Looking Back

Looking Back

Table of Contents

I have to tell you about my shopping expedition in Woolworth’s (Cyprus).

I was in the cafe, sipping my lime and lemon, minding my business, when all of a sudden this almighty, ear-splitting scream went up. I leapt out of my chair, eyes big and startled, to see a sight I swear I’ll never forget!

This middle-aged woman of handsome face and ample proportions was hopping around the floor – skirt up round her nether regions, and dripping from all angles – with her husband in hot pursuit (‘hot’ being the operative word!).

Apparently, he had spilled his tea all over her, and now we were all being treated to the unforgettable and terrifying sight of huge buttocks all ashiver, and frilly bloomers the like of which I have never seen!

But as she said when all had calmed down, ‘I thought me arse were on fire!’

All I can say is, ‘Go to it, Mavis. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, and to hell with the consequences!’

Part One

SUMMER 1948

FACE FROM THE PAST

Chapter One

‘Hello, Amy.’ Soaked to the skin, the stranger stood at the door. Beneath the trilby hat his face was oddly familiar to her.

He smiled, but it was a nervous, guilty smile. For almost an hour after the fierce summer downpour he had paced the streets outside, afraid to come in… afraid not to.

‘It’s been a long time,’ he said, his steady gaze giving nothing away. ‘I’m not sure you’ll even remember me.’ But he remembered her. ‘Nineteen years,’ he murmured fondly, ‘and I’d still know you anywhere.’

At thirty-nine years of age, Amy Tattersall was still a good-looking woman, he thought admiringly, with the same thick, chestnut-coloured hair and pretty brown eyes. There was a time when those eyes had looked at him with love, but now they showed only bewilderment.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’ She stared at him for what seemed an age, while long-ago pictures spiralled through her mind. She thought she knew him. There was something about his manner; the confident way he stood with his legs astride, his hands in his pockets and his head cocked cheekily to one side. Recognition was slow to unfold, but when it did she gasped in amazement. ‘Jack?’ Her voice trembled with emotion.

Taking off his trilby, the man revealed a thick shock of dark hair. ‘I’ve still got my hair and all my own teeth. Not bad for a forty-year-old, eh?’ He laughed, a low, musical sound that rolled back the years. ‘What’s more, I can still cut a fine figure on the dance floor.’ He gave a little wink. ‘Do you remember how we used to smooch till midnight down at the Palais?’

Still reeling in shock, Amy needed a moment for the truth to sink in. ‘Jack Mason!’ The ghost of a smile twitched at her mouth. ‘I can’t believe it!’