Coming Home. Fern Britton
tonight?’
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’
‘I’m taking you out. I’ll pick you up at seven.’
She had nothing to wear. The bed was littered with half a dozen garments which she’d had for years. Amongst which was an old dress she’d had since she was fourteen that was too short and much too tight; a pretty cotton skirt with a broken zip – and a horrible taffeta bridesmaid dress she’d had to wear for her cousin’s wedding. Red faced from her bath and the putting on and taking off of so many things, she sat on the edge of the bed in despair. There was a soft knock at the door.
‘It’s Mother. Can I help?’
Adela sighed and flopped backwards on to the bed in despair. ‘Come in.’
Her mother put her head around the door. ‘I thought so. I found this. Any good?’
She was holding a Liberty-print cotton summer dress. ‘I bought it ages ago. In a sale. It’s too young for me. Too small, too. Try it.’
In the mirror, even Adela was pleased with her reflection. The dress was simple and hung a little loose on her but it was perfect. Her mother had brushed her hair into a neat ponytail and had attempted a little rouge and lipstick but Adela had been firm about saying no. Finally, her mother had stepped back. ‘You’ll do,’ she said.
From downstairs they heard the bang of the old doorknocker and her father calling up the stairs, ‘Prince Charming has arrived, Cinders.’
Bill had borrowed his father’s car and drove Adela through the lanes and down to the pretty fishing village of Trevay. His shirtsleeved arm leaning on the open window, he chatted about this and that and gradually the knot in Adela’s stomach began to loosen. As they came down the hill towards the harbour, Adela saw that the fishing boats were coming in on the tide, ready to land their catches on the quay. The sun was bouncing on the surface of the rippling sea making the light sparkle and flash.
‘I love it here,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been for ages. I could paint that sea every day.’
Bill parked the car outside the Golden Hind, picked up his jacket from the back seat and helped Adela inside.
‘What will you drink?’ he asked.
‘Half a bitter, please.’ She didn’t see his amused smile as she looked around the dark and cosy bar. ‘It’s nice in here.’
Paying the barman, he carried his pint and her half towards the door. ‘Let’s take our drinks outside.’
The sun was beginning to set and the day was losing its warmth. She shivered a little as they sat on the harbour wall across from the pub and watched the fishing boats unload.
‘Would you like my jacket?’ he asked. ‘Or I have a jumper in the car?’
‘You’ll need your jacket but the jumper would be lovely thank you.’
‘Don’t go away.’ He set off for the car, Adela watching him. He was undeniably handsome, tall and muscular with an easy smile, the sort of man, she thought, one could fall in love with. She checked herself and looked back at the boat. She was only eighteen and she and Elsie and Kina had sworn to each other that they would play the field as men did, would never settle down with the first man they met. She looked over to him again. He was leaning into the car and reaching for something on the back seat. When he reappeared, he had the jumper in his hand and looked over at her with such a look that her heart jumped a little. She quickly returned her gaze to the boats, as if the unloading of their catches was of the utmost interest. She decided that, when he came back, she would be polite and cool. She would give no indication that she might find him attractive.
Adela waited a few seconds longer then glanced in his direction to see what was keeping him.
She saw at once.
Two girls were talking to him. Two pretty girls. One had her hand on his chest as she was talking to him, the other was pulling at his hand.
Adela’s hand was shaking so much that she had to put her drink down. She looked over again. He was pointing at her and all three of them were laughing. At her? She felt her breath quicken and her cheeks redden. How could she escape?
Too late, he was coming towards her. ‘Adela, meet a couple of old friends. Barbara …’
‘Hello,’ pouted Barbara, still holding Bill’s hand.
‘And Jill.’
‘Hi,’ said Jill, giving Adela a full top to toe scope.
‘Bill …’ Adela stood. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m not feeling very well. I’ll get the bus back.’
Bill frowned. ‘Don’t be silly, I’ll drive you.’
‘No, it’s no trouble. I’ll get the bus or ring my father. I don’t want to spoil your evening.’
‘Spoil my …’ Bill was confused and exasperated. ‘We’ve only just got here.’
Jill butted in. ‘She’ll be fine on the bus. Stay with us. We’ll have a laugh.’
Adela stood fixed to the spot. Was she to be so easily shaken off?
Bill shook out his jumper and placed it around Adela’s shoulders.
‘Adela needs to go home and I shall take her.’
In the car, Adela said nothing. Her emotions were running high. She was elated that he had brushed those girls off but angry that he even knew them. Who were they? How well did he know them? Her father had said that all the girls were after him. Well, she wasn’t. This would be the first and last time she would accept a date from him.
Her eyes slid over to look at him. His profile in the dark of the car was strong but his lips were tensed as he ran his hand through his hair. He felt her gaze and looked over at her. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Okay.’
‘Are you sure it wasn’t something else?’ She wondered if he was teasing her.
‘Too much sun maybe,’ she said.
‘You don’t get sun in London?’ He was teasing her.
She turned to look out of her window and didn’t give him the courtesy of an answer.
‘I was looking forward to tonight,’ he said. ‘What did I do wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Was it the girls?’
She shook her head, refusing to look at him.
‘I grew up with them. They’re fun.’
‘Good for them.’
He slowed the car in the lane leading down to her family farm. The headlights picked out an owl on a gatepost as he brought the car to a halt and turned the engine and headlights off, then they sat without speaking. Only the gentle ticking of the engine cooling broke the silence.
‘Adela,’ he said gently.
‘Why have we stopped?’ she asked.
‘I wanted a chance to talk to you. Without interruption. We’ve got at least two hours before your parents will be expecting you back.’ He settled in his seat, his back to the driver’s door. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Feeling better?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. So talk to me.’
‘About what?’
‘Tell me about who you are and what you want out of life.’
‘I’m Adela Trip. I’m eighteen. I’m an artist and I want to make a living from my work. Is that enough?’
‘Uh huh. Do