A Brighter Tomorrow by Maggie Ford (read with me .txt) 📕

her the longer time went on, the more she thought about him. For the last few weeks she’d been popping in to see Mrs Sharp, on a Sunday when she knew he wouldn’t be at work so that there was more chance of finding him there. So far she’d had no luck.

‘Out wiv his mates,’ was his mother’s usual reply to the inevitable question.

‘No, ’e ain’t got a gel at the moment,’ had been the heartening reply to her casual, apparently innocent enquiry a few weeks ago. ‘But he’s got plenty of mates.’

‘So he’s not pining about his engagement breaking up?’

‘No,’ had come the reply. ‘Seems to ’ave got over it orright. I expect he’ll find someone else, given time.’

If only that someone else could be her. She was working at it as hard as she could, but if he was never there, what could she do?

‘Give him my love,’ she told his mother on leaving. She needed to be bold. ‘Tell him I think about him a lot.’ Even that seemed too forward.

It was easy to say to his mother, would have been impossible to his face, but she could only hope he’d take the hint if Mrs Sharp thought to pass it on.

This Sunday she got dressed up as usual, taking Dora with her as usual, not expecting to see him, but living in hopes – though if he had any thought of her, surely he’d have sought her out after the message she had left with his mum. She’d even told her the address where she was staying, but he obviously hadn’t picked up on it. Arriving at Mrs Sharp’s door, her heart leapt to see his bike leaning against the house wall. In fact it was he who opened the door to her knock and, to her delight, he smiled down at her.

‘Wotcher! I was just about ter go. Only ’ad ter put me coat on.’

‘Oh,’ she said weakly, her expectations flying off into the blue. ‘Did your mother tell you that Dora and I often…’

He seemed to step back mentally from her and she realized that Dora and I must have sounded so stuck-up and affected. Perhaps he felt he wasn’t good enough for her, or that she thought him not good enough for her.

Hurriedly she began again. ‘Me and Dora often come round to see your mum. Old neighbours – that sort of thing.’

Was it her imagination that he suddenly seemed to relax? Now he gave an easy chuckle. ‘She did mention it.’

The statement sounded tongue-in-cheek. Maybe his mother had said more than that, hinting that she was forever asking after him, with all its implications. She felt suddenly foolish. What must he think of her?

‘So where you off to?’ she asked firmly, reverting in part to her old way of speaking, hoping it might help.

‘Meeting a couple of mates of mine in the local.’

Of course! No girlfriend now. ‘Just hoped you might still be here, that’s all,’ she said lamely.

He stepped back from the doorway. ‘Well, I’m still in. Might as well hang on a bit. There’s no set time.’

He was being warm and friendly and now, thoroughly at ease with her, sitting down and telling her all about his work, asking what she was up to, listening intently as she talked about her life, her struggle for money.

‘You’re looking very nice,’ he said appreciatively at one time, but went no further than that. Finally, after half an hour he said, rather reluctantly it seemed, that he had to go or his friends would be wondering where he was.

‘But I might see you here next week,’ he said as he put on his coat and his cap.

Ellie’s heart felt light as a feather as they left. He’d not gone as far as saying he’d like to see her again, much less take her out. All he’d said was that he might see her here next week. Perhaps it was a start.

She wished she could help things along a little, but it wasn’t proper for her to make the first move. Decent young ladies didn’t. If only she could tell him her true feelings; but that would be too forward of her.

All week she was on tenterhooks for next Sunday to come. But when it did, she found him not there after all when she called.

‘He said ter tell yer he’s sorry,’ his mother informed her. ‘One of his mates ’ad an accident failin’ orf a roof what he was working on yesterday and he went with the other blokes ter see ’im in orspital this morning. But he said he’d be ’ere next week if you come.’

Despite her disappointment, it was like music in her ears; but the following Sunday, something totally unexpected occurred to stop her going – something very important, even though it left her wondering afterwards if he might have taken it to mean that she wasn’t that interested in seeing him.

Twenty-Eight

Sundays would see hordes of strollers pausing to gaze at paintings hung on park railings by optimistic artists – rows and rows of them, large and small, some framed, some not, in a variety of subjects and styles. For some it was a Sunday-morning or afternoon diversion before another working week; for the artists there was the hope that at least one painting sold, meaning food for another week.

Lately it had been a day Ellie missed out on, taken up with hopes of seeing Ronnie Sharp. Going all the way to Bethnal Green to chat over a cup of tea, then journeying all the way back, gave no time to show her work, any money she might have made being lost. But seeing Ronnie made it worthwhile.

She’d been so excited about her date with him – if that was what it was – this Sunday. He’d said he’d wait in to see her and she’d been reading meanings into his words all week.

She was ready to go. She would be going alone. Thankfully Dora had decided to stay