‘Is that a promise?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Because I must give you something back.’
‘It’s a promise.’
‘I still don’t understand. How do we go about this?’
‘Look down that road,’ she said, pointing. ‘Those three people coming this way were at the party. Now they’re turning into The Dancing Duck, so we’ll go there, too.’
‘They’ll be our first audience,’ he said, catching her mood.
‘That’s right. They’re looking at us. Put your arm around my shoulders-that’s it! Are you ready?’
‘Quite ready. Sound the bugles! Forward march!’
Defiantly, they raised their heads and walked on into battle.
Eyes turned towards them as they went into the public house. Apparently unaware, they found a corner table and sat talking quietly while he sipped a beer and she an orange juice.
She knew, because Sylvia had told her, that they had often come here together, sometimes alone, sometimes in a group of their friends, the very ones who were glancing at them now, while trying to seem as if they weren’t.
‘Come to think of it, there was always something slightly wrong between us,’ Mark brooded. ‘She was so beautiful and I wanted her like mad, but we never seemed to talk about much. Not that we needed much talking, but when we did-I don’t know-there was nothing there. I kept meaning to back away, but then she’d give me that look and I’d melt.’
‘I know,’ she said softly.
‘You do?’
‘I saw you melt.’
‘Yes, you don’t say much, but you see a lot more than most people, don’t you? You saw what a fool I was.’
‘You weren’t a fool,’ she insisted. ‘Everyone gets carried away by their feelings sometimes.’
‘Not you, I’ll bet,’ he said with a faint friendly grin.
‘I’m just eighteen; there hasn’t been time,’ she said with an air of primness.
‘That’s not the reason. You’ve got your feet on the ground, not like the rest of us.’
My feet aren’t on the ground, she thought. I’m floating on air because I’m with you. If only I could risk telling you, but I can’t because you’d run a mile.
Instead, she spoke brightly, sounding confident. ‘All right, I’m sensible and I know what I’m doing, so you listen and take my advice.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Stretch your arm a little way across the table so that your hand’s close to mine, but not touching.’
He did so.
‘Inch your fingers just a little bit further.’
‘As though I was longing to touch you but didn’t dare,’ he suggested.
‘That’s right. You’ve got the idea.’
He did it perfectly, fingers almost brushing hers, drawing back quickly, then venturing forth again. She wondered how often he’d done this for real, teasing a girl into thinking that he was her humble suppliant, and involuntarily gave a small choke of laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t I doing it right?’
‘Perfectly. In fact, too perfectly. This is how you get the girls to like you, isn’t it? Make them think you’re meek and hesitant, and they’re in control.’
‘You are in control,’ he pointed out.
‘But you’re not trying to win my heart. I mean the others. I’ll bet it works with them.’
He grinned. ‘Sometimes. Some like it that way, some like a man to seem more dominant. I have to vary it.’
‘You’re a cheeky so-and-so,’ she said.
‘That’s another approach that pays dividends,’ he admitted. ‘All right, all right, I know we’re only play-acting. I’m not aiming to win dividends from you, I promise. I wouldn’t dare.’
‘Just don’t forget that,’ she said, trying to sound stern.
At the same moment they both burst out laughing. Heads turned at the sight of Mark Sellon having such a good time with Sylvia’s sister, then nodded wisely. Aha! Perhaps that was the reason Sylvia had vanished.
‘Permission to touch your fingers,’ Mark murmured.
‘Just a little.’
His fingertips brushed hers, withdrew, advanced again, paused, withdrew.
‘Don’t overdo the meek bit,’ she advised.
‘I’m nervous. I fear your rejection.’
She choked again. ‘Stop it,’ she said in a quivering voice. ‘I can’t keep a straight face. You don’t do “nervous” very convincingly. It doesn’t come naturally to you.’
For answer, he took her hand in his, letting them lie together on the table.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I feel happier holding your hand. I’m not sure I could cope without you. I’m just so confused by all this-’
His grip tightened suddenly. Dee didn’t speak, but grasped him in return, knowing it was the only comfort that would get through to him now. He smiled and nodded to say he understood, and they stayed like that in silence until he said, ‘Let’s go. Getting drunk doesn’t seem like such a good idea any more.’
Hand in hand, they rose and headed for the door.
‘They’re watching us,’ she murmured.
‘Then let’s give them something to watch,’ he said, pulling her close and laying his mouth on hers.
It was gentle, not passionate; a kiss for show, with just enough there to tell the onlookers what they wanted to know, then it was over and he escorted her out.
‘You didn’t mind my doing that?’ he asked as they walked away.
‘No, it was very clever,’ she assured him breathlessly. ‘Just what we needed to finish the show.’ With an effort, she assumed a comically lofty tone. ‘I thought we did that rather well.’
‘So do I. In fact, I think I can hear applause.’
As one, they stopped and took elaborate bows to an unseen audience. People walking in the street hurried to the other side, well away from this alarming pair.
‘You see that?’ she said. ‘They think we’re mad.’
‘How could anybody think that?’ he demanded dramatically.
‘Anyone who knows us, I imagine.’
He tightened his arm around her, not to kiss her now, but to lean sideways and let his cheek rest against her hair.
‘Yes, they don’t know the half of it,’ he agreed.
‘But at least we’re mad together. We have that.’
‘It’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane right now.’
At her doorway, he stopped, saying, ‘Let me take you out somewhere tomorrow night.’
‘Yes, we must be convincing.’
‘No, that’s not the reason. I want to thank you for everything you’re doing. I don’t know how you put up with me.’
‘I work hard at it.’
‘Good. Don’t stop. Tomorrow night, then.’
‘Actually, I can’t,’ she said with dismay. ‘I’m working tomorrow night, and every night until the end of this week.’
‘You’re not trying to dump me already, are you? At least it took Sylvia four months to get fed up with me.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ she chuckled. ‘I’m on duty at the hospital. I’m a working woman.’
‘Then I’ll wait on your pleasure. Let me know the first night you can manage.’
He hesitated, and for a blissful moment she thought he would kiss her. And he did. But only on the tip of her nose. Then he walked away, fast.
Dee entered the house quietly, hoping that her parents would have gone to bed, but they were still up. To her relief, they greeted her calmly and Helen had softened towards Mark.
‘I was a bit hard on him, wasn’t I? It’s not his fault. Is he all right?’
‘He’s coping. I’m trying to help him,’ Dee said. ‘But he needs time. I’m going to bed now. Goodnight.’
She hurried away, unable to endure any more talking. She wanted to be alone with her memories of the evening. Mark’s heart was still Sylvia’s, and she knew she was a long way from the fulfilment of her dream. But for a while she’d had him to herself, enjoyed his whole attention, felt his lips on hers.