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  ‘No, no, it’s just—you know—women’s troubles.’

  Lillian did know about women’s troubles now, but hers had not yet caused her to take to her bed.

  ‘D’you want a cuppa or anything?’

  ‘No, nothing. I just want to sleep.’

  She closed her eyes again. Lillian crept away. It didn’t even occur to her to wish that she had a mother she could confide in, someone whom she could share her hopes with and consult about what she might do for the talent contest. Her mother had always been too tired or too busy to give her any attention. But oh, if only Aunty Eileen were still around…

  The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of work. Two more lots of guests arrived, passed Gran’s stringent suitability test, were told the house rules and were shown their rooms. Lillian got on with buttering the bread and setting the table so that tea was ready for when for Dad and Wendy came in from work and Frank turned up from wherever he had been. After tea she had the washing-up and clearing away to do. Wendy was supposed to help her, but she was getting ready for a date.

  Lillian was dying to rush round to Janette’s, tell her about the contest and sift through her pile of records to find a suitable one to perform to. But with Mum in bed and Wendy and the boys going out, there was nobody left but herself to make tea and cocoa, answer the door to any late guests and see to anything Gran might want. Lillian spent the evening humming tunes and trying out steps. A fast happy song or a slow dreamy one? Tap or ballet? She just couldn’t make her mind up. And then there was the question of what she was going to wear. It was all a lot more complicated than she had first thought. One thing was clear, though, she now had something to prove to James that she was just as serious as he was about achieving her aim.

  On Sunday morning her mother was on her feet again, though looking far from well, but Lillian still had to help prepare the breakfasts for the PGs, clear away and wash up afterwards and strip their beds when they had left. Then there was Sunday lunch, with more washing-up and the cooker to clean.

  ‘Horrible, horrible thing!’ she growled, scrubbing grease from the inside of the oven.

  It was nearly three in the afternoon before she finally made it round to Janette’s, and by then she was just bursting with impatience.

  Her friend was thrilled with the idea of entering the talent contest.

  ‘You are brave! I like doing shows with the dancing school, but I couldn’t get up there and dance in front of judges.’

  ‘It’s a way to get noticed,’ Lillian said.

  ‘Won’t your family mind?’

  This had been bothering Lillian. There was no danger of their going to the contest but, if she won, she would be in the local paper. She couldn’t imagine what the reaction would be.

  ‘I’m not going to think about that,’ she said. ‘Let’s decide what music I should choose.’

  It took two days of constant mind-changing before she finally decided on We’re a Couple of Swells. The music was jaunty but not too fast and gave her an opportunity to put some gymnastics into the dance. She and Janette cobbled together bits of routines Janette had learnt at her classes with new ideas of Lillian’s that had been inspired by trips to the cinema and the variety shows she had watched on Janette’s parents’ television.

  ‘It’s no good trying to look like Grace Kelly or someone like that. My dance teacher says people like young girls to look like young girls, not sophisticated women. You need to be fresh and lively. People like lively. It makes them feel happy,’ Janette said.

  Lillian had to take her word for it.

  ‘More like Petula Clark?’ she suggested.

  ‘Sort of. The gymnastics are good. They’re your strong point. Nobody at my class can do cartwheels and handsprings and stuff as well as you.’

  So they all went in.

  Costume was easier—Lillian could get into Janette’s pink taffeta party dress and her last year’s ballet shoes, so all she needed was a pair of frilly knickers to wear underneath.

  ‘Do I look all right? Isn’t it a bit babyish?’ she asked anxiously, peering at herself in Janette’s mirror.

  ‘It’s very pretty,’ Janette said, offended.

  Lillian filled in her form and paid her entrance fee. She came away from the Carnival offices feeling rather sick. She was committed now. It wasn’t just a pipe dream; she really was going to get up there in front of people and perform. All she had to do now was to buy the sheet music for the pianist and practise until her dance was perfect.

  James was due home the weekend before the carnival. Lillian stayed in all day on Saturday on the off-chance that he might call in. She whiled away the time practising her dance routine, but by late afternoon she couldn’t stand being inside any longer and went out into the yard to oil her bike. After all, James had told her to maintain it properly, and she didn’t want him to think she had been neglecting it.

  She was busy pumping up the tyres, all the while keeping her ear tuned to any possible visitors to the house, when there was a pounding of footsteps in the back alleyway. Lillian looked up as Frank came crashing through the gate clutching a bundle wrapped in sacking. He dived into the shed, shuffled around a bit and then came out again without the bundle.

  ‘If anyone asks, you ain’t seen me, right?’ he said to Lillian.

  ‘Yeah, but—’

  ‘Ain’t seen me all day. You got that?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Mind you remember. It’s life or death.’

  At that, he disappeared out of the back gate again and could be heard running northwards, away from the seafront. Lillian was about to go and investigate the bundle when she heard men’s voices coming from the other direction.

  ‘Which is his one?’

  ‘They all look the same.’

  ‘Count—his is the sixth one up.’

  The tall back gate wobbled and opened to reveal three young men in Edwardian-style jackets, bootlace ties and drainpipe jeans. They sported long sideburns and their hair was brushed back in James Dean quiffs. When they caught sight of Lillian they stopped and stared for a moment. Lillian looked stonily back, trying to control a lurch of fear. Teddy boys! They might look very smart, but they had a bad reputation. They always went around in gangs and usually carried knuckle dusters and flick knives.

  ‘You Frank Parker’s sister?’ one demanded. He appeared to be the leader. The other two just stood there looking tough.

  Lillian nodded.

  ‘Where is he?’

  Lillian swallowed. They did look very threatening. ‘Dunno.’

  ‘He indoors?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You sure? Only he was heading up this way.’

  They took a couple of steps towards her. Lillian stood up. Life or death, that was what Frank had said. He might be a pain, but he was her brother.

  ‘I ain’t seen him all day.’

  It came out without a wobble. Lillian was proud of herself. The three men looked unconvinced.

  ‘I been out here doing my bike for half an hour or more,’ she elaborated. ‘So I’d of seen him come in. We always use the back.’

  ‘You’re not lying, are you?’ the leader asked.

  All three of them pressed forward, surrounding her. Their faces were menacing. The leader pushed her in the chest with his hard fingers.

  ‘Only you better not be lying. We don’t like liars.’

  One of them picked up her bike. ‘This yours?’

  Anger laced with fear came flooding through her. ‘Don’t you touch that! I ain’t done nothing to you.’

  The young man laughed and heaved it over the fence, where it landed in next door’s yard with a clatter.

  ‘You pig! You better not of damaged it!’ Lillian cried.

  What would James say if he found it was broken?

  The leader poked her again. Lillian’s heart beat with fear.

  ‘That’s just a warning. If we find out you’re lying, you’ll be over that fence next, see? Now, where’s
Frank?’

  ‘I dunno!’ Lillian repeated desperately.

  She tried to turn and run inside, but one of the Teds grabbed her and spun her round to face the leader.

  ‘You leave her alone!’ A new voice rang out.

  There was a blur of khaki and a smack of fist on flesh. First one then the other Ted yelped and Lillian found herself released.

  ‘James!’

  For it was him, in his uniform and very angry.

  The third Ted, the one who had thrown her bike over the fence, yelled, ‘Blimey, it’s the army!’

  James landed two more punches on the leader.

  ‘Yeah, and you better scarper before my mates get out here. They’ll make mincemeat of you,’ he threatened.

  For a long nerve-stretching moment, Lillian thought the Teds might set on James with bicycle chains or flick knives. James made a move towards the third one. It broke the deadlock. All three turned and ran.

  Lillian’s legs turned suddenly to string. She staggered and James caught her in his arms.

  ‘Lillian, are you all right? What was all that about?’

  ‘Where’s your friends?’ Lillian asked stupidly.

  ‘What? Oh, there aren’t any. I didn’t want them to think it was three to one. Lillian, what’s going on?’

  Shakily, Lillian managed to explain.

  ‘I don’t think much of the company your brother keeps,’ James said. ‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’

  For once in her life, Lillian was the centre of attention.

  ‘Oh, Lillian, thank God—’ her mother gasped. ‘Those dreadful Teddy boys—sit down, sit down—’

  She found herself sitting at the kitchen table, clasped in her mother’s arms.

  ‘Hot sweet tea, that’s what she needs for shock,’ James was saying.

  Susan filled the kettle. ‘Did you take them on all by yourself?’ she asked her brother.

  ‘He did. There were three of them; they were looking for Frank,’ Lillian explained.

  ‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to, really I don’t,’ her mother wailed.

  Gran appeared, alerted by the raised voices. ‘What’s going on here?’

  Everyone tried to explain at once.

  Gran laid a hand on Lillian’s shoulder. ‘You all right, girl?’ she asked gruffly.

  Lillian nodded. It was the first time she had ever been shown any concern from her grandmother.

  ‘That boy; he’s heading for trouble,’ Gran stated. ‘I’ll have a few words to say to him when he gets home.’

  A cup of hot sweet tea was put in front of Lillian. She sipped it, basking in her temporary star status.

  Gran was fulminating about Frank bringing the family in disrepute while Bob agreed with her. Susan distributed more tea.

  ‘What did they want Frank for, I wonder?’ James said.

  With a jolt, Lillian remembered the bundle. What was it, that caused so much trouble? And was it still in the shed? She wanted to go and look but, when she made to get up, James pressed her down into her chair again.

  ‘You just stay there.’

  And then she thought of something else. ‘My bike! Have they damaged my bike?’

  ‘I’ll check in a minute. If they have, I’ll mend it,’ James assured her.

  Nettie looked up at him. ‘You saved my little girl,’ she said. ‘I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’

  By the time Dad and Wendy arrived home, James was the official hero of the hour.

  ‘Fought them off single-handed, he did,’ Nettie said.

  ‘If I’d have known what was going on, I would have been there with him,’ Bob explained.

  ‘Of course you would, dear,’ Susan agreed.

  Even Wendy looked mildly impressed.

  Everyone wanted to know all about James’s basic training, and he kept them all entertained with stories of the hardships he had survived until Susan reminded him that their mother was making him a special meal.

  ‘Nothing skimped now rationing’s over,’ she boasted.

  And he was gone. Lillian had been rescued by him, but had had no chance to speak to him and tell him about what she was doing towards making her dream come true. It was very poor compensation to hear Frank getting a rollicking from Gran when he finally made an appearance close to bedtime.

  Chapter Six

  THE Wednesday of the talent contest was wet and windy. Ja-nette came to call for Lillian and they cycled along the gusty seafront in their school macs carrying the party dress, ballet shoes and sheet music plus make-up that Lillian had stolen from the messy cache in Wendy’s side of the chest of drawers. They were heading for the bandstand, which was at the top of the cliff gardens on the far side of the pier from where Lillian lived. As they went, Lillian kept her nerves at bay by telling her friend all about her brush with the Teddy boys and James’s heroic rescue. Janette was awestruck.

  ‘Weren’t you terrified?’ she asked, her bike wobbling as she gazed at Lillian.

  ‘You bet I was! I thought they were going to pull me to pieces. They don’t care, you know. They don’t care about anything, Teds don’t.’

  ‘But what was in the bundle?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lillian admitted. ‘When I went back to have a look later, it was gone. Frank must’ve sneaked in and got it some time in the evening, ’cos he didn’t come home properly till gone eleven. I think he thought everyone’d be in bed by then. Well, usually they are, but Gran and Dad stayed up. He didn’t half get a telling off from them, I can tell you.’

  ‘Serves him right.’

  ‘Do you know something? He had a go at me the next day about it! Said I should of kept quiet about it with the family! I said to him, “You owe me, Frank. I didn’t say anything to the Teds, and I didn’t tell Gran and Dad about that stuff you hid and, if James hadn’t come along, I’d of been chucked over the fence and landed on top of my bike.” But he wasn’t a bit grateful.’

  ‘The beast,’ Janette sympathised. ‘But what a bit of luck, James arriving just at that moment.’

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ Lillian agreed. The biggest bit of luck she’d had for a long time. The trouble was, she was going to have to live on that memory now, for she had seen nothing more of James that weekend. According to Susan, he had gone out with his friends on the Saturday night, stayed in for Sunday lunch with the family the next day and had set off back for Catterick by late afternoon. Now it would be another long, long six months before he got any more leave.

  They had no breath left for talking as they laboured up Pier Hill, and from there it was only a short spin along the cliff top past the Never Never Land gardens to the band stand. The building was oval shaped, with a covered stage facing away from the sea and covered seating on three sides. In the centre was a large seating area open to the weather where on nice days people sat in the sunshine to enjoy the concerts and look at the view through the glass walls.

  By the time Lillian and Janette arrived they were wet and dishevelled. Everyone else seemed to have come with their mothers, and the place was awash with loud-voiced women chivvying their children and insisting on somewhere decent to change. Lillian and Janette found the harassed-looking organisers and asked what they had to do.

  ‘Who did you say you were, dear? Lindy-Lou Parker? Oh, yes. And you’re doing what? Dancing? Have you got your music? You’re number eleven on the running order. Off you go round the back there and get changed, then someone will tell you where to sit until it’s your turn.’

  Janette was snorting with laughter as they walked away.

  ‘Lindy-Lou? Where does that come from?’

  ‘It’s what my Aunty Eileen used to call me,’ Lillian told her.

  ‘But you were only six then.’

  ‘All the same, it’s better than Lillian. More sort of stagey.’

  ‘More sort of babyish, if you ask me.’

  Still arguing, they found a damp corner of the cramped room beside the stage. Lillian stepped into the taffeta dress. As
a party dress it would have been much too short for her, but it was fine for dancing as it showed off her long slim legs.

  ‘You should have tights on underneath really, but your legs are nice and brown, so perhaps it won’t notice,’ Janette said.

  ‘I did them with gravy browning, like they used to during the war. You don’t think they’ll go streaky in the rain, do you?’ Lillian asked.

  ‘Keep them covered, just in case.’

  The night before, Lillian had borrowed some of Wendy’s setting lotion, combed it through her hair, then made it into six tight little plaits. Now she unplaited them and brushed the now crinkly hair into two bunches, which she tied up with pink ribbons.

  ‘What d’you think?’ she asked.

  Janette put her head to one side, considering. ‘Well…’

  Lillian’s confidence plummeted. ‘You think it’s horrible,’ she accused.

  ‘No—’

  Lillian peered into the hand mirror she had brought with her.

  ‘You’re right, it is horrible. Oh, if only Aunty Eileen were here, she’d of done it beautifully for me.’

  ‘Well, she isn’t, so it’ll have to do,’ said her practical friend. ‘Sit down, and I’ll do your make-up.’

  Lillian submitted to Janette’s efforts with the powder and lipstick. Once more, Lillian looked in the mirror.

  ‘I look like a doll!’ she exclaimed, horrified.

  ‘It’s stage make-up. It has to be like that,’ Janette insisted.

  Lillian looked about her. Some of the pushy mothers were applying real greasepaint to their little dears’ faces. All of the performers looked like badly painted dolls. Reluctantly, she accepted Janette’s word for it. After all, Janette had performed in dancing school shows. For all her ambitions, Lillian had never set foot on a stage before.

  The time for the start of the competition drew near. The competitors were herded off into seats alongside the stage while the mothers and Janette had to sit in a different part of the bandstand. Day trippers and holidaymakers out for some entertainment huddled in the sheltered seats and the four judges sat at the table at the centre back. There was a huge gap of empty seats in the middle where nobody wanted to sit in the rain. A compère with an over-jolly voice came on and made a couple of feeble jokes, introduced the judges and the pianist, and the contest began.