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| “This is the life,” said Bill happily. Kelly sighed. Her bedsitter, the drab office seemed very far away continued on next page |
A
girl can make a carefully thought out plan, then along will come a
wicked little creature with a bow and arrow, who couldn’t give a hoot
about it
Dreamboat by Jane Anthony
Illustrated by Walter Wyles
KERRY was wasting her time, and she knew it.
As a career girl, with her mind firmly on the future, she had decided views about the value of time and money. Therefore, lunch hours, like everything else in Kerry's life, were neatly planned, organized, and put to the best possible use.
But today was different.
A sailing boat was moored below the bridge. She was painted a creamy yellow, with a warm brown line, and her decks gleamed white. Kerry leaned against the parapet in the sunshine and dreamed.
A boat like that could nose her way down the estuary and round the coast; could set out bravely and slip into the waterways of Holland, or follow the Seine into the shadow of Notre Dame; with the scents and sounds of Paris about her.
"Damn! " said a loud, angry voice. The tall young man who came out of the hatch rubbing his head, looked up and grinned.
"Some day I'm going to remember that beam: Like to come aboard?"
Kerry hesitated. But the sun was shining, the boat rocked gently no the water, and the eyes looking up at her were honest and friendly. She went slowly down the steps and took his hand to cross the gang plank.
The boat was a dream. There was a saloon with glowing mahogany and cool chintz and cunningly built-in bookcases; a galley that was white and scarlet, and a cabin with a miraculous number of drawers and cupboards fitted into its small space.
“It’s wonderful," breathed Kerry.
"Do you live aboard? All the time? Have you been doing it long? "
The young man gestured towards the cushioned settee and handed her a cigarette. "I've had Bluebird for three years now. So far I've always managed to take her across the channel, through the canals of France, and winter in the south. Then I come back in the spring and moor somewhere along the Thames."
"Sounds "heavenly”
" It's darned hard work sometimes." He laughed. "I usually take on a hand whim I'm cruising, but the rest of the time I'm alone. I paint and maintain her, repair her sails, and keep her engine running. And I have to earn my living."
"How do you do that?"
"I write."
"Successfully? "
He grinned. "I keep myself in food and the old Bluebird in paint and canvas."
Kerry looked round with a calculating eye.
“You could make a lot more than that, if you planned it. You could live in the cabin, and let the saloon. Four berths there if you moved things round a bit. Plenty of people would love to spend their holidays on a boat like this. "You could charge at least six guineas a week that's ninety-six guineas a month."
THE young man dropped on to the settee and gaped at her.
Kerry blushed. "Please forgive me. It was rude to interfere. It's. just that I can't bear to see things going to waste.”
He waved her apology aside. “Never mind that. I'm not offended. But it was rather a shock."
"A shock?"
"About five feet two, and everything nicely in proportion, if you'll allow me to say so golden curls, big grey eyes.”
Kerry pulled on a glove with aloof dignity. "Now you're making fun of me."
"Please!" His faced creased into laughter. "I just wanted to make it clear that your outward appearance gives no hint of the ice cold brain, the ruthless go getter.”
Kerry started for the companion way.
"I say! Wait a minute. I didn't mean"
"Never mind what you meant," said Kerry firmly. "I have to go in any case. I ought to be back in the office in five minutes, and it takes seven from here, even if I hurry."
The afternoon went badly.
Kerry had chosen, as a stepping stone to higher things, the job of secretary to Gillian Fortescue, who owned, and ran, and lived for the chain of pale grey and crimson hat shops each 'with the word "Gillian" scribbled in gold across its window.
Usually time dew, for Kerry liked the work, and if at any time her attention- wandered, she had only to look about her to see a dream come true.
There it all was-the luxurious office, the map of outer London with a flag stuck in it for every" Gillian" hat shop, the pale blue car parked across the square a tangible reminder of what one woman, given determination and intelligence, could achieve.
But this afternoon Kerry was restless.
She had been sailing with her father almost as soon as she could walk, and the boat she had just seen suggested all sorts of enchanting possibilities.
She sighed and dropped a spoiled sheet of paper into the wastepaper basket. “This was ridiculous. Gallivanting about in boats simply didn't get you anywhere. Neither did daydreaming when there was work to be done. She typed steadily till five o'clock.
KERRY was some way up the road before she realized that the young man was walking beside her.
"How" did you get here?" she asked, without pausing.
“Followed you when you left the boat. You were battling along at such a rate you didn't notice."
Kerry nodded approvingly. "Not brilliant, out simple and direct. I like that."
"Thanks. I say, do you always charge out of the door like a rocket?
"Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They're my nights for evening classes. I have to be home by five fifteen, that gives me twenty-five minutes for tea and relaxation, ten minutes to freshen up, and ten minutes to walk to the school."
"You're formidable!" said the young man. "Tell me more."
"Can't," said Kerry. "This is where I live. I'm late already."
"Couldn't you possibly let the schedule go hang and come and have supper with me? My name's Bill Duncan, and I'm really quite respectable."
Kerry shook her head regretfully. "I'm afraid not. Once you miss a lesson, I’m learning French short hand you never catch up. And besides. . .." She blushed.
"If you were going to say: 'And besides, you can’t afford to take girls out to supper'," said Bill triumphantly, "you're wrong. I make ,enough in my haphazard and unorganized way, to buy quite a decent supper now and again, you know."
"I should like to talk about the boat." Kerry's voice was wistful. "ButI can't go back on my schedule."
For the first time since she had joined the class, Kerry found it hard to concentrate.
Her usual remedy for backsliding was to screw her eyes up tight and switch on a kind of mental television.
The picture showed Kerry, personal assistant to one of the great names in the big business world, traveling first-class through Europe, taking down memoranda-at lightning speeds in several languages, and drawing a fabulous salary. Unfortunately this image was not clear.
Each time it was getting nicely into focus, a sailing boat glided across it.
KERRY stumbled through the lesson and walked out in a dream.
A tall figure jerked itself upright from a leaning position against the school railings, and Bill Duncan took Kerry's books from her.
Kerry gasped. "You do have a habit of turning up."
"Thank the old R.A.F. training," said Bill nonchalantly. .. Bang on target every time."
"Don't say you followed me again and hung about for two hours? "
"Certainly not." Bill was hurt: "We never repeat ourselves. No, I simply went to the public library and asked where there was a class in French shorthand that started at six o'clock. Wonderful things, libraries.”
"And now?" Kerry struggled with laughter.
"Now we have supper. Don't say you've no time. Everyone has to eat." "I give ",pu. said Kerry. For the first time in her twenty-two years she felt unsure of herself.
The feeling persisted throughout the evening. She found herself lingering over coffee and a cigarette, when the schedule called for an hour's study.
She allowed herself to be led along the moonlit river bank, when she knew she ought to have been pressing her suit for the office next day, and her feet carried her across the gang plank and no to Bluebird's deck, although early bed was one of the essentials in Kerry's blueprint for the future.
Bill made coffee and poured it into deep blue mugs.
"This is the life," said Bill.
Kerry sighed. Her bedsitter, the carefully planned day ahead, the office with its noiseless typewriter and silver-grey telephone, seemed drab and empty. Suddenly she was lonely and afraid, and the fear edam her speak sharply.
"There's no future in it."
Bill put' his mug down quietly. "You're absolutely right," he agreed. “No future at all. But some people live in the present. You should try it some time. May I see you home?"
“Please don't trouble” Kerry flushed. “It's not far.”
“No trouble at all," said Bill politely. a I brought you here, and I naturally wish to see you home. I do observe some of the conventions." They walked the short' distance in silence, and parted with a formal good night. But when Kerry came out of the office at half-past twelve the next day, he was waiting for her.
“Seven minutes from here to Bluebird, seven minutes back, that leaves forty-six minutes," calculated Bill. “And lunch is all ready in the galley, and the coffee's in a vacuum jug, so we ought to ,make it all right. You got me doing it-now."
“It is the only way," said Kerry gravely but her eyes were shining. a If you have a plan you can get so much more out of things."
When they had finished eating, Bill sat back and looked - at her thoughtfully. a Tell me about it. This mania for having a plan, getting the most out of everything. I want to understand."
“I can't explain it very well,” said Kerry slowly. “ I suppose it comes from not having quite enough, not feeling safe. . . ."
“Go on.”
“We had wonderful times while my father was. alive. Holidays abroad, riding, sailing-that's why I couldn't help staring at Bluebird. But then he died and there was nothing. We lived on the jewellery and furs he'd bought my mother. I couldn't help feeling that a life insurance would , have been better."
“Mother had to go out to work. She wasn't used to it, and she'd come home at night tired out, and her feet all swollen. Oh, damn!"
Kerry put her mug, down with a bang and blew her nose. “This sounds like a Victorian melodrama. I know thousands of women work like slaves to keep their children. But when it's your own mother. . . ."
“What happened?”
“ We struggled along. I left school as soon as I could and found a job." She laughed shakily. a It was then that I started to plan."
"What about your mother?"
"She, married again.”
“And you?"
"I went on planning. They offered me a home and meant it but I wanted to be independent. I made up my mind that I was going to earn a thousand a year by the time I was thirty."
"Then what? "
"I'm not sure. But I want some- thing solid-security. . . ."
"Did you ever think you might fall in love? "
"I knew. I would," said 'Kerry. "But it's not the end of the world. Besides, I might fall for someone who shares my ideas."
"But suppose he doesn't?"
Kerry hesitated. .. I've, planned my life. I won't let my emotions interfere. "
BILL did not answer, nor did he bring the subject up in the days that followed. Every lunch hour he met her. Every evening, even when Kerry had to study or attend a class first, found them on Bluebird.
"What do you think about marriage, Kerry?" asked Bill one night.
"It's a partnership," replied Kerry promptly. "Both working for the same things, planning for the future
"No room for romance? For suddenly. falling in love?
“She hesitated.” I know it could be wonderful. But it might not last like a good, common sense arrangement. I want to be like Gillian Fortescue.
"She might never have achieved what she has if she'd married young, or married someone who didn't share her ideas. So she deliberately waited. But when she did marry, it was Harry Fortescue."
”As big a name in dresses as she is in hats, isn't he?"
Kerry nodded. "It's a perfect partnership. "
"Sounds pretty cold-blooded to me."
"It's solid," said Kerry.
It was a beautiful spring, and on Sundays they sailed. the dinghy, or lounged on Bluebird's decks.
One evening, as Kerry stacked away plates in the galley, Bill pulled her towards him.
"What are you going to do about it, Kerry? This falling in love that we've talked about. It's not theory any longer, is it?"
She shook her head, trembling.
"Which. are you going to be, darling? My wife, and take the rough with the smooth, or a career girl heading for security?”
"Oh, Bill, what can I say?"
“Just yes or no, darling."
"Bill "
"Before you get, involved, Kerry," said Bill evenly, "remember I'm a writer. I'm making a reasonable living, but it's precarious. And this is the only home I have to offer you."-
"What about my career?" whispered Kerry.
“Isn't love and marriage a career?”
“You don't understand. I've planned this since I was a child.”
He let go of her. "You don't love me."
The tears rushed into Kerry's eyes. "I love you terribly, Bill. But we still need security, a home "
"Marriage doesn't fit into pigeon holes, Kerry. If you can't trust yourself to me”
"I do trust you, Bill. But surely it isn't wrong to think of the future?"
He took her coat from the alcove. "I told you, Kerry. I live in the present. Just say yes or no."
“I want it to be yes. But not on those terms.”
He dropped her coat gently round her shoulders. "Let's forget it."
MISERY and anger raged in Kerry as she walked silently beside him. At her gate they stood for a moment.
“Is it still no, Kerry?"
"What else can it be, if you won't compromise?”
“I can't offer you absolute security, and that's what you want, isn't it?"
“I want to be safe.”
"Goodbye, Kerry," said Bill, and turned away.
Kerry slept as if she had been stunned, and woke with a throbbing head.
The morning seemed endless.
At lunch time she looked eagerly up and down the street, but there was no sign of Bill.
She went into a milk bar and ordered a black coffee.
I can't give up everything I've planned and dreamed about, she thought, staring miserably at her reflection in the chromium tea urn. It's not as if it were just a whim it's something I've lived with for years.
You had to plan. Not just the immediate future, either. A plan wasn't any good if it, stopped halfway. You educated yourself, you found an opening, you worked hard, you became someone. .
Of course you lived and dressed well-but you weren't extravagant. You put money steadily into the bank. You took care of the future. Kerry lighted a cigarette. This was the part where she started to feel uneasy.
Because what did you do with the future, when you'd taken care of it? Did you just sit in it, surrounded by your good clothes, and your well appointed fiat, and your car and your influential friends?
“No!” said Kerry.
She was so worried that she said it aloud, Of course. that wasn't the answer. By then you had met all sorts of people solid, suitable people.
One of them asked you to marry him. It would be someone you liked, naturally, someone with whom you shared tastes and interests.
The plan didn't stop short, after all. It followed through and included everything necessary for a happy life.
Except that somewhere there would be a rather battered Bluebird sailing the high seas, or nestling into a snug anchorage, and Bill would be making coffee on the galley stove.
During the days that followed, strict adherence to the plan seemed more important than ever.
By working hard, by studying in every spare moment, by carefully adding up the figures in her bank book, Kerry struggled to make the future seem as desirable as ever.
It wasn't easy.
"You look dreadful, Kerry," said Gillian Fortescue, pausing at Kerry's desk on her way in one afternoon.
"Would you like to go home?"
Kerry shook her head. "No thank you, Mrs. Fortescue."
The older woman looked at her keenly.
"Look! I've left my brief case at the flat, and I was going to send Janie round to collect it. But it's a wonderful afternoon. Why don't you go, Kerry? The walk will do you good, and you needn't hurry."
THE entrance to the block of flats where the Fortescues lived was comfortingly impressive. So were the liveried porters, the deeply carpeted hall and the smoothly moving lifts. This was the sort of thing, Kerry told herself, that came as the result of hard work and determination.
She let herself into the fiat with the key which Gillian had given her. Through an open door the sound of Harry Fortescue's voice came clearly.
". . . too late to think about that now,” he said. There was a pause; Kerry realized he was telephoning.
She could see the brief case on a table at the far end of the hall. There was no need to interrupt him. She moved forward quietly.
The voice went steadily on. "I don't feel guilty and neither should you, darling. If Gillian were a different kind of woman, if she cared as much about marriage as she does about her success."
Kerry took the case and hesitated.
"It was a good business proposition, that's all,” the quiet voice was saying. “Not that we're not good friends.”
Kerry ran. She no longer cared whether she was seen or heard. The door slid to behind her and she stumbled down the staircase.
She took a taxi to the office, pushed the brief case at the doorman, and got back into the taxi.
At the end of her journey she slapped a pound note into the driver's hand, a pound that ought to have gone into the slowly mounting security fund and ran. Then she walked very slowly down the steps leading to the river.
Bluebird had gone.
KERRY sat on a bench on the tow path and shivered in the warm sun.
Now you've done it, she told herself, arguing fiercely to keep the tears back. Planning everything except the one thing that really matters. She took out a small handkerchief and blew her nose hard.
"Have this," said Bill, giving her large one. "A corny entrance, but effective, don't you think?"
Kerry buried her face in the handkerchief, and sobbed bitterly.
"Wait a minute," remonstrated Bill. "You're missing your cues. This is the moment for a happy reconciliation. ..
"Oh, Bill," Sobbed. Kerry. " I've been such a fool.
" He put an arm round her and kissed the top of her head.
"We'll manage beautifully," murmured Kerry into his shoulder. "I'll do the cleaning and cooking, while you write like mad, and-oh, Bill!”
"What, darling?"
"Where is Bluebird? You haven't, don't say you've sold her?"
"Of course not. She's at the boat builders, having her yearly checkup, and I was just on my way there. Let's walk along."
" I could do some typing," went on Kerry, mopping her eyes and falling into step with Bill, "and."
He silenced her with a hard kiss.
“Quiet, woman! From now on, I do the planning. Listen, Kerry," he said, suddenly serious. "Perhaps we'll strike rough patches. They can happen to anyone, and we just have to face up to them.”
"But life is what you and I are feeling and thinking and doing right now. We can't control the future. But this moment, and every moment as we live it, is ours. Isn’t it enough, Kerry? "
Round the bend in the river Bluebird came into sight. The line of her was sheer enchantment.
In a boat like that, two people could Sail right through the gates of paradise......... the end
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