself for even thinking it, but he had been drinking Scotch, and there was that business of the old lady’s money. ‘That’s slander, that is. My dad’s not a thief!’
‘I’m sure he’s not. But if you could just…it’d be terrible if he was to get the sack, Scarlett. We wouldn’t be able to see half so much of each other.’
‘I’ll tell him. So that he can be on the lookout for whoever it is. It’s probably one of the part-timers,’ she said, with far more conviction than she felt.
‘Right. Yes, I’m sure it is. I just thought you ought to know,’ Jonathan said.
‘Well maybe you ought to—’ Scarlett retorted, and stopped short.
‘Ought to what?’
Ought to know that his dad was no saint. It was on the tip of her tongue. But she had no proof. It was just a feeling.
‘Nothing.’
‘No, go on. If you want to say something, then say it.’
There was just the same edge of aggression in his voice that she had used. She guessed it was for the same reason. He couldn’t be sure of his father either.
‘It’s nothing. Just something Marlene said, that’s all.’
‘Marlene’s got a big mouth and a chip on her shoulder. You don’t want to listen to what she says.’
‘Right.’
They both stared at the pier. They’d managed to keep the family loyalties and they’d managed not to row over their parents, but still it put a shadow over the rest of the day, blighting some of the very little time they now had left.
The first few days of September flew by. Scarlett started