Who's Sorry Now (2008) Read online

  She put a hand to her mouth to stop a hysterical giggle. Her mother-in-law was not the most tolerant or liberal minded individual, ruling her household very much with a rod of iron. But then, even Amy’s lovely new husband, Chris, would object too. And he’d be sure to tell her off if she went home soaked through, no doubt lecture her about taking proper care of herself and the coming baby.

  Amy looked around for shelter so that she could watch events from a more sensible vantage point.

  ‘Come and share my umbrella,’ said a voice in her ear and Amy eagerly accepted, although her friend Patsy looked almost as wet as she was, silver fair hair hanging in rats’ tails about her small elfin face.

  As the two girls snuggled beneath it, warming each other against the cold, Amy said, ‘By rights I should be helping my mother-in-law peel potatoes for tea. And she’ll give me gip if I drip water on to her clean lino.’

  Patsy Bowman chuckled as she hooked her arm into Amy’s. ‘I should be helping Clara tidy up the hat stall but she’s let me off to watch the demonstration. Look at you, as fat and round as a jolly robin, if a rather soggy one. You certainly shouldn’t be standing out on the pavement in the pouring rain, that’s for sure, nor peeling potatoes. Why aren’t you sitting with your feet up being fed milk pobbies, or whatever it is a mum-to-be craves.’

  ‘Because I’m bored out of my mind,’ Amy said with feeling. ‘Chris objects if I so much as lift a finger but Mavis is determined to turn me into the perfect wife and mother. She’s teaching me all those little wrinkles my own ma failed to do, being the messy creature she is. Though to be fair, as Ma herself would say, she built up Poulson’s to be the best pie makers in Lancashire, and has never claimed to be the best housekeeper.’

  ‘Quite right! Why should women do all the scrubbing and cleaning?’ Patsy agreed with feeling.

  Amy giggled. ‘I don’t think Big Molly could ever be accused of doing too much scrubbing, except in her precious kitchen. Anyway, I have to do quite a bit for Mavis, although I don’t really mind. I’m fit as a fiddle and if I sat about doing nothing all day, I’d go mad. Oh, but look at these people here, no younger than us and yet they’re free. They’re doing something worthwhile, not suffering heartburn and an aching back. Patsy, do you ever wonder if you’ve done the right thing by rushing into marriage so young?’

  ‘I haven’t ... yet,’ Patsy reminded her. ‘Although it certainly seems to be approaching with the speed of an express train. Marc’s mother seems to spend every evening stitching away furiously at my dress, the most glorious wedding gown you could ever imagine, not to mention six bridesmaid’s dresses for the Bertalone girls.’ Patsy sighed. ‘Sometimes, I envy you dashing off to secretly do the deed at Gretna Green. It would be so much simpler.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Don’t you believe it. Exciting - yes, and utterly romantic, but also terrifying. I’ve never been so cold and hungry in my life! And we still had to come home, face our parents and resolve that dreadful family feud.’

  ‘But it all worked out in the end, so why all this doom and gloom? I thought you and Chris were “loves young dream”.’

  ‘Oh, we are, only - well, you know what they say: marry in haste, repent at leisure.’ Amy felt herself blushing. ‘The honest truth is, it’s his mother driving me up the wall, not Chris.’

  ‘Ah! Why don’t we grab a frothy coffee in Belle's Café and you can tell me all about it.’

  ‘I -I’m not sure I have the time. I promised Mavis that I’d help with the ironing before tea, sitting down of course, and ...’

  ‘Amy, what are you thinking of standing in the rain getting soaked to the skin? Are you quite mad?’ And suddenly there was Mavis, bearing down upon them with the kind of expression on her face which made the day seem suddenly warm and mild by comparison.

  ‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ Amy cried, and Patsy could only watch in mystified disbelief as her sweet, stubborn friend, who had once defied her family to elope with the love of her life, scuttled obediently off to do her mother-in-law’s bidding. Now what was that all about?

  Alec Hall likewise had been watching the marchers pass by, a sardonic smile on his face. Poor fools! Did these young idiots imagine they could change the world with the help of a few banners and protest songs? War didn’t go away just by wishing. And how could you ban something that had already been invented, already been used to decimate thousands of lives?

  In any case, a great deal of harm could be done in ordinary warfare with guns and grenades. Would they ban those too? And would the other side obligingly do the same? Alec very much doubted it.

  He’d seen action in two wars and the memories would haunt him forever, particularly of Korea, the most recent. He’d been barely eighteen when he’d joined up in 1941, and a seasoned veteran when he’d been called to fight for his country a second time. There were times now when he felt like an old man, for all he was still five years short of forty. But Alec knew he should be grateful he was at least alive.

  Strangely, people never asked him about the Korean War. Plenty showed interest in what he did in WWII but it was as if the Korean never existed. It was a war people preferred to ignore, or forget. So far as they were concerned the war, the real war, was over.

  A population still weary from World War Two had felt quite unable to show interest in yet another taking place in some distant, inhospitable land, far from their shores. Life was good, the hardships and rationing behind them and they wanted to think of peace and the future, not remember the bad times, the worries and anxieties of loved ones who never came back. He and his colleagues returning from Korea were often treated with little more than indifference, as if people were surprised they’d ever been away.

  Alec deeply resented this attitude.

  The national press had been equally negligent, showing more interest in the Coronation and Sir Edmund Hilary’s conquest of Everest, with far fewer column inches given over to the end of the war in Korea. Even the peace had been grudgingly made, signed on July 27, 1953, in a tiny, unknown village called Panmunjom.

  Three years of bloody fighting, over two million dead, and for what? Less than three weeks after peace was declared England was celebrating with more fervour over winning the ashes. By September everyone was drooling over reports of the wedding of John Kennedy to Jacqueline Bouvier just as if the war in Korea had never taken place.

  Even today, five years on, the atmosphere between north and south Korea remained tense and unstable, yet the war itself was forgotten. Nobody cared. Where was the glory in that?

  Alec’s resentment bit deep. He could never forget. What happened in Korea was burned into his soul.

  For all this group of young idealistic dreamers might genuinely believe they were helping by making this protest about banning the bomb, what could they possibly hope to achieve? War was a necessary evil. Unavoidable! Besides, everyone was tired of the subject.

  Even so, he tacked on to the end of the peace march. The last thing they wanted was another bloody war.

  It was then that he saw her.

  She was standing in the rain, like a showy bird of paradise in her scarlet duffel coat, rain dripping from her pony tail, ebony curls stuck enchantingly to her smooth young brow. Alec had often seen her about the market and had recently begun to notice that Carmina Bertalone was no longer a gawky schoolgirl but a shapely young Italian beauty.

  His steel grey eyes raked over her, taking in the swell of her delectable breasts, temptingly visible beneath the coat which she wore carelessly unfastened. He slowed his pace a little but even from this distance, several feet away, he could sense her passion and her fury, saw how her eyes blazed. He followed the line of her gaze, recognised her sister and watched, more out of curiosity and amusement than actual interest, as the younger girl tenderly kissed her boy friend then hurried away.

  So that’s how the land lay. Carmina Bertalone was jealous of her own sister.

  Alec’s gaze slid irrevocably back to Carmina, mesmerised by her beauty,
marvelling at the wildness in those fabulous eyes, the length of her legs lashed by the rain in the short black skirt, and her bare feet in their silly high heels.

  She emitted a little cry of rage, then began to tear clumps out of a loaf of bread with her sharp white teeth. Something hot and sharp pierced his heart, and in that instant the sound of the band and the chatter of the idealistic Peace Marchers seemed to fade to nothing more than an irritating buzz in his ears. Even his burning resentment over the perceived disinterest in his war career became of less importance.

  Alec knew, in a moment of rare clarity, that he must have her. This girl would be his reward for services rendered to his country above and beyond the call of duty.

  Chapter Three

  It was so easy to lie. Carmina had discovered that people generally believed whatever you said to them, for no better reason than they felt obliged to do so, as if they could never imagine anyone deliberately telling an untruth.

  As she watched the colour drain from Gina’s rosy cheeks, and her lovely caramel skin turn to wax before her eyes, Carmina felt no regrets about falsely accusing Luc Fabriani of two-timing her. The soft fool didn’t retaliate or object, didn’t jump in with an argument but simply bit her lip and backed off, as if the matter was of no concern.

  ‘I don’t know why you’re telling me this. Why would I care? He’s nothing to me,’ she innocently protested, which almost made Carmina smile.

  ‘So how come you were wrapped in his arms a moment ago, out there in the street?’

  They were standing in the hall, hanging their dripping coats on the hall stand, Carmina trying not to soak the bread and cheese as she did so.

  ‘Seems a funny way of showing you don’t care about someone, wouldn’t you say? Anyway, you know that he and I went out together. Oh, for simply ages.’

  Gina stiffly interrupted her. ‘I thought it was only for a couple of weeks. Luc told me all about it, and that it’s over.’

  Carmina ground her teeth together as she shook her head in pitying disbelief. ‘So he didn’t mention trying to kiss me the other day then?’

  Gina gasped. ‘He never did!’

  Carmina was pleased this lie at least had ruffled her sister’s maddening calm. ‘I’m afraid so, love. He’s girl mad, didn’t you know? He kissed me on Tuesday, Doris Mitchell on Wednesday, and Jane Hepworth on Thursday behind the market hall.’

  Goodness, how did her imagination dream up all this stuff? Had she gone too far? She really would have to keep track, as one lie could so easily lead to another, a whole web of lies. Ah, well, in for a penny ... ‘

  ‘And he asked us all to the dance, every single one of us, although naturally we all turned him down.’ Lifting her nose in the air as if she wouldn’t dream of going anywhere with Luc Fabriani.

  ‘I don’t believe you! He wouldn’t do that. ’

  ‘Wouldn’t two-time you? Sorry, love, Luc simply isn’t to be trusted, not where girls are concerned.’ Whereupon, Gina’s lovely cinnamon eyes filled with a rush of tears.

  Unrepentant, Carmina raised a pair of finely drawn brows and casually shrugged, as if it were of no concern to her what Gina did, or felt. She tugged at the blue ribbon securing her pony tail to let the ebony curls fall about her shoulders, still beautiful despite being dripping wet, and smiled with feigned sympathy at her sister.

  ‘You know I don’t mean to be cruel,’ she fibbed. ‘I only want you to be happy, Gina, but Luc really is no good.’

  Gina rallied, her fine mouth tightening into a firm line as it did when defending one of her younger siblings. ‘That’s not true! You’re judging him like Momma and Papa do, calling him a lout just because he plays in a skiffle group and wears his hair in a DA.’

  Carmina made a little puffing sound. ‘As if I would do such a thing? I love skiffle!’ She knew she shouldn’t ask questions, because of the pain the answers would bring, but, burning with curiosity, she couldn’t seem to help herself. Carmina took great care to keep her tone casual. ‘Is that the first time he’s kissed you? I mean, you haven’t actually been out with him, have you?’

  Gina glanced over her shoulder, a frantic expression coming into her face. ’Hush, Momma might hear you. You mustn’t say a word.’

  Carmina’s mouth actually fell open. ‘You mean you have? You’ve been out on a date with Luc Fabriani?’

  Gina drew a steadying breath. ‘We’ve been seeing each other for two or three months now, although we’ve been careful to keep our meetings secret.’

  ‘Two or three months!’ Carmina could hardly believe her own ears.

  ‘Since late January, yes. He asked me out at the New Year Social at the church, but I said no, at first.’ A shy smile lit her face at the memory of how Luc had spent the whole of January trying to make her change her mind. ‘I knew Momma and Papa wouldn’t approve, so we kept it a secret. They don’t think I should have any sort of normal life because of ... well, you know why.‘ Gina’s quiet voice tailed away into silence.

  ‘I don’t believe you!’

  ‘It’s perfectly true. He’s really quite nice, not the rebel Momma and Papa claim him to be, although Luc says that I bring out the best in him, that I’ve made him almost respectable.’ Gina smiled, blushing prettily and her cinnamon eyes took on a dazed, far away expression. ‘Anyway, I like him, and he seems to like me.’

  Carmina’s stomach clenched. The thought of Gina meeting secretly with Luc Fabriani for all that time almost made her want to throw up. Utterly sickening! It shouldn’t be her stupid sister wrapped up in the arms of the hottest boy around, it should be herself.

  She gave a mocking laugh and went in for the kill.

  ‘You realise he’s only after you because he knows how desperate you are for a fella! He thinks you’ll be easy, that he can have his wicked way with you.’

  Gina shook her head. ‘You’re wrong. He’s not like that, not with me anyway.’

  ‘So what is he like?’ Carmina snapped.

  Gina looked at her older sister, eyes bright with pent-up happiness as she combed strands of straight damp hair from her face with her fingers. Then in the smallest of voices, said, ‘He’s sweet and loving, and really easy to talk to.’ Her eyes darkened and once again she glanced over her shoulder. ‘You will keep what I’m telling you a secret, Carmina, won’t you?’

  Carmina’s entire body seemed to grow still as she agreed that of course she would, as she had done a thousand times before. It always amazed her that, in her innocence, Gina never seemed to realise that promises were only kept when it was in Carmina’s interest to do so. Her sister had always been one for little secrets, hiding sweets in her handkerchief drawer, keeping a private diary, but this secret was totally unexpected.

  ‘The reason I don’t believe what these other girls have told you is that Luc has asked me to the dance. I haven’t said yes, not yet. I explained to him that I’d never ever been to a dance before, not since my illness. But I do feel so much better and I’m hoping to find the courage to try. I’ve agreed to let him know tomorrow.’ Her cheeks flushed pink with excitement.

  Rage roared through Carmina’s veins as fiercely as a forest fire. This was too much to bear. Inevitably it awakened her cruel streak and she began to laugh.

  ‘For goodness sake, girl, can’t you see he’s having you on? Why would Luc Fabriani want to dance with someone as clumsy as you? He must be blind as well as stupid. I mean, you can’t even walk properly, let alone dance, and you’re not exactly mown out with offers, are you? I can’t see them queuing round the block for the chance of taking you to the ball.’

  Gina’s pale cheeks suffused with a tide of hot colour. Since the polio she’d never entirely recovered her full strength and was thinner and smaller than she would otherwise have been, nowhere near as healthy and robust as the other Bertalone girls.

  She favoured one leg, as it was now almost an inch shorter than the other, which gave her a slight limp. But at least she’d escaped wearing those dreadful callipers the docto
r had once thought she’d need. They were hidden away in the back of a cupboard, a dreadful reminder of what might have been. She’d done all her exercises, made a determined effort to strengthen weak muscles, but it wasn’t easy. Too much physical exercise could make matters worse, and cause excessive fatigue.

  Momma and Papa, and her siblings, were so delighted that she was walking at all, nobody commented upon her slight disability. Gina did her utmost not to be sensitive about it, although her awkward gait had given her something of an inferiority complex. And after so long confined to a sick-room, the real world seemed just a little scary.

  But for Carmina to refer to this inevitable clumsiness was unforgivable and left Gina temporarily bereft of speech. Mostly, she’d learned to ignore her sister’s jibes, putting them down to Carmina’s uncertain temper, but this was too much.

  When she managed to find her voice it trembled with emotion. ‘That was a cruel and heartless thing to say.’ Then she bit down hard on her lower lip and rushed upstairs to her bedroom without even bothering with her spaghetti supper.

  Carmina was obliged to lie to Momma now, explaining Gina’s absence by saying she was suffering from a bad headache. Naturally, her mother dropped the serving spoon with a clatter and was for rushing upstairs after her precious daughter upon the instant. Carmina hastily reassured her it was simply the time of the month, and could she please have Gina’s portion?

  Allessandro, her greedy brother, objected, and any worries over Gina were soon lost in the usual mayhem over food and squabbles and general Bertalone chatter.

  After talking long into the night with her sister, Gina finally acknowledged that Carmina was probably right and she made up her mind to decline Luc’s invitation. She could see now that he’d only asked her to the dance out of pity. She still found it hard to believe that he would want to take her anywhere? She didn’t have one scrap of Carmina’s beauty. Without doubt her elder sister was the glamorous one, the one who turned boys’ heads. No one ever fell over their own feet watching her walk by.