A Good Catch

‘I am being realistic. Lots of women have jobs these days and bring up a family.’

‘You’re talking about those lah-di-dah city types with posh nannies and banker husbands. It’s different here.’

‘And who says I can’t be a lah-di-dah city type?’ she countered mutinously.

Her father glowered at her. Greer chewed her lip and there was a strained silence. She knew it was pointless to provoke her father, but she consoled herself with the thought that he’d have to stop treating her like a child one day.

Her mother went to the bread bin and sliced two pieces of granary bread before popping them in the toaster. She was thinking of how best to back Greer without antagonising her dinosaur, chauvinist husband.

‘I think she’d make a very good interior designer, Bryn,’ she said quietly. ‘Look what she’s done with her bedroom. And interior designers can charge the earth for their services. She has good taste, and people are prepared to pay for good taste.’

Bryn shook his head dismissively. ‘A fool and his money are easily parted.’

*

‘Mum!’ Loveday was bouncing uncontrollably round the tiny stone-flagged hall of the cottage she shared with her mother. ‘Mum! I got seven! And an A for maths!’ She flung herself into her mother’s arms and jigged them both up and down on the spot. ‘Can you believe it, Mum?’

Beryl Carter managed to extricate herself from her daughter and, panting, said, ‘Oh, my darlin’ girl, you done so well! Your dad would be proud of you and no mistake. Seven! You’ll be going to university at this rate.’

Loveday stopped jumping and pulled her mother into a giant bear hug. ‘Mum, I’m not leaving you. I’m going to get a job and bring some good money into the house. I’m going to look after you properly. The way Dad would’ve.’

‘No,’ Beryl told her firmly, pulling herself out of Loveday’s grip again. ‘You’m not giving up your future for me. I can look after myself. You get out and see the world. You could be a doctor or … or … a professor or something.’

‘Not with only seven O levels,’ laughed Loveday. ‘And what do I want to see the world for? I’m happy in Trevay with you and Greer and Jesse and Mickey.’ A thought suddenly struck her. ‘I’ll ask if there’s a job going at Jesse’s dad’s or Greer’s dad’s. I’ll work as hard as they like. Harder than anyone they know.’

*

Jan Behenna took the envelope from the odious postman and propped it against the teapot on the kitchen table. She prayed Jesse had done well. She wanted him to be happy and fulfil his dreams, whatever they were. If that meant emigrating to Australia, so be it. She’d barely left Cornwall herself, let alone the United Kingdom. If Jesse went to Australia, Jan could apply for a passport and fly on an aeroplane. She’d have the chance to see the Sydney Harbour Bridge. She sighed as she dreamt of Jesse’s future. The one thing she didn’t want for him was to be pushed into a marriage of convenience to Greer bloody Clovelly and her jumped-up family.

‘Morning, Ma.’ Grant came into the kitchen; he’d come home for the weekend and looked better than he had for ages. His hair was shaved close and neat and, despite being out last night drinking with his old Trevay mates, he was up bright and early this morning and looked none the worse for it. It was early days, but Jan hoped that life in the army was giving the boy the discipline he sorely needed. She fervently prayed that he’d turned a corner and was putting his old ways behind him.

Movement upstairs signalled that Jesse was awake. He and Edward had come home from a long fishing trip the night before and he was only now stirring, the smell of eggs and bacon wafting up from the kitchen as good as any alarm clock.

Jesse entered, naked except for his boxers. He hadn’t known Grant was due a visit home, and the sight of his brother grinning at him from the breakfast table wasn’t an entirely welcome one.

‘All right, Grant.’

‘Hello, little brother.’ Grant ruffled Jesse’s hair roughly and Jesse jerked his head away quickly.

‘Get off.’

‘Oo-er, someone’s a bit touchy today. That Loveday Carter not let you ’ave a feel of ’er big tits yet?’

Jesse stiffened. Jan could sense the tension between them and tried to head it off at the pass.

‘Grant, leave Jesse be, he doesn’t need your teasing this morning. Here, Jesse.’ She handed him the envelope.

Jesse could have done without Grant being there while he opened the letter. Whether the news was good or bad, his brother would find some way of goading or mocking him for it.

‘Go on, son, open it,’ his mother said encouragingly.

Jesse looked from her to the letter. Would any of the contents make the blindest bit of difference to his future? He doubted it. Behenna’s Boats beckoned and there wasn’t much in this letter could change that.

He ripped open the envelope and eyed the contents.

‘Well?’ Jan asked anxiously.

A grin spread across Jesse’s face. Six O levels. He’d failed at geography and a couple of others, but all of the key subjects were there.

‘I got six!’

‘Oh, well done, son!’ Jan embraced him warmly and Jesse tried not to squirm. ‘Enough for college, are they?’

Grant sneered. ‘College? What – our Jesse a college boy, with all those other little stuck-up snivellers.’

‘Fuck off, Grant. Just because you were too busy getting in trouble and never got anything.’

‘College is just for nancy boys too shit-scared to do a proper man’s job.’ He shovelled a mouthful of bacon and eggs into his mouth.

‘Grant, stop winding Jesse up and, Jesse, mind your language at the table, please.’

‘I’m going out on the boats with Dad,’ Jesse announced, in a bid to put an end to both his mother and Grant’s speculation.

‘You don’t have to decide now, Jesse,’ his mother told him. ‘Wait until after the summer and see how you feel then.’

‘Anyway,’ said Grant, talking through his mouthful of food, ‘Dad’s got Jesse’s future all sewn up, ain’t that right? You’re going to be the family whore!’ He let out a snort of laughter and continued to shovel in the last few forkfuls of his breakfast.

Jesse felt the urge to get as far and as fast away from Grant as possible. He stood and headed towards the kitchen door.

‘But, Jesse, your breakfast?’ his mother called after him.

‘Not hungry, Mum.’ Jesse leapt up the hallway stairs two at a time, still with Grant’s spiteful laughter ringing in his ears.

*

Mickey wasn’t surprised by his results. He sat up in bed as his mum brought the envelope to him with a mug of tea.

‘B for technical drawing and physics, C for maths, English and history, and the rest I failed.’

His mum was thrilled, and said so. ‘How many is that you got, then?’

‘Five.’

‘Five,’ she said with relish. ‘Five O levels. You’m bleddy Einstein, boy.’

The phone in the hall started to ring. Annie Chandler gave her son a last pat on the leg and went downstairs to answer it. Mickey listened, still looking at his results letter with satisfaction.

‘’Ello? …’Ello, Jesse. How did you do in your … Did you? Well done, boy … yes, Mickey’s got his … five, yeah … shall I put ’im on?… Just a minute.’ Mickey didn’t need to be called; he was already coming down the stairs two at a time and took the phone receiver from his mother.

‘What you got, Jesse?’

‘Six. I can’t believe it!’

‘You bleddy swot.’

Jesse laughed. ‘You did all right, didn’t you? Five!’

‘Yeah.’ Mickey couldn’t help smiling to himself. ‘Yeah. Bleddy five O levels.’

*

‘Mum. Please,’ Greer was pleading. ‘I know it’s kind of Dad, but I don’t want to go out to dinner tonight.’

‘You’re not going to the Golden Hind and that’s an end to it.’ Her mother’s voice was muffled as she dragged the vacuum cleaner out of the understairs cupboard.

‘But everyone’s going and I want to be with my friends.’

‘No.’ Her mother unwound the cable from the back of the cleaner’s handle. ‘Your dad and I want to celebrate as a family.’ She handed Greer the plug end. ‘Put this in, would you?’

Greer did as she was told but wouldn’t give up. ‘Well, can we go out early? So that I can finish and get down to see everybody after we’ve eaten?’

But her mother had already drowned her out with the roar of the machine.

Greer went to her room seething with frustration. She’d been everything a daughter should be to her family. She was thoughtful, obedient, clever. She always looked her best and watched her figure. She never asked for anything. Well, she didn’t need to; her parents gave her everything before she asked. And now, here she was, almost 17, and they wouldn’t let her go out on the most important night of her life.

Loveday had phoned an hour ago and told her her results. Greer was pleased for her, but even happier that she had done better. Loveday had asked her to come down to Figgotty’s – a locals’ beach. No holiday-maker ventured there; it had such a steep descent that no buggy or grandma would be able to get down to it or, if they did, up from it again.

‘We’re taking some pasties,’ Loveday had told her.

‘Who’s we?’ Greer had asked.

‘About eight of us.’

‘Is Jesse going?’ Greer had hated herself for asking, so she added hastily, ‘And Mickey?’

‘Course they are. It was Jesse’s idea. He told me to call you.’

‘Did he?’ Greer hugged herself. ‘Hang on, I’ll just ask Mum.’ A few moments later she was back on the line, almost in tears. ‘My mum won’t let me. She wants me to go into Truro with her.’

‘Never mind.’ Loveday had suddenly felt sorry for her friend. ‘Maybe you can come tonight?’ she’d suggested. ‘The pub’s doing an “exam result special” night. There’s a hog roast in the beer garden and a DJ.’

But now Greer’s mum had categorically said no.

*

‘Buona sera, Signor Clovelly.’ Antonio, chef proprietor of the eponymously named Italian restaurant greeted Bryn with his arms wide and a dusting of pizza flour on his cheek.

‘Good to see you, Antonio. How’s the golf?’ Bryn and Antonio were cronies both at the golf club and in the local Masonic Lodge.

Antonio was taking Elizabeth’s wrap from her shoulders and replied in his heavily accented English, ‘I am playing offa sixteen.’ He shrugged. ‘But if I had more time, I could be closer to you. What you playing offa now?’

‘Twelve.’

‘Twelve? My God, you musta never be at work? Sì?’

The two men laughed and then Antonio saw Greer standing hunched and miserable in the doorway. He stepped towards her, holding his arms out wide again. ‘Look at leetle Greer! All-a grown up.’ He inclined his head to one side and brought his hands together as if in prayer. ‘But you are a beautiful young woman now!’

Elizabeth beamed with pride and said, ‘She got her exam results today. She did very well, so we’re here to celebrate.’

‘Why she not look so happy?’ asked Antonio, staring at Greer as if it was he who had upset her.

‘I am happy,’ Greer said, trying to smile, but desperately wishing that Antonio would leave her alone.

‘Thank God!’ Antonio boomed. ‘And now, Antonio make you even more happy with his food.’ He walked them to a pretty table overlooking the inner harbour, where they could watch the visiting yachts bob on their hired moorings. The tide was high that night and Greer could see it lapping almost to the top of the wall. She heard laughter from the pavement and saw several schoolfriends walking towards the Golden Hind … and the party she wasn’t allowed to go to.

‘Well, this is nice,’ Bryn smiled, once Antonio had lit the red candle in the centre of the table and left them to get drinks and menus.

‘Isn’t it?’ smiled Elizabeth. Greer said nothing. Knowing that all of her friends were out enjoying themselves – and she was stuck here – was like a slow death.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ asked her father.

Greer put on a bright, tight little smile. ‘Nothing.’

Elizabeth turned to Bryn and explained. ‘There’s a do at the pub. Pete’s doing a hog roast and a disco for the school-leavers. Her friends are celebrating over there.’ Bryn turned his head and looked over at the Golden Hind. ‘That sounds fun. Why aren’t you invited, Greer?’

‘I was, but Mum said I couldn’t go as we’re having a family dinner, so …’ Greer shrugged and looked at her hands, trying not to cry.

Bryn winked at Elizabeth. ‘You can go over after we’ve eaten.’

Greer immediately brightened. ‘Can I?’

‘Of course you can. I like a bit of a bop.’

Greer’s face dropped. ‘You’re coming?’ She couldn’t think what was worse. Not being allowed to go, or going but being saddled with her parents, who were bound to embarrass her.

‘Yeah. Me and your mum haven’t had a night out for ages.’ Bryn put his hand on top of Elizabeth’s, which was resting on the table. He turned to her. ‘We’ll show the youngsters some of our jive moves.’

Elizabeth, who had been looking forward to an early night with her new Jackie Collins book, hid her dismay. ‘What a lovely idea.’

‘Yes,’ murmured Greer. ‘Lovely idea.’ Really just wishing that the ground would open and swallow her parents up.

7

The air in the beer garden was heavy with the smoke of the hog roast. Long chains of coloured lights were swung in a zigzag from fence to wall and back again, above the dusty grass. The DJ Ricky and ‘his Roadshow from Liskeard’, was playing ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’ and blowing bubbles over a couple of girls who were vying for his attention. The centre of the garden was a heaving mass of dancing, sweating teens.

Greer arrived and stood on the periphery. She was on her own. Her mother had nipped to the Ladies and her father was at the bar chatting. Loveday spotted her and came bowling over, wreathed in smiles. ‘You made it! How did you manage it?’

Greer briefly explained and Loveday handed her a glass of punch. ‘My mum’s here too, see.’ Loveday pointed over to the bar area where her mum was laughing and joking loudly over a large vodka and orange with a group of fishermen and their women. Her cheeks were flushed, and when Loveday waved over to her, she blew her daughter an ostentatious kiss. Greer couldn’t understand why Loveday wasn’t more embarrassed by her mother. She dressed in clothes more appropriate for a girl half her age; her own mother would have said that she was mutton dressed as lamb.

‘Here, try this. It’s mostly fruit juice, with some sort of wine in it.’

Greer took a sip. It seemed innocuous enough. ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ was playing now. ‘I love Whitney!’ Loveday shouted above the noise. ‘Come on, Greer. Let’s dance.’ Greer was not the dancing type but she took another mouthful of punch and, looking around for Jesse, reluctantly followed Loveday into the throng.

Jesse was in the pub kitchen with Mickey, making another industrial-sized bowl of punch. The landlord, Pete, told them to help themselves to the cartons of fruit juice that he’d put into the huge fridge, and to add half a bottle of Lambrusco to each batch. ‘No more, mind! I don’t want to lose my licence.’

Mickey and Jesse had assured him they wouldn’t overdo it but, as soon as they were on their own, Mickey stepped outside the kitchen door and fetched the bottle of vodka he’d hidden in the hedge and he and Jesse took a swig each from it before pouring a good slug into the punch. ‘Well, Pete never said nothing about vodka, did he?’

‘No,’ agreed Jesse, assiduously measuring only half a bottle of Lambrusco into the deep container. The two boys took another mouthful of vodka each before hiding the bottle back under the hedge.

*

Loveday was hot. The music was getting faster and louder and she was getting thirsty. She spotted the boys lugging the punch tureen towards a trestle table. ‘Want a drink, Greer?’ she shouted.

Greer nodded and gently dabbed at her forehead with the back of her hand. She was glad to stop, and gladder still to see Jesse.

Mickey saw the girls approaching and, emboldened by the vodka, nudged Jesse and slurred, ‘I’m going to make sure I give Loveday a big one.’

Jesse giggled. ‘You ain’t got a big one.’

Mickey snorted with laughter, ‘I don’t mean give her my big one.’ He creased over with hysteria.

‘Well, I’ll help you out and give her my big one if you like,’ hooted Jesse.

Mickey stopped laughing and squared up to his friend. ‘What did you say?’

Jesse was shocked that he’d said anything at all. The drink was muddling his thinking, but thoughts of Loveday were always bubbling just beneath the surface these days.

‘It was a joke. Just a joke. That’s all.’ He put his hands up in surrender. ‘Sorry, mate.’

Mickey looked stony faced. ‘Loveday means the world to me and one day I’ll marry her, so no more talking that way about her. She’s my girl, you got that?’

For a brief moment, Jesse wanted to push back at Mickey, to ask him who said that Loveday was his girl. Why should he have her?

Mickey stood his ground, staring hard into Jesse’s eyes. Jesse saw the fierce possession that burned there and instead of challenging Mickey, the words that came from his mouth were ones of appeasement.

‘Of course, mate. I’m so sorry. I just … I don’t know … must be the booze.’

Then suddenly Mickey began to giggle again. ‘Yours is just a little chipolata anyway.’ Jesse, relieved, started to laugh too.

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Loveday as she arrived at the table. ‘What you two bollock-heads laughing at?’

The boys gave each other sidelong glances and started giggling again.

Loveday shook her head, dismissing their silliness. ‘Honest, Greer, how these two ever managed to get any O levels is beyond me. Bleddy idiots.’ She reached for the industrial catering ladle lying in a sticky pool on the paper tablecloth and dipped it into the punch.

‘Give it a good stir, Loveday,’ hiccuped Mickey, putting his arm round her fleshy waist and giving it a squeeze. ‘All the good stuff is at the bottom.’ She looked at him suspiciously. ‘’Ave you been drinking?’

‘No.’

She turned to Jesse. ‘Has he?’

Jesse attempted to focus his eyes on Loveday. ‘No.’

Loveday shook Mickey’s arm off her and leant forward to sniff his breath. ‘I can smell alcohol.’

Mickey was affronted. ‘You can’t smell vodka, ’tis a well-known fact.’

She opened her eyes in disbelief. ‘Yes you can, and where the bleddy hell did you get vodka?’

Jesse owned up. ‘Grant got us two litre bottles to celebrate. He’s home for the weekend.’

‘Your Grant is trouble – and now he’s going to get you into trouble.’ She stood with her hands on her hips, frowning at both boys. ‘Where is he now?’

Greer, who’d been listening to all of this, looked around the garden and pointed to Grant, who was dancing with a couple of girls. He was in a skintight T-shirt which enhanced his muscular shoulders and tattooed pecs. The girls looked very pleased with themselves for having netted the handsomest man at the party. DJ Ricky was not looking happy – it looked as if he’d be going home alone … again. ‘He’s over there,’ Greer said.

Jesse was unimpressed. ‘Janine and Heather? Is that the best he can do? Anyone can pull them.’

Grant was now bumping and grinding his hips, bum and crotch towards the girls as ‘Le Freak’ by Chic was blaring out over the speakers. The girls willingly followed his moves.

Loveday leaned towards Jesse’s ear and – above the noise – managed to ask him to dance with her.

‘No thanks,’ he answered, pouring himself another glass of punch. ‘Not in the mood.’

‘What are you in the mood for?’ she asked, putting her hand on his chest. She was wearing a low-cut baby- pink vest and the skimpiest of denim skirts. Her hair was tied in a side ponytail with a pink scrunchie, and her lips were parted seductively as she gazed up at Jesse.

He felt the warmth of her skin through his shirt and wanted more than anything to drop his mouth to hers and kiss her deeply. They were so close, with barely a hair’s breadth between them; all he’d have to do would be to lean in … but all at once Jesse became aware of Mickey standing right next to them. He took a step back, knocking the table as he did so. Loveday let her hand drop back by her side.

‘I’ll dance with you, Loveday,’ grinned Mickey. He grabbed her elbow, guiding her erratically onto the dance floor as she looked disappointedly over her shoulder at Jesse.

He and Greer were left to watch as Mickey and Loveday were swallowed by the crowd.

‘Want another drink, Greer?’ asked Jesse.

Greer drank very little, but the last glass of punch had left her feeling a little woolly around the edges, and she was enjoying the sensation. ‘Yes, please.’ She handed her empty glass to him. Carefully he dipped the ladle into the bowl and filled their glasses to the brim.

‘Cheers, Big Ears,’ Greer surprised herself by saying; the punch was definitely kicking in.

‘Cheers, Greers,’ he replied solemnly.

They clinked and drank.

‘Why aren’t you dancing?’ he asked.

‘No one’s asked me. Except Loveday, and she doesn’t count.’

‘Loveday’s a good girl,’ Jesse said quietly.

‘Mickey thinks so.’

Jesse pulled his mouth down at the corners. ‘Yeah.’

‘They’re well suited, don’t you think?’

‘I s’pose.’

Greer, powered by the warmth of vodka, elucidated. ‘I mean they’re two of a kind. Loveday has no ambition to leave Trevay. Mickey’s future is mapped out for him on the boats. Whereas you and I …’ She took a step closer to him. ‘We’re lucky. We come from families who have made something of themselves.’

Jesse was now feeling very drunk but also – and this surprised him – he suddenly felt attracted to Greer. She wasn’t sexy and exuberant like Loveday, but her shiny, blunt-cut bob and neat, even teeth were fascinating him. He wasn’t sure what she was saying exactly, but whatever it was, she was saying it very sweetly.

‘You’re all right really, aren’t you, Greer?’ he managed. ‘I don’t think you’re a snob. Like some of them say. You’re just a bit different. That’s all. Want a top-up?’

Greer frowned slightly. ‘Yes, please, and I’m not a snob. Who said that?’

‘Janine and Heather.’

Greer drank some more punch and enjoyed its zing as it ran down her throat and hit her stomach. ‘They are a pair of bitches.’ She put her glass down. ‘I’m going to sort them out.’ She took a step forward but her knees sank a little. Jesse caught her. ‘No you don’t.’ He pulled her closer to him. ‘You’re staying with me.’ Her slender frame felt surprisingly good – firm, but there was a softness there too, not soft like Loveday, but … He felt a shot of desire stir in his groin.

She relaxed into his arms and raised her face to his. She giggled. ‘You’ve got strong arms, Jesse Behenna.’

He demonstrated his strength by pulling her closer to him. ‘You’d better believe it.’

She snuggled into his arms. She could feel his warm breath on her hair as he rested his cheek on the top of her head. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt into him, to feel the heat of his body against hers. Greer felt a heady thrill at being in Jesse’s arms. This was it. This was their moment.

The pounding beat of Jackie Wilson giving his all to ‘Reet Petite’ broke through the moment as Greer heard a familiar voice.

‘Scuse us, you two,’ said her father. ‘Your mum and I are going to show you young ’uns some real dancing.’ Her parents pushed past them and cleared a space on the dance floor before going into an incredible jive routine.

Bryn spun Elizabeth under his arm and towards him, then spun her out and away from him. They were good. They rocked back on their heels at arms’ length and pinged back together with their arms round each other. Pushing Elizabeth a little away from him, Bryn caught her by the waist and bounced her high above his head then swept her down and between his legs. Elizabeth had enjoyed two large gin and tonics and was unembarrassed as her skirt slid up her thighs to reveal comfy mum knickers.