All Fall Down by Jenny Oldfield Page A

Jess’s house. She’ll put me up for the night and, if all goes well, she’ll be able to drive me over to the boys in Rendal, collect them with me, and drive us back to her place. That way we won’t need to rely on buses.’ She continued packing her things.
    â€˜Shall I ring Jess from the depot to tell her?’
    â€˜Please.’
    â€˜And shall you warn the Whittakers?’
    She paused again, resting a half-folded skirt over one arm. ‘I don’t think so, do you?’
    He agreed. ‘We don’t want to give them a chance to go covering things up before you get there.’
    â€˜And it’ll be a surprise for Bertie and Geoff. We’ll arrive there out of the blue and straighten everything out for them. Before they know it, we’ll have them safe back home.’ Now that she had a plan she grew methodical, asking Walter to check the times of the Manchester trains, leaving instructions with Annie on what meals to prepare while she was away. It was Friday; she expected to get to Jess by evening. In the morning they would set off for Rendal; by tomorrow afternoon she would see her beloved boys.
    â€˜Is Your Journey Really Necessary?’ Rob Parsons scowled at the poster as his taxicab stood idling outside the Windmill Theatre, waiting for Dorothy O’Hagan and her cronies to emerge. Sleek young men with slicked-back hairdos and wide flannel trousers strolled by, their arms around girls’ slim waists, parading their night’s conquests. As for the girls, they seemed wickedly available in their short skirts and sleeveless tops, while Rob, by virtue of his age and job, was relegated to the role of mere spectator.
    â€˜C’mon!’ He tapped the steering wheel, looking out for familiar faces; a fellow taxi driver, or even Bobby, Jimmie O’Hagan and Meggie who were out making a night of it, while Sadie travelled north to fetch the boys. But the streets were crowded and dim and he spotted no one he knew. He wanted to be home and in bed. In his resentment he was angered by the notion that none of these good-timers even seemed to be aware that there was a war on.
    At last Dorothy, Lorna Bennett and two other women in their early twenties teetered out of the theatre and headed tipsily for the cab. What did they think they looked like, he wondered, as Loma missed her footing and had to be helped up. Dorothy piled into the back of the taxi after her, showing practically everything – stocking-tops, suspenders, the lot – while the other two young ones giggled and smirked at a couple of passing sailors.
    â€˜Home, James!’ Lorna waved him on.
    The two sailors stopped to leer.
    â€˜No, wait. Want a lift?’ The girl in the wrap-around red dress held the door open.
    â€˜Don’t you just love them tiddly suits?’ her flame-haired friend cooed. ‘All that gold braid.’
    â€˜Don’t just stand there, hop in!’
    But the sailors felt themselves outnumbered. ‘Sorry girls, some other time.’ They winked at Rob, implying that he had his hands full, then strolled on.
    â€˜Aah!’ They leaned out of the window as the cab left the kerb. ‘Ta-ta, boys, you don’t know what you’re missing!’
    As they settled into their seats, pulling the window shut, Rob could smell their heavy perfume infiltrating the glass partition. In his overhead mirror, he saw the back of Lorna’s head, and the pale blotch of Dorothy’s face caught off-guard, mouth set in a hard red line, eyes narrowed and shadowy behind a furl of blue smoke.
    â€˜Thanks for the memory,’ the two youngest girls sang. ‘Da – di-di-di-di – dee . . . Oh, thanks for the memory . . .’ The motion of the cab as it swerved around a corner onto Shaftesbury Avenue sent them off-key and into another fit of giggles.
    Bed, Rob thought. A whisky from the corner cupboard, and bed. Oblivion. Already he was half