‘No, I haven’t,’ hissed Tressa. ‘But it’s hard, bloody hard. I won’t feel as scared when I have the ring on my finger.’
‘It’s not a wedding ring, Tressa,’ Lizzie reminded her.
‘I know that. The wedding ring will follow.’
‘Please, Tressa, be careful.’
‘Careful!’ Tressa said scornfully. ‘That’s for old bones, careful. I’m so happy I could die, and you tell me to be careful.’
There was no use talking to her. She was drunk on love and champagne and that wasn’t a combination that would produce any sort of sense. ‘Well, stay happy, Tressa,’ Lizzie said, ‘and if it’s what you want I’ll be happy for you, but for now I’m too tired to feel anything much. You stay awake all night if you like, but I must sleep.’
‘I’m too buoyed-up to even close my eyes.’
‘Then don’t,’ Lizzie said softly. ‘But stay awake quietly, will you?’
Tressa didn’t answer. She was too busy pirouetting at the end of her bed, her arms outstretched, and Lizzie gave a groan and hid her head under the covers.
Later, she heard Tressa bumbling away, bumping into the bed, and once after she’d put the light out she thought she heard her fall onto the floor. She didn’t look and Tressa giggled again so Lizzie knew she wasn’t hurt. God, I wouldn’t have her head in the morning for all the tea in China, she thought, and remembered how she’d felt the day after that fated Christmas dance. For all the urging of Mike and Steve and even Tressa, she’d never got in that state again, nor anywhere near it. She had the feeling she had to keep a grip on herself and stay level-headed with Steve, but Tressa obviously didn’t feel the same. However, that wasn’t her concern. She wasn’t her cousin’s keeper, and that was Lizzie’s last thought before sleep overtook her.
‘Tressa, wake up!’ Lizzie hissed urgently.
‘Leave me alone.’
‘I can’t. Come on, you’ll be late and you won’t half catch it.’
‘I’m ill. Tell them I’m ill.’
‘I’ll do no such thing. Anyway, they’d not believe it, and if the night porter tells them the time you came in and the state of you, you might get your marching orders. Come on, you’re hung over and I bet it’s not the first time either.’
‘Shut up!’ Tressa said, pulling the cover tighter around her. Lizzie had a measure of sympathy for her, for she knew how Tressa would be feeling. But Tressa had shown little feeling for her, Lizzie remembered, and she’d got that way by accident whereas Tressa had known what she was doing. But Lizzie also knew the state Birmingham was in with regard to jobs, and if Tressa lost this job she’d have a long wait for another, especially if the manager refused to give her a reference.
Lizzie couldn’t allow that to happen and so, grasping the covers with both hands, she yanked them clean off the bed. Tressa gave a shriek and the other two girls, who’d been fast asleep, jerked awake. ‘If you don’t belt up, Tressa,’ Betty said fiercely as she sat up in the bed, ‘I’ll come over there and knock your bleeding block off. It’s not on, this. You come home in the early hours as drunk as a Lord and wake us up, and then again in the morning. What’s your problem, anyroad?’
‘I’m ill.’
‘Ill my Aunt Fanny! Get up and go to work and give us all a bit of peace, or I’ll throw a basin of water over you.’
Lizzie could see Betty meant what she said and she honestly couldn’t blame her. Tressa knew it too and, whimpering, she got to her knees and gingerly put her feet to the floor, pulling herself up by the bedpost. ‘God, I feel awful! I won’t be able to stand the sight of all those greasy breakfasts, I feel sick already.’
Lizzie had had enough. ‘Get yourself to the bathroom,’ she commanded. ‘Clean your teeth, wash your face and get your uniform on. We’re running late already.’
‘You don’t understand. My head’s pounding.’
‘Then take an aspirin,’ Lizzie said unfeelingly. ‘I’m away. I’m not putting my job on the line for you.’
‘Lizzie!’
‘No, Tressa. Sort yourself out. You didn’t give a monkey’s yesterday and I don’t today, so I’ll see you later.’
Tressa couldn’t believe Lizzie had gone. She’d never done that before. When she’d been a bit groggy and hung over in the past, though she’d never felt this bad, Lizzie had done the lion’s share of the work and always covered for her. ‘Thank God. The worm’s turned at last,’ came Betty’s voice from the bed.
It angered Tressa. Who the hell did Betty think she was? She didn’t know how it was between her and Lizzie. Tressa was unable to say this, however, for when she opened her mouth she was assailed by nausea and had to hurry, as much as she was able, to the bathroom.
She was late reporting in the kitchen and got told off for that and for the state of her hair, which she’d been too clumsy to manage. Her face was pasty white and
there were blue smudges under her eyes. The head waiter knew what was up with Tressa and he had little patience with her. ‘You can’t go into the dining room with hair like that,’ he snapped. ‘And kindly remember lateness and this slapdash manner won’t be tolerated here. Lizzie, can you help your cousin, for her hair looks as if it has been pulled through a hedge backwards.’
‘Don’t say I told you so,’ Tressa pleaded when the two girls were in the staff cloakroom.
‘I had no intention of it,’ Lizzie said, pulling off Tressa’s cap and attacking the tousled locks with the brush that she kept in her handbag in her locker. ‘I could say you’re a bloody fool, but you probably know that and it would serve no purpose. Just keep your head down and do nothing else to annoy the waiter, because he’ll be watching you like a hawk and he’s the power here. If he complains to the manager, you’ll be out.’
Tressa knew it, and despite feeling like death she tried, but for all that the head waiter shouted at her and berated her for every little thing and she was glad when her shift was over and she could reach the relative safety of her room. Betty and Pat were out and Tressa was glad of it as she sat on the bed and dissolved into tears. ‘I hate him.’
‘Come on, Tressa, he’s not the worst,’ Lizzie said. ‘You annoyed him and he made you pay, that’s all.’
‘That’s all! You weren’t on the receiving end of it.’
‘Well it’s over now,’ Lizzie said soothingly. ‘He’ll have forgotten by this evening, and if I were you I would get some sleep, you’ll feel heaps better if you do.’
‘I don’t know that I could,’ Tressa said. ‘My stomach’s churning like one of those washing machines in the laundry.’
‘How much did you drink, for God’s sake?’
‘Lots,’ Tressa admitted. ‘We went to a party after we’d been to Mike’s house, some friend of Mike who has rooms off the Belgrave Road. Steve knows him too. We expected the two of you to turn up.’
Lizzie made a face. ‘Something else turned up for us.’
‘Oh, what?’
‘Tell you later. Go on.’
‘Well, unbeknownst to me, Mike slipped out before closing time and bought this big bottle of champagne and then, as the party was beginning to fold up, Mike took me into the hall of this place and asked me to marry him.
‘I was ecstatic and already tipsily drunk, but after I said yes and we kissed and all, he produced the champagne and we drank it between us.’
‘Oh Tressa.’
‘I know,’ Tressa said. ‘It was bloody stupid, but it seemed like a good idea last night.’
‘I bet,’ Lizzie said with a grin. ‘Never mind, you’ve survived the morning—just. Nothing will be as bad as that.’
‘No,’ Tressa said with feeling. ‘Now you. What went wrong with you and Steve?’
And Lizzie told her. ‘I can’t go on with this charade, Tressa, really I can’t. It isn’t fair. It’s nothing to do with Steve’s family, but God knows they’re bad enough; it’s Steve himself, and before you say it there’s
nothing wrong with him either. He’s a fine man, handsome, generous, good company and he has a good, steady job. He could make some girl a first-rate husband, but that girl is not going to be me. I’m wrong to keep him hanging on, hoping.’
Tressa knew that this time Lizzie was serious. She’d hoped Lizzie would fall for Steve and she knew Mike did too, but she saw now that what they hoped for wasn’t going to happen. ‘Could you wait until we’re properly engaged?’
‘Oh I don’t know, Tressa.’
‘Please.’
‘It could be ages.’
‘No, it won’t,’ Tressa said, and added, ‘Look, Lizzie, Mike has planned a big night for our next Saturday off, because it’s the day before Valentine’s Day. We’re meeting you two for a few drinks early and then Mike’s taking me to the theatre to see Gracie Fields and afterwards we’re going to dinner. Once the ring is on my finger you can say what you like to Steve.’
‘I don’t see what difference having the ring will make. You’re committed anyway.’
‘Just do this one thing for me,’ Tressa said. ‘Steve is going to be upset when you tell him—and I know that’s not your fault, I’m not blaming you. But, what if Mike decides to postpone the engagement to comfort his mate and try and get him to forget and all that, and you know he could do just that.’
Lizzie knew he could. ‘Somehow, I don’t think he’ll feel the same if his ring is on my finger,’ Tressa went on. ‘He’s made his choice publicly then and that choice is me. Please, Lizzie, don’t mess it up for me. If I don’t
have Mike, I will die. I might as well, for never as long as I live will I love someone as I do him. It’s less than a fortnight I’m asking for.’
Lizzie looked at her cousin and knew if she was to do anything to jeopardise this romance Tressa would never forgive her, and she’d not forgive herself for Tressa’s heart would be broken. ‘What if you don’t hear from Ireland before then?’
‘We’re going ahead anyway. With or without their permission or blessing, we are getting engaged on the thirteenth of February, come hell or high water.’
Steve knew all about the engagement plans and he was filled with envy.
‘Amazing, the powers of a ring,’ Mike said to Steve one night as they returned from a date with the girls.
‘Have you gone all the way yet?’ Steve asked.
‘Nearly, but not quite,’ Mike said. ‘The ring will clinch it. I’ll give Tressa a good time, and bingo! Christ, I can hardly wait.’
Steve was silent, trying to cope with the frustration eating at him, and Mike said, ‘Aren’t you thinking that way yourself—engagement, I mean?’
‘Lizzie’s not ready yet,’ Steve answered shortly. Mike had no idea how little he and Lizzie did together and Steve had no intention of telling him. Tressa had said nothing either, because until she was securely engaged it was in her interest to pretend things between Steve and Lizzie were hunky-dory.
‘Maybe when she sees the ring she’ll change her mind,’ Mike commented. ‘You know how women are about rings.’
God! Steve thought, it would need more than a ring to alter Lizzie, for she was worse if anything. And she was worse, because for all her promise to Tressa to say nothing to Steve until the fateful engagement day, she felt as if she was leading him on by still going out with him. She tried not to let this affect her, but of course it did, and that evening, Steve, remembering how unsatisfactory things had been of late, said to Mike, ‘I’m not going home yet, Mike. Be seeing you.’
Mike knew where Steve was heading. In his pre-Tressa days he’d have probably been alongside him, but now he said, ‘Why d’you have to go to those places when you have a lovely girl you’ve just spent the evening with?’
‘Mind your own business, Mike,’ Steve spat out angrily. ‘I don’t have to answer to you.’
‘I was just saying.’
‘Well stop just saying,’ Steve said, ‘because I’ve stopped listening.’
Mike shrugged as Steve turned away from the streets and headed back to one of his favoured haunts in Varna Road.
The good news approving the engagement came after a week. Tressa read it out:
It is obvious you are smitten with each other and as this Mike Malone gives a good account of himself, you have our blessing so far. However, you are young and there is to be no marriage until we have met your intended. We suggest you come home in the summer and introduce us.
‘Isn’t Mammy a pet,’ Tressa said, spinning around in delight.
‘It seems all fine for you, right enough,’ Lizzie said, but she was a little saddened for she knew she would be quite lonely when she told Steve she didn’t want to see him any more, but despite this she would wait no longer than the thirteenth. She owed him that much.
That day, the girls were on duty until three o’clock and Tressa got dinner and sweet orders mixed up, laid tables the wrong way round, forgot the cruets and sauces and dropped so many things in the kitchen that the chef yelled at her. She didn’t seem to care; excitement had taken hold of her and her nerves were jumping about inside her body as she watched the clock anxiously, willing the time to be gone so she could go out to meet her man.
‘We just have three hours,’ she told Lizzie in their room. ‘Do you want the bath first?’
‘Why just three hours. Surely we’re not meeting them at six?’
‘Aye. The theatre performance is at seven thirty.’
‘Even so.’
‘They’re going to be in town anyway,’ Tressa explained. ‘They’re buying the ring today.’
‘Didn’t you want to choose it?’
‘No,’ Tressa said. ‘I wouldn’t know how much Mike would have to spend. I told him to surprise me.’
It had surprised Steve, for he’d seen Mike part with the best part of three weeks’ wages to buy the diamond cluster he’d set his heart on.
‘Some price, man,’ he said as they left the shop.
‘Tressa’s worth it,’ Mike said. ‘Think of it, Steve. This is my passport to freedom.’
‘Yeah,’ Steve remarked gloomily. ‘Let’s go and sink a few pints.’
‘You’re on,’ Mike replied.
That evening there was a spring-like feel to the air. There was even a little warmth in the setting sun and across the road, around St Phillip’s courtyard, Lizzie glimpsed the heads of snowdrops and crocuses peeping through the soil as the girls scurried along the road, for they were meeting the men at the Old Joint Stock.
Judging by the glasses on the tables, Mike and Steve were finishing their third pints when the two girls went into the pub. Lizzie’s heart sank, for when Steve was drunk he was unpredictable and could sometimes be difficult to handle. But she could hardly tell Steve what to do, and more drinks were ordered as soon as they spotted the two girls and no one listened at all when Lizzie said she’d have an orange. This was Tressa and Mike’s moment and she decided she’d not spoil it by making a fuss.