Read The Best in Blountmere Street (The Blountmere Street Series Book 2) for Free Online Page A

promise, Dad says, ‘Here's a bob.’  He fishes deep into his overall pocket and hands it to me.  ‘Go and get a bottle of that fizzy stuff you like and a couple of packets of crisps.  We'll ‘ave one of those treat-nights of yours.’
    The evenings become lighter and Bill is always outside the hall when we arrive for my ballet lessons.  Although Mum says it’s ridiculous him showing up like this every week, her protests usually sound weak.  Lately, however, she hasn’t seemed so pleased to see him.
    ‘I thought I told you not to come again.’  She glares at Bill.  Her face has red patches on it as she yanks me into my squirrel outfit.
    ‘Where’s the harm in it?’  Bill replies.
    ‘Plenty.  You may have forgotten I’ve got a husband and you’ve got a wife!’
    Bill doesn’t seem too bothered.  ‘Don’t get yourself worked up about it, Lil,’ he says.
    ‘I’m not getting myself worked up.’  Mum is obviously worked up. ‘And what are you doing standing there like a statue,’ she barks at me.  ‘Have you forgotten this is a dress rehearsal?  Get up there on the stage with the others.’
    As I slope away, I overhear Mum say, ‘I want you to promise me, Bill, that you won’t go turning up at the concert.’ 
    I can’t hear if Bill has promised that he won’t.
    ‘Isn’t Bill coming to ballet lessons any more?’  I ask on the way home as I trot to keep up with Mum.
    ‘Why should he?’
    ‘He’s very nice.’  Now that it looks as if I won’t see him again, I know I’ll miss him.
    Mum sniffs, which is never a good sign.  ‘Be that as it may, it’s still daft.  And … ’  Her voice is sharp.  ‘Keep a button on that mouth of yours.’
    ‘I promise,’ I say, and immediately regret having said it.
    It’s a battle to keep my mouth buttoned now that Tony and I are back to our Saturday afternoon comic reading and confiding on our back doorstep.
    ‘Do you ever miss your father?’  I venture.  At home I’ve been rehearsing getting this conversation to go in the direction I want it to.
    ‘Nope.  Anyway, I’ve got Fred.  He may not be my dad, but he is my godfather.  I’ve … we’ve … me and Ang have sort of taken the place of his own children.  I told you his children are abroad, didn’t I?’
    I want to scream, “You’ve told me dozens of times, just like you keep telling me about Fred being your godfather.”  But I don’t say anything and sit with my hands in my lap like the good little girl people think I am.
    ‘D’you know that his son hasn’t even got the same surname as Fred.  I think he must have Fred’s wife’s name.  Perhaps Fred’s wife had a fancy man before she died and his son’s got his surname.’  Tony lowers his comic.  ‘Fred doesn’t talk about her, his wife, that is, but I bet she was horrible.  Just the sort to have a fancy man.’
    ‘Perhaps she was lonely, or she and Fred weren’t right for each other.  Maybe she knew her fancy man before she met Fred.  Perhaps they’d always loved each other but for some reason she married Fred instead.’
    Tony screws up his face in a puzzled sort of way.  ‘Sounds daft to me.’
    ‘Sometimes … I begin.  I squeeze my lips together.  What’s the use!  And I have made a promise.  ‘I have to go soon.  I’ve got to practise my ballet part,’ I say instead.
    ‘Is that what you want to be – a ballet dancer?’ Tony asks.  He says it as if it’s a pretty wet thing to want to be, even for a girl.
    ‘I don’t know, but I want to do my best in the concert on Saturday, even though offering Dad a million pounds wouldn’t make him come and see me.’
    ‘It doesn’t matter about your old man not being there; you’ll do really well, anyway.’  Tony hesitates.  ‘You’ll be smashing.  The best one there.’
    My squirrel costume is already hanging in my wardrobe ready for the concert on Saturday.  Mum spent a whole night resetting the sleeves she maintained