‘I expect it will be all right,’ she replied, catching Tom’s look again. ‘Is Tom invited?’
‘Yes and you, mate…’ He nodded at Julian. ‘Bring your wives as well.’
‘Thanks,’ said Tom, ‘Tell you what. I’ll develop and print the pictures I’ve got and bring them with me.’
‘That would be lovely,’ Clover enthused. She would see Tom after all. ‘I want to be first to see them, Tom,’ she said with a wink. ‘Can you bring them about eight?’
Tom Doubleday showed up in the taproom wearing a smart grey suit with a subtle stripe. His plain royal blue tie contrasted well with his white cotton shirt and starched round-edged collar, and the silver chain of his pocket watch hung glistening across his waistcoat.
‘Well, you look smart tonight, Tom, and no two ways.’ Ramona greeted chirpily.
He smiled gratefully at the compliment. ‘Thank you, Ramona. That’s exactly what I needed to hear.’
‘So who’s the lucky lady?’
He glanced around to see if anybody was listening, then leaned forward conspiratorially, as if to divulge some deep secret. ‘Your stepsister,’ he whispered.
‘Clover?’ Ramona’s expression changed and she paused while she took stock of this vital news. ‘She never said.’
‘Would you do me a favour and let her know I’m here?’
Stunned, Ramona left the taproom. In a few seconds she returned, her demeanour unusually aloof. ‘She’ll be a minute or two yet. D’you want a drink while you wait?’
‘Not for now, thanks, Ramona. Later.’ He smiled pleasantly but Ramona did not return it. He turned around while she tended to somebody else’s needs and he nodded at those regulars he was already familiar with. ‘Lovely evening,’ he said to somebody. He scrutinised the ends of his fingers and nervously creased the flap of the brown envelope he was holding that contained the photographs of Ned’s triumph. He wondered what Clover would be wearing.
Of course, she wore the new white dress she’d bought herself. She’d piled up her dark hair in the Pompadour style that emphasised the youthful set of her head and the elegance of her neck.
‘You look beautiful.’
She smiled demurely. ‘I’m glad you approve. Thank you.’
‘I’ve never seen you looking so lovely.’
‘Perhaps you can appreciate why I always hide away from you when I get in from work all grubby in my scruffy clothes. I can look decent. I’d much rather you see me looking this way.’
He looked her up and down admiringly. ‘I’ve seen you decent before – at the wedding, if you recall. But decent is a bit of an understatement, Clover. You look delicious enough to eat. Come on, let’s go for a walk so the world can witness me at the side of somebody so lovely.’
She smiled again and felt her colour rise at his compliments.
‘You don’t mind walking out, do you?’ he asked and she shook her head. ‘There might not be much opportunity to talk later. What time did Ned say he would get here with his family?’
‘About nine.’
‘That gives us an hour. Shall we head for Buffery Park? It’s a lovely evening.’
‘If you like. Give me a minute, though, to get my hat on.’
She went out again and returned wearing a beautiful Leghorn hat, trimmed with field flowers. She wore it tilted slightly to one side, in the manner of the fashionable women she’d seen in pictures in newspapers. Tom said how elegantly she wore it as they stepped out of the Jolly Collier into the warm evening sunshine of George Street and she felt like a queen. They talked at first about Ned’s achievement that morning and how Amos made her laugh with his irreverence. Before they knew it they were near the hothouses of Buffery Park.
The flowerbeds were ablaze with colourful blooms. Clover said how she wished they could have a garden at the Jolly Collier instead of the dreary brewery that overlooked and overwhelmed the rear of the pub.
‘Do you like living in a public house?’ Tom asked.
‘I don’t know any different,’ she replied, stepping over a crack in one of the paviours to avoid bringing bad luck. ‘But I like all the company we get. I see different people all the time. It’s nice getting to know lots of people.’
‘Yours is a decent pub, you know, Clover. It has a reputation for being a good house, as well as for the beer.’
‘Yes, I know. It’s because of my mother, I suppose. The way she’s always run it.’
‘Do you get on all right with her?’
Clover chuckled. ‘She’s a funny woman.’
‘Oh? How is she funny?’
‘In the sense that she seldom smiles, her attitude to folk. She has some funny ideas, mostly about me, it seems. She’s not been so bad since she’s married again. Jake keeps her in check.’
‘What do you think of him?’
‘I like him. He’s very placid, very down-to-earth. He’s certainly good for my mother. Good for me, too. Before he came along I wouldn’t have been allowed to walk out with you, without somebody else with us.’
‘A chaperone? God, how old-fashioned.’
‘Like I say, she’s a funny woman – old-fashioned – a dyed-in-the-wool Victorian. But Jake’s changing all that. Ramona was always allowed to go out apparently, so now I am as well.’ She smiled with the satisfaction of having won some great privilege.
‘So you’ve had no chance to meet sweethearts?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ she answered coyly, half teasing. ‘There have been one or two boys I’ve been sweet on…’ She looked away for she found herself blushing again. ‘How about you?’ she said, diverting him. ‘How many sweethearts have you had?’
‘Oh, hundreds…’
He grinned first and they both burst out laughing.
‘Oh, you have to be truthful, Tom,’ she said. ‘Have you really had lots of sweethearts?’
‘About two.’
‘You mean two hundred?’ she suggested mischievously.
She loved how he laughed at that, how his eyes crinkled at the edges so deliciously.
‘Just two,’ he answered. ‘A girl from Sedgley who was my sweetheart for two years and a girl from Brierley Hill.’
‘Oh? What went wrong?’
‘Well…with the girl from Sedgley there were too many instances where we didn’t see eye to eye. Too many arguments over nothing, too many unreasonable requests, too many times I was taken for granted when I’d gone out of my way to do things for her and her family. There was too much incompatibility, Clover. We would never have made each other happy. So I ended it.’
‘And the girl from Brierley Hill?’
A couple of sparrows descended into one of the flowerbeds they were approaching, twittering angrily at each other as they squabbled over a worm, then just as rapidly took flight again, the one hurtling after the other.
‘Maud…’ He sighed. ‘Maud didn’t play