Follow Your Dream. Patricia Burns

to help her, but she was getting ready for a date.

      Lillian was dying to rush round to Janette’s, tell her about the contest and sift through her pile of records to find a suitable one to perform to. But with Mum in bed and Wendy and the boys going out, there was nobody left but herself to make tea and cocoa, answer the door to any late guests and see to anything Gran might want. Lillian spent the evening humming tunes and trying out steps. A fast happy song or a slow dreamy one? Tap or ballet? She just couldn’t make her mind up. And then there was the question of what she was going to wear. It was all a lot more complicated than she had first thought. One thing was clear, though, she now had something to prove to James that she was just as serious as he was about achieving her aim.

      On Sunday morning her mother was on her feet again, though looking far from well, but Lillian still had to help prepare the breakfasts for the PGs, clear away and wash up afterwards and strip their beds when they had left. Then there was Sunday lunch, with more washing-up and the cooker to clean.

      ‘Horrible, horrible thing!’ she growled, scrubbing grease from the inside of the oven.

      It was nearly three in the afternoon before she finally made it round to Janette’s, and by then she was just bursting with impatience.

      Her friend was thrilled with the idea of entering the talent contest.

      ‘You are brave! I like doing shows with the dancing school, but I couldn’t get up there and dance in front of judges.’

      ‘It’s a way to get noticed,’ Lillian said.

      ‘Won’t your family mind?’

      This had been bothering Lillian. There was no danger of their going to the contest but, if she won, she would be in the local paper. She couldn’t imagine what the reaction would be.

      ‘I’m not going to think about that,’ she said. ‘Let’s decide what music I should choose.’

      It took two days of constant mind-changing before she finally decided on We’re a Couple of Swells. The music was jaunty but not too fast and gave her an opportunity to put some gymnastics into the dance. She and Janette cobbled together bits of routines Janette had learnt at her classes with new ideas of Lillian’s that had been inspired by trips to the cinema and the variety shows she had watched on Janette’s parents’ television.

      ‘It’s no good trying to look like Grace Kelly or someone like that. My dance teacher says people like young girls to look like young girls, not sophisticated women. You need to be fresh and lively. People like lively. It makes them feel happy,’ Janette said.

      Lillian had to take her word for it.

      ‘More like Petula Clark?’ she suggested.

      ‘Sort of. The gymnastics are good. They’re your strong point. Nobody at my class can do cartwheels and handsprings and stuff as well as you.’

      So they all went in.

      Costume was easier—Lillian could get into Janette’s pink taffeta party dress and her last year’s ballet shoes, so all she needed was a pair of frilly knickers to wear underneath.

      ‘Do I look all right? Isn’t it a bit babyish?’ she asked anxiously, peering at herself in Janette’s mirror.

      ‘It’s very pretty,’ Janette said, offended.

      Lillian filled in her form and paid her entrance fee. She came away from the Carnival offices feeling rather sick. She was committed now. It wasn’t just a pipe dream; she really was going to get up there in front of people and perform. All she had to do now was to buy the sheet music for the pianist and practise until her dance was perfect.

      James was due home the weekend before the carnival. Lillian stayed in all day on Saturday on the off-chance that he might call in. She whiled away the time practising her dance routine, but by late afternoon she couldn’t stand being inside any longer and went out into the yard to oil her bike. After all, James had told her to maintain it properly, and she didn’t want him to think she had been neglecting it.

      She was busy pumping up the tyres, all the while keeping her ear tuned to any possible visitors to the house, when there was a pounding of footsteps in the back alleyway. Lillian looked up as Frank came crashing through the gate clutching a bundle wrapped in sacking. He dived into the shed, shuffled around a bit and then came out again without the bundle.

      ‘If anyone asks, you ain’t seen me, right?’ he said to Lillian.

      ‘Yeah, but—’

      ‘Ain’t seen me all day. You got that?’

      ‘Right.’

      ‘Mind you remember. It’s life or death.’

      At that, he disappeared out of the back gate again and could be heard running northwards, away from the seafront. Lillian was about to go and investigate the bundle when she heard men’s voices coming from the other direction.

      ‘Which is his one?’

      ‘They all look the same.’

      ‘Count—his is the sixth one up.’

      The tall back gate wobbled and opened to reveal three young men in Edwardian-style jackets, bootlace ties and drainpipe jeans. They sported long sideburns and their hair was brushed back in James Dean quiffs. When they caught sight of Lillian they stopped and stared for a moment. Lillian looked stonily back, trying to control a lurch of fear. Teddy boys! They might look very smart, but they had a bad reputation. They always went around in gangs and usually carried knuckle dusters and flick knives.

      ‘You Frank Parker’s sister?’ one demanded. He appeared to be the leader. The other two just stood there looking tough.

      Lillian nodded.

      ‘Where is he?’

      Lillian swallowed. They did look very threatening. ‘Dunno.’

      ‘He indoors?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘You sure? Only he was heading up this way.’

      They took a couple of steps towards her. Lillian stood up. Life or death, that was what Frank had said. He might be a pain, but he was her brother.

      ‘I ain’t seen him all day.’

      It came out without a wobble. Lillian was proud of herself. The three men looked unconvinced.

      ‘I been out here doing my bike for half an hour or more,’ she elaborated. ‘So I’d of seen him come in. We always use the back.’

      ‘You’re not lying, are you?’ the leader asked.

      All three of them pressed forward, surrounding her. Their faces were menacing. The leader pushed her in the chest with his hard fingers.

      ‘Only you better not be lying. We don’t like liars.’

      One of them picked up her bike. ‘This yours?’

      Anger laced with fear came flooding through her. ‘Don’t you touch that! I ain’t done nothing to you.’

      The young man laughed and heaved it over the fence, where it landed in next door’s yard with a clatter.

      ‘You pig! You better not of damaged it!’ Lillian cried.

      What would James say if he found it was broken?

      The leader poked her again. Lillian’s heart beat with fear.

      ‘That’s just a warning. If we find out you’re lying, you’ll be over that fence next, see? Now, where’s Frank?’

      ‘I dunno!’ Lillian repeated desperately.

      She tried to turn and run inside, but one of the Teds grabbed her and spun her round to face the leader.

      ‘You leave her alone!’ A new voice rang out.

      There was a blur of khaki