A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [9]
Yet Dan didn’t ever ask her about that. He cursed that he hadn’t got a car, because at least then they’d have somewhere warm and dry to be alone together. He couldn’t take her to where he lived, and that left only pubs or the cinema. But they didn’t want to drink or watch films, all they wanted was to talk, kiss and pet. The cold, wet weather lingered on, and they felt tormented that they had no privacy.
One Saturday morning, when Fifi had been going out with Dan for six weeks, she was doing some hand-washing at the kitchen sink. Her mother was sitting at the table cleaning the silver, talking about getting some new curtains for the boys’ bedroom, but Fifi wasn’t really listening; as usual, she was thinking about Dan.
‘I don’t know why you want to bother with new curtains,’ Fifi said when she realized Clara was expecting some input from her. ‘They’ll never notice.’
‘I suppose you think your father and I haven’t noticed you’ve got a new boyfriend, either,’ Clara retorted with a touch of acid. ‘When are you going to tell us about him?’
Fifi gulped, and carried on squeezing her cardigan in the suds. She had expected that her mother would put two and two together before long. She always did. But Fifi didn’t feel relieved that it could now be out in the open. She knew her mother would find fault.
‘His name is Dan Reynolds, he’s twenty-five, a bricklayer, and he comes from Swindon,’ she blurted out, still keeping her back to her mother.
‘I see. So what’s wrong with him that you couldn’t tell us that before?’
‘Nothing. I just didn’t want to rush anything,’ Fifi said, blushing when she thought of all those hours they’d spent in shop doorways and back alleys, kissing and caressing each other. At times she’d got so carried away that if Dan had taken her against the wall, or pushed her down on the ground, she didn’t think she would’ve objected.
‘And where does this bricklayer live? I assume you aren’t catching the train to Swindon to meet him?’
‘He lives in lodgings on the Gloucester Road.’ Fifi’s heart sank at the way her mother had said ‘bricklayer’.
Clara sniffed in disdain.
‘Don’t do that, Mum.’ Fifi whirled round from the sink. ‘Judging someone before you meet them.’
‘I’d say it was you who has already judged him, and that’s why you haven’t brought him home,’ Clara retorted.
‘I guessed you’d be like this,’ Fifi said indignantly. ‘You always make it so hard for me to tell you anything. I really like Dan; he’s the nicest man I’ve ever met. So please don’t spoil it for me.’
‘How can I spoil anything when I haven’t even caught a glimpse of him, let alone spoken to him? Really, Fifi, you are so peculiar sometimes!’
‘I’m not peculiar, it’s you being such a snob! You look down your nose at anyone that’s not in one of the professions. Well, Dan is a bricklayer, he’s an orphan too, brought up in a children’s home. But he’s a good man, he works hard, he doesn’t get drunk and beat people up, he’s not in trouble with the police, and I love him.’
She could have kicked herself for letting herself be pushed into a defensive position. Now she had accidentally revealed what she really felt. She had planned to introduce Dan to her family gradually, letting his natural charm win them over before she admitted that they were serious about each other. Now she’d blown it.
‘I suppose he’s a Teddy boy?’
‘No, he’s not,’ Fifi snapped. ‘Why would you immediately imagine he’s a lout in a drape jacket armed with a knuckleduster?’
‘If you’d brought him home when you first met him I wouldn’t need to use my imagination.’
‘I needed to get to know him myself before subjecting him to an inquisition,’ Fifi retorted. ‘I’ll gladly bring him home, but please don’t be fierce with him, Mum!’
‘I can’t imagine what you mean,’ Clara said, putting her nose in the air. ‘Have I browbeaten any of your other boyfriends?’
‘Not exactly,