Moonlit Eyes Part 1

Moonlit Eyes.

by Emma Blair.

Chapter 1

Black!' Jess Sykes almost laughed out loud at her husband's dumbfounded expression. She might have announced that the couple who'd moved in next door were from Mars. 'As the ace of spades I'm told,' she added. 'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l,' Albert muttered, giving a shake of his head. He was dead beat having just come off shift after a long and particularly hard day. 'So you haven't seen them yourself yet?' 'I have,' their son Paul piped up. 'Don't speak with your mouth full,' Jess admonished. 'How often have I told you that.' Albert eyed his ten-year-old. 'What are they like?' 'She's big and fat while he's got grey woolly hair and funny eyes.' 'Why are they funny?' Jess queried, intrigued. 'Did the man have a cast, or what?' Paul shrugged. 'I don't know. They just are.' 'I've never seen a black person in the flesh,' Ellie, Paul's older sister, declared. 'In films, yes, but never in real life like.' 'They arrived this morning,' Jess explained. 'A huge van that was there for hours. Mrs Diamond across the street saw it, and them. As did old Ma Jenkins whom I spoke to earlier.'

'Black eh?' Albert mused, scratching his chin. 'Are you going to want any more steak and kidney?' Jess asked him. 'There's plenty left. That and mash.' 'I'll have some,' Paul volunteered eagerly. 'It's scrummy.' 'You've already had enough to fill an Irish navvy. Don't be greedy,' his sister rebuked him. 'You're a right guts and no mistake.'

'I am not!' 'Yes you are.' Jess sighed. These two were always getting at one another. If she hadn't known better she'd have thought they hated each other. 'He's only a growing lad,' she declared eagerly to Ellie. Ellie snorted. 'At the rate he eats he'll be eight foot tall and five wide before he's finished.' 'Enough,' Albert growled, glaring first at Ellie, then Paul. 'I haven't come home from work just to listen to you two going at it hammer and tongs. Understand?' Both Ellie and Paul nodded that they did, 'Good.' Albert turned his attention again to his wife. 'I won't have any more, thanks.' Paul's face brightened and he looked expectantly at Jess who steadfastly ignored him. 'I wonder what he does?' Albert queried, more to himself than as a question to the others. 'Who?' Jess frowned. 'The black chappie. He must work, presumably.' 'No idea.' 'Maybe he's a cannibal,' Paul said, suddenly a little frightened that it might be true. Jess laughed. 'Don't be daft! There aren't any cannibals in England, far less London. They're all in Africa.' 'But if the man is black he must have come from Africa,' Paul argued. 'You saw him, did he have a bone through his nose?' Albert asked. 2 Moonlit Eyes The lad shook his head. 'Then he isn't a cannibal. All cannibals have a bone through their nose.' Paul's eyes were wide. 'Really?' 'Really,' Albert stated matter-of-factly, though he was micky- taking. 'I read that somewhere once.' Ellie glanced over at the clock ticking on the mantelpiece. 'Can I get down?' she requested urgently. Friday, of course Jess thought. 'Are you seeing George tonight?' Ellie nodded. 'I'd better get a move on or he'll be knocking the door and I won't be ready.' 'It won't do him any harm to wait,' Albert declared. 'When I was courting your ma I always had to wait. Many's the long hour I've spent kicking my heels while she t.i.tivated herself.' Jess smiled in memory knowing that to be true. It wasn't something she'd done intentionally, it had simply happened that way. 'Please, Ma?' Ellie pleaded. 'Where are you off to?' 'The flicks probably and then back to The Florence for a drink afterwards, I should imagine.' 'What's on?' 'A new Greta Garbo. Should be good.' 'Oh, I like Greta Garbo,' Jess enthused. 'Especially when she's with John Gilbert. Now there's a handsome man for you.' Albert pushed his plate away and yawned. It would be a sleep in the chair for him when Ellie had gone out. He could hardly keep his eyes open and the warm food had made him feel even more tired. 'Maybe we could go one night?' Jess suggested to him. 'Maybe,' he replied vaguely. 'It finishes tomorrow,' Ellie pointed out. 'It'll come round again. They always do,' Albert replied. Jess hid her disappointment. But Albert was right, films always did. Or nearly always anyway.

'On you go then,' Jess nodded to Ellie who immediately left the table and hurried from the kitchen. Paul was still thinking about the remainder of the steak and kidney. 'Ma?' 'What, son?' 'Don't forget what you say about food being wasted. That it's a sin when so many folk go hungry.' Jess smiled. He was a persistent little b.u.g.g.e.r, you had to give him that. And he was right, it was a saying others. 'Oh, all right then, give me your plate,' she conceded. Paul beamed as he handed it over. Thanks, Ma.' Albert slumped into his comfy chair by the side of the fire. Black people coming to live in Islington? he mused. Whatever . i next: When Jess spoke to him a few minutes later he was already fast asleep. 'Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner . . . I' Albert recognised the voice as belonging to Mike, one of the Pratts who lived just down the road from them in Florence Street. 'Sounds like Mike's enjoying himself,' he commented to Jess as they went through the doors into the pub. Being a local they knew more or less everyone present so the usual nods and waves were exchanged. Jess glanced around, spotting Ellie and George sitting in a corner, 'Shall we join them?' she asked Albert. He noted they were deep in conversation. 'No, they're all lovey-dovey. They don't want us old folk spoiling it for them.' 'Speak for yourself. I don't consider myself old,' Jess retorted sharply. At forty-one she thought herself in her prime. Old! Why, she didn't have a single grey hair on her head. Albert smiled at her protestation. 'You know what I mean. To them we probably seem ancient.' Then, as a sop, 'Though you and I know better, darling.' That mollified Jess, delighted that he'd called her darling. Terms of endearment from Albert were few and far between. 4 Moonlit Eyes Oh, he loved her, there was no question about that, but his acknowledging it in any way, shape or form was almost like getting blood from the proverbial stone. 'Usual?' he queried. 'Please.' There was one table recently vacated, so Jess headed for that while Albert went up to the bar. Mike Pratt finished his song to loud cheers and clapping. He then broke into 'Roll Out The Barrel'. Albert ordered a port and lemon for Jess, considered having a pint of mild and then decided on bitter instead. It was his weekend off so there was no worry about getting up in the morning, or having to wake with a clear head. When you were a fireman hangovers could be lethal, not only for yourself but others as well. Your mind had to be fully concentrated on the job. 'Nice to see you, Albert,' declared Hazel, the guvnor's wife who was dealing with his order. She was a tarty woman, bra.s.sy as anything with a razor-sharp wit. The customers all loved her, the men never failing to appreciate the low-cut blouses she invariably wore, blouses she more than amply filled. 'h.e.l.lo, Mr Sykes. You were sparko when I called by earlier.' Albert turned to find George standing beside him holding empty gla.s.ses. Albert liked and approved of George whom he considered a steady young man. 'h.e.l.lo, son. How was the picture then?' George pulled a face. 'Mushy stuff, romantic nonsense, not my taste at all. But Ellie enjoyed it and that's all that matters.' 'Let me get these,' Albert said, taking the gla.s.ses from George. 'My treat.' 'That's kind of you, Mr Sykes. Thanks very much.' George was an apprentice who didn't earn a lot. He had a year to go till he was time served at which point his pay would jump considerably. A pint and a gin and orange,' George informed Albert. 'Right then.'

Are you going to give us a song tonight, Albert? I think you should,' Hazel wisecracked. It was a longstanding joke between the pair of them. Hazel well aware that Albert couldn't hold a note to save his life. 'I'll sing when you start giving out free beer,' Albert riposted with a grin. "Would that just be one for yourself, like?' she replied, laughter in her voice. 'No, everyone in the pub. Through till closing time.' 'Oh, I couldn't afford that, ducks.' 'Get on,' he teased. 'You're the richest woman in the street. Everyone knows it. This place is a little goldmine.' 'Well, they know more than I do.' She sniffed. 'Richest woman indeed, as if!' Their banter continued until she'd finished serving him and he moved away, George having already returned to Ellie. 'There you are then,' he declared, setting their drinks on the table and sitting beside Jess. 'I saw you with George there. Did they enjoy the picture?' 'Ellie did. George thought it mushy, romantic nonsense. Not his cup of tea at all. Sounds rather nice, Jess mused. There was nothing wrong with a bit of mush after all, even if it did embarra.s.s men like her Albert. He was a big softie really, just undemonstrative, that's all. It was about half an hour later, Albert and Jess on their second drink, when the pub suddenly fell silent. Albert looked round in surprise, wondering what had caused that to happen. Everyone was staring at the newcomer who'd come in moments before. Jess hadn't been exaggerating, Albert thought. The chap was as black as the ace of spades. The black man, a little older than himself Albert reckoned, slowly made his way to the bar where customers moved aside to let him in. 'Can I have a beer, please?' he politely asked a bemused Hazel. 6 Moonlit Eyes 'Pint or half?' The man clearly didn't understand. 'One of those,' he said, pointing at a pint pot further along the bar. 'Coming up. A pint of best.' People started to speak again, but quietly, almost in whispers. It didn't take a genius to work out what the subject of conversation was. The black man placed a ten-shilling note on the bar then glanced nervously about. Jess could see then why Paul had said he had funny eyes. They were pale blue which appeared incongruous in such a black face. Are we going to allow n.i.g.g.e.rs in here?' The belligerent voice cut through the low hum of conversation like a knife, causing the black man to wince. The speaker was Taffy Roberts who was universally disliked in the street. A self-styled tough guy, he boasted of once having boxed professionally. No one knew whether or not that was true. 'Enough of that. Taffy!' Hazel snapped, wishing her husband Harry was there but he'd nipped out earlier on an errand and hadn't yet come back. Taffy swaggered over till he was next to the black man. 'You're not welcome here, n.i.g.g.e.r, so why don't you just p.i.s.s off.' 'I said enough. Taffy. This gentleman is as welcome* as anyone else who minds their manners and behaviour. Neither of which you are at the moment.' 'Well, I'm not drinking with the likes of this sc.u.m. And I'm a regular don't forget, someone you're never shy to take money off.' 'I'll go,' the black man said. 'I don't want to cause no trouble. That's the last thing I need.' Taffy poked him in the chest. And that's exactly what you'll get if you try and stay.' Albert would have admitted to having many faults, but intolerance wasn't one of them. He also had a very strong sense of fairmindedness. He watched as the black man reached for his ten-bob note. There and then he made up his mind. This was obviously beyond Hazel who looked frightened, for once lost for words and unable to deal with the situation. Well, Taffy didn't frighten him, not by a long chalk. If no one else was going to interfere then he d.a.m.ned well would. He slowly rose to his feet. 'Albert, be careful,' Jess whispered. 'Why don't you shut it, Roberts!' Taffy wheeled to face Albert. 'What's this got to do with you, Sykes?' A grim-faced and determined Albert walked over to Roberts and the black man. 'This chap has come to live next door to me, I believe, so I'm going to ask him to sit with the wife and myself, neighbours getting to know one another like. If you have any objections to that then we'll step outside and discuss the matter further.' Taffy's eyes narrowed, he hadn't expected this. There was an air about Albert that made him uneasy. It dawned on him it was the air of someone supremely confident in his capabilities. For the first time ever he became aware of how fit he looked and some instinct warned him it would be a big mistake to take on Albert Sykes. 'Well?' Albert queried, steel in his voice. Taffy sneered. 'If you want that sort of company that's up to you. Just keep him away from me, that's all.' Albert stood his ground, he wasn't going to be the first to move. There was a few seconds' hiatus, then Taffy turned away and made for the other side of the bar. Hazel nodded her appreciation to Albert. When Harry returned she'd have him speak to Taffy. She didn't want a repet.i.tion of what had just happened. Loud-mouthed Welsh b.a.s.t.a.r.d, she thought to herself. 'Will you join us?' Albert asked the black man. 'My pleasure, sir.' Albert smiled to be called that. Hazel served the black man and quietly told him the pint was on the house, going on to emphasise he'd be welcome back any time he wished. 8 Moonlit Eyes Jess had been holding her breath throughout the confrontation, as had many others. She was proud of Albert for what he'd just done. None of the other chaps present had been prepared to stand up to the Welshman. 'I'm Albert Sykes and this is my wife Jess,' Albert said when they reached the table. And I'm Pee Wee Poston.' Jess frowned, recognising the accent from the movies. Are you an American?' All the way from New York City, maam. I'm right pleased to meet you folks and for getting me out of a tight corner.' 'Think nothing of it,' Albert replied, and gestured Pee Wee to sit. Not only a black man but an American into the bargain as a neighbour! It was just one surprise after another. 'So what did you think?' Albert asked Jess later as they were getting undressed for bed. 'I liked him. And so courteous too. He couldn't have been more polite or charming.' Albert shook his head. 'The last thing I expected was a Yank.' He suddenly laughed. 'So much for Paul worrying about him being a cannibal!' - Jess smiled as she struggled with her corset. That was funny, especially after having met the man. 'Strange name though. I found it difficult to call someone Pee Wee.' 'Lots of jazz musicians have nicknames,' Albert declared knowingly. And what would you know about either jazz or musicians?' she teased. 'You'd be surprised at what I know,' he replied, kicking off his shoes. 'Don't forget I get lots of spare time at the station between call-outs, time I often spend reading. Why, at the moment I'm working my way through a stack of National Geographies that was brought in. All interesting stuff.' Jess never knew whether or not Albert was fibbing, micky-taking again. He could be a terrible micky-taker when he had the mind. That was a side of him she'd always found endearing. 'I wonder what it means, Pee Wee, that is? I thought it would be rude to ask him.' Albert shrugged his shoulders. 'An American expression of some sort no doubt. We'll find out in time.' 'He talked so strangely, there were so many words I didn't understand.' 'It's probably the same for him, listening to us that is.' Jess stopped to stare at Albert. 'That was a brave thing you did tonight. No one else had the gumption to speak up against that horrible Taffy. Dreadful man.' Albert could see the pride in her face which made him feel good inside. 'Someone had to do it,' he replied softly. 'Couldn't let Pee Wee get bullied like that. It isn't his fault he's black. And, as you said, look how nice he turned out to be.' 'You were still brave.' 'Perhaps. It was just a pity Harry wasn't there at the time. He would have sorted it out without me having to intervene. Anyway, he's had a word with Tall and that sort of thing won't happen again. If Tall tries it he'll be barred.' Jess wriggled into her nightdress. 'I'm tired and all that port has gone to my head rather. I had far too much.' 'Go on, you enjoyed yourself. Nothing wrong with that. It's good for you once in a while. Anyway, it's a lie-in tomorrow.' Jess laughed. 'For you that is. When do I ever lie in? You know I don't. Can't with a family to take care of.' He considered that, appreciating how conscientious she'd always been. 'Then I think tomorrow we should change the pattern. Paul is old enough to get his own breakfast and Ellie certainly is. It's high time you stopped waiting on them hand and foot. An extra hour out the week isn't going to hurt after all. They can do for themselves for a change.' 'Oh, I couldn't, Albert!' Jess protested. 'It wouldn't be right.' 'Who says?' 10 Moonlit Eyes She didn't have an answer to that. But it wouldn't feel right, as a wife and mother it was her duty to be up and about before the rest of the family. 'So?' 'We'll see,' she prevaricated. He'd talk her into it, he told himself. Persuade her somehow. And that's what they'd do from here on in every time he had a weekend off, a lie-in both days. Now in his pyjamas Albert slipped into bed and a few moments later, having switched off the light, Jess had too. 'You know something?' she whispered in the darkness. 'What?' 'I'm glad I married you.' That touched him. He grunted in reply. 'Well?' 'Well what?' Aren't you going to say the same?' 'That I'm glad I married me?' She giggled. 'Don't be ridiculous.' And with that she pinched his thigh. 'Ouch! That hurt.' 'It was meant to.' He took her hand and squeezed it. 'I think you know now I feel.' 'But you could say it nonetheless.' 'I'm glad I married you too,' he replied in a low, gruff voice. 'Now let's get some sleep, for G.o.d's sake. You'd think it was you and not Ellie who'd been to see that romantic guff of a picture. Now, good night.' She smiled. 'Good night.' Jess felt gloriously, wondrously at peace. But then, she always did when in bed with Albert. It was one of the joys of being happily married. h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation, she was going to be late! Ellie thought as she slammed the front door behind her. Miss Oates, the head of her department, would give her a right finger-wagging. The old cow! At least it was Sat.u.r.day which meant she'd be finished by dinnerdme. And that evening she and George were going dancing at the Roxy, the Poxy Roxy as it was locally known. Still, it was cheap and the bands they had weren't all that bad. She stopped in amazement to admire the car parked at the kerb. A car in Florence Street! That was a turn-up for the books. Usually the only car to be seen parked round here belonged to the doctor. A smart machine too, she noted, all nicely polished with comfy-looking leather upholstery. It was outside the new people's house so it must belong to them. Funny, it hadn't been there when she'd come home the night before. It must have arrived after that or earlier that morning. Maybe those black people were rich? But if so why come to live in Florence Street? It didn't make sense. No time to spend dawdling, she berated herself, and hurried on her way to the bank in Upper Street where she worked as a clerk and where an irate, if she was any later. Miss Oates would be waiting for her. Jess wiped her hands on her pinny, the ap.r.o.n she, and most housewives, habitually wore during the day, before answering the knock at the door. An extremely fat black lady beamed at her, exposing the most amazing set of gleaming white teeth. Are you Mrs Sykes?' (T , 1 am. Ts Beulah Poston, Pee Wee's wife. I've come round to personally thank you for what you and your husband did last night. Pee Wee's told me all about it.' Beulah? Another peculiar name. 'Think nothing of it. We were glad to help.' Impossibly Beulah's beam became even broader. 'I was won derin' if I could speak to you, Mrs Sykes?' 12 Moonlit Eyes 'Of course. Of course,' Jess replied hurriedly, standing aside so Beulah could enter. And the name's Jess, by the way.' And Is Beulah.' Jess ushered her through to the kitchen. T was just about W put on the kettle. Would you like a cup of tea?' Beulah hesitated. 'You wouldn't happen to have coffee?' Jess smiled. 'Yes, I do.' She didn't always have coffee in the house as it was something of a luxury due to the cost. But right then she did. 'How are you settling in, Beulah?' 'Just fine. Jim dandy. Though I must say England is going to take a deal of gettin' used to. It's so different from back home- 'This is your first trip here then?' Jess probed, opening a cup' board to get the coffee. She'd use the best china, she decided. 'It's my first trip outside the good ole US of A. Same for Pee Wee. We're both absolutely thrilled to bits.' Jess wished she had some cakes or scones to offer, but hadn't- Not even a plain biscuit, Paul having scoffed the last of those the previous night when they were out at the pub. 'He mentioned he's here to play in a band?' 'That's right. He jumped at the chance when offered as lt means we can be with our son Julius for a spell. He works L11 London and has done for nearly a year now.' 'Really?' Jess thought that interesting. , 'Yeah, he's with the State Department currently posted to our Emba.s.sy here. He sure was pleased when we wrote him the news about our comin over. He thought it was a great idea.' Emba.s.sy! Jess was impressed. And is he living with you?' 'Has an apartment in town, comes with the job, but is givLi'1 it up to be with us. Says he sure misses his old ma's home cookin'.' Jess laughed. 'No offence to your English food, Jess, but Julius says it just ain't the same.' Jess put out the cups and saucers, again wishing she had something else to offer.

'Anyway, the other reason I came by is Pee Wee and me was wonderin' if you and your family would care to come to lunch next Sunday, a week tomorrow that is? We'd sure like that.' Jess was taken aback to say the least, this the last thing she'd been expecting. Lunch at an American house, and with a black couple at that. What on earth would Albert say? 'I eh . . .' Oh dear. 'Maybe you want to ask your husband before answering?' Beulah said, a trace of disappointment in her voice. Jess made up her mind. A refusal would be downright rude. And it would be different. Yes, certainly that. Bound to be. 'We'd love to come, Beulah.' The broad beam returned. 'Excellent. Now, just tell me how many of you are there?' 'Four,' Jess replied. 'We have a boy often and a daughter of nineteen.' 'Then four it is,' Beulah declared, smacking meaty hands together. 14

Chapter 2

If you'll just sit here, Jess, and Albert you there.' They'd all come through to the kitchen where a splendid table had been laid. A frankly gawping Jess did as she was instructed. 'It's meat loaf,' Beulah declared from the newly installed electric stove where she was busying herself. 'I hope you folks like that.' 'What's meat loaf?' a frowning Paul queried. Beulah laughed. 'Is that new to you? Well it's just what you would call mince, done in a sort of loaf shape and covered in tomato sauce. It's real traditional where we come from. Ain't that right, honey?' Pee Wee nodded. 'Sure is.' Jess stared about her in astonishment, she'd never in her entire life seen a kitchen so well equipped. 'It's amazing the transformation here in just a week,' she commented. 'We got Julius to thank for that,' Pee Wee replied proudly. 'Workin' as he does at the Emba.s.sy that boy can get almost any thin'. And quick too.' 'Is that a refrigerator?' Ellie inquired, pointing. 'You got it,' Beulah beamed. 'Though out of habit I still call it the ice box.' 'I've noticed vans outside your house all week long,' Jess said. 'Now I know what they were delivering.'

'And installin',' Pee Wee added. 'All thanks to Julius.' Don't be envious, Jess chided herself. But she'd have given anything for a kitchen like this. 'How about another beer there, Albert?' Pee Wee offered. Albert shook his head. The bottle he'd had on arrival, something called Schlitz, had tasted foul, and so cold! The refrigerator explained the latter. Jess couldn't help herself. 'I presume that's a washing machine in the corner?' 'Uh-huh!' Beulah confirmed, placing a large plate of vegetables on the table. More vegetables followed that then a plate of yellow-coloured bread. 'Can I get you anythin', Jess? A gla.s.s of wine perhaps? We got lots.' She was about to say no, then changed her mind. She needed a drink after the shock of all this. 'Red or white?' 'Red please.' And you, Ellie?' 'The same, thanks,' she answered, almost as bemused as her mother. Pee Wee delved into a cupboard to produce a bottle which he proceeded to open. 'Don't forget me there, honey. I'd like one too.' Pee Wee smiled hugely at his wife. 'I ain't forgettin' you, Mama. How could I ever do that?' Beulah laughed almost girlishly as she placed the meat loaf alongside the vegetables. 'I should hope not.' 'What instrument do you play, Mr Poston?' Ellie inquired politely. 'The saxophone. Alto sax actually.' And real sweet music he plays too,' Beulah chipped in. 'When I listen to him play I swears I's in dreamland.' Pee Wee preened at the compliment. 'Do you know anythin' about jazz?' he asked Ellie. She shook her head. 'Nothing at all.' 16 Moonlit Eyes 'I don't think any of us do,' Albert said, having finally relaxed and now beginning to enjoy himself. He hadn't been at all sure about this but Jess had accepted the invitation so he'd had to come. More than anything the food had worried him, he was used to plain, no-nonsense, English fayre and the thought of anything exotic or ... horror of horrors . . . spicy filled him with dread. Still, this meat loaf didn't look too bad. Mince was mince after all and he was well used to that. Though not with tomato sauce plastered all over it! Beulah eased herself into the chair at the bottom of the table, facing Pee Wee at the top. 'Will you say grace, honey?' That startled the entire Sykes family who weren't used to such niceties, Jess indicating for Paul to bow his head. Pee Wee said a few short words followed by a hearty amen. 'Now let's eat, folks, I'm starvin.' Albert refused the bread when it was handed round, thinking he didn't like the look of that, but Jess and the children had some. It certainly wasn't like any bread Jess had ever come across before. It was coa.r.s.er than she was used to, and why yellow? She slowly b.u.t.tered her piece and then gingerly tasted it. 'Interesting,' she commented after she'd swallowed. 'You never had corn bread before?' Beulah queried. Corn bread, that explained the colour. 'I'm afraid I haven't.' 'So what do you think?' Jess considered that. 'I like it. It's certainly different.' And what about you, Paul?' He shrugged noncommittally. Minutes later Jess watched Albert tentatively taste the meat loaf, then smiled to herself in relief as he took a full mouthful. It had met with his approval, thank G.o.d! Every so often, the conversation never flagging, Jess found her eyes straying to the stove, refrigerator, washing machine and various other paraphernalia that she wished she owned. Beulah didn't know how lucky she was. And when do we get to meet Julius?' Albert asked at one point, on his second helping of meat loaf which he'd found delicious. He'd already made a mental note that Jess should get the recipe for their own use. 'Hopefully before you all leave. He's out on business I'm afraid,' Beulah replied. 'He works Sundays?' Albert queried with a frown. 'Sure. Though not every week. There's always a skeleton staff at least at the Emba.s.sy,' Beulah explained. 'And what exactly does he do there?' Pee Wee laughed. 'No idea, Albert. That boy sure is closemouthed about his work. Ain't allowed to tell anyone anythin' apparently. It's all a big secret.' 'Is he a spy?' a wide-eyed Paul asked. 'Naw, nothin' fancy like that,' Pee Wee a.s.sured him. Then, seeing the boy's crestfallen expression, 'Though, who's to say? I don't know. Maybe he is at that.' 'Gosh!' Paul exclaimed softly. Just wait till he told his pals at school! 'Here, let me help you,' Jess offered when Beulah began clearing the table. 'You just set where you are, Jess. You're a guest here which means you just set and enjoy yourself At least let Ellie help. Please?' Ellie was instantly on her feet. 'I insist, Mrs Poston.' t-n ? ? But yous... 'Ma will be furious with me if I don't,' Ellie interjected, knowing that to be true enough. Beulah gave in. 'OK then, child, just stack the dirty stuff in the sink while I get the dessert ready.' 'What is it?' Paul demanded eagerly. 'Paul!' Jess rebuked, while Albert glared at him. 'Sorry,' a suddenly red-faced Paul mumbled, glancing down into his lap. Beulah was amused, thinking that was just like a kid. Julius had been exactly the same. 'Well, let's see now,' she demurred. 'You got a choice.' Paul looked up at her, but said nothing. 18 1 I Moonlit Eyes 'There's strawberry shortcake with cream, or chocolate ice cream.' She paused, a smile twinkling her face. 'There again, you could have both.' Paul had no idea what strawberry shortcake was, and decided not to ask. He'd already blotted his copybook by being too eager. The strawberry shortcake was a circular sponge flan with strawberries inside, the latter encased in a sort of gelatin. Jess watched in amazement as Beulah shook a can from the refrigerator and squirted cream over the top. Albert shook his head. What will they think of next! Trust the Yanks to come up with cream in a can, he thought. When asked, Paul elected to have the strawberry shortcake which, it transpired, he simply adored. 'Now can the kid have some ice cream as well?' Beulah asked Jess when he'd swiftly polished that off. Jess's expression was one of disapproval. 'It seems a bit excessive. Albert?' He too was disapproving, but didn't wish to offend their hosts. The ice cream hadn't been solicited after all. 'I suppose so. Just this once,' he agreed reluctantly. 'We do this all the time back home,' Beulah explained. 'We see nothin' unusual in it. One dessert and then another.' * No wonder she was so fat, Albert thought somewhat unkindly. 'I suppose you Americans simply have more food than we do over here,' he rationalised. They seemed to have more of everything, Jess thought, glancing enviously yet again at the refrigerator. What a wonderful, easy life it must be in America. 'Now what say we have coffee in the other room, Beulah?' Pee Wee suggested when everyone had finished. 'Sure thing. More comfortable in there. We can spread out and relax.' They all trouped through leaving Beulah behind. 'Now how about a brandy, or there's scotch if you prefer,' Pee Wee declared, rubbing his hands together.

'Not for me thank you,' Jess replied, sinking into a comfortable chair, so large it threatened to engulf her. She was full enough to explode. Cream in a can indeed, not at all like the cream she could buy in the shops. Now that was cream! The American version was a poor relation on the taste buds. Very poor. 'I wouldn't mind a scotch,' Albert admitted. Scotch was something of a treat he allowed himself once in a while, though beer was his usual tipple. 'Malt or Black Label?' 'Black Label please.' Now that was scotch at its best. He'd never really been partial to malt. 'Ma?' 'What is it, Paul?' 'Can I ask you something?' 'Of course.' He crossed over and started to whisper in her ear. 'Paul, it's rude to whisper in company. Say aloud what you have to or not at all.' He reddened for the second time. 'Can I leave and play out?' Pee Wee intervened when he saw that Jess was about to refuse. 'We wouldn't take no offence if he does, Jess. Let the kid do as he wants.' Are you certain?' she demanded. 'Sure I'm certain. He don't want to be cooped up in here when the sun's shinin'.' Jess turned again to Paul. All right, on you go.' 'Thanks, Ma. And thanks, Mr Poston.' 'Children,' Jess sighed when Paul was gone. 'What do you do with them?' T think the question is, what would you do without them. Me and Beulah have always taken the att.i.tude that the good Lord smiled on us when He gave us Diane and Julius.' That puts me firmly in my place, a chastened Jess thought. Pee Wee was right of course. 'Here, steady on!' Albert exclaimed as Pee Wee poured the whisky. 20 Moonlit Eyes Pee Wee held out the gla.s.s. 'That's only three fingers' worth. Too much for you?' Albert swallowed hard as he accepted the drink. 'No, it's just that I'm used to far smaller measures, that's all.' 'I noticed that in the pub the other night,' Pee Wee nodded. 'You Brits are sure mean with the liquor.' Albert didn't know what to reply, so said nothing. 'You have a daughter as well?' Jess queried. 'I didn't realise.' 'Yeah, Diane, our firstborn. Older than Julius by three years. She's back in New York where she lives with her husband and baby. The baby, cute little beggar, is called Bradley after his pa. A real happy family they are too. We miss them already.' Pee Wee laid his brandy aside. 'I have some pictures here if you'd care to see them?' 'That would be lovely.' Ellie inwardly groaned. They were on to pictures, snaps, now. How boring. She wanted to excuse herself as Paul had done but her parents would be furious if she suggested it. Manners dictated she stay. 'Should I go and help Mrs Poston bring the coffee through?' she said to Jess. 'Good idea. On you go. And see if there's anything else you can do to help.' Ellie came up short in the hallway when she found herself face to face with an incredibly good-looking young black man who smiled at her. 'h.e.l.lo,' he said in a warm, velvety voice which made her go instantly weak at the knees. 'I'm Julius.' 'Well,' Albert declared later when they were finally back home again, Ellie having gone straight upstairs. 'What did you make of that?' One things certain,' Jess replied. 'What is?' We can't ask them back here for a meal.' Albert frowned. 'Why not?'

'It's obvious, I should have thought. I can't compete with the likes of that. Refrigerator, washing machine, cream in a can. Wine, whisky . . .' She trailed off and shook her head. 'I'd be ashamed.' Dear Jess, he thought. Dear dear Jess. And how typical of a woman. 'We have a working-cla.s.s English household, Jess, not a fancy American one. They'd understand.' 'I don't care. I'd feel humiliated.' 'Then you'd be wrong.' 'Maybe,' she sniffed. 'But I won't change my mind.' She would, he told himself. He'd see to it. 'Well I don't know about you, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself 'So did I. Don't get me wrong. And they did go to a lot of trouble. Even though . . .' Again she trailed off. Albert's lips twitched. 'Cream in a can," he said mockingly. They looked at each other, and then, as one, burst out laughing. Cream in a can! How ridiculous could you get. Danny McGiver looked up from the newspaper he was reading. 'What do you think of this Mussolini business?' he asked Albert, the pair of them having completed their routine duties round the fire station and now waiting for either a call-out or the end of their shift. Albert, sitting in an adjacent chair, frowned. 'What Mussolini business?' 'It says here we've signed an Angle-Italian Agreement allowing the Eyeries to annexe Abyssinia. In my book that's another sell-out to Fascism.' Albert thought about that. 'Perhaps we had no choice?' 'Of course we did!' Danny snapped. 'I don't like it, I tell you. I don't like it at all. Once you give in to those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds they just want more and more.' Danny snorted. 'First Hitler with Austria, now this. Where will it all end, I ask you. Where will it all end?' They both brooded on that for a few seconds. Are you suggesting there might be another war?' Albert asked eventually, going cold at the thought. 22 Moonlit Eyes 'It's a possibility, I suppose.' 'Dear G.o.d in Heaven,' Albert swore softly. That would be disastrous. Unthinkable! 'It'll never come to that,' he declared, wishing he felt more sure about it. Surely they all learned their lesson last time?' Danny regarded him thoughtfully. 'Didn't you lose your father in that?' Albert's face clouded, his expression becoming one of deepest sadness. 'My father and three uncles. Two in France, one in Belgium.' He hesitated before going on, 'I was exempt otherwise I would have been in it too.' Are you sorry you weren't?' Albert barked out a short laugh. 'That bloodbath? I'm as loyal to King and Country as the next man, but if I'm being honest I was more than relieved at not having to join up.' 'I was "over there",' Danny stated quietly. That surprised Albert who hadn't thought Danny old enough. 'I never knew that.' 'Only for a short while towards the end.' He shuddered. 'It was h.e.l.l on earth, believe me. An absolute nightmare. It just beggars belief that they'd want to go through it all again. They'd have to be b.l.o.o.d.y mental. Stark raving bonkers.' 'Let's just hope and pray it doesn't come to that,' Albert said. 'Surely it won't.' Then, vehemently, 'It can't!' Their conversation was abruptly terminated when the bell began to clang announcing they'd been called out. The station erupted into a frenzy of activity as men appeared from wherever they'd been, all hurriedly s.n.a.t.c.hing up bits of uniform and equipment. Within minutes their engine, with Danny at the wheel, was roaring down Upper Street towards the Angel where apparently a chimney had gone up. Ellie didn't know why she was miserable, but she was. Miserable and down in the dumps. Fed up to the back teeth. Life seemed to have become so predictable of late. Go to work, come home from work. Stay in one nieht a week to wash her hair. Friday nights with George, usually the pictures, Sat.u.r.day to the Poxy Roxy. All humdrum in the extreme. Was this what the rest of her life was going to be like? Marriage in a few years' time, children, living somewhere close by no doubt. Day in day out a repet.i.tion of the same old thing. And what would it be like married to George? He hadn't asked her yet but she knew he intended to when he was time served and a fully fledged journeyman. Did she love George? She frowned as she thought about that, coming to the conclusion she wasn't sure. What was love anyway? Some overpowering emotion that made you completely besotted with another person? If that was so she wasn't in love with George. Oh she certainly liked him, he could be good fun at times, and was always easy to be with. But was that enough to get married? The trouble was there wasn't any excitement in her life, it was all so samey. And she wanted excitement, at least some before she settled down to bringing up a family. But where would she find excitement? And what sort? There just wasn't any, at least none that she'd found. Ellie sighed. She really did have a case of the miseries. Here she was feeling sorry for herself when there was so much she should be grateful for. She had wonderful parents, even if she did bicker with them on occasion, but that was only natural, a good home, decent job - despite that cow Miss Oates whom she was rapidly coming to loathe - with a reasonable salary considering her age and lowliness of her position. Perhaps she should go to college and train to be a shorthand typist? Not that there would be much fun and excitement in that. But it was a thought. There again that would mean her father having to keep her while she studied which was hardly fair, not at her age when she'd already been working for a number of years and 24 Moonlit Eyes bringing money into the house. If she'd wanted to go to college she should have come up with the idea on leaving school, not now. Anyway, what would be the point if she got married in the not-too-distant future. None at all. A complete waste of time and energy. She thought again about George, and smiled. He wasn't a bad-looking chap, fairly handsome actually, and he adored her, the latter going a long way in her opinion. Safe, yes that was George, safe and dependable. Her heart sank. How boring safe and dependable sounded, though there were many round here who'd give their eye teeth for such a bloke. He enjoyed a drink, but didn't go over the top. She simply couldn't imagine George reeling in p.i.s.sed on a Friday night having blown most of his wages in the pub. There were many like that. Nor could she envision him being a womaniser, someone who got wed and then continued to chase a bit of skirt whenever the opportunity presented itself. There were a lot like that too, she'd heard her mother talking about them often enough, her tone hushed and pitying as she and whoever discussed the poor wronged wife in question. , Her dad wasn't at all like that, she doubted he'd even looked at another woman since marrying Mum, the two of them as much a couple as they'd ever been. But then they were in love, or certainly appeared to be. Happy as Larry together, the pair of them. Ellie yawned, it was later than she'd realised. She should get some sleep. She didn't want to turn up for work in the morning all bleary-eyed which would earn her a frosty, disapproving look from Miss Oates and some cutting remarks during the course of the day. With a jolt it dawned on her then that she'd never ever dreamt about George. If she had she hadn't recalled afterwards. Now wasn't that strange! Odd to say the least. She bit her lip. Was that indicative of something? It could be for she dreamt about all sorts of people she knew, including the dreadful Miss Oates, but never George. How very, very odd. She worried about that, turning it over and over in her mind, till eventually she nodded off. 'I wish the bus would hurry up,' Jess fretted, glancing up at the sky. 'I'm sure it's going to rain.' 'And when it does come there'll be three more right behind it,' Ellie commented, for wasn't that so often the case. A car, which Ellie instantly recognised, drew up alongside them and the window was rolled down, 'I'm going into the West End, is that any good?' Julius Poston queried with a smile. 'Oh my!' Jess exclaimed. 'Are you offering to give us a lift?' 'Sure am.' 'Well, the West End is where we're off to.' 'Then hop in.' Jess settled herself into the seat beside Julius while Ellie, to her disappointment, was relegated to the back. 'This is the first time I've ever been in a private car,' Jess admitted as they sped away. 'I feel ever so grand.' Julius was incredulous. 'Really?' 'The first time,' Jess reiterated. 'Won't Albert be surprised when I tell him.' Julius glanced in his rear-view mirror. 'How about you, Ellie?' The too.' He laughed. 'Well, well, well. I never.' 'You don't see all that many round here,' Jess went on. 'When you do they usually belong to commercial travellers.' Julius frowned. 'Commercial traveller?' 'Travelling salesmen,' Ellie interpreted. 'Oh! I understand.' 'Are you going anywhere near Oxford Street?' Jess queried. 'Can do.' 26 Moonlit Eyes 'If it's not out of your way.' 'No trouble at all, Mrs Sykes. My pleasure.' She might have been royalty being whizzed along like this, Jess reflected with satisfaction. 'We're going in to buy a few underthings for Ellie who badly needs them,' Jess explained.

Ellie blushed bright scarlet. 'Mum!' she exclaimed, mortified. Julius glanced in his rear-view mirror again, amused by Ellie's discomfiture. 'We all wear them, kid,' he said over his shoulder. She very nearly snapped back for him not to call her kid, she wasn't a child but quite grown up, thank you very much. Jess was also amused by Ellie's reaction which she hadn't antic.i.p.ated. 'And a new blouse for me,' she went on. 'If I can find a suitable one that is.' Ellie felt her face die down again. She was aware of Julius staring at her in the mirror but refused to meet his gaze. 'What's that smell?' Jess suddenly demanded. 'Smell, Mrs Sykes?' 'Like . . . like . . . flowers. Yes, that's it, flowers.' A puzzled Julius thought about that for a moment. 'Do you mean my cologne?' Jess was scandalised. 'You wear cologne?' * 'I do.' 'Well, blow me! I never heard of such a thing. A man wearing cologne. I'd be horrified if Albert tried that.' She was about to add it was most unmanly, but decided not to. She didn't want to offend Julius after all. 'I suppose it's because you're an American,' she said instead. 'I suppose,' Julius agreed, tongue firmly in cheek. Ellie could smell it now, and thought it was rather nice. She wouldn't have minded wearing it herself. Jess thanked Julius profusely when he later dropped them in front ofSelfridges. 'My pleasure. My pleasure entirely, ma'am.' A hint of laughter twitched the corners of his lips upwards. 'It's sure been entertainin'.'

Jess wondered what he meant by that as he continued on his way. Why entertaining? Albert was aghast when she told him about the cologne that evening. 28

Chapter 3

Julius glanced about him, wondering what an English audience was going to be like. They appeared extremely stiff and reserved to him, not at all what his pop and the rest of the band were used to. It was opening night at The Chicory House, a new cellar nightclub situated in Soho. Was the night going to be a huge success or disaster? A few hours would tell. Beulah sipped her champagne and worried about Pee Wee. He'd been terribly nervous at home and on the way here, which was most unlike him. He'd hardly uttered a single word all day. Beulah leant across the table so she could whisper to Julius. 'See that guy with the grey suit and red hair? That's Lord Fitzaran who hired your pop in New York and brought him and the others over.' Julius picked out the gentleman in question, already knowing the story behind this venture. Lord Fitzaran was a jazz ranatic who'd come up with the idea of bringing American musicians across the Atlantic so that the English could hear the sound of genuine Dixieland. Every member of the band had been hand-picked and considered a true, if not great, artist on his particular instrument. As he watched, Fitzaran made his way to the small stage and climbed up onto it. Standing behind a microphone he held up a hand for silence. Thankfully, the speech of welcome was brief, Fitzaran exuding excitement and confidence. The end of his speech was greeted with polite applause. Oh dear, Julius thought. A New York audience would have been far more responsive than that. These Joes were half dead. 'You OK, Mom?' Beulah nodded. 'OK, but all tight inside. This sure is nerve rackin'.' Julius could well imagine what it must be like for the band opening in a country quite foreign to them. There were British jazz musicians of course, but this band were the authentic article, only one of whom, John Parlour, was white. The lights dimmed and the curtains fronting the stage drew back to reveal the band all ready to go. John Parlour came forward, having been elected by the others, to speak a few words. And then, with a gesture of his cornet, they began to play, the opening number being 'Ole Rocking Chair's Got Me', followed by 'Woodchopper's Ball'. Julius smiled as he felt the audience start to relax. Pee Wee, face wreathed in a huge smile, collapsed into what had become his chair. Til say it again, if that don't beat all!' 'You hungry, hon?' He looked across at Beulah. 'How about a peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwich?' 'Sure. You, Julius?' Julius shook his head. The thought of a peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwich at that time of the morning made his stomach heave. 'How about a drink. Pop?' 'Yes sir. Bourbon.' When he'd arrived home that evening Julius had brought his parents several boxes of supplies that he'd acquired through the Emba.s.sy, all of them American foodstuffs and alcohol, most of which couldn't be bought in England. 30 Moonlit Eyes 'I told you it would be OK,' Beulah said to Pee Wee yet again. 'Didn't I?' He regarded her affectionately. 'You did, honey. You most certainly did.' 'And I was right.' Pee Wee, still smiling, closed his eyes, remembering the gig. It had taken the audience about half an hour to really unwind, but when they had! Hey, man, he might have been playing the Cotton Club itself. Any worries he, and the others, had had about playing in England had gone straight out the window.

'Did you mention there were a couple of newspaper guys there?' he queried of Julius. 'Music critics apparently. They were wild about it. You're goin' to get great reviews in tomorrow's papers.' Pee Wee sighed with contentment. 'Then it looks like we're goin' to be here for quite a spell. Hot d.a.m.n!' Julius couldn't have been more pleased, or relieved, for his father. It meant there would be no early return Stateside for his parents which, selfishly, pleased him even more. 'There you are, Pop,' he declared, handing Pee Wee a well filled gla.s.s, the bourbon straight as Pee Wee preferred it. 'You not having one, son?' 'I've already had more than enough. Don't forget I've got to get up in the morning for work.' Then, teasing, 'Unlike some I could name.' Pee Wee laughed, knowing he wouldn't be emerging from the bedroom till well past noon. That was his routine when he was playing. 'Goodnight then, Pop.' 'Goodnight, son.' 'It couldn't have gone better. You brought the house down.' Pee Wee acknowledged the compliment with a nod, then had a swallow of bourbon. Jack Daniels, his favourite. 'Goodnight, Mom.' She kissed him on the cheek. 'You want breakfast?'

'I'll make my own. You sleep in with Pop.' 'Sleep well then.' 'Oh I will,' he replied knowingly. 'Have no doubt about that.' Enroute upstairs he wondered for what might have been the millionth time in his life how his father's musical talent had so completely bypa.s.sed him. He could hardly hold a note. Miss Oates stopped abruptly in her tracks, her expression horror-struck, her eyes seemingly out on stalks. Ellie tensed, dreading she'd done something wrong, and if so what? Her mind raced. 'Miss Fox,' Miss Oates finally managed to get out, her voice trembling in outrage. 'Is that what I think it is on your neck?' Ellie glanced sideways at Connie Fox, a good pal, who did the same job as herself. Connie was looking extremely embarra.s.sed, her hands busily readjusting the scarf round her neck. 'Well?' Miss Oates demanded. 'Yes,' Connie acknowledged in a whisper, inwardly cursing the fact her scarf must have slipped without her realising it. 'A love bite I believe it's called.' Several typists, listening in to the conversation, began sn.i.g.g.e.ring.

'Quiet!' Miss Oates snapped, and the giggling immediately ceased. She fastened her beady gaze back onto Connie. 'How disgraceful. How utterly disgraceful. I've a good mind to send you home for the rest of the week without pay.' Connie gulped. 'How could you let such a thing happen. And then come to the office to flaunt your depravity?' Connie hardly thought it depravity, but wasn't going to say. You didn't argue, or cross swords, with Miss Oates, not if you valued your job that is. 'I'm terribly sorry, Miss Oates. Truly I am. Please forgive me,' Connie grovelled. 32 Moonlit Eyes That mollified Miss Oates a little. But only a little. 'See that disgusting mark remains covered as long as it's in existence. And there will be no repeat. Understand?' Connie nodded. 'Yes, Miss Oates.' Miss Oates glared at Ellie, and then the typists who'd been listening in. 'That goes for all of you.' 'Disgraceful,' Miss Oates muttered a second later, and swept imperiously away. 'Frustrated, bitter old bag,' Connie spat. 'It's jealousy, that's all it is. Sheer jealousy.' Ellie had to smile. Connie was probably right. She doubted Miss Oates had ever been kissed by a man in her entire life. Connie leant across and whispered conspiratorially. 'I wonder what she'd say if she saw the one on my right t.i.t.' Ellie was shocked. Connie winked and returned to work, leaving a speechless Ellie staring at her back. Every Wednesday afternoon Jess called in to visit old Ma Jenkins who enjoyed the company, her legs being bad and not getting out and about as much as she used to. Mr Jenkins had died years previously from cancer of the bowel. Another biscuit, Jess?' Ma Jenkins asked, offering a plataful. Jess shook her head. 'No thanks. I've already had three.' Ma Jenkins settled back in her chair and eyed Jess speculatively through rheumy eyes. 'Want to talk about it?' That startled Jess. 'Talk about what?' 'Whatever's bothering you. For I can see that something plainly is.' Jess sighed. Trust Ma. She never missed a trick. 'I'm not a hundred per cent certain but I think I might be expecting.' 'Oh!' The rheumy eyes bored into Jess's. 'That's good news, isn't it?' 'Depends how you look at it,' Jess replied softly. Ma pursed her withered lips, and waited for Jess to explain herself.

'It's my age, Ma, forty-one, shortly forty-two. It's knocking on a bit to have children.' Ma acknowledged the truth of that with a slight nod. 'And then there's Albert. I don't know what his reaction would be at having another baby round the house. I suspect he wouldn't be best pleased.' 'I see,' Ma murmured. 'Oh don't get me wrong. Albert loves children and dotes on ours, even if Paul can be something of a handful at times. But I think he believes, although he's never actually said, that we've had our quota. That that sort of thing is finished with.' Mas mouth stretched into a mocking smile. 'Then he should have thought of that when he made you pregnant.' Jess shrugged. 'I think I must have misled him there. I thought my conceiving days were over, it's been ten years since Paul after all. Apparently I was wrong.' Ma reached to the small table by the side other chair, picked up a packet of Woodbines and lit one. 'You won't do anything silly, I hope?' It was a couple of seconds before Jess understood. 'Good G.o.d, no! Albert wouldn't let me go near one of those butchers. He'd have a blue fit if I even so much as suggested it.' Ma nodded her approval. She'd had a friend once who'd gone to a backstreet abortionist. Her friend had lost the baby all right, but had come close to dying in the process when septicaemia set in. 'How many periods have you missed?' 'I haven't, that's the problem and why I thought I was past such a thing. I haven't had one for ages. Not even the smallest show.' 'And yet you think you're pregnant?' 'I know the signs, Ma, only too well.' 'If you are you are and that's all there is to it.' 'I suppose so,' Jess replied glumly. 'Do you want a baby yourself?' Jess took a deep breath. 'The truth? No. Also at my age it's a worry about what might happen. I mean, I could even pop my 34 Moonlit Eyes clogs, and then what? Albert left on his own and Paul the age he is.' Ma didn't know what else to say or advise. She and her Reg had never been blessed with children which had always been a great sadness to both of them. And now here was Jess admitting to not wanting what, at one time, she would almost have sold her soul for. Life was hardly fair, though no one had ever said it was or promised otherwise. 'Does anyone else know about this?' Ma asked. Jess shook her head. 'Well, you don't have to worry about me- I won't say anything.'

'Thanks, Ma.' 'But don't you think you should go and see the doctor?' Jess had already considered that, but simply didn't want to in case he confirmed what she suspected. She wanted to put off being certain as long as she could. For who knew? It might be a false alarm. Hardly a logical way of thinking, she told herself. But that's how she wished to deal with it. 'I will,' she lied. 'I'll get round to calling into the surgery.' Jess reached for her tea which was now stone cold. Ma said she'd put the kettle back on but Jess excused herself saying she really had to go - another lie, she just didn't want to continue talking about this. Out in the street she felt an almost overwhelming urge to cry, but somehow, and it was a struggle not to give in to it, she didn't. She considered that to be even more proof, remembering how she'd been forever bursting into tears when carrying Ellie. Are you all right?' George asked Ellie, as the pair of them sat at a table in The Florence. 'I'm fine. Why?' 'You're awfully quiet tonight.' She'd been thinking about Connie Fox's love bite and the fact George had never even tried to give her one. Shed have quickly Emma Blair put him off if he had, but it rankled nonetheless that he hadn't at least made the attempt. She gazed around The Florence. Another Friday night, another drink here. And tomorrow night, the Poxy Roxy yet again. She had suggested they might go up West for a change, but George had vetoed the idea explaining he was short of cash. It was depressing. 'Would you like another?' he asked, indicating her gla.s.s. She almost said, was he sure he could afford it? But didn't as that would have been unkind not to mention hurtful, 'Please,' He picked up her gla.s.s and made his way over to the bar where he fell into conversation with another of the regulars. The same old faces. Ellie thought. Night after night the same old faces. Boring. She wondered what it was like to have a love bite? Did it hurt getting one? It must do, especially if it was on ... She took a deep breath, her face colouring ever so slightly . . . the breast. Had Connie kept her bra on or taken it off? And what else had happened during that encounter? She'd never previously considered Connie to be fast, but now she wasn't so sure. George had groped her a few times, but always on the outside of her blouse or sweater. That was as much as she'd allow. And he'd certainly never attempted to put his hand up her skirt. He'd have had a right old slap if he had. She stared at George's back, wondering what he was like without clothes on? She'd never ever seen a naked man, not even her father. Paul when he was younger, yes. But that didn't count. Paul's w.i.l.l.y had been a tiny little thing, quite insignificant. But a full-grown man's? That was something else entirely, at least so she'd been told by one of the girls at school who had umpteen brothers of all ages and all still, then anyway, living at home. She supposed she'd never find out till her wedding night when the big revelation would take place. She felt warm p.r.i.c.kles of antic.i.p.ation run over her shoulders and down her front. 36 Moonlit Eyes The trouble with all that business was it was near impossible to get information about it. She could have asked jess of course, but nothing on earth would have made her do so. She'd die of embarra.s.sment, and no doubt so too would her mother. She wished she had a married friend her own age she could consult, but didn't. Her pals were all still single and virgins. At least she presumed the latter. It was a terrible shame and stigma to 'get in the club' without being wed, not only for yourself but your entire family. The risk just wasn't worth it. Her thoughts were interrupted when Julius Poston entered the pub accompanied by a black woman. The pub didn't quite stop but suddenly these two were the centre of attention. Ellie watched Julius escort the woman over to an empty table where the woman sat. After a brief exchange Julius went up to An attractive woman, Ellie noted. Somewhere in her mid twenties and very smartly turned out. Why, that tan-coloured order. suede coat she had on alone must have cost a fortune. 'Close your mouth or you'll catch flies in it,' George teased, rejoining Ellie. 'I take it that's your new neighbour's girlfriend? 'I've no idea,' Ellie replied waspishly. 'I've never seen her before.' 'Quite a cracker, if you don't mind them black.' For some reason that annoyed Ellie. 'Fancy her, do you? 'Not me. I was just commenting, that's all.' Julius glanced over and smiled at Ellie and she returned the smile shyly. Well, it would have been rude not to. 'She must be a Yank as well,' George speculated. He laughed. 'She certainly isn't from around here.' Ellie watched the woman take out a packet of cigarettes and light up. Even at this distance she could make out that the packet was foreign so that seemed to confirm that the woman was indeed American. 'Probably works at the Emba.s.sy with Julius,' Ellie guessed. Would make sense.' The pub had now more or less returned to normal, though every so often glances were still being thrown at Julius and his friend. How elegant the woman was. Ellie reflected. She couldn't quite see what her figure was like but had the horrible suspicion it was stunning. She felt dowdy and plain by comparison. 'Good-looking geezer too, your neighbour.' George smiled. Ellie pretended indifference. 'Is he? I hadn't noticed.' 'Well, I'd say so. And not very African in appearance either. No thick lips and squat nose. Same with her.' There had to be white blood in the pair of them somewhere along the line, Ellie thought. Not that she knew much about such matters. It just seemed common sense, that's all. Well, she'd been moaning to herself about the same old faces, and now this. Quite a turn-up for the book. The black woman shifted position to reveal a long shapely leg projecting through a vent in her coat. George couldn't help but stare at it, in common with most of the other men in the pub. Ellie was furious. 'You're with me, don't forget,' she snapped. George immediately brought his attention back to her. 'Sorry,' She snorted. 'I should think so.' He reached across the table and laid a hand over one of hers. 'Don't be jealous. There's no need to be.' 'I am nothing of the sort,' she retorted hotly, furious that he should think such a thing, even if it was true. She eased her hand out from under his and picked up her drink. For the rest of the evening George only took his eyes off her when going to the bar or toilet. On the way out Ellie managed a good look at Julius's companion, green with envy at what she saw. The black woman was not only gorgeous but dressed in the sort of clothes she could only dream about. And she'd been right, her figure was stunning.

Albert laid his newspaper aside and yawned. It had been a hectic day, four call-outs, one of them major. He was dead beat. 38 Moonlit Eyes 'Would you like a cup of tea?' Jess, sitting opposite, askei him. 'Not for me. You have one though.' She thought about that, deciding it wasn't worthwhile brewing a pot just for herself. 'Maybe later.' Albert stretched. 'I won't be late out of my bed, I can tell you I'm absolutely whacked.' Jess glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. Half-past nine:, early even by Albert's standards. 'I ran into Polly Hutchins today,' she remarked casually. And how's she?' Polly was someone Jess had known since schooldays. 'Fine. She had her new grandson with her. Lovely little chap.' Albert frowned. 'Which daughters had that?' 'Margaret, the youngest. She got married last year to a drayman and this is their first child. When I b.u.mped into her Polly was looking after the baby, taking it for an outing in its pram. 'That's nice,' Albert commented, not really all that interested.

'Lovely little chap,' Jess repeated. 'Seeing him took me back a bit. When I picked him up and gave him a cuddle I came over all broody.' Albert laughed. 'Well, it certainly wouldn't me. Who'dswaftt to go through all that palaver again?' He shook his head at the very thought. 'Oh come on, it wasn't that awful,' she cajoled. And h(M proud you were when both ours were born. Especially Paul; him being a boy like. The son and heir.' 'True,' Albert admitted. He wasn't keen, Jess thought with a sinking heart. That was obvious. Despair filled her, for she was now even more con' vinced she was pregnant. That morning she'd felt distinctly queasy, though hadn't vomited. And she was putting on weight. Only a little so far, but enough to make her skirts feel tight. 'It shouldn't be too long before you're a grandmother as wel4 Albert declared. 'Give Ellie and George a couple of years and Bob's your uncle. Bound to happen.' Jess smiled thinly, wondering what he'd say if she suddenly came out and told him what she suspected? It would be a bombsh.e.l.l, all right. Not yet, she cautioned herself. She had to be sure before she did that. Absolutely certain. Jess stopped outside the doctors surgery and stared at the door. She didn't have to look at the bra.s.s plate to know the surgery was open. Should she go in, get it over with? Find out one way or the other? That was the sensible thing to do. This torturing herself was unnecessary if it turned out to be a false alarm after all. There again . . . The door opened and someone she didn't recognise emerged, a woman roughly her own age. The woman didn't even give Jess a glance as she hurried on her way. Jess took a deep breath, tempted. And then she remembered the time. She should be home cooking Paul and Ellie their dinner, both would be back soon. Ellie from work, Paul from school, expecting to be fed. That was it then. Another day perhaps. Yes, another day. 'I do believe we're the only people in the street to have a phone,' Beulah declared proudly, the telephone having been installed out of necessity for Julius's work. 'The pub has a phone,' Julius commented drily. 'I saw it when I was there.' 'Well then, apart from the pub.' 'I suppose so,' Julius agreed, having already used it several times to ring the Emba.s.sy on business. It had been put in earlier that day. Beulah glanced at him out the corner of her eye. 'When you seem ' that Marybeth again? She sure is one nice young lady.' Julius couldn't help but smile. Beulah and Marybeth got on 40 Moonlit Eyes like a house on fire. 'Oh soon. Sometime soon,' he replied offhandedly.

Beulahs expression became one of concern. 'You ain't losin' interest I hope?' 'Mom,'