Unforgettable by Jean Saunders Page B

don’t want to talk about it, Mrs Jennings, and I wish you wouldn’t keep reminding me. I’m sure it’s all nonsense, anyway.’
    She was referring to Percy Hill, but she also didn’t need reminding about her mother’s condition. It was becoming all too clear to her that Queenie was a very sick woman and that she was unlikely to last out the time the doctor had suggested.
    â€˜Just remember that all you have to do is knock on the wall when you need me,’ Lizzie said, taking no offence.
    She didn’t say ‘if’, just ‘when’, and since they both knew it anyway, Gracie nodded, feeling her heart heavy.
    She was too busy caring for her mother and continuing with her sewing jobs to worry about anything else. There was no other money coming in now, and the insurance policy on her dad’s life would dwindle away soon enough, so she needed the work to keep up the payments on the rent.
    There had been another letter from Davey Watkins, but she had merely answered it with a terse note to tell him the news about her father and to say she would write again when she felt able. It was the least of her concerns.
    Then came an indignant letter from Dolly, who, of course, had no idea of the traumatic events in Gracie’s life in recent weeks.
    What’s
happened to you, gel
? Dolly wrote.
I never thought you’d be so stuffy as to forget your old pals. You said you was going to phone me and give old Warby a fright, but I’m still waiting. I hope it don’t mean your mum’s feeling worse, or that the worst has happened. Anyway, to cheer you up, I thought I’d let you know that me and Jim are still going strong. That’s a turn-up, ain’t it? Bet you thought I’d have ditched him by now. He’s all right, if a bit of a rough diamond, but I don’t have to tell you that, do I
?
    We went to the Empire Exhibition at Wembley a couple of weeks ago, and fancied ourselves among the toffs. Some of the stuff there would make your eyes pop out. There was a band playing on the bandstand in the park, and people were dancing on the grass, so it was quite a hoot. Me and Jim had a bit of a dance too, and we’re going to go again sometime
.
    Hurry up and phone me like you said, or write to me sometime, or I’ll think you’re getting too big for your boots what with your own little business and all
.
    Your friend
,
    Dolly Neath
.
    Gracie gave a wry smile as she finished the letter. Her own little business indeed! Perhaps she had bumped it up a bit in what she had told Dolly about her sewing commissions, but that was for the sake of her pride as usual. She loved her mother and she didn’t want anybody feeling sorry for her in having to come back home to care for her.
    She knew very well why she was letting her thoughts ramble on. It was simply to avoid the other sentence in Dolly’s letter that she had written so carelessly. The bit about seeing the band in the park, and people dancing on the grass in the warm sunshine, and the pictures it sent to Gracie’s mind. If she closed her eyes very tightly, she could imagine herself being there, whirling around on the sweet-scented grass in someone’s arms, with the sound of the music high on the summer breeze. It wouldn’t be Charlie’s arms that held her, of course, because he would be taking his place on the bandstand, his lips on the mouthpiece of his saxophone, his fingers caressing the buttons and producing that wonderful sound.
    â€˜Gracie, can you come in, dear?’
    The sound of her mother’s reedy voice shattered the illusion at once, and she went into the front room almost angrily—not at her darling mother—but because she stillcouldn’t rid her mind of Charlie Morrison’s image, when she knew there was no future in her dreams of him.
    â€˜What is it, Mum? Can I get something for you?’ she asked, trying not to notice how painfully thin her mother