Dancing in the Dark by Maureen Lee Read Free Book Online Page A

were supposed to comfort a stranger. Perhaps another person, someone who didn’t have dead eyes, might have taken the weeping woman in their arms, but I could no more have done that than I could have sprouted wings and flown.
    Charmian sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Anyroad, I’d better go. Herbie’s waiting for his tea—which reminds me, luv, would you care to join us?”
    “Thanks all the same, but I’d better not. There’s so much to do.” I gestured at the room, which was exactly the same as when I’d come six hours before.
    Charmian squeezed my hand. “Perhaps next time, eh?
    It’ll take you weeks to sort this lot out. I’d offer to help, but I couldn’t bear to see Flo’s lovely stuff being packed away.”
    I watched her climb the steps outside. I had meant to ask when the rent was due, so that I could pay a few weeks if necessary. I hadn’t realised that dusk had fallen and it was rapidly growing dark. The streetlights were on, and it was time to draw the curtains. It was then that I noticed someone standing motionless outside. I pressed my face against the glass and peered upwards. It was a girl of about sixteen, wearing a tight red mini-dress that barely covered her behind and emphasised the curves of her slight body. There was something about her stance, the way she leaned against the railings, one foot slightly in front of the other, the way she held her cigarette, left hand supporting the right elbow, that made me guess immediately what she was. I pressed my face the other way, and saw two more girls outside the house next door.
    “Oh, lord!” I felt scared. Perhaps I should let someone know where I was—James or my mother—but I couldn’t recall seeing a phone in the flat and, despite what George had said, I’d left my mobile in the office. As soon as I’d had another cup of coffee, I’d go home and come back on Sunday to start packing.
    The kitchen was like a fridge. No wonder Flo didn’t have one—she didn’t need it. I returned, shivering, to the settee, my hands wrapped round a mug of coffee. It was odd, but the room seemed even more cosy and charming now I knew about the girl outside. I no longer felt scared, but safe and secure, as if there was no chance of coming to any harm inside Auntie Flo’s four walls.
    I became aware of something stiff against my hip and remembered the envelope that I’d found in the bedroom.
    It didn’t contain a pension book, but several newspaper cuttings, yellow and crisp with age, held together with a paper clip. They’d mainly been taken from the Liverpool Daily Post and the Echo. I looked at the top one for a date—Friday, 2 June 1939—then skimmed through the words underneath.
    Thetis trapped underwater was the main headline, followed by a sub-heading. Submarine Fails to Resurface in Liverpool Bay—Admiralty Assures Relatives All Those On Board Will Be Rescued.
    I turned to the next cutting dated the following day. Hope Fading For Men Trapped On “The Thetis. Stunned Relatives Wait Outside Cammell Laird Offices in Birkenhead. The news had been worse when the Echo came out that afternoon: Hope Virtually Abandoned for 99 men on Thetis, and by Sunday, All Hope Abandoned . . .
    Why had Flo kept them?
    On the television, the lamp swirled and the children did their Christmas shopping. I found myself waiting for a girl in a red coat and brown fur bonnet to come round.
    She was waving at someone, but the someone never appeared.
    Flo had sat in this very spot hundreds, no, thousands of times, watching the girl in red, listening to her record.
    Curious, I went over to the record player and studied the controls. I pressed Play, and beneath the plastic lid, the arm lifted and swung across to the record.
    There was crackling, then the strains of a vaguely familiar tune filled the room, silent until then except for the hiss of the gas fire. After a while, a man’s voice, also vaguely familiar, began to sing. He’d been in a film on television