A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [17]
‘I’ve got about thirty pounds in the bank now,’ Fifi said excitedly. ‘That’s more than enough to buy some bed linen, crockery and stuff. Let’s go down to the registry office now and ask about it!’
Dan kissed her. ‘It’s still pouring,’ he reminded her, amused at her impetuosity. ‘And they’ll be really busy on a Saturday anyway. You could go in on Monday in your lunch hour. I don’t suppose we need anything more than our birth certificates.’
Fifi’s face clouded over for a moment, as she remembered her mother kept the whole family’s in a box in her bedroom.
‘Problem?’ Dan asked.
‘I’ll have to raid Mum’s special box. But that’s okay, I expect I can do it on Sunday while she’s getting the lunch ready. But what about you? Have you got one?’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, they gave me that, a bible and a fiver when I left the children’s home. I’ve got the distinction of having two unknown parents. I was registered by the police, I think. I suppose one of them named me.’
Fifi looked at him askance. Even though she knew he’d been abandoned as a baby, it hadn’t occurred to her what that really meant, or that his name had just been made up by someone else.
‘Don’t look like that,’ he said, and laughed. ‘It could have been worse; they could have called me Oliver Twist or something.’
‘I wonder why your mother left you,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘Lack of money, I expect.’ He sighed. ‘It was 1937, the Depression and all that. I was only a couple of days old, so she must have been absolutely desperate. The police never traced her, so that suggests she had me all alone.’
Fifi shuddered. Just the thought of giving birth alone, without help, was too ghastly to dwell on, let alone thinking about his mother’s state of mind. ‘Oh, Dan,’ she said softly, stroking his cheek tenderly. ‘Poor you!’
‘Poor me?’ he chuckled. ‘With someone as lovely as you going to be my wife? But you’ve got to give it some more thought, Fifi. It’s a huge step, and you’ve got to be sure you want to do it for something more than putting two fingers up to your mother.’
‘That’s not why I want to do it,’ she insisted, but laughed because she knew it was the ultimate revenge. ‘It’s only because I love you too much to want to waste any more time.’
‘Even if your parents cut you off for ever?’
‘The way they are at the moment I’d be quite glad,’ she said firmly. ‘Anyway, once they see a fait accompli, they’ll come round.’
‘I really hope so, sweetheart,’ he said, cuddling her. ‘But we can’t count on it.’
‘This one looks so very elegant, madam,’ said the saleswoman in Bright’s department store in Clifton as she zipped up the back of Fifi’s dress. ‘And with the little jacket you won’t be chilly.’
Fifi put on the short fitted jacket and looked critically at herself in the mirror. It was by far the best outfit she’d seen, cream light-weight wool, and the dress had the little pleats around the bottom of the skirt that had become so fashionable since the Twist started. It didn’t look obviously wed-dingy either, so she could wear it afterwards.
‘I could hold it for a day or two if you want a friend’s or your mother’s opinion,’ the woman said. She was about fifty and rather stout, with a flame-red beehive that made her look like a pantomime dame. She was beginning to look bored, clearly thinking Fifi was only a time-waster, for she’d tried on almost everything in her size, and she’d already had this one on twice before.
‘No, I’ll take it,’ Fifi said. ‘It’s a bit more than I wanted to pay, but it is right.’
‘Very wise, madam,’ the woman said ingratiatingly. ‘You looked lovely in all of them; you have such a good figure. But this one looks stunning.’
Fifi left the shop and hurried on down Park Street back to work. She’d managed to get two hours for lunch, but she’d have to make up the time tomorrow. Her head was reeling with all the things she still had to do with only a week to go, and the secrecy involved. But now she had her wedding outfit and a flat,