And then she almost smiled, at least he thought she did, it was hard to tell because she turned quickly towards the door and hurried inside.
The rehearsal that day was one of the last before the big performance. The children barrelled into the room and filled it with light and noise, and then the lunch bell rang and they disappeared as quickly as they’d come; a part of Jimmy had been tempted to go with them, to avoid the awkwardness of being alone with Vivien, but he’d have hated himself for his weakness if he had, so he stayed to help dismantle the ship.
He felt her watching him while he was stacking chairs, but he didn’t look over; he didn’t know what he’d see in her face and he didn’t want to feel worse than he already did. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded different: ‘Why were you in the can-teen that night, Jimmy Metcalfe?’
At that, Jimmy did glance sideways; she’d turned her attention to the backdrop she was painting with palm trees and sand for the play. There was a strange formality in her use of his full name, and for some reason it sent a not unpleasant shudder down his spine. He couldn’t tell her about Dolly, he knew that, but Jimmy wasn’t a liar. He said, ‘I was meeting someone.’
She looked over at him and the faintest of smiles animated her lips. Jimmy never did know when to stop talking. ‘We were sup-posed to meet somewhere else,’ he said, ‘only I went to the canteen instead.’ ‘Why?’
‘Why?’
‘Why didn’t you stick to your original plan?’
‘I don’t know. It just felt like the right thing to do.’
Vivien was still studying him, her face giving no hint as to her thoughts, and then she turned back to the frond she was working on. ‘I’m glad,’ she said, an edge to her otherwise clear voice. ‘I’m really glad you did.’
Things changed that day. It wasn’t what she said, though that was nice enough, it was an inexplicable feeling that had come over Jimmy when she looked at him, a sense of connection be-tween them that came flooding back when he thought about the exchange afterwards. Neither had said more than ten words and none of the ten had been particularly meaningful, yet the whole thing had meant something. Jimmy knew that at the time, and he knew it later when Dolly asked for her usual report of the day’s progress and he recounted every detail but didn’t mention that part. It would have made Doll glad, he knew, she’d have seen it as evidence that he was getting closer to winning Vivien’s trust, but Jimmy said nothing. The conversation with Vivien was his; it felt like a breakthrough of some kind and not in the way Dolly would have wanted. He didn’t want to share it; he didn’t want it spoiled.
Next day Jimmy turned up at the hospital with more of a spring in his step. But when he opened the door and delivered the gift of a glorious ripe orange to Myra (whose birthday it was), she told him Vivien wasn’t there. ‘She’s not well. She telephoned this morning and said she wasn’t able to get out of bed. She wondered if you’d take over the rehearsal.’
‘I can do that,’ said Jimmy, wondering, suddenly, whether Vivien’s absence had anything to do with what had happened between them; whether perhaps she’d regretted letting down her guard. He frowned at the floor and then looked up at Myra from beneath his hair. ‘Sick, did you say?’
‘She didn’t sound well at all, poor lamb. No need to look so glum, though—she’ll mend. She always does.’ Myra held up the orange. ‘I’ll save her half, shall I? Give it to her at the next rehearsal.’
Only Vivien wasn’t there at the next rehearsal either.
‘Still in bed,’ Myra told Jimmy when he came through the door later in the week. ‘Best thing for it, too.’
‘Is it serious?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. She does seem to have bad luck, poor dear, but she’ll be back on her feet soon enough—she never can stand being away from the children too long.’
‘This has happened before?’
Myra smiled, but the gesture was restrained by something else, an element of realisation, and almost of kindly concern. ‘Everybody’s poorly sometimes, Mr Metcalfe. Mrs Jenkins has her share of setbacks, but don’t we all?’ She hesitated, and when she spoke again her voice was soft but firm. ‘Listen, Jim-my dear, I can see you care