Daughter of Mine

‘That’s men all over,’ Betty said. ‘Solve everything with their bloody fists.’

‘Well, I was glad to leave anyway,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s not my idea of a pleasant Sunday afternoon. I’ll wait for Tressa and see what she makes of it.’

‘You won’t see your cousin for some time yet,’ Pat said.

‘How late is it usually then?’ Lizzie said. ‘I never hear her come in.’

‘I know you don’t hear her,’ Betty told her. ‘You must be a deep sleeper. It’s always the early hours when she arrives home. She’s woken me a few times. She has an arrangement with the night porter to let her in when she knocks in a certain way.’

‘The early hours!’ Lizzie repeated. ‘What does she do till the early hours?’

The two girls giggled. ‘Don’t you know about the birds and the bees?’ Pat said with a smirk. ‘I’d have a good guess at what she’s up to, her and that feller she has. Lead you on, blokes do. You’ve got to keep your wits about you. I tell you, Lizzie, it would be good to warn her, like. A girl needs to watch herself.’

‘Yeah, and she’s in a state sometimes,’ Betty put in.

‘A state?’

‘Yeah, drunk, like, or very near it, anyroad.’

‘I had no idea, though I know she’s hard to rouse sometimes, but then she has never been easy to get up.’

‘Thought you hadn’t guessed,’ Betty said. ‘Glad to have told you. You’re the only one to have a word. She’d not listen to us.’

‘She’ll probably not listen to me where Mike’s concerned.’

‘Well, at least you’ll have tried,’ Betty said. ‘Sorry, I won’t be able to keep you company if you’re set on sitting up for her, I’m jiggered.’

‘Me too,’ Pat agreed. ‘And me feet are burning.’

‘I don’t need company,’ Lizzie said. ‘You get to bed, you’ve been at it all day.’

She lay quiet until the girls’ even breathing told her they were asleep and then she got softly out of bed. The clock at St Phillip’s Cathedral tower, opposite the hotel, said nearly eleven o’clock, and she decided to get herself ready for bed and then if she did drop off in the wait it didn’t matter.

Before half-eleven she’d finished her ablutions and was undressed, her Sunday clothes put back in the wardrobe and her uniform for work in the morning hanging on the picture rail. She was in her nightdress and tucked up in bed, with just the lights on her side of the room lit, and was reading a book she’d bought from a stall in the market.

Twice she got up to go to the toilet and looked at the clock, and twice she dropped to sleep, the book still in her hands, and was jerked awake. By half past one she decided Tressa could go hang herself for all she cared, she was too tired to wait any more and both of them were on earlies the following day. She put the book down, padded across the floor to put out the light, and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her.

The light flooding the room pulled her back from the edge of a wonderful dream and she opened her eyes wearily, blinking in the sudden brightness to see her cousin standing there. Her face was aglow, as if a light had been lit behind it, and there was an inane grin on her face. Betty’s words came back to her.

‘You’re drunk,’ she said.

Tressa giggled. ‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘We were celebrating.’

The blood in Lizzie’s veins suddenly felt like ice. ‘Celebrating what?’

‘Getting engaged!’

‘Getting engaged!’ Lizzie repeated, relieved it wasn’t something worse.

‘No ring yet,’ Tressa said. ‘I mean, Mike asked me to marry him tonight, and I said “yes” of course, and then he said he must ask Mammy and Daddy and do the thing properly, but that won’t be a problem. I’ve told them about Mike every week and how wonderful he is.’

‘You’re so young to be engaged.’

‘No I’m not,’ Tressa protested. ‘I’ll be twenty in July. We’re not getting married yet awhile. We have to save quite a bit first, Mike said. But an engagement is a commitment.’

‘I’ll say,’ Lizzie agreed. She got out of bed and crossed to the window. ‘It’s turned two o’clock.’

‘Who cares,’ Tressa laughed, turning a pirouette in the room. ‘Mike bought a bottle of champagne.’

‘Put a sock in it, why don’t you,’ Pat’s weary voice said from the other side of the room, and Tressa, her face still wreathed in smiles, put her finger to her lips in the exaggerated manner of a drunk. ‘Ssh.’

‘Tressa, get to bed, we’ve work in the morning,’ Lizzie advised.

Tressa tossed her head and went on, but in a whisper, ‘I care nothing about tomorrow. It’s another day. What I care about is Mike, I love him so much I ache. I want to be near him all day and lie curled around him every night.’

‘Tressa!’ Lizzie said in dread. ‘Tressa, you haven’t…?’

‘No, I haven’t,’ hissed Tressa. ‘But it’s hard, bloody hard. I won’t feel as scared when I have the ring on my finger.’

‘It’s not a wedding ring, Tressa,’ Lizzie reminded her.

‘I know that. The wedding ring will follow.’

‘Please, Tressa, be careful.’

‘Careful!’ Tressa said scornfully. ‘That’s for old bones, careful. I’m so happy I could die, and you tell me to be careful.’

There was no use talking to her. She was drunk on love and champagne and that wasn’t a combination that would produce any sort of sense. ‘Well, stay happy, Tressa,’ Lizzie said, ‘and if it’s what you want I’ll be happy for you, but for now I’m too tired to feel anything much. You stay awake all night if you like, but I must sleep.’

‘I’m too buoyed-up to even close my eyes.’

‘Then don’t,’ Lizzie said softly. ‘But stay awake quietly, will you?’

Tressa didn’t answer. She was too busy pirouetting at the end of her bed, her arms outstretched, and Lizzie gave a groan and hid her head under the covers.

Later, she heard Tressa bumbling away, bumping into the bed, and once after she’d put the light out she thought she heard her fall onto the floor. She didn’t look and Tressa giggled again so Lizzie knew she wasn’t hurt. God, I wouldn’t have her head in the morning for all the tea in China, she thought, and remembered how she’d felt the day after that fated Christmas dance. For all the urging of Mike and Steve and even Tressa, she’d never got in that state again, nor anywhere near it. She had the feeling she had to keep a grip on herself and stay level-headed with Steve, but Tressa obviously didn’t feel the same. However, that wasn’t her concern. She wasn’t her cousin’s keeper, and that was Lizzie’s last thought before sleep overtook her.

‘Tressa, wake up!’ Lizzie hissed urgently.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘I can’t. Come on, you’ll be late and you won’t half catch it.’

‘I’m ill. Tell them I’m ill.’

‘I’ll do no such thing. Anyway, they’d not believe it, and if the night porter tells them the time you came in and the state of you, you might get your marching orders. Come on, you’re hung over and I bet it’s not the first time either.’

‘Shut up!’ Tressa said, pulling the cover tighter around her. Lizzie had a measure of sympathy for her, for she knew how Tressa would be feeling. But Tressa had shown little feeling for her, Lizzie remembered, and she’d got that way by accident whereas Tressa had known what she was doing. But Lizzie also knew the state Birmingham was in with regard to jobs, and if Tressa lost this job she’d have a long wait for another, especially if the manager refused to give her a reference.