‘You again?’ she’d said, trying to come across as offhand but failing miserably, as the colour tracked up her cheeks and her stomach danced a jig. ‘You’re like a bloody bad penny, you are,’ she added, ‘always showing up. Haven’t you got anything better to do?’
She waved off her work friends, who were all in danger of getting the giggles and embarrassing her even further. Then she stood in front of him, conscious of his lingering, up-and-down look.
He grinned. He had the nicest smile ever, she decided, with his beautifully straight white teeth and the slight dimple in his chin. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Can’t blame a bloke for trying, can you? Anyway, you’ll have to walk me home or you’ll be responsible for me losing half a week’s wages.’
Shirley shook her head in confusion. ‘And how exactly do you work that out?’
‘Well,’ Keith explained, ‘our Annie bet me a pound that you were too much of a snob to let a tyke like me take you out, and I really can’t afford to lose a pound, Shirley.’ He winked. ‘So you’ll have to take pity on me, won’t you?’
She’d refused, though. Same as she’d refused on the Tuesday and Wednesday, but then on the Thursday night, when she’d gone out with Anita to the Ideal Dance-hall and he’d turned up there as well, she’d finally succumbed to the feeling in her tummy that, try as she might to ignore it, simply wouldn’t go away.
‘Yes, okay then!’ she’d almost huffed at him, after his casual announcement that she really didn’t know what she was missing. Because that was the problem; she was beginning to think she did know. Or, at least, that she was very keen to find out, however much it galled her to know Annie blinking Hudson was obviously right about her falling for the legendary Hudson charm.
There was also the issue of the pound she’d owe her brother, which Shirley reckoned served her right. So they’d made arrangements for Keith to bring her back there on the Saturday night, when there was a band playing that she liked.
The intervening 48 hours had felt like the longest in Shirley’s life, as if time had slowed down especially to annoy her. And now, at the eleventh hour, with him due to knock on the door at any minute, her blasted dad could go and ruin everything.
He was beyond angry now. She could tell. He’d just said ‘bleeding’ and he never said that word unless he was about to blow a fuse. And the thought of him blowing a fuse at Keith Hudson was unthinkable. He’d run a mile and probably never come back. Probably think she wasn’t worth the trouble after all.
Shirley decided to change her tack. Perhaps taking him on wasn’t the best way of going about things. ‘Please, Dad,’ she begged, softening both her voice and her expression. ‘Keith’s not like his brothers. Honestly, he isn’t. He’s really nice and he’ll be here calling for me in ten minutes. Please don’t show me up, Dad. I couldn’t bear it.’
Shirley’s mam had picked up a tin of lacquer and was now spraying the Tony Curtis quiff she’d created in Shirley’s hair. ‘Raymond, leave the lass alone,’ she said, as the can hissed around her. ‘I mean it. She does right playing the field for a bit instead of getting herself tied down to the first man she meets. How else is she going to meet mister right?’
There was a heavy emphasis on the ‘right’ bit, but Shirley’s dad didn’t seem to notice.
‘Playing the field?’ he said, leaping up from the chair he’d only just sat back down on. ‘No daughter of mine is going to play the bloody field! Them Hudsons are trouble, do you hear me? That Charlie’s just out from the clink for God knows what, and that younger one – Malcolm, is it? – he’s another one. Locked up more often than he’s out, as well! They’re all bloody trouble, and everyone knows it! You’re not going anywhere with a bleeding Hudson boy and that’s an end to it!’
Just as Shirley was about to point out that they weren’t all bloody trouble, there was a soft but clearly audible knock on the front door. ‘Oh, Mam,’ she cried, the injustice of it making tears prickle in her eyes now, ‘look at him! You’ve got to go and stop him, Mam, please!’ She desperately hoped that the closed front door was enough to contain the commotion that was going on inside.
Because it certainly looked as if he was going to need stopping. He was already rolling up his shirt sleeves as he stomped off to answer the door. What was he going to do? Punch poor Keith in the face just because of his surname? Shirley blanched at the thought. He wouldn’t do that, surely? ‘Mam!’ she said again, panicked now, because she’d never seen her dad like this before. ‘Hurry up. Stop him. He might hit him!’
Mary took a hankie from her pinny pocket and passed it to her, seemingly unruffled. ‘Here, love, buck up – don’t spoil your lovely make-up. You know your dad – his bark’s always worse than his bite, and he’s not going to do any such thing. He wouldn’t dare, because he knows he’ll have me to answer to, doesn’t he? Come on, let’s go and meet this young man of yours, shall we?’
Shirley sniffed and carefully dabbed the corners of her eyes before following her mam out into the hall, feeling slightly reassured. She could only just see Keith because he was half hidden beyond her dad, but she could see enough to catch the fact that he was smiling politely and had stuck out a hand ready for shaking.
‘Nice to meet you, Mr Read,’ he was saying. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. And I also want to promise you that I’ll have your Shirley back early – I’ll walk her all the way back home myself.’
Shirley could tell, just from the back of him, what her dad’s expression would be. ‘I’d expect nothing less, lad,’ he answered. ‘But don’t get ahead of yourself. Unless I’m very much mistaken, I haven’t even said she can go yet, have I?’
Shirley’s heart sank as she watched her dad physically bristle. He wasn’t going to send him packing now, was he? She bristled herself. If he did she’d certainly let him know all about it – how he had comprehensively, totally ruined her entire life. But it seemed he was still busy giving his lecture. ‘Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you, as well, lad,’ he growled. ‘You and the rest of your family.’
This didn’t seem to faze Keith at all. ‘I can’t speak for the rest of the clan, obviously,’ he said, standing straight on the doorstep, as if to attention. ‘But I can assure you that I’ve never been in trouble with the law. In fact, sir, I’ve been in the army, just like you.’
Shirley cringed in anticipation of her dad’s likely response to this. The war had been years ago but that didn’t mean he was going to let anyone forget it, least of all the 21-year-old currently standing on his doorstep, who she knew, even though her dad still had his back to her, would now be at the end of a particularly stony glare. ‘Like me?’ he barked. ‘I wasn’t messing around “in the army”, as you put it. I was fighting for my country, lad! Crawling through bloody ditches in Burma and getting stabbed by the bloody Japs! So you’re wrong there, my son. You weren’t just like me at all!’
Keith nodded his acknowledgement and Shirley’s mam, unseen by her dad, nudged her arm and rolled her eyes. ‘No, you’re right, sir,’ Keith quickly corrected. ‘Not the same thing at all. I just mentioned it because I’m honoured to meet a war hero, honest I am.’ He cleared his throat and for the first time let his gaze rest momentarily on Shirley. ‘I would also be