Then again, she and Gwen had been able to spend a great deal of their free time together. Mrs Bell had kindly given her permission to invite Gwen to stay overnight at Calpher House on numerous occasions; she herself frequently travelled across to Horsforth to spend her day off with Gwen. Sometimes they took the tramcar into Leeds to browse in the stores and window shop, and she was beginning to know the city well. Quite often they went to the picture house, and recently they had seen their first talking picture, The Jazz Singer, starring Al Jolson.
June had been a particularly happy month for Audra, mostly because of the attention everyone paid to her twentieth birthday. How different it had been from the previous year, when she had spent that very special day in her life entirely alone. Her brothers’ cards had arrived from Australia not only in time but two days early; on the third, a small celebration was held in the nursery, with presents from the Bells and the staff at Calpher House.
And later that week, on Saturday, Mrs Thornton and Gwen had given a party for her at The Meadow. There had been a splendid summer tea on the lawn. The table, covered in a white cloth, had groaned under the weight of all manner of lovely things – cucumber-and-tomato sandwiches, a Yorkshire pork pie, trifle, strawberries and cream, big pots of hot tea, plus an iced cake with the message Happy Birthday, Audra written on it in pink icing sugar and twenty pink candles encircling the edge. And each member of her friend’s family had given her a small but significant gift. After tea they had trooped inside for dancing to the latest records, which they had played on Gwen’s new gramophone. They had done the Charleston to the strains of ‘Black Bottom’, ’Ain’t She Sweet’, and ‘Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby’, fox-trotted slowly to ‘Blue Skies’ and ‘Among My Souvenirs’, and everyone had thoroughly enjoyed themselves that night.
Charlie had been present, along with his brothers, Jem and Harry, Mike Lesley, his best friend, and a couple of his chums from medical school. He was still attentive to her whenever he got the opportunity, even though she did her level best to discourage him.
Once she had moved to Leeds the previous December and settled in with the Bells, Audra had spoken to Gwen about her brother. She had explained to her friend in the sweetest way that, as nice as Charlie was, he was not for her. She had asked Gwen not to encourage Charlie any more. Gwen had said she understood and agreed at once to stop ‘fanning the flames’, as she so aptly called it. But Audra had seen the hurt in her friend’s eyes and she had quickly added that it had nothing to do with Charlie per se, that men in general did not interest her for the time being. She had then announced, and in a very firm voice, that she had no intention of getting married, of settling down, until she was thirty at least.
Gwen had looked at her askance on hearing this, had eyed Audra with a degree of scepticism, but she had refrained from making any sort of comment. At least until last month – November the fifth to be exact – when she had come to Upper Armley to join in their celebrations on Bonfire Night.
Mrs Bell had told Audra she could invite Gwen to spend the night at Calpher House, since they were both off duty the following day. After one of Cook’s extra-special nursery teas, and as soon as it grew dark, they had gone outside for the lighting of the bonfire that Fipps, the gardener, had made in the grounds. They had shared the family’s fun, watching the fireworks, waving the sparklers which Mr Bell had produced, and eating piping hot chestnuts and roasted potatoes pulled from the embers of the fire. And then the two of them had gone off to the Guy Fawkes Day party and dance at Christ Church Parish Hall in Ridge Road.
Audra first saw the young man when everyone was crowding around the huge bonfire outside the hall, gathered to watch the burning of the effigy of Guy Fawkes.
He was alone, standing near the porch, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette. As he nonchalantly tossed it to the ground, then stubbed his toe on it, he glanced across at the commotion around the bonfire, noticed her, smiled.
Audra looked back at him and experienced a queer sensation, one that was unfamiliar to her. Shefelt suddenly faint and a little breathless, as if she had been punched.
His face was clearly illuminated in the glow from the fire and she saw that he was most arresting in appearance.
His dark hair, which came to a widow’s peak above a wide brow, was brushed to one side, parted on the left, and he had dark brows, light-coloured eyes. His face was sensitive, but it was the purity reflected in it that struck her so forcibly, made such a strong and lasting impression.
Their eyes connected. And locked. He gave her a hard, penetrating stare.
She flushed to her roots, looked quickly away.
A moment later, when she and Gwen turned around to go into the parochial hall, Audra noticed immediately that he was no longer propping up the wall, and she filled with disappointment.
Once they were inside her eyes searched for him, but in vain. He seemed to have disappeared. She waited for him to come back, but he did not, and the dance fell flat for her after that. As the evening progressed, Audra found it impossible to tear her eyes away from the door for very long, and she silently prayed that he would return. There was something about him that intrigued her.
Although she was asked to dance several times, and accepted these invitations, for most of the evening Audra sat it out on the long bench with the other wallflowers. She was quite content to be an observer, watching the dancers, in particular Gwen, who twirled around the floor with various young bucks from the neighbourhood, –obviously enjoying herself immensely. But Audra thought that none of Gwen’s partners looked half as handsome or as fascinating as the dark young man who had so engaged her interest earlier.
Audra had almost given up hope that he would make an appearance again when he came barrelling through the door, looking slightly flushed and out of breath, and stood at the far side of the hall, glancing about. At the exact moment that the band leader announced the last waltz he spotted her. His eyes lit up, and he walked directly across the floor to her and, with a faint smile, he asked her if she would care to dance.
Gripped by a sudden internal shaking, unable to speak, Audra nodded and rose.
He was taller than she had realized, at least five feet nine, perhaps six feet, with long legs; lean and slenderly built though he was, he had broad shoulders. There was an easy, natural way about him that communicated itself to her instantly, and he moved with great confidence and panache. He led her on to the floor, took her in his arms masterfully, and swept her away as the band struck up ‘The Blue Danube’.
During the course of the dance he made several casual remarks, but Audra, tongue-tied, remained mute, knowing she was unable to respond coherently. He said, at one moment, ‘What’s up then, cat got your tongue?’
She managed to whisper, ‘No.’
Glancing down at her with curiosity, he frowned, but he did not bother to say anything further, appeared to be lost in his thoughts, or concentrating on the dance.
When the music stopped he thanked her politely, escorted her back to the bench, inclined his head, strolled off.
Her eyes followed him all the way to the front door. And as he walked out into the dark winter night she wondered who he was and if she would ever see him again. She desperately hoped she would.
Later when she and Gwen were hurrying up Town Street, making their way back to Calpher House, Gwen suddenly blurted out: ‘Well, I must say, for someone who protests they’re not interested in men, you were certainly mesmerized by that chap you had the last dance with. But I can tell you this, Audra, he’s bad news. Oh yes, definitely, lovey.’
Audra, startled, asked, ‘How can you say he’s bad news? You don’t even know him.’
Gwen took hold of Audra’s arm in her usual possessive way, slipped her own through it. She said, ‘I can tell just by looking at him that he’s a real devil. I’m always suspicious of the pretty ones. Very wary. They generally end up breaking