‘And then everyone getting sick as a result of your food.’ Bob had a grin on his face.

  ‘I would hardly say it was our food seeing as most of it came from outside sources,’ Steve said pointedly, ‘like a pile of pork pies.’ Steve stared directly at Bob as he said this but Bob’s smile didn’t flicker. ‘Whichever way you look at it, nobody bargained for finishing off a great day with food poisoning,’ Steve said.

  Now Bob’s eyes narrowed and he leaned over so low that Steve could smell whisky on his breath. ‘I don’t know what you’re implying, mate, but you know very well you haven’t a cat in hell’s chance of pinning down the cause of that sickness, so I’d be very careful before I made any accusations if I were you.’

  ‘And if I were you I’d be very careful not to make any sudden moves without looking over your shoulder,’ Steve said. ‘For if I find out you had anything to do with this you will be sorry that you were ever born.’

  Bob straightened up. ‘Whichever way, the poor buggers missed out on a great show here that night.’

  ‘But you got your comeuppance. You lost half of your customers. It’s only a shame the sickness got to your workers as well,’ Steve said, looking over to the bar.

  ‘You mean Lizzie?’ Bob said. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it did.’ He stared down at Steve for so long Steve was beginning to wonder if he had at last remembered him from all those years ago. But then Bob grinned and turned away. ‘I’ll tell her you were asking after her when she gets back to work, shall I?’

  Chapter 7

  It was a few days before Lizzie was fit enough to return to work, and she and Hilda immediately planned a trip to the pictures for her first afternoon off.

  ‘I hoped you’d be fit again before the film came off,’ Hilda said eagerly, ‘only I so want to see Blithe Spirit and it’s showing at the Roxy this week. I hope you fancy it?’

  ‘I fancy anything that gets me out of the house,’ Lizzie said. ‘These last few days have been hell, so I’ll be glad to see any film and Blithe Spirit is as good as any.’

  ‘I do love the way Rex Harrison talks, don’t you?’ Hilda said. ‘He always sounds so posh. “What did you jolly well say you were called again?”’ Hilda’s imitation of Rex Harrison, speaking as if she had a mouthful of plums, made Lizzie laugh and she was reminded of it again when she heard him speaking in the film. But before the main feature they had to sit patiently through the B-film, a rerun of a Sherlock Holmes mystery they had both seen some weeks previously, and after the interval there was an extended Pathé newsreel about the VE celebrations that managed to capture the atmosphere of excitement and release that had pervaded the whole country on that day.

  ‘I’m enjoying VE day much more the second time around,’ Lizzie whispered to Hilda, licking the ice cream she’d bought during the interval as scenes from different street parties up and down the country appeared, showing people singing and dancing and obviously having a good time.

  ‘At least none of them suffered like we did from hooligans and food poisoning,’ Hilda giggled. ‘For me, the best part of VE day was the night before, if you know what I mean,’ she said and she concentrated on unwrapping her own ice cream as the pictures panned to St Paul’s Cathedral and Buckingham Palace. ‘Do you know,’ Hilda said, ‘the King’s not bad looking when he’s in his full naval togs, is he? Mind you, I like any kind of uniform. I love Princess Elizabeth in hers. Whatever it is.’

  ‘It’s the ATS,’ Lizzie said. ‘The Auxiliary Territorial Service.’

  ‘Sounds like the Girl Guides.’

  ‘It’s a bit more grown-up than that,’ Lizzie said.

  Hilda sighed. ‘I think I should have gone in for something with a uniform, instead of having to wear a pinny all the time. I bet it would have suited me, don’t you think?’

  Lizzie looked at her, eyebrows raised. ‘Fancy driving an ambulance, do you?’

  ‘I might.’ Hilda thought for a few moments. ‘I wonder how it feels to be a princess.’

  ‘Well, they obviously don’t always like it much. They couldn’t wait to slope off on their own,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘I know, fancy disappearing into the crowd like that, inmosquito.’

  Lizzie couldn’t help laughing. ‘I think you mean incognito, Hilda,’ and even in the darkened gloom of the cinema she could see her friend’s face go as pink as her neck scarf.

  ‘Course I did,’ Hilda said with a chuckle, ‘but like I say, just fancy the two of them buzzing off into the crowd like that. Anything could have happened to them.’

  ‘Fortunately for them no one noticed,’ Lizzie said. ‘I suppose I can understand them wanting to experience a bit of the excitement of real life without anyone knowing who they were.’

  ‘Then how come I don’t find real life so exciting? No one ever knows who I am.’ Hilda looked puzzled.

  Lizzie batted her arm playfully. ‘You daft ha’p’orth. You do say some of the funniest things.’

  Almost immediately the picture changed to show a close-up of Winston Churchill and all Hilda could say was, ‘Blimey, is he really that fat?’

  Lizzie smiled but she couldn’t speak for she felt a sudden lump in her throat, thinking about the part the Prime Minister had played in bringing the war to an end. She thought of the soldiers who would be coming home, and of those that wouldn’t, and had to swipe at the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. As the newsreel drew to a close there were long-distance shots of the crowd outside the royal palace and the audience in the cinema began to sing gustily, ‘For he’s a jolly good fellow,’ ending with a spontaneous round of applause. But Lizzie could only sniff noisily into her handkerchief. She was relieved when the main feature began almost immediately and the opening scenes of the film actually made her laugh out loud. By the end of the film, however, she and Hilda were both laughing and crying at the same time.

  ‘Eh, that were good, weren’t it?’ Hilda said, as they came out into the foyer. ‘Even if it was sad at the end.’

  ‘At least Madame Arcati was funny – she made me laugh when she kept trying to get to the ghosts through Daphne.’

  ‘Do you know,’ said Hilda, ‘she got me thinking, did Madame Arcati, and I reckon that’s what we should do. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.’

  ‘What are you talking about Hilda?’

  ‘Does your ma still hear them noises in the roof?’

  Lizzie nodded. ‘I’m afraid so, why?’

  ‘Well, I know the tea leaves didn’t work when we tried to find out what was going on, and …’

  ‘Neither did the Ouija board,’ Lizzie said, suddenly realizing what Hilda was referring to. ‘Are you thinking we should have another go at getting through to the spirits?’

  ‘Exactly. Maybe we could make contact with them in a different way, like Madame Arcati did. We could conjure up our own Daphne to talk directly to whatever spirits are in the house.’

  Lizzie’s heart sank as Hilda was getting excited now. ‘Has your ma seen any polter – poltice thingies flying around? Like in the film when the ghost moved the flowers and all you could see was this vase floating cross the room?’

  ‘A poltergeist? I don’t really believe …’ Lizzie began. But it didn’t matter for she could see that Hilda was already getting carried away. ‘I know that it’s got to be more than rats running around in the eaves, we do hear all kinds of different noises but I’ve never considered it might be a poltergeist,’ she said. She didn’t really believe in ghosts and she wasn’t sure how many more of Hilda’s clumsy attempts she could cope with.

  ‘Do you think your ma would let me try out some of Madame Arcati’s tricks of the trade?’ Hilda said, unable to disguise the excitement in her voice.

  ‘I suppose I can always ask her,’ Lizzie said slowly, ‘but for now we’d best step on it and be getting home before she sends out a search party.’

  They linked arms and were passing along the queue of people waiting to go in to the next showing of the film when Lizzie was forced to step off the kerb and into the road as a car was driving by. She felt someone grab hold of her arm and pull her back onto the pavement.

  ‘Watch out, or you’ll get knocked over!’ a male voice said sharply.

  Lizzie was about to protest that he was gripping her arm too tightly and for a moment, with his hat almost covering his eyes, she wasn’t sure who he was. Then she recognized his neatly trimmed moustache and his flashing smile and felt the colour rushing to her cheeks.

  ‘Why, if it isn’t Lizzie from the Pride,’ Steve Carter said. He touched the brim of his hat and pushed it back on his forehead so that his eyes stared directly into hers. ‘I trust this means you’ve fully recovered?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’ Lizzie could feel her cheeks burning. ‘But how did you know I was ill?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘I dropped into the Pride the day after the party,’ Steve said. ‘And fortunately for you, somehow I keep popping up, for here I am again today, only this time I was saving your life.’ He grinned, then asked in a more serious tone, ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘Yes, thanks, I’m fine, really.’ As he let go of her arm, somehow the tips of their fingers touched and Lizzie felt a blush rise from deep within her neck. She was aware of his scrutiny and wanted to look away but she felt rooted to the spot.

  ‘Is the film worth seeing?’ Steve asked, though from the way his gaze continued to be fixed on her face Lizzie wasn’t convinced it was the film he was interested in.

  ‘We enjoyed it, didn’t we, Lizzie?’ Hilda said quickly. ‘It’s got real ghosts in it.’

  ‘We both wanted to see Rex Harrison and thought the film looked like fun,’ Lizzie said. ‘I felt I needed a laugh after being ill,’ she added, trying not to look at Steve.

  ‘It’s a shame I didn’t know; we could have gone together,’ he said. ‘But I tell you what. Why don’t I drop in at the Pride on my way home and we can compare notes? A man living together with his two wives, one of whom is dead? I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about.’

  Lizzie looked at him, aware that his eyes had never left her face. She wasn’t usually stuck for words, but aware that Hilda was looking on with interest, she felt flustered and didn’t know what to say. There was a mischievous, teasing look in Steve’s eyes and she wasn’t sure whether or not to take him seriously. Then he smiled, and her legs suddenly felt unsteady.

  ‘So how would you like to go with me to see that new film, Brief Encounter?’ Steve said. ‘It’s opening at the Gaiety in town at the weekend. Not a ghost in sight apparently, just falling in love at the train station with engine smoke in their eyes. I bet that’s just up your street.’

  ‘I don’t think …’ Lizzie began.

  ‘I promise we won’t go in the back row, if that’s what’s stopping you,’ Steve said. He held both his hands up, palms out, an innocent look in his eyes. ‘We can go in the one and sixes if you like, best seats in the house.’ He paused. ‘Go on,’ he said suggestively, lowering his voice so that she had to strain to hear him. ‘We can still have a lot of fun.’

  He was certainly persuasive and for a moment Lizzie didn’t know what to say. She felt trapped by his gaze and found it difficult to look away, the power of his attraction drawing her like a magnet; just like she’d felt when she’d first met Joe. But this time it was different; this time she knew she didn’t dare respond.

  ‘I rather think we might have the same taste in films,’ Steve said, his voice chatty and matter-of-fact again. ‘I bet we’re both hopeless romantics.’ He put both his hands over his heart, a pleading look on his face. ‘Think of what you’d be missing. C’mon, what do you say? Sunday night? I could pick you up around six.’

  He looked at her so eagerly a ripple of excitement made her whole body tingle and Lizzie wanted to say yes. But right now she was weighted down by a secret that was almost too heavy for her to bear and she knew she had to say no.

  ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to go,’ she said at last, ‘but thanks all the same. I have to help out with the baby,’ she added by way of explanation when she saw his disappointed expression.

  ‘Well, you know where to find me, if you change your mind,’ he said.

  ‘Sure,’ she said though she was not able to look at him. ‘But right now we need to be getting home. My mother worries,’ she said and she made a point of linking arms with Hilda.

  ‘I’ll see you later, at the Pride, then,’ Steve said and he touched the brim of his hat, tilting it forwards again as she walked away.

  Lizzie kept her own face forward, fighting the urge to look back. This was the way it had to be. As she battled against her feelings, common sense told her it could only end in tears.

  It was late when Steve arrived at the Pride and Lizzie was about to call for last orders. She had spent so much of the evening wondering if she had indeed scared him off or if he would prove to be a man of his word, that she wasn’t sure how she felt when he eventually appeared. He took his hat off and immediately his eyes caught hers. His face lit up with a smile. ‘Good to see you again,’ he said. ‘Been busy?’

  ‘So, so,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘I bet you’ve missed me – you have, I can tell.’ His eyes twinkled.

  Lizzie raised her brow. ‘What can I get you?’ she said. ‘You’ve timed it well.’

  The pub was almost empty with only a few stragglers remaining and Lizzie was already clearing up. Hilda had dropped by earlier, bubbling with the news she’d received from an official source: Stan would be coming home very soon. She’d told as many people as possible, and then gone home ‘to wait for him’.

  Steve stood by the counter with his glass of bitter and Lizzie wanted to laugh when his first sip resulted in the white head of the freshly pulled pint sticking to his moustache like snowflakes. Without her saying a word he wiped the excess off with his finger.

  ‘That better?’ he said, his eyes flashing flirtatiously. Lizzie smiled coyly then looked away.

  ‘So, did you enjoy the film?’ she said after a few moments’ silence.

  Steve laughed. ‘It was great if you believe in ghosts,’ he said, ‘which I imagine your friend Hilda does. But it’s not a film to be taken too seriously.’ His eyes crinkled with laughter.

  ‘It was a fine bit of nonsense to lift the spirits, shall we say?’ Lizzie said, and she was gratified when he grinned at her pun.

  ‘It was certainly a film to make you think twice before stepping off the kerb without looking, wouldn’t you say?’ There was something about the way Steve regarded her quizzically that made Lizzie catch her breath. ‘And I, for one, am very glad I managed to stop my favourite barmaid from becoming a ghost this afternoon,’ he said.

  Lizzie looked behind her.

  ‘No,’ Steve said, raising his glass. ‘I do mean you.’

  ‘And I was very grateful,’ Lizzie said with a nod, not wanting to look at him. She was about to walk away but he beckoned her back.

  ‘Talking of which,’ he said, ‘I’d hate to think of you vanishing in any way before your time. So maybe you’d allow me to walk you home tonight?’

  ‘Why?’ she asked without thinking.

  ‘Because I’m here and because – well, I don’t know why, but it seems particularly dark and spooky out there.’

  Lizzie couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’ve obviously been reading too many ghost stories. I have to walk home every night and it’s always dark and spooky, or maybe you hadn’t noticed?’ she teased. ‘And anyway, I thought you said you didn’t believe in ghosts.’

  ‘I don’t, though I was worried you might.’

  ‘Just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean they don’t exist,’ she said.

  Steve hesitated for a moment, then burst out laughing. ‘I’m sure that’s right! And if you let me accompany you it would give me a little more time to be able to make sense of what you’ve just said.’

  Lizzie found herself responding to his laughter and was surprised to find that she liked the idea of him seeing her home, though she didn’t want to admit it. ‘It will only give us a few minutes more,’ she said lightly, ‘as I live just around the corner on Coronation Street.’

  ‘A few minutes it shall be then,’ Steve said, and he downed most of his pint as Lizzie came out from behind the counter and began collecting the dead glasses. ‘I like to watch other people working,’ Steve said. ‘I’ll wait here while you lock up.’

  ‘Thankfully, that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about,’ Lizzie said. ‘Bob lives on the premises so he usually does the honours.’

  At that moment Bob appeared from the scullery behind the bar. He didn’t seem to notice Steve or any of the other remaining stragglers; he had obviously come looking for Lizzie. As she went back behind the bar Bob stepped in front of her and, reaching out, he put both of his large hands on her shoulders making a playful attempt at massage. But his enormous bulk made the whole manoeuvre look menacing.

  Steve was impressed with the way Lizzie tried to sidestep out of his way as soon as she saw him and pre-empt him touching her, but she was carrying several glasses in each hand and found it impossible to slip out of his grasp entirely. Steve, suddenly alert, realized Bob still wasn’t aware of his presence and he didn’t want to make a move that might be mistaken for an attack. The landlord was too large a man for it to be possible to spring a surprise and Steve was concerned about the damage Bob could do in retaliation. So Steve cleared his throat to announce his presence. Bob looked up. But the big man merely grinned in acknowledgement and didn’t change his course. He held on to Lizzie for several moments, kneading her shoulders before giving her what looked like a firm, if over-zealous, pat on the bottom that steered her in the direction of the kitchen.

  Steve didn’t know whether to refer to the incident as he and Lizzie slowly walked together along Rosamund Street so he was relieved when Lizzie brought the matter up.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about me, you know,’ she said. ‘It’s amazing what you learn when you work in a place like that. I’ll admit I was a bit green when I started but I think I’ve got the measure of the likes of Bob Bennett by now.’

 

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