Follow Your Dream. Patricia Burns
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Around it were jam tarts and scones, and four different sorts of sandwiches—banana, egg and cress, corned beef and ham and mustard.
‘What a feast!’ James said, and earned grateful smiles from all the womenfolk who had been involved in providing the spread.
All, that was, except Wendy. She was looking more opulent and desirable than ever in a baby-blue fluffy jumper and a grey pencil skirt.
‘Typical man, thinking about his stomach,’ she remarked. It sounded dismissive, but there was that challenge in her eyes.
‘I was thinking what a good party this is for Bob and Susan,’ James said.
His hands ached to run down her spine and over her beautiful backside.
‘We all helped,’ another voice piped up.
A small part of his mind registered Lillian’s presence, but his attention was still on her sister.
‘Oh, yeah, the happy couple,’ Wendy said.
For the first time, he realised that they thought the same about something. Wendy was no more delighted with the occasion than he was but, with both their families within earshot, they could say nothing more. One thing was for sure, though—he was determined not to be outmanoeuvred at the tea table this time. He pulled a chair out and invited Wendy to sit down. To his delight, she accepted. Swiftly, he sat on the chair next to hers. Mission accomplished. His knee was just inches from hers.
The rest of the family were sorting themselves out. The older ones hadn’t changed in the time since he had last seen them. Wendy’s mum was still faded and anxious-looking, her dad still carried his dark cloud of resentment against the world, her grandmother still ruled them all. But the young people had changed. Bob looked practically middle-aged; he was even going a bit thin on top, though he was only twenty-five. Frank was sporting a DA and sideburns to go with his full Teddy boy rig of draped jacket, drainpipe trousers and brothel-creeper shoes. And Lillian—Lillian was sitting at the corner of the table furthest from him, in between her mother and grandmother. Her schoolgirl plaits were gone and in their place was a fashionable ponytail. She was wearing a white blouse and bright red cardigan with a full blue and grey checked skirt, and around her waist was one of those wide elastic belts that Wendy favoured. She would have looked surprisingly grown-up, had she not been in a huge sulk. James caught her eye and was given a glowering look. He couldn’t imagine what he had done to upset her. Why, he’d hardly spoken to her, so what could he have said wrong? He gave her a grin and a wink across the table. She went red and looked away. James gave up on her. He had more important things to do than worry about a sulky kid.
As the conversation limped along at the table, James gradually let his leg sag sideways, until his knee touched Wendy’s. He expected her to twitch her leg away in a huff but she didn’t, so James moved his foot as well, so that it was resting alongside Wendy’s. He could feel the warmth of her shapely calf against his as she talked to the others, natural as anything, not giving anything away.
When most of the food was eaten, Susan stood up to cut the celebration cake. Flushed and happy, his sister sliced into her white-iced masterpiece and handed it round the table to polite noises of admiration from everyone. James did not want to move from his delicious closeness to Wendy, but he had been planning a surprise for this moment and he didn’t want to let it pass. The Parkers might have the big house to hold this party, but the Kershaws were not going to sit there playing the poor relations, not while he could do something about it. He reached behind him for the brown paper bag he had set down by the wall.
‘Before we eat Susan’s lovely cake—’ he said.
Voices round the table fell quiet. Surprised eyes turned on him. Gran Parker looked affronted at his interruption, Susan’s face was frozen in dismay. He smiled at his sister, trying to reassure her that he was not about to ruin her big moment.
‘—I thought it would be nice to have something a bit more exciting than tea to toast the happy couple with.’
He produced a bottle of sherry and a half bottle of Scotch. There was silence for a couple of heartbeats while the entire Parker clan looked at Gran to see what her reaction would be. The old woman pursed her lips, then, to everyone’s surprise, she gave a nod.
‘I wouldn’t say no.’
There was a general letting-out of breath and happy clamour. Lillian was sent to fetch glasses and James poured sherry for the ladies and Scotch for the men, making sure that Lillian got a drop along with the others. Keeping a firm hold on the initiative, he stood up and raised his glass.
‘To Susan and Bob—may they have a long and happy life together,’ he said.
‘Susan and Bob!’ everyone chorused.
Glasses clinked, drinks were sipped, the cake was eaten, everyone relaxed for the first time that day. Across the table from him, James was glad to see his sister glowing with pleasure and his mother wiping away happy tears. The Parker men had a more complicated reaction. They were obviously delighted to be having a drink, but mortified that someone younger than them had had the courage to risk Gran’s disapproval. One up to the Kershaws, he thought as Wendy’s leg brushed against his.
When the meal was finally over and the smokers were lighting up, Gran gave Lillian a poke in the arm. ‘Dishes, Lillian. And you, Wendy.’
Susan got up to help as well, but James stood at the same time.
‘It’s all right, Suse, I’ll do it. This is your party.’
This time, though, his plan fell apart. Wendy helped clear the dirty plates but, once they were piled up in the kitchen, she made for the door.
‘Won’t be long,’ she said.
Lillian slammed the cutlery into the sink.
‘Huh. That’s what she always says. That’ll be the last we see of her. She’ll only come back again if she thinks Gran’s about to come and inspect what we’re doing.’
James was torn. He wanted to follow Wendy to wherever she was off to, but a sense of fairness held him where he was. Everyone took advantage of Lillian. He didn’t want to be the same. He gave her glossy ponytail a playful tug.
‘What’s up with you, Lill? You’re like a bear with a sore head.’
She jerked her hair away. ‘Don’t call me Lill. I hate it.’
‘OK, OK.’ James picked up the tea towel. ‘So what shall I call you? Lillian’s a bit of a mouthful.’
Lillian didn’t answer. She washed the cups and saucers and plates with swift efficiency and stacked them on the draining board for James to dry. He could tell just by the set of her shoulders that something was up.
‘What do you think?’ he persisted, while wondering where Wendy was. Probably the only places she could hide were the bathroom or her bedroom, neither of which he could go to.
‘My Aunty Eileen called me Lindy-Lou. But don’t you dare say that’s babyish,’ she growled.
It was babyish, of course. But he couldn’t keep his mind on the subject. Supposing Wendy had been expecting him to follow her? Was he missing his big chance? But then, if he didn’t follow her when she wanted him to, did that give him the upper hand? Perhaps, if he did try it on, she would just laugh at him…He wasn’t used to this games playing. He wasn’t even sure if it was games playing. Maybe Wendy simply didn’t like washing-up.
He was roused from his reverie by the sound of a sob. He glanced at Lillian and was horrified to find that she was crying. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
‘Hey—what’s the matter? Whatever’s wrong?’
No doubt her ghastly family had done something to upset her.
Lillian threw the dishcloth into the water and held on to the rim of the sink with white-knuckled hands. Her shoulders were shaking.
‘Why are you so h-horrible to me?’ she