‘Call me Brent. It is all right if I call you Maxine, isn’t it?’
She smiled and lingered a moment. There was something appealing about him after all; the way he looked at her. His dark eyes were focused only on her, piercing, making her feel decidedly self-conscious. But not the way Stephen did. Definitely not the way Stephen did.
‘I’ll see you at rehearsals next week, I imagine,’ she said affably.
‘Shall you come to the concert on Sunday evening?’
‘The concert? I could…I suppose I should really, shouldn’t I?’
‘You should. Come and say hello afterwards. I’ll introduce you to some of the team.’
Stephen Hemming was a quiet, practical, but very determined soul. He was twenty-six, unmarried, living at home with his parents and Pansy, his younger sister. Pansy had introduced him to Maxine Kite when the two girls were attending Bantock’s School of Music together. Stephen fell in love with Maxine on sight. He could not resist her. She seemed so vulnerable and he wanted to protect her, especially since he was predisposed to girls like that. But her apparent vulnerability was not her only attractive feature; she was inordinately lovely with lips that for many sleepless nights he yearned to kiss and creamy curved breasts he longed to caress. And her ears were so delicate, translucent, like finest Dresden china…He was mesmerised that her forearms lacked any of the soft down that every other girl seemed to have. Yet, she was totally unaware of her silky sensuousness. It never ceased to astound him how he managed to keep his hands off her. But she did not allow him such liberties.
Stephen loved art, in its broadest sense, and thus anything artistic and creative. So he saw in Maxine’s musical ability a gift that he wished to see flourish. And she arrived in his life at the right time three years ago when he was languishing over a girl to whom he’d been engaged. Maxine certainly diverted his mind from that trauma.
Stephen designed jewellery in Birmingham’s Jewellery Quarter and he was good. His talent was being sought by several manufacturers since he understood all the manufacturing processes, the techniques and the skill of the people who made the products; and he took account of all this in his designs. He was seriously considering starting his own design house, specifically aimed at serving the abundance of businesses in the area that produced adornments ranging from cheap buttons to creations on a par with the Crown Jewels. His lack of capital, however, was impeding any such progress.
Yet he had made himself afford a car; a 1935 Austin Ten-Four Lichfield. It was bigger than he needed, but it could accommodate Maxine’s cello across the back seat – and that had been the deciding factor. It had set him back one hundred and fifty-two pounds; money he could have used to set up a business. But since he realised he was not extravagantly handsome, owning a car set him apart from other young men and gave him an advantage; in Maxine’s eyes especially, he hoped. Yet, so far, it had done him no good. So far, all that his gallantry had achieved was delivering her, her cello and the rest of her belongings further away from him, to the home of her sister and brother-in-law.
He drove her into Daisy Road in Ladywood and pulled up outside the end of terrace house that was her new home.
‘You can’t imagine how upset I am that you’re leaving us, Maxine,’ he said, making a final attempt to get her to change her mind. ‘The good times, the laughs we’ve had…’
‘It’s not as if I’ve emigrated to Australia, Stephen,’ she replied pragmatically.
‘But you won’t be there when I get home from work, or when I get up in a morning. I’ll miss you, Maxine. I’ll miss you like hell. Pansy will miss you as well. So will my mother and father.’
‘Pansy understands, Stephen. Knowing what it takes to lug my cello about, she appreciates that living here will be far more convenient. Your mother and father understand, too. It’s not as if I’ve upped and left without discussing it. I wouldn’t. And I shall visit them when I can. They’ve been very kind to me while I’ve been lodging there.’
‘Because they love you – like a daughter,’ Stephen commented, trying desperately to invoke greater feelings of guilt in her. ‘But sometimes I get the impression, Maxine, that it’s me you’re trying to get away from.’
‘Oh, I’m not at all,’ she fibbed, affecting indignation, for she was anxious not to hurt his feelings. ‘How can you think that? But seeing each other less often, we might appreciate each other the more. Anyway, thanks for taking the trouble to bring me here. I really appreciate it.’
‘I’ll help you with your things, shall I?’
‘That’s very nice of you, Stephen.’
‘I’ll expect a kiss for my trouble.’
‘And if you don’t get one?’ she asked, half-serious.
‘Then I’ll leave your things at the side of the road.’
Of course, he did not mean it and she smiled to herself as she alighted from the car. She opened the rear door and attempted to get her cello off the back seat herself, knowing full well that he would gently move her out of the way and do it for her. As he did so, with his predictable chivalry, she leaned towards him, gave him a token peck on the cheek and smiled to let him believe she’d been teasing.
‘Is that it? My kiss?’ he queried, his disappointment obvious. ‘Each day that passes they’re rationed the more…So, shall I see you on Saturday night?’
‘Best not this Saturday, Stephen. I’ll have so much to do. But Sunday, if you like. If you feel like going to the CBO concert with me.’
‘Okay, I’ll take you.’
‘Say seven o’ clock. The concert starts at half past. That’ll give us plenty of time. But come in and have a cup of tea now you’ve come this far, Stephen.’
That Sunday, Stephen arrived promptly at seven and parked his Austin behind Will’s maroon motor car, a Swallow SSI. He walked up the path and knocked at the door.
Will Parish invited him in. ‘I imagine she’ll be ready in a minute or two, Stephen. Come and wait in the sitting room.’
‘Hello, Stephen,’ Henzey greeted affably, fastening a napkin on the baby who was lying on the settee next to where she was sitting. ‘Sorry if it pongs a bit in here. I’ve just had to change him.’
Stephen spotted a soiled napkin on the floor near Henzey’s feet and tried not to breathe in too deeply lest it offend him. ‘One of the joys of having children,’ he commented.
‘One of the drawbacks. Oh, he’s as good as gold…aren’t you, my little cherub?’ she cooed, slipping the baby’s waterproof pants over his napkin. She lifted him, holding him against her bosom. ‘There…that’s better, isn’t it? Now you feel all nice and comfy again.’
‘Have you decided on a name for him yet?’ Stephen asked conversationally.
Henzey looked at Will for permission to reveal it. He nodded his assent with a smile.
‘Aldo,’ Henzey said.
‘Aldo?’ Stephen queried, uncertain as to how he should react.
‘Well…Aldo Benjamin, really. But we shall call him Aldo.’
Maxine appeared at the sitting room door. She wore a simple dark green dress with a flared skirt, belted at the waist, and carried a black leather handbag that matched her shoes.
‘So, now you know the baby’s name, Stephen.’
‘Yes. It’s, er…’
‘Awful?’