Rock a Bye Baby (28 page)

‘Shit!’ Johnnie braced his legs, his back against the wall, his head hanging. Slowly, he raised his eyes and looked deeply into hers. ‘Are you telling me the truth? You’re not pulling a fast one like your mate Rita tried with Pete?’

‘I bloody well am not!’

Marcie folded her arms, a defensive gesture. It wasn’t her fault. She’d been responsible. The pills were the sign of that. None of it mattered now – the deed was done. And what was it they said? No good crying over spilt milk. All the same, the fault lay with the person who’d swapped the real pills with aspirin. Would Rita do that? She still didn’t want to believe it.

‘Let’s walk,’ he said.

They headed for the dunes.

‘Seems like your mate Rita’s not the good friend you thought she was.’

Johnnie’s comment hit her hard. All these years
and she’d found Rita funny and opinionated and from the right side of the tracks. Was it possible that she’d been more influenced by Rita’s lifestyle and that in itself had blinded her to the person Rita really was?

It seemed that Johnnie thought so.

He said something else that made her blood run cold. ‘We’re too young for this.’

She took a deep breath before voicing an obvious option. ‘I suppose I can make enquiries about getting rid of it.’

‘No!’

The suddenness of his response surprised her. She’d been bearing this burden by herself for some weeks. His rejection of the idea was all very well, but she was the one who was most
physically
involved. She had the right to be awkward about it.

‘It’s none of your business!’

‘Of course it is! It’s my kid, isn’t it?’ He paused before hurling the fatal barb. ‘Or is it?’

She felt as though she were blushing from top to toe – even in the areas unseen beneath her clothes.

‘What do you take me for? There’s only ever been you.’

Her throat felt so dry that speaking actually hurt. How crazy was that.

‘I’m going to have to tell my grandmother. I can’t tell my father – at least not to his face.’

‘We’ll get married.’

He said it so suddenly that it didn’t sink in at first. When it did she raised her eyes and looked up at him.

‘You don’t have to.’

‘For Christ’s sake!’ He slammed the palm of his hand against his forehead. ‘I don’t have to! I don’t need to! Has it occurred to you that I might actually
want
to marry you? Let’s face it, we clicked from the word go. A few years down the line and we would have married anyway.’

To hear him say that was like a breath of fresh air.

‘We’ll have to live somewhere,’ she said.

‘Of course we will. We’ve got plenty of room at our place. We can live there and I can get a job instead of going to university.’

‘University?’

He nodded. She joined him sitting on a low wall to stare at the sea.

‘So that’s what you meant by shoving bits of paper around.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I can either go full time in Sid Norton’s motorbike shop or I can use my qualifications to get something in an office. I got offered a job in an insurance office; not something I’d choose, but if there’s an extra mouth to feed …’

Marcie could hardly believe her ears. Johnnie had amazed her. He was reeling off future plans that he’d only thought up within the last minutes – even
seconds! She found herself swept along with a strange kind of enthusiasm. They had some mighty hurdles to jump, the biggest of them being telling their respective families.

‘When will you tell them?’ she asked him.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Not yet perhaps. Not till you’ve told your family. Mine are going to be disappointed. They had their hearts set on me going to university.’

The type of parents Johnnie had were a world away from hers. For the first time she had some inkling of his background. It frightened her that she might not fit in.

‘You don’t have to marry me.’

‘No. I don’t.’

‘Then don’t.’

The air seemed to bristle between them. Marcie turned her gaze back to the sea. It wasn’t even grey any more. The nights were drawing in. The sea was turning darker along with the evenings.

The wet shingle crunched beneath his boots as he came up behind her, standing so close she could feel the heat of his body.

‘Let’s wait and see what happens. Things can happen, can’t they?’

He meant a miscarriage. It was early days but it was possible she could lose the baby she was carrying. She nodded in answer to his question but deep inside
she knew she didn’t want anything to happen. This baby was unborn but already she felt a great love for it.

He sighed deeply. ‘OK. Leave it until the bump starts to show, and then we’ll sort it all out.’

They’d been gone barely five minutes when Rita Taylor sauntered over to the hot-dog stand. Pete was standing in the queue with a girl who was chewing gum and in Rita’s estimation wasn’t very well dressed. Her jeans were faded, her leather jacket was scuffed and her dirty blonde hair was a mass of tangled tresses.

Rita sniffed her disdain and addressed Pete.

‘I really fancy another hot dog. I’ll let you buy me one if you’re a good boy.’

Pete barely glanced at her. ‘Buy your own.’ He looked pointedly at her stomach. It was obvious to anyone that she wasn’t pregnant and never had been. Lucky for him that he had a mate like Johnnie who had told him what she’d been planning.

Rita followed his gaze and blanched. She swiftly recovered and tutted, shaking her head like a teacher she’d once known. ‘Peter, Peter, Peter! There was a time when you’d do anything for me.’ She stroked the leather sleeve of his jacket.

Pete grinned. ‘Burgers and hot dogs are cheap meat, Rita. Just like you.’

While they’d been talking the girl with him had
blown a large bubble. On her bursting into laughter, the bubble popped and stuck to her face.

Rita got the meaning in Pete’s comment, but she wasn’t one to let it ride.

‘They’re not very big sausages anyway! A bit like you really! Greaser!’

He grabbed her by the hair. ‘Let’s get it straight, you slag! I wouldn’t have touched you with a barge pole if Johnnie hadn’t fallen for your mate. Get it?’

Rita lashed out and managed to get free. Her eyes blazed with anger and a sneer twitched at the corner of her mouth, making her jaw look lopsided.

‘Well, it’s her that’s going to fall now. She’s going to fall right good and proper!’

The bubblegum girl had taken an instant dislike to the plump mod with the flat shoes and the patterned smock. ‘What do you mean by that?’

Pete frowned. Rita had been a ready and willing participant on the sex front, but he hadn’t really liked her. She ran down her friends. He would never do that.

‘She’s up the spout! Or if she’s not she soon will be the way her and your mate are carrying on. But then, what do you expect from one of the Brookses! Rough lot all round and from the roughest side of the island.’

Pete was rarely roused to temper, but he was now. He raised his hand. Diane hung onto it.

‘No. She’s not worth it.’

Heeding her advice he let his hand drop. They both watched as Rita sauntered off, head in the air, backside swaying like the back of an Indian elephant.

‘What did she mean by all that?’ he murmured.

Diane shrugged. ‘Could be something. Could be nothing. But never mind. Johnnie’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.’

There was nobody at home when Johnnie dropped Marcie outside her house.

‘Next weekend,’ he said. ‘And don’t worry. We’ll get through this.’

They kissed goodnight, then kissed again. She felt apprehensive as she watched him ride away. She had never planned for this to happen. There were so many ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ attached to a situation like this. There were so many people they had to satisfy and so many considerations as to what might happen, where they would end up, and if they would end up together.

She thought all these things until the rear light of the motorcycle glowed red then disappeared.

Exclamations and a noisy interchange of conversation drew her attention to the other end of the street. A crowd was gathered outside the entrance to the back lane, but she felt no curiosity to go along and see what was going on. She presumed her grandmother was there and that’s why their own house was in darkness.

She ran into the house and up the stairs. Babs had left one last suitcase. It was small, brown and battered,
and barely enough for Marcie’s things, but she made it enough. Another stupid thing, she thought to herself. Why pack a case now? It would be months before she left.

She looked round the old cottage where she’d been born and had spent her life. Leaving would be difficult; she’d never realised before how difficult. The cottage was part of her; her family was part of her. How would it be to live with Johnnie in London?

The bedroom was oddly cold without her small sister or her grandmother sleeping in there. She’d always dreamed of having a bedroom to herself like Rita, but now it had come to be she didn’t like it.

Before climbing into bed, she looked out of the window. The window overlooked the back garden, a dingy place by day but transfigured by moonlight.

A full moon escaped from a circlet of clouds. The garden was bathed in silver clear light. Even the shed where the chickens used to live looked slightly magical, as though someone had splashed it with silver paint.

Just for a moment – a very fleeting moment – she fancied she saw a figure evolve between the fence and the shed.

After rubbing her eyes she leaned closer to the window pane. There was no one there, just black shadows falling like mats among the silver.

A sudden creaking on the stairs caused her to turn
round. Her grandmother was standing there, a small figure in black, eyes piercing even in the muted glow of the bedside light.

‘Oh. Gran. I thought you were already in bed.’

Rosa raised one well-defined eyebrow in disbelief. ‘Is that what you think?’

Her eyes were unblinking. Marcie felt instantly guilty.

‘Did Dad find Babs?’

‘I think you know the answer to that.’

Of course she did. If her father had found her stepmother he wouldn’t be spending his days pacing around the house like a caged wolf.

‘He will be going up to London for good, I think,’ said her grandmother. ‘It is best he is there so he can find her more easily, especially now he has left his job with Mr Taylor.’

Mention of Alan Taylor made Marcie blush. He’d caught up with her one day outside the shops.

He’d smiled as if nothing had happened, as if he’d done nothing wrong.

‘And how’s my little Marcie?’

She’d flounced on by, her face burning and a queasiness in her stomach. The events of the night when she’d gone to his place came back like a bad dream. Alarmed at the sight of her stained underwear, she’d washed them swiftly in the sink rather than adding them to the laundry bin where her grandmother
would see them. Her face blazed at the thought of it.

‘Leave me alone.’

He’d grabbed her arm. ‘Me and you are made for each other, Marcie,’ he’d hissed, his breath hot and moist against her cheek.

‘People are watching,’ she hissed back.

‘They would do. Small-town mentality,’ he said, his comment accompanied by the signature whiter-than-white smile. ‘How about we go away up to London? Just you and me. I could show you a good time. A real good time.’

Jennifer had come to her rescue.

‘Am I right in thinking that was Rita Taylor’s dad?’

Marcie had confirmed it.

‘Thought it was,’ said Jennifer. She popped a crisp into her mouth. ‘I hear he can’t keep his hands off young girls – or anything in a skirt for that matter. Have you heard that?’

Marcie shook her head. She’d been shaking then, and she almost did the same now.

‘I expect Dad will find something better in London.’

Her grandmother’s eyes stayed locked with hers. ‘You are leaving too.’

Too! The word made Marcie smart.

‘I don’t know what you mean, Gran.’

She told herself that it was too early to confide in
anyone about her condition. As Johnnie had said, what if something happened? She’d heard of women having miscarriages. It might happen to her, but if not, Johnnie had promised to marry her.

‘There’s not much round here,’ she said. ‘I might leave sooner or later.’

‘There’s a boy.’

Again her grandmother had startled her with her insight. This was how she was sometimes.

Her grandmother nodded and although a smile twitched at her lips there was sadness in her eyes. ‘I can see it in your face.’

‘I’ve got a boyfriend. I think I might marry him.’ Her grandmother blinked then shook her head. ‘No, you are not.’

‘Yes. Yes. Of course I am. It’s just a case of getting Dad to sign the permission because I’m under twenty-one.’

‘Your father will not like it.’

She’s right there, thought Marcie. Her father wouldn’t like her running off and getting married. Seeing as she was not twenty-one, he had to give his permission. She convinced herself that he would, but deep down she knew he would be furious. He’d be even more furious if he knew about the baby. Hadn’t he said he would kill her if she brought trouble home?

Turning away she threw the bedclothes back. ‘I’m tired, Gran. You must be too.’

She climbed into bed.

Rosa Brooks stood absolutely still, her expression unfathomable. ‘You saw the people at the end of the street?’

Marcie made a big show of pummelling her pillows. ‘I saw them. What was it all about?’

‘Mr Ellis was buried in his air-raid shelter. It collapsed. He’s dead. Garth was in there too, helping him.’

Marcie gasped.

‘Mr Ellis is dead. Garth is safe. We should thank God for that.’

Rosa Brooks went back downstairs and made herself a cup of tea. Her heart was heavy and she was feeling drained. Perhaps if she hadn’t been she might have sat Marcie down and talked with her. As it was, recent happenings had taken their toll.

‘Cyril, so many things, so many bad things,’ she murmured as she sat herself down in her favourite chair.