Chapter 40
THEN
“Where are you off to?”
Cess and Ness were drinking martinis on high stools at the bar in the front room. Cess smoked a cigarette. Bandstand with Brian Henderson was playing on the television. A few minutes earlier I’d heard them dancing and laughing.
Cess looked up from her drink. “Wow. You look lovely, Mabel.”
I wanted to be coy, to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t pull it off. I’d spent an inordinate amount of time choosing the cream silk blouse with the Peter Pan collar and lace-edged sleeves, the navy circle skirt, white bobby socks, and penny loafers.
Cess and Ness were still staring. “My goodness. You’ve grown into your looks. You look quite …”
“Striking,” Ness said.
“That’s it,” Cess said. “That’s exactly it. Striking.”
“Really?” I could barely hide my delight. I even did a twirl. “I’m going to the movies.”
“What fun!” They were beaming at me. I had the feeling they weren’t on their first martini. “With who?”
“A friend,” I said, actually coy now. I touched my hair, which I’d curled and pulled into a ponytail.
They exchanged a split-second glance, then Cess whistled, tapping her cigarette ash into the ashtray. “A boy friend?”
“Do tell,” Ness said. “What is his name?”
“Who says it’s a ‘he’?” I said.
Cess and Ness chortled. “Those rosy cheeks do, darling,” Ness said.
I was glad Cess and Ness were having a few drinks, because the truth was, I didn’t want to tell them who I was seeing.
Nor did I want them to realize that I wasn’t, in fact, going to the movies.
Cess and Ness were fairly liberal, but I suspected they’d have more than a few questions if I told them I was going to Mr. Loukas’s house.
“Sooo,” Cess said. “Who is it? Or is it a secret?”
I had an idea. “Let’s just say I’m going to see my Gilbert.”
Ness let out a squeal. “I love it. Your very own Gilbert Blythe! And you are the most perfect Anne Shirley!”
“You two and that book!” Cess said, rolling her eyes. “You just make sure Gilbert gets you home by ten, all right, Anne Shirley?”
“I will. I promise.”
“Is that your mother’s scarf?” Cess said, as I turned to leave.
I reached up to my throat, grasping it. I’d seen it in my drawer and knotted it around my neck on a whim. Suddenly I felt self-conscious. “Is it … okay?”
Cess put out her cigarette and slid off her stool. “It needs to be a little more to the side. Let me just …” She came and stood in front of me and untied it and re-knotted the scarf while I stood there like a mannequin, breathing in Chanel No. 5 and cigarettes. “There. Suits you.”
I checked my reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. Cess had done a good job.
“Right then,” Cess said. “Don’t keep Gilbert waiting on our account!”
I gathered my cardigan and bag, and they waved me off.
They didn’t have to worry about me keeping Mr. Loukas waiting. I couldn’t wait.
After that night, Mr. Loukas and I met up regularly. We had our usual places. At his house, if the coast was clear. In the shed at school where the sporting equipment was kept. In that little nook at the back of St. Mary’s.
I’d read about romance in novels, of course. But it was different in real life. Books couldn’t fully capture the potency of a look that lasted a beat too long or describe the burn of a hand brushing past you in a room full of people.
He told me he was in love with me. That he’d never felt that before. I wasn’t sure if it was true. Even if it wasn’t, I won’t deny that hearing it was like a drug. No matter how often he said it, I wanted it more.
No one had ever told me they were in love with me before. No one had ever told me they loved me. Even people who I believed loved me—my mother, Cess, Daphne—didn’t actually say the words.
It had never bothered me. Words were just that—words. But it turned out there was something pretty special about those particular words. And I would have done just about anything to hear them again.