‘All right,’ he said.
‘I take that as a promise. Do you understand?’
‘Yes. OK.’
He tapped his binocular case. ‘Carry them for me.’
Hilary held his hand.
‘You can take turns looking at ships or birds,’ Tom said, ‘and I’ll tell you about ’em.’
‘I want first go,’ Hilary said.
‘We’ll cross the road before getting them out, then spin heads-and-tails for it.’
‘She can have them,’ Sam said.
‘The coin decides,’ said Tom.
They waited for cars to pass, then he let them go, over the grass to the railing. There was a blue hole in the clouds, with towering cumulus close out on the Channel. Ships were outlined: tankers, ocean freighters with enormous white superstructures so that Sam wanted to know what those buildings were, and a few coasters which seemed almost to disappear in the swell. Tom looped the binocular strap around Hilary’s neck, and told her to look. Visibility was good, but rain would soon hit the seafront.
14
Pam sat on the edge of the bed. Clothes were spread over the floor, draped on chairbacks and stacked on the dressing-table. Judy laid aside the last twenties-style suit: ‘I’ll start a new fashion in West Eleven if I get this lot on the barrows. Wouldn’t mind wearing a few myself.’
Pam hoped she would try some of them on. She’d be sure to look marvellous in such clothes. There were shoes and handbags to complete the picture of a new woman.
Judy took out silk blouses with pearl buttons, elaborate garments with lace cuffs and collars attached. ‘I wish the rich hadn’t loved mothballs so much, though.’
She pulled off her sweater, and unbuttoned her shirt. ‘They’ll fit you, as well. You’re nearly as tall as I am.’ Her breasts were oval-shaped, well-fleshed and only slightly hanging, nipples facing upwards rather than out. She smiled at Pam looking at her without knowing she was staring so intently. ‘I had a bath last night so it’s all right, as long as you can stand the carbolic smell of a woman who doesn’t bother with men!’
Dark hair showed at the crotch of her flimsy red knickers. She took them off, and rummaged in a drawer for underwear, holding up camisoles and stockings. ‘What delights! Come on, you change as well.’
Pam wished she had taken her clothes off earlier, because Judy had already put drawers on and a slip, a blouse and a long skirt. ‘Don’t worry, love, it’s just that I like seeing another woman. You do too, don’t you? But how do you keep that slim figure? The trouble with me is I eat whatever I can. I feel like the character in that N. F. Simpson play who calls at houses to finish off leftovers because it’s her job. Whenever I’m offered anything on my charring round I never say no. I eat when the kids come home from school. Then again when they’re in bed, and at breakfast with them in the morning. I never stop.’ She opened a cupboard and inspected more drawers. ‘Here you are, get this lovely underwear. It makes me feel sexy. See what it does for you. I feel like a schoolgirl just wondering how to … I suppose not having kids around helps.’
Pam saw her mistake, if such it was, which had led her into becoming trapped at a game she didn’t want to play; but it had been her own idea and there was no getting out of it, so she took off the rest of her clothes and searched among the underwear. Embarrassment was stupid. There was nothing to lose with someone as friendly and easygoing as Judy.
‘There are even hairpins in the bowl.’ Judy untied her ponytail and sat at the dressing-table to put up her hair. ‘It’s a treasure-house. I feel as if I’m stealing things.’ She stood to finish buttoning the cuffs of her blouse. She was tall and straight-backed, and would become stout if she didn’t take care. Pam couldn’t stop herself saying: ‘You look beautiful.’
Her figure was verging on full. She had been going to say: elegant, handsome, even dashing in an old-fashioned way. Strange what clothes could do, though she suspected they did little enough for her. She looked in the mirror, and found it amazing how they both resembled women of the period.
‘I’m not bad for nearly forty, am I? You look quite fine yourself, though.’ She lit a cigarette, and passed it to Pam, who hesitated, then told herself not to be so rigid, smiled her thanks, and tasted the damp end when she put it between her lips.
‘Come here,’ Judy said, ‘and I’ll finish fastening your buttons for you.’
She smoked, then gave it back. ‘It’s nice to play at dressingup.’
‘We’ll give the others a surprise.’
Pam held out her arms. ‘I wish I had hair as long as yours, that’s the only thing.’
Judy laughed. ‘You can have it, if you give me your figure.’
‘Your figure’s …’ She was going to say ‘lovely’.
‘Don’t go on.’ She grimaced, and Pam didn’t know what she had expected. ‘Do you love him?’
‘Who?’
‘Your ex-sailor man,’ Judy said.
‘Can’t you call him Tom?’
‘Tom, then.’
She was going to say: it’s nobody’s business. But: ‘I think I do. Yes.’ There was no one else she loved, and if this wasn’t love she thought she would never know what was – but wouldn’t speak of it, hardly aware as to why, except that she felt such a declaration would sadden Judy, or – and the words flashed at her without warning – as if they would imply some kind of disloyalty towards her, a form of gloating, perhaps. She was hot with an embarrassment she couldn’t explain, hoping it would go away before Judy noticed. She was sure she already had. Judy noticed everything.
‘Don’t blame you. He is pretty good – for a man. I hope you’re sure, though, because he’s the sort you’ll have to follow. He’s got lots of firm ideas behind that brow of his.’
Pam was surprised at this opinion. She wouldn’t follow anybody. Or would she? She would if she cared to. If she did it would be out of her free will, and nobody’s business but her own. ‘How do you know?’
‘He’s the type, isn’t he? Does things, rather than thinks them out. Forceful and secretive, I suppose you’d call it. My husband was the opposite. Nothing but talk. Never did anything till I pushed him into the street. His parents wouldn’t have him back, but he soon found someone to iron his shirts and make his bed. Men always do, even these days. But Tom’s different, I can see that. I once went upstairs for something or other, and through the open door I saw him ironing a shirt. I’d never seen such a thing. A man ironing a shirt! I’d always thought it was impossible. I just stood and looked, till he stopped what he was doing and shut the door in my face. Well, I suppose you’ve got to admire a man who looks after himself in that way. Though I don’t know why. I don’t think it strange when a woman irons her things. You’re certain to be better off with a man like that than with most others.’
Pam was amazed at how coolly she had analysed him, and how much she admired him. It was unmistakable. A tremor of surprise went through her. ‘Did you ever have an affair with him, then?’
She could tell lies to a man, though she’d never found it easy, but not to a woman, which she considered to be one of her weaknesses – while having the strength to know that it was one worth cherishing. ‘I wouldn’t call it that. I once kept him company for a night or two between voyages, a couple of years ago. Nothing since, absolutely. I didn’t want to. Nor did he. We stayed good neighbours.’
Pam knew she could never be a free woman in that way, but was pleased to feel no sense of jealousy. Its effect was rather to make her more affectionate, though a faint diffidence kept her from saying anything at the moment.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t have told you,’ Judy said. ‘But there was really nothing in it.’