Starlight by Anne Douglas Page A

she wouldn’t always work there. There was a ladder, wasn’t there? And she would climb it. Maybe then, she could forget Ben.
    Having seen this small light at the end of her tunnel, she felt better. Even slept for a little while. But when she rose the next morning, there were tears in her eyes. Tears she must never let anyone see. Least of all, Marguerite.

Seventeen
    It didn’t take long for those at the Princes to spot that Ben Daniel and Marguerite Raeburn, the new waitress, were in love. Wasn’t difficult, was it? Seeing as they weren’t trying to keep it a secret. Seeing as they were always meeting up, in spite of having separate jobs. Always looking at each other, smiling fond smiles, touching hands. Always walking off, arm in arm, into the night – well, to the station – at the end of work, and no doubt kissing on the platform. Would it all end in tears? Or wedding bells? Some looked at Jess for an answer, but how would she know? Anyway, she never said anything.
    â€˜Ah, they’re so sweet,’ Sally would sigh. ‘So lovely to see folk so happy!’
    Though the girls at the cafe sighed over losing the fancy-free Ben, most at the Princes agreed with her, just as long as it all worked out, which as the weeks went by, seemed likely.
    From only walking to the station together, the happy pair began to go out whenever they could arrange the same evening off, sometimes going for a meal, sometimes to the theatre, sometimes even to other cinemas, where they could sit entwined on the back row and be sure no one they knew was watching. Then came the time when Ben took Marguerite to meet his widowed father, followed by Marguerite’s taking Ben to meet Addie. And heavens, everyone said, this was looking serious! Looked like there would be wedding bells after all!
    â€˜Think it’s serious?’ Addie asked Jess.
    â€˜Seems like it.’ Jess was clearing the table, concentrating on stacking dishes ready for carrying to the scullery.
    â€˜I must say, I’m surprised, then.’
    â€˜Surprised? Why?’
    Addie laughed. ‘Didn’t Marguerite always say she was looking for a rich Edinburgh man?’
    â€˜Ben’s wages aren’t bad.’
    â€˜He’s no’ rich, though.’
    â€˜He’s handsome.’
    â€˜A bit on the serious side, I thought.’
    â€˜Nothing wrong with that.’ Jess, wishing her mother wouldn’t study her face with such interest, carried away her dishes. ‘Anyway, Marguerite has to settle down sometime.’
    â€˜Aye, I’d like to see her settled. And how about you and that nice Rusty, Jess?’
    â€˜We’re still good friends.’
    â€˜What a shame,’ sighed Addie.
    Still just good friends was what they were, though, even if they had taken lately to walking together before the cinema opened for the matinee. Usually, the April weather wasn’t warm enough for them to eat sandwiches in Princes Street Gardens or the kirkyard of Greyfriars Church – favourite haunts of the city workers. They’d therefore take shelter from the wind in a little cafe they knew, order something on toast and share the bill. No more arguments over going Dutch, and everything so pleasant and restful, Jess was beginning to find her spirits quite soothed by such sorties as these with Rusty.
    Which was why her heart sank when, over one of their little lunches, he too began to talk of Ben and Marguerite.
    â€˜Think it’s serious?’ he asked, echoing her mother. ‘Between those two?’
    â€˜Why is everyone so interested?’ Jess cried, as soon as the waitress had served her poached eggs and departed. ‘And why ask me?’
    Rusty stared. ‘Come on, you know why people are interested. All the world loves a lover, they say, don’t they? And the world’s pretty nosey about how things are going to turn out.’
    â€˜Yes, but why should I be expected to