Daughter of Mine. Anne Bennett

said when they dressed up in their room later and spun around before the mirror, ‘Don’t the pair of us look just terrific?’

      The days seemed to drag, but eventually it was time to lift the dresses down from the picture rail where they’d been covered by a sheet, and the two dressed in their finery. Even Lizzie, never one to give herself airs and unaware of her beauty, was stunned. The skirt, which reached the floor, rustled delicately when she walked; and the beads on the bodice, shimmering in the light, brought out the beauty of her creamy skin and made her eyes dance and sparkle. Tressa’s gown was pretty enough and she did look beautiful in it, but it was Lizzie’s that drew the exclamation from Pat and Betty, who’d demanded to see them both before they set off.

       CHAPTER TWO

      Lizzie and Tressa stood in the doorway and peeped in. Streamers interspersed with balloons were draped around the walls and hung from the ceiling, while around the edge of the room were small tables. Each one had a lighted candle in a gold-coloured candlestick and it gave a magical feel to the night. At one end of the hall was a band setting up with their instruments, and, to the side, a more than adequate bar.

      ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ Lizzie said, as the band struck up the first tune of the night, which was a slow foxtrot to the tune of ‘My Foolish Heart’.

      ‘Aye,’ Tressa agreed, taking a seat at one of the tables. ‘But I hope we are asked up by someone and before too long. Wouldn’t it be a desperate situation altogether if we were left sitting at the table by ourselves all night? I’d die of shame.’

      There was little danger of it for the girls’ entrance had caused quite a stir, and both were asked up almost immediately. As Lizzie spun around the room with one partner after another she began to thoroughly enjoy herself.

      They discovered punch early on in the evening and, thinking it to be non-alcoholic, drank plenty of it. Unbeknownst to them, they had been watched for about an hour by two men at the bar, who smiled to themselves and then to each other as they saw the girls fill up their glasses once more and go back to the table for a well-earned rest.

      As soon as the men detached themselves from the bar and began to move towards them, the movement drew Tressa’s eyes. ‘There’s two gorgeous fellows heading our way,’ she whispered to Lizzie. ‘Absolutely terrific, so they are.’ And then, as Lizzie was to turn her head for a swift peep, Tressa hissed, ‘Don’t look around. They’ll know we’re talking about them.’

      Have we to be totally unaware of the two men walking towards us so deliberately, Lizzie thought. It seemed that way, and they’d reached the table before Tressa appeared to see them and Lizzie had her first good look. Both were tall, she noticed, and one had sandy-coloured hair and grey eyes and his mouth was wide and full, his whole attitude one of laughter and fun. His friend, though, was a different kettle of fish altogether, his countenance graver and his attitude altogether more serious. His hair was nearly black, his nose long and mouth thin, but his eyebrows seemed so prominent they almost hid his deep brown eyes.

      Lizzie didn’t take to him at all, but the other man seemed to have eyes only for Tressa. They asked if they might sit for a while and talk to the ladies, and as Tressa was more than willing there was little Lizzie could say. They introduced themselves: the one enamoured with Tressa was Mike Malone, and the other one, Steve Gillespie. Lizzie sat and sipped her punch and listened to them talking. Both came from a place called Edgbaston, they said, only a short distance away, where they lived just a street apart. They’d been friends since their first day at St Catherine’s School and both were in full-time work, in the brass industry. ‘We’re lucky,’ Mike said. ‘And we know it, with so many unemployed now.’

      They heard of Mike’s two elder sisters, now married and away from home. ‘I’m the youngest too,’ Tressa said. ‘Lizzie says I’m spoilt.’

      Lizzie opened her mouth to say something, but Mike forestalled her. ‘Never,’ he said. ‘Such a beautiful girl cannot be spoilt. And I love your accents.’

      ‘Your names sound Irish too,’ Tressa said. ‘But your accents don’t.’

      ‘Our dads were both from Ireland,’ Steve answered. ‘But we’ve been brought up here. My father has no love of Ireland, for he had a hard time there after he was orphaned at the age of seven.’

      Lizzie would have asked more questions, but Mike would not allow it. He forbade all talk of sadness and fetched more punch for the girls and a Guinness each for themselves, before leading Tressa onto the dance floor.

      Steve watched Lizzie’s eyes as they followed Tressa and he said, ‘You don’t want to dance, do you?’

      It was said ungraciously and Lizzie didn’t want to dance, at least not with Steve. She didn’t even want to sit with him. He unnerved her. She wanted to say she needed the Ladies, but she could hardly skulk there all night, and anyway, Tressa would root her out and be furious with her. So she said, ‘No, no, it’s all right.’

      ‘Your glass is empty, I’ll get us a refill,’ Steve said, and Lizzie was surprised. She couldn’t remember drinking the punch at all, but she took a big drink of the glass that Steve brought her as he talked of his father, who’d fought in the Great War as a volunteer. ‘He was injured, my father,’ Steve went on. ‘Had his leg shot to pieces and it probably saved his life.’

      ‘Have you any brothers or sisters?’ Lizzie asked. Her voice, she realised, was nothing like her own. It was thicker and the words were harder to form.

      ‘Yeah, one brother, Neil. He’s five years younger than me. I’m the golden boy, though, even above my father in my mother’s eyes.’

      ‘Oh.’

      ‘Oh yes. If I told my mother to jump, she’d just say, “How high”?’

      ‘I pity the girl you marry then.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Steve said, and his hand caressing Lizzie’s made her insides jump about uncomfortably. ‘I have good points too, Lizzie Clooney,’ he said in a husky whisper. ‘And many ways of making a woman very happy.’

      Lizzie withdrew her hand and Steve laughed, and Lizzie drained her glass of punch, for she didn’t know how to react. But when he took her by the hand and led her onto the dance floor, she went willingly. Even when she felt his hands slide across her bottom as they waltzed to ‘The Blue Danube’, and his lips nuzzle her neck in the darker corners of the room, she found she didn’t mind at all. In fact, she liked it.

      Tressa was happy to dance with Mike for the rest of the night, and Lizzie thought dancing with Steve wasn’t so bad and better than sitting on her own at the table. At some stage, as the night wore on, Lizzie was brought more punch, and after she’d drunk it she found it hard to stand up, let alone dance, and Steve took her outside. ‘You’ll feel better with some air,’ he said.

      Lizzie hoped she would. She felt distinctly odd. Her legs refused to obey her and so did her mouth. She wondered what was the matter with her and she was glad of Steve’s arm around her.

      Steve Gillespie had been attracted by the young girl since he’d first spotted her, and though he’d seen that Mike had been smitten with her cousin, she was nothing besides Lizzie. Lizzie was a real beauty.

      Steve also knew the girl was virtually untouched, probably never even been kissed properly. She was now very drunk and he could guess that it was probably the first time she’d been in this state too, and she would be putty in his hands, if he so desired it. However, he didn’t want to scare her off altogether and so he decided he would proceed very slowly. So, when they reached the darkened entry, he kissed her, but gently on the lips and held her close.

      Lizzie responded to Steve’s kisses. It was her first sexual experience and she felt faint urges tugging at her. Steve wasn’t used to such innocence and usually he was out for all he could get with a woman, but he felt an attraction for Lizzie