Maisie breathed a sigh of relief as Kenny made his departure. “Ignore him,” she said to Chrissie

The Serial: The Green Years, Day 22

Maisie said hastily to the waiting Ella: “Right, Ella, I’m good at sums and I’m a quick learner.”

Ella Smart raised an eyebrow. “You’ll need to be,” she said, “or the job’ll go to Betty Morrison.”

Maisie wasn’t about to let that happen and focused her whole attention on the business at hand. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to Chrissie, who’d missed their usual bus and arrived late, but a quick glance was enough to let her know that all was still not well with her friend.

They met up at dinner-time in the canteen. “Are you in the mood for company?” Maisie asked a pensive Chrissie.

Her friend shrugged and Maisie sat down opposite her, checking her mince roll for quantity of mince as she did so. “A bit stingy with the mince,” she said, by way of conversation. There was no response.

“I see you’re still wearing the silver bracelet,” Maisie said gently. “Has Tommy been in touch?”

Chrissie’s lips tightened and her eyes began to blur. No,” she whispered. “His ship sailed yesterday.” Chrissie took a deep breath. “So that’s that, I suppose.” Her chin beginning to quiver.

Relief

“Oh! Maisie,” she whimpered. “How could something so right go so wrong?”

They saw the figure of Kenny Wilson strolling towards their table. “Is this a private conversation,” he began, directing his question at Maisie, “or can anyone join in?”

Maisie’s eyes blazed with anger. “Can’t you see we’re busy?” she hissed, nodding her head towards the silent Chrissie.

Even Kenny Wilson knew when to back off. “Sorry,” he said. “Just thought I’d say hello. It’s been a while since we’ve had a chat.”

Maisie stared silently at Kenny until he straightened up and made to go. Again, Maisie Green had made him look small.

“Right,” he said, turning his attention to Chrissie. “See you around, then, girls.”

Maisie breathed a sigh of relief as Kenny made his departure. “Ignore him,” she said to Chrissie. “He’s a loser, along with his mate.”

“Help me, Maisie,” Chrissie suddenly murmured. “I don’t know what to do.”

Maisie grasped her hand. “Not here,” she said. “After work at Wallace’s Tearooms, Chrissie. We’ll put the world to rights again then, OK?”

Chrissie nodded listlessly, and lapsed in silence while Maisie finished her mince roll, her thoughts ranging in circles, trying to think of what she was going to say to Chrissie later on to put her heart back together again, for it truly seemed broken.

For the rest of the afternoon, Maisie kept glancing over at Chrissie, but nothing changed in her demeanour. She packed the chocolates on automatic pilot and kept her head down and her eyes fixed on the sweets as she boxed them.

By the time they’d found a table at the tearoom and ordered their usual pie and beans and pot of tea, Maisie had gone beyond pity for her friend and was now feeling angry at how easily Tommy Murphy had turned Chrissie’s world upside down with just a few sweet nothings and a bracelet.

She had to bring her back to her senses. They ate in silence, Chrissie’s pie tasting of cardboard while Maisie’s tasted delicious. She poured the tea.

Kindly

“What’s to do, Chrissie?” she asked kindly. “You remind me of me, after Kenny Wilson laughed at me at Keiller’s dance, when my ‘Diana Dors bust’ landed on the floor.”

Maisie smiled, hoping it would be infectious. “And look at me now,” she said, pointing to her chest. “Flat as a pancake but still alive and kicking.”

There was a glimmer of a smile on Chrissie’s lips. “You’re daft as a brush, you are,” she said, remembering how they stuck together through Maisie’s embarrassment.

“And you ate half my pudding supper, too,” Maisie added, sensing a breakthrough and allowing her smile to broaden into a grin.

“I know, I know,” said Chrissie, becoming a bit more animated, “but Tommy was, well, I thought Tommy was the one.”

“Well,” said Maisie, “it might be that we’ve a few frogs to kiss yet, before the one eventually turns up.”

Chrissie took a sip of her tea. “But,” she began, her voice beginning to quiver again, “what if he was the one and I’ve missed the boat, so to speak, realising Tommy had sailed the previous day, so she literally had “missed the boat.”

“C’mon,” said Maisie, sounding more reassuring than she felt. “Men are like buses,” she said. “You wait for ages for one to come along, then three come along together!”

“Not funny,” said Chrissie, but she was smiling again. “Look,” said Maisie, “I know you’re hurting and I know you fell for him, but feeling miserable isn’t going to bring him back now, is it?” Chrissie shrugged. “I suppose not.” “It’s my birthday next week,” Maisie said. “How about we celebrate with a night out at the theatre!” she exclaimed, only thinking of the idea a split second before she said it.

“We’ll get dressed up all posh,” she said, warming to her theme, “and forget all about men and their promises. What do you say?”

Chrissie was visibly brightening up now. She’d only been to the theatre once and that was with her mum and dad to see a pantomime. But this was different. This would be a real play.

Excitement

“What’s on?” she asked, a tinge of excitement coming into her voice and Tommy Murphy forgotten for the moment.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Maisie, throwing caution to the wind. “Whatever it is, we’ll enjoy it, just you and me and no one else.”

Maisie lifted her teacup. “Cheers, Chrissie,” she said. “Here’s to our night out and better days to come.”

A real smile crossed Chrissie’s face this time. Maisie was a wonderful friend and she felt so lucky to have her. “Cheers.”

By the time the girls had finished their tea, a sort of balance had been restored. Maisie knew it would be some time before Chrissie recovered, as she too was still smarting from her unhappy experiences with Jack Carter and Kenny Wilson.

“Do you want to go to the badminton tomorrow?” Chrissie asked, as they boarded their bus home.

Maisie thought about it. She had vowed to give men a miss while she was learning the new job and decided to stick to her guns. Besides, Chrissie’s heart wouldn’t really have been in it and, anyway, Maisie wasn’t quite ready to meet the posh Fiona Campbell again so soon.

“Let’s give it a miss this week,” she said. “Maybe next week, when you’re feeling better.”