Far From Home. Anne Bennett

the previous day. His dark blue coat reached his knees and was piped in gold and so were the epaulettes on his shoulders. It was fastened with shiny brass buttons and the belt had a brass buckle; he had a row of medals pinned to his chest, which Kate whispered were from his time spent fighting in the Great War. He also had a shiny peaked military-style cap on his head with an emblem on it, smart black trousers with a razor-like crease and highly polished black shoes.

      ‘Golly, isn’t he smart?’ Sally said quietly to Kate as they joined the queue.

      Kate nodded. ‘He’s all right, though. I mean, he’s always been nice enough to me, and at least if he’s there you know that no one will try pushing in. That would be really annoying if you had queued for hours.’

      ‘Oh, I’d say it would,’ Sally said. ‘And I hope we haven’t got to wait too long here, ’cos it’s freezing.’

      ‘I hope not either,’ Kate said. ‘But I know from experience he won’t let anyone in before he gets the signal from inside that they are ready for us.’

      It wasn’t very long before the doors opened and the crowds began shuffling forward. And when they pushed their way through the doors, Sally felt as if she had been transported to another world, for the foyer was bathed in diamond-bright light from the sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Kate was shaking her umbrella outside under the cover of the canopy to get the excess rain off, so Sally could stand and stare for a few minutes. She was almost embarrassed to walk with her wet, slightly muddy shoes, on that gleaming floor with patterns set into it, and so she waited for Kate and then followed her to the glass building that Kate said was the box office where they had to buy the tickets.

      Either side of the box office were wide stairs; these were carpeted and even the brass stair rods shimmered in the light. Sally mounted the stairs behind her sister and felt her feet sink into the carpet. The walls were decorated with elaborate patterns and it all seemed very grand; she could scarcely believe that soon she would be watching moving pictures.

      Then Kate opened the double doors. Sally stepped into the auditorium and it fair took her breath away. It was so vast, with walls decorated to either side and filled with dark red velvet-type seats. A man was playing an instrument like a piano in front of a thick velvet curtain, all ruched up in folds. A very smart lady in a blue uniform with silver embroidery on the front and shoulders of the jacket, which also had silver buttons and a silver torch fastened to her belt, took the tickets Kate had just bought, ripped them in half and directed them to their seats.

      It was when she turned slightly to go into the row that Sally noticed the gallery above them also filling up with people behind an elegant and ornate balustrade; she was so astonished her mouth actually dropped open. ‘That’s the circle, where the better-off people go,’ Kate said quietly.

      ‘I don’t care,’ Sally said. ‘I prefer to be down here. I think I would be feared to be up there.’

      ‘Well, we’d better take our seats wherever they are,’ Kate said. ‘We’re causing a blockage here.’

      Sally obediently shuffled down the row and thought the seats very high and uncomfortable until Kate showed her that they folded down. ‘They’re flip-up seats,’ she said. ‘Then if people want to get past you for some reason you can stand up and the seats flip up behind you and there’s more room for them to get through, see.’

      ‘Oh, yes,’ Sally said. ‘What a good idea … And who’s the lady who ripped your ticket up?’

      ‘She’s an usherette,’ Kate said. ‘She shows people to their seats. It’s all right when the lights are on, but if people come in when the film has started and the whole place is in darkness, then she has to use that silver torch she has fastened to her belt. It’s for winkling out troublemakers too,’ Kate added. ‘If people keep talking through the film, or are making a nuisance of themselves in other ways, then the usherette comes down and shines the light on them and tells them off – or in some cases chucks them out.’

      ‘Better behave myself then.’

      ‘Yes, you better had, or I’ll throw you out myself,’ Kate said with a grin. Then, with a glance at her watch, she said, ‘It’s all going to start in a minute. That organ will fold away down below, the lights will go down, the curtain will open and …’

      ‘The Lady Vanishes will start,’ Sally finished for her.

      ‘No, it won’t,’ Kate corrected. ‘Or not straightaway anyway. They have a B-film first and then Pathé News and advertisements for what’s coming next week before the main film.’

      ‘I can hardly wait.’

      ‘You won’t have to. Look?’

      The tune on the organ came to an end and then the whole thing, man as well as instrument, slowly vanished. The lights began to dim and the excitement began in Sally’s toes and spread to fill her entire body. There was a whirring sound behind them and Sally saw the beam of light directed on to the screen. She sighed with happiness.

      She enjoyed the film that Kate had disparagingly referred to as a B-film, and she loved the cockerel heralding Pathé News, and even the way the news was presented in a slightly comical way. But when it eventually drew to a close, the lights came on again and the usherettes appeared down each aisle, this time carrying trays around their necks. ‘What sort of ice cream do you want?’

      ‘Oh,’ Sally said, her face aglow. ‘I can’t remember ever having an ice cream before.’

      ‘No,’ Kate agreed. ‘I hadn’t till I came here, but now a visit to the cinema is not the same without an ice cream. You can have a cornet, a tub, or my favourite, a choc ice.’

      ‘Is that what you’re having today?’

      ‘Think so.’

      ‘Then I’ll have the same,’ Sally said. ‘And thanks very much.’

      Afterwards, she thought she had never tasted anything as delicious as that first choc ice. The crisp chocolate split as she bit into it and her mouth filled with cold and creamy ice cream. She said not a word until it was all finished and then she licked her fingers and said, ‘I have never tasted anything like that before in my life. It was wonderful.’

      Kate laughed. ‘You’re easy to please,’ she said. ‘Now settle down in your seat because the main film is about to start.’

      And what a film it was: Sally was captivated from the start. It was just as if she was actually in it. Kate was as entertained by Sally’s reaction as she was by the film itself and they talked about it nearly all the way home.

      ‘Do you go to the cinema a lot?’ Sally asked.

      Kate nodded. ‘A fair bit,’ she said. ‘But sometimes we have to wait for the big films. They tend to go to London first and then the other big cities.’

      ‘I wouldn’t mind how long I waited,’ Sally said. ‘I think it’s great to have all this so handy.’

      ‘It is, I know,’ Kate agreed. Then she asked, ‘And what are you going to do with yourself while I’m at work tomorrow?’

      ‘Oh, I’ll have a mooch round the shops and that and I’ll do any shopping you need as well.’

      Kate nodded. ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I will be grateful for that. I’ll give you a key; I have a spare. Just don’t get lost.’

      ‘I won’t.’

      ‘And if you get fed up looking at the shops and all at Stockland Green, you could always go down to Erdington Village,’ Kate said. ‘It’s only up Reservoir Road and it’s well worth a look around there too.’

      FOUR

      The following morning, as Susie settled herself in the tram beside Kate on their way to work, she said, ‘Nick came round yesterday.’

      ‘Nick?’

      ‘Nick