Winter on the Mersey(77)
Frank inwardly cursed himself. ‘No. Of course not. Silly of me to suggest it. I just want to help you if I can, you know.’
‘I know.’ Sylvia looked up at the ceiling, the dullish bulb overhead. ‘Really, I don’t think there’s anything. I’m going to get through the next few days and then … well, I’ll go back home.’ She paused, turned away a little, then faced him again. ‘As a matter of fact …’
Frank met her eyes. ‘What is it, Sylvia? Is something else wrong?’
The silence that followed his question lasted for an uncomfortable few moments. Sylvia looked as if she was screwing up her courage to speak, and finally she came out with it.
‘The thing is, you see … well, I did quite a bit of thinking when I was home … This kind of thing, it makes you see what’s important.’
Frank’s expression grew puzzled as he picked up on her different tone of voice.
‘You’ve been lovely to me,’ she went on, ‘I couldn’t ask for a better man, a kinder man, I felt I could tell you anything. But … but it’s not enough.’ She looked down miserably. ‘We have a good time, we go to the cinema, and I’ve loved it, but … I think we should stop now.’
Frank’s jaw dropped. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. ‘Are – are you sure?’ he managed after a pause. ‘You’re not just saying this because of your father? You’re upset, you’re bound to be, but I’ll wait, if that’s what you’d like.’
Sylvia shook her head. ‘No. That wouldn’t be fair. It’s not because of Dad – or rather, that shook me up, and made me see what was happening with you and me more clearly. I could see the way Mum was with Dad, even though they were old and grey and … and I just can’t see us like that, Frank. I’m sorry.’
Frank turned away, his emotions churning. Then he glanced downwards. Was this because of his leg? Had she felt embarrassed by his disability all this time and kept it hidden? Quick as ever, she caught his movement and realised what it meant. ‘Frank, please.’ She waited until he met her eyes once more. ‘It’s not about your leg. Believe me, I don’t mind about that at all. I think you’re wonderful, the way you don’t let it stop you doing what you want, and I’ve been proud to be walking out with you. It’s not that. It’s … oh, it’s hard to put my finger on.’ She screwed her eyes tight shut for a second, as if she was assembling the words in her head. ‘It’s like sometimes you’re not quite there. As if there’s someone else in between us.’
Frank’s chin went up sharply. ‘What do you mean? I’ve never two-timed you – I wouldn’t do a thing like that.’
‘I know. Perhaps that came out wrong.’ She sighed. ‘Not like that, maybe, but there’s a barrier around you. And, Frank, I’m not blind. Back at your niece’s christening, I could see how much Kitty and I look like each other, and I’m sure I’m not the only person to have clocked it. You might not see it, but it’s there all the same. I just know I’ll always be on the wrong side of that barrier. Sorry.’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘Thanks for everything, Frank.’ Then she turned and walked away.
Frank sank slowly into the chair behind the desk, his mind whirring. He was struggling to believe what had just happened. He’d wanted to reach out to Sylvia, to comfort her, and she’d pushed him away. She didn’t want them to be a couple any longer. His pride was deeply hurt. It was hard to imagine that his injury wasn’t somehow to blame; any woman would find it repulsive, surely, and yet Sylvia had been adamant that wasn’t the case. To be fair to her, she’d never complained, always accepted him for who he was, even though she must have ached to go dancing like the rest of her gang of friends. His mind flew off at tangents. How would he explain this to his parents? Dolly in particular had been so fond of the girl. How would he spend his free time? Would all Sylvia’s friends be laughing at him behind his back? Would he spend all his working hours trying to avoid her, avoid them?
Gradually he calmed down and realised he was being stupid. His mother would understand. She’d be sorry he was hurt but would probably say something like it was better to find out now rather than if they’d ended up getting married – just look at his sisters and their misery: Rita with the abusive Charlie and Nancy with unreliable Sid, who’d been caught seeing another woman the night before their wedding. Sylvia was a lifetime away from either of those. She’d made a difficult decision because she thought it was best for both of them.
As if there was someone else, she said. A barrier she’d always be on the wrong side of. Caused by the obvious likeness to Kitty. Well, if he was honest, she was right. Why had he found himself attracted to her to begin with? Because she reminded him of Kitty – the hair, the height, the uniform. But she wasn’t Kitty. Try as he might, he had to admit that Kitty had started to infiltrate his mind more and more, the effect she had on him as potent as ever, and yet she was forever out of reach because of his disability. Sylvia hadn’t known what he was like before; Kitty had. She would always draw the comparison and find him lacking, of that he was absolutely convinced.
He got up, pushing himself as always to compensate for the imbalance of the false leg. His pride was deeply wounded but he wasn’t devastated. He’d recover, although he would miss Sylvia’s good humour and company. In time he might even admire her for forcing the issue and bringing their relationship to an end. Just not today.