have a nice bottle of the house red
wine.’
He hurried away and within seconds returned with two glasses and a bottle.
‘It’ll do,’ Eileen said quietly as she handed me a glass.
I took a sip. The ‘wine’ tasted more like whisky.
‘Well,’ she said, after knocking back her drink. ‘Let’s talk.’
I drank my glass of wine.
‘Jessie told me on the phone that Gloria was sick but honest, Pete, I didn’t think for a minute that it was that bad. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe that
she’s dying. Oh,’ she said and clasped her hands to her mouth. ‘I wish I’d never told you about those photographs I took of us all in New York.’
‘No, I’m glad you did,’ I said and poured another drink. ‘I want to see them.’
‘Oh Peter, there’s one of Gloria in a T-shirt and shorts looking wonderful, just wonderful, and that wasn’t too long ago. She doesn’t look ill at all. I remember,
I’d only met her for a few minutes and when I told her that I used to be a hairdresser she dragged me to the bathroom and wanted me to make her look like Bo Derek. I just covered her head
with masses of Carmen rollers, but it looked nice though, didn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘She looked fabulous.’
Eileen sighed, opened her bag and took out a photograph from between the pages of her address book. She glanced at it before she handed it to me.
Crumpled in Kodacolour, arms wrapped about each other, laughing faces pushed together, there was Gloria, there we were, standing on the corner of Central Park West.
‘Fabulous,’ I repeated. ‘Gloria looks just fabulous.’
‘Ah, it’s such a shame.’ Eileen put her hand out to take hold of mine. ‘Such a terrible shame, and she’s nice. I remember that day,’ she added and took away
the snap. ‘I’d been so miserable on that bleeding ship. There’s nothing so boring as being a croupier on a cruise. Though we were only docking there for a day, I couldn’t
wait to get to New York. It was just wonderful sailing up the Hudson River, saying hello to the Statue of Liberty, and going past all those big skyscrapers. I knew you’d be in one of them;
even though I didn’t get an answer from me letter, I just knew that you’d be in one of them big buildings looking out the window, waiting for my ship. “Just peel the portholes
with your eyelashes,” I said to the girls, “our Peter’ll be waiting for me at the bottom of the plank,” and there you were, you and Gloria. I couldn’t believe it.
Fancy arriving in America and being welcomed by a movie star! I just couldn’t believe it. Neither could the girls – jealous snatches they were. But anyway –’ she smiled and
her eyes lit up with excitement – ‘I had a fabulous time. We went shopping at Bloomingdales. And we went to Macy’s. I’ll never forget that Macy’s. Remember?’
I remembered.
‘We had champagne and we had oysters at Grand Central Station . . .’
It was hot. The city was beginning to bake. Even the nightmare sounds from sirens in cars were muffled by the heat; dwellers on steps, with their music, blasted the ghettos;
cops chewing gum hung around the sidewalks bartering with crime; athletes on skates livened up the traffic; narcotics adorned the corner of 42nd Street. New York was on parade.
Since our first meeting in May, 1978, Gloria and I had been living under the same roof, on and off, for over two years. By this time, August 1980, the relationship had taken on a permanency
which had been unexpected, but nice. We had made each other laugh; we’d become friends and then lovers. She’d made several visits to Liverpool, which she loved, and had met most of my
brothers and sisters, whom she adored; especially Joe and Jessie with whom we’d been on holiday to a cottage in the mountains in Wales.
I’d been to her apartment in New York for a short time the year before, and I’d also visited her in California while she’d been working on a film. Her career
wine.’
He hurried away and within seconds returned with two glasses and a bottle.
‘It’ll do,’ Eileen said quietly as she handed me a glass.
I took a sip. The ‘wine’ tasted more like whisky.
‘Well,’ she said, after knocking back her drink. ‘Let’s talk.’
I drank my glass of wine.
‘Jessie told me on the phone that Gloria was sick but honest, Pete, I didn’t think for a minute that it was that bad. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe that
she’s dying. Oh,’ she said and clasped her hands to her mouth. ‘I wish I’d never told you about those photographs I took of us all in New York.’
‘No, I’m glad you did,’ I said and poured another drink. ‘I want to see them.’
‘Oh Peter, there’s one of Gloria in a T-shirt and shorts looking wonderful, just wonderful, and that wasn’t too long ago. She doesn’t look ill at all. I remember,
I’d only met her for a few minutes and when I told her that I used to be a hairdresser she dragged me to the bathroom and wanted me to make her look like Bo Derek. I just covered her head
with masses of Carmen rollers, but it looked nice though, didn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘She looked fabulous.’
Eileen sighed, opened her bag and took out a photograph from between the pages of her address book. She glanced at it before she handed it to me.
Crumpled in Kodacolour, arms wrapped about each other, laughing faces pushed together, there was Gloria, there we were, standing on the corner of Central Park West.
‘Fabulous,’ I repeated. ‘Gloria looks just fabulous.’
‘Ah, it’s such a shame.’ Eileen put her hand out to take hold of mine. ‘Such a terrible shame, and she’s nice. I remember that day,’ she added and took away
the snap. ‘I’d been so miserable on that bleeding ship. There’s nothing so boring as being a croupier on a cruise. Though we were only docking there for a day, I couldn’t
wait to get to New York. It was just wonderful sailing up the Hudson River, saying hello to the Statue of Liberty, and going past all those big skyscrapers. I knew you’d be in one of them;
even though I didn’t get an answer from me letter, I just knew that you’d be in one of them big buildings looking out the window, waiting for my ship. “Just peel the portholes
with your eyelashes,” I said to the girls, “our Peter’ll be waiting for me at the bottom of the plank,” and there you were, you and Gloria. I couldn’t believe it.
Fancy arriving in America and being welcomed by a movie star! I just couldn’t believe it. Neither could the girls – jealous snatches they were. But anyway –’ she smiled and
her eyes lit up with excitement – ‘I had a fabulous time. We went shopping at Bloomingdales. And we went to Macy’s. I’ll never forget that Macy’s. Remember?’
I remembered.
‘We had champagne and we had oysters at Grand Central Station . . .’
It was hot. The city was beginning to bake. Even the nightmare sounds from sirens in cars were muffled by the heat; dwellers on steps, with their music, blasted the ghettos;
cops chewing gum hung around the sidewalks bartering with crime; athletes on skates livened up the traffic; narcotics adorned the corner of 42nd Street. New York was on parade.
Since our first meeting in May, 1978, Gloria and I had been living under the same roof, on and off, for over two years. By this time, August 1980, the relationship had taken on a permanency
which had been unexpected, but nice. We had made each other laugh; we’d become friends and then lovers. She’d made several visits to Liverpool, which she loved, and had met most of my
brothers and sisters, whom she adored; especially Joe and Jessie with whom we’d been on holiday to a cottage in the mountains in Wales.
I’d been to her apartment in New York for a short time the year before, and I’d also visited her in California while she’d been working on a film. Her career
Similar Books
