Josephine Cox Mother’s Day 3-Book Collection: Live the Dream, Lovers and Liars, The Beachcomber. Josephine Cox
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happened at all if you hadn’t disturbed me from my sleep!’
‘GET OFF ME!’ Kicking and screaming, she only fell silent when he slapped her hard round the face. ‘Listen to me, Lilian. Do yourself a favour and think about what I said.’ Lowering his voice, he entreated, ‘Don’t make things hard for yourself. Tom isn’t interested in you, not as a lover. If he felt anything for you in that way, he’d have been in touch, wouldn’t he?’
Relaxing his hold on her, he was caught off guard when she lashed out yet again, this time scoring him on the face with the edge of her nails. Almost instantly the blood burst through the broken skin to trickle down his cheekbone. ‘How could you know how Tom feels?’ She smiled at him, a wicked, triumphant smile.
Angry at being attacked for no good reason, he blurted out what he had learned from Tom’s letter. ‘Tom is moving back into the real world … he’s thinking about love at long last. But it isn’t you he’s turning to. It’s a stranger. A woman he’s met in West Bay. So you see, Lilian, that’s how it is, so you might as well save yourself a lot of grief and accept it. Tom is starting a new life and you’re not in it. It’s as simple as that.’
In the wake of his angry outburst, the silence fell like a blanket, silencing them both before Lilian spoke again, her voice pained and trembling. ‘YOU’RE A LIAR!’ She looked at him through tear-filled eyes, yet when he went to take her in his arms she tore into him, again and again, until he staggered backwards, horrified at the look of murder in her eyes.
Suddenly she was across the room and out the front door.
By the time he got there, she was already running down the street, her arm raised to a cruising taxi. The taxi stopped and she climbed in.
A moment later, as she drove by, the look on her face was terrible to see.
Going back inside, Dougie poured himself a drink, mentally reflecting on the colourful events of the evening. ‘Christ, Tom!’ He gulped down his drink and poured another. ‘She is one dangerous woman!’
Pouring himself another drink, he took it to the chair where he sat, drinking and thinking, the twisted humour of the situation beginning to overtake his astonishment. ‘I should have let her find out for herself.’
He gulped down another mouthful of drink. ‘Whoo!’ When he recalled how she’d gone for him, he couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers tracing the weal down his face. ‘You’d better watch out for that one, Tom,’ he laughed. ‘She’s a wildcat and no mistake.’
AFTER NUMEROUS ATTEMPTS to find work within a five-mile radius of West Bay, Kathy had at long last secured an interview to work at the holiday site, right on her doorstep. Wanting to look her best for the interview, she had gone into the nearby town of Bridport, where already the market was in full swing, to find something to wear.
Cool against the sweltering August heat, Kathy wore her lemon dress with its swingy skirt and wide belt. On her feet she wore the white stringy sandals that she had bought from the bric-à-brac shop in Lyme Regis only the day before. Her brown hair, a little longer now, and lightened by the sun, was hanging loose about her shoulders. In her pretty eyes there was a spark of happiness, and a deep-down feeling of contentment inside her. These days the bright lights and fast pace of London life seemed a world away.
Wandering among the stalls, searching for something that would make an impact and carry her through the interview, she felt good. She needed to look her best, she thought. She needed to be cool and casual, yet formal enough to show them she was serious and capable.
In the letter she had received two days ago, Kathy was informed that because the manager was away on holiday, the owner himself – a Mr Charles Bradford – would be conducting the interview. That prospect only made Kathy all the more nervous.
‘Morning, m’dear.’ Spying a likely customer, the little woman peered over her stall. Short and round with a giant of a smile, she had seen Kathy looking through the rail of dresses.
‘If you tell me what you’re after, I might be able to help.’ With astonishing speed she scurried round the stall. ‘Let me see …’ She sized up Kathy’s slim figure, making a mental note that if the nicely shaped legs were just a bit slimmer, the figure would be perfect. Nevertheless, she had met Kathy before, and considered her to be lovely both in appearance and nature.
Tapping her finger against her teeth, the little woman came to the conclusion, ‘Size ten, am I right?’
Kathy smiled. ‘Sometimes ten, sometimes twelve,’ she revealed, ‘depending on how tempting the cakes in the baker’s shop are.’
The little woman chuckled. ‘Same with me,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve a shocking sweet tooth … could never resist a lemon meringue, not even if my life depended on it. Not that we get many treats like that these days …’
While she talked she swung the dresses aside, one after the other. ‘There’s nothing here that would suit you,’ she told a disappointed Kathy, ‘but if you come round, I’ve a few specials at the back.’ Giving Kathy a wink, she led the way to the back of the stall, where she undid a few boxes from underneath. ‘I haven’t had time to put these out yet,’ she explained, ‘but I’ve an idea there’s something in here that would suit you a treat.’
Intrigued and full of hope, Kathy watched the little woman take the items out of the boxes. So far, as the woman shook them out and hung them up, there was a pretty pink twinset, three long skirts, two dresses, and a few summer blouses, none of which Kathy fancied.
She shook her head. ‘No, sorry. They’re not what I’m after,’ she told the woman, as she unfolded one garment after the other.
‘Hang on a minute, m’dear!’ the woman replied with a disarming grin, ‘there’s a couple more yet.’ Digging deep into the last oversized box, she pulled out two more items. ‘This is the lot,’ she explained, shaking out the first. ‘By! You’ll look pretty as a picture in this.’ The item in question turned out to be a green dress with a button-front and wide fancy belt.
While the woman held the dress first this way then that, pressing it to herself and then against Kathy, it seemed for a minute that Kathy might be tempted. But when she finally decided against it and turned away, thanking the woman for her help, Kathy’s roving eyes caught sight of a snippet of pale blue material peeping out from beneath a selection of blouses hanging from the stall support. ‘Is that a blouse or a dress?’ she asked curiously.
Puzzled, the little woman followed Kathy’s gaze, her eyes opening wide when she spied the garment. ‘Oh, I’d forgotten that!’ she cried excitedly. ‘It’s a dress … I think.’ Reaching up, she managed – with some grunting and groaning, and a little help from Kathy – to take down the entire collection. ‘There!’
Dropping all but the one item onto the stall, she held it aloft. ‘I remember now!’ she declared. ‘Some woman bought it, then fetched it back the next day … “too tight round the waist,” she said. I’m not surprised,’ the woman added with a chuckle, ‘because if my memory serves me right, she was twice round the gasworks.’ Holding out her arms as wide as she could, presumably to encircle the poor creature, she smiled a sad little smile. ‘Shame, though … she had such a pretty face.’
Sneaking a glance at Kathy’s small waist, she observed, ‘I don’t reckon you’d have that sort of a problem …’ She peered at the label. ‘It’s a bit grubby round the collar … but all it needs is a good wash.’ She handed the dress to Kathy for inspection. ‘You can go behind the stall and try it on if you want.’
Kathy didn’t need persuading. The dress was exactly what she had in mind. Cornflower-blue, with a pretty white collar, it was perfect. The waist was fitted, the skirt was straight, and it was her size. She need look no further. ‘How much