‘Other people don’t have their fathers meeting them,’ she muttered. ‘It’s not far to walk home.’
‘Far enough at ten o’clock at night at your age,’ her mother said firmly. ‘If you don’t like it you can stop going to the club until you’re older.’
Rosa was equally resentful on the nights when they were met by her father. She frequently complained to the group of boys who surrounded her and wanted to walk her home and she also complained of having to join in family prayers when she returned home. Yet when one of the boys said, ‘Here’s Holy Joe come to meet you,’ she was furious and refused to speak to the boy again.
Laura had been chosen for the school netball team and for the Handicraft Group who made items for the Christmas fair and the garden fete. They also knitted and sewed baby clothes which were distributed to various charities. All these interests helped Laura to bear the loss of her beloved Grandma, although sometimes she would be overwhelmed by longing for her. When something happened which Sally would have enjoyed hearing about, or when she had a problem and needed Sally’s advice, the realisation that she had gone would sweep over Laura, leaving her devastated.
She went frequently now to see Nana, finding it easier after the first few visits when she was unable to bear to look at Grandma’s chair. Gradually she realised that Cathy, always so quiet and unobtrusive, had many of Sally’s qualities.
John had called to see his mother on the way home from work one evening and later over the meal at home he said casually, ‘Mum’s still missing Grandma badly but you know I think she might blossom out a bit now. Grandma was such a strong-minded woman that I think Mum was a bit overshadowed. She might come out of her shell a bit more now.’
To Laura this seemed like a criticism of Grandma and she scowled at her father but before she could speak her mother answered him. To Laura’s dismay she seemed to agree with him.
‘I know what you mean, John,’ she said. ‘Grandma was always the centre of that house and Nana was content to have it that way but now she’ll be the centre. It’s wonderful that there was never a cross word between them in all those years.’
‘My dad said that the other day,’ said John. ‘He said that even in Norris Street, their first house, Mum spent most of the time at her mother’s. Then when they got the house opposite Grandma’s in Egremont Street they were made up and spent even more time together. When Grandma was bombed out and came to them, she just fitted in naturally.’
‘Could have been tricky though. Two women in one kitchen,’ said Anne.
John laughed. ‘I know, but they were both always so anxious to stand back for each other that it had to work. Must make it even harder now for Mum, though.’
Laura watched and listened, glad that she had not rushed in to argue with her father before she heard the rest of the conversation. But it was a funny thing to say about Grandma, she thought, that she was a strong-minded woman. She was just Grandma and there would never be anyone like her again. Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them away.
Chapter Seven
The boys in the youth club were all caught up in the craze for pop music and some of them, like many other boys in Liverpool, went to Hessy’s music shop to buy a guitar. The fatherly salesman there was an accomplished guitar player and he taught the rudiments of playing to the boys, most of whom had no idea how to play.
Constant practice followed and although few could read music they became reasonably accomplished guitar players. When a group from the club was booked to appear at a local church hall Laura and Rosa and most of the other girls went along to support them.
The two cousins were afraid that their fathers would insist on meeting them and pleaded to be allowed to come home with the crowd.
‘It makes us look daft, as though we are little kids or as though you don’t trust us,’ Laura grumbled to her father. Rosa was complaining at home too and Joe decided to speak to the youth leader.
‘I’ll be there to see that they behave themselves,’ the young man told him. ‘They’ll all come home together so they’ll be quite safe.’ The parents were reassured and Laura and Rosa were delighted.
‘Free at last,’ Rosa said dramatically and Laura was pleased because she felt that her father had been outwitted.
Gerry suffered none of these restrictions and seemed to Laura to be able to do whatever he pleased. Although a natural athlete, he managed to be sufficiently inept at trials for the college rugby and cross-country events to avoid being chosen for the main teams. His chief sporting interest was soccer and he was determined that he would be free on Saturday afternoons to play with a local team. This widened his circle of friends to include many who were involved in the music scene in Liverpool.
The groups broke up and re-formed, with guitarists and drummers moving from group to group, but Gerry was still with his original group who practised enthusiastically in the cellar of Peter Taylor’s parents’ house in Magdalen Street.
Gerry did the minimum of homework and made little effort with his schoolwork. The Christian brothers who taught him told his parents bluntly that they were disappointed in him. Nobody was surprised when he managed only two low-grade O levels but Gerry, still smiling, was unperturbed.
He left school at sixteen years old and easily found a job in the office of a fruit importer in the city centre.
‘I thought you’d have been looking for a job in Hessy’s or Rushworth’s,’ said Laura but Gerry shrugged.
‘No, I’d have to work Saturdays,’ he said. ‘With this job I can play footy on Saturday afternoons and we’re hoping to get bookings for the group Saturday nights.’
‘You’re not as soft as you look,’ Laura told him, impressed.
Gerry’s group now called themselves the Merrymen and began to get bookings at church halls and small clubs on Saturday nights and Gerry was becoming known as a good drummer. The pay for these gigs was only between two and four pounds but it paid for the petrol for the van to transport their equipment and for large platefuls of curry and chips at an all-night cafe after the performance.
In contrast to Gerry, David was an immediate success at the college. He found the work easy and enjoyed it and every Speech Day he was one of those who mounted the stairs to the platform of the Philharmonic Hall to receive a prize. Laura wondered that her father could accept this situation so easily, but she decided that he had realised that Gerry would never shine academically, so he had encouraged him in his musical ambitions. There was always the chance that Gerry would make the big time and meanwhile it would be seen as his choice rather than academic failure.
She said something of this to Rosa but she disagreed. ‘I think your dad’s just soft about Gerry and lets him do whatever he wants,’ she said. ‘Anything to make him happy. But you can’t see any good in your dad, can you?’ She laughed but Laura had an uncomfortable feeling that Rosa believed what she said.
David had played the violin and the flute from an early age and at the college he began to learn to play the cello. He was asked to join a string quartet and John mocked him to Anne. ‘A string quartet and a debating society,’ he said. ‘What sort of interests are those for a youngster? I’m glad my son’s a real lad with normal interests.’
‘Philistine, you mean,’ Laura retorted. She was helping her mother to clear the table.
Anne said quickly, ‘Everyone’s different, John. David’s been studying music since he was eight and our Joe probably influenced him. He always liked light classical music.’
‘Seems a namby-pamby sort of life for a lad,’ John said but Anne changed the subject by talking about a forthcoming visit by Mick and Gerda. They had driven up from York frequently during the last months of Sally’s life, staying at the Adelphi Hotel and spending every day from breakfast onwards with Cathy, Greg and Sally. Now Mick was concerned about his mother who had grown thin and pale since her mother’s death, although she always appeared cheerful in company. He and Gerda had travelled up to urge Cathy to spend a holiday with t
hem in York. She thanked them but refused. Even a few days of Mick’s cheerful company, however, did much to raise her spirits.
‘Mick was always a rip and he hasn’t changed,’ Cathy said laughingly to Anne at a family gathering on the Sunday night. ‘The risks he took with that first little plastics factory he opened after the war! Good job his dad and I didn’t know at the time. We’d have been worried to death.’
‘It paid off though, didn’t it? He’s so successful now, but I think he’d have been successful whatever he did. He’s so clever.’
‘And he’s lucky. He always was. The antics he got up to but he always got away with them and then they told us at the college that he had a photographic memory. He only had to look at a page of print to remember it, so that was a big advantage.’
‘Pity none of the younger ones have inherited that gift, although David’s very clever,’ Anne said. ‘Sarah says Gerry is like Mick but I think that’s because he doesn’t care if it snows. He hasn’t got Mick’s brains.’
‘Grandma always said that Mick could charm the birds off the tree.’ Cathy looked over to where Mick sat. Laura and Rosaleen and Dilly, with Gerry and David, surrounded him and they were all laughing and looking admiringly at him. Slim, elegant Gerda sat at a little distance with Moira and seemed to be talking about cosmetics as they examined the contents of a small make-up bag from Gerda’s handbag.
‘That’s another way he’s lucky,’ Cathy said. ‘Gerda’s a lovely girl and a good wife. It’s a pity they haven’t any children. They’re so good with young people.’
‘Perhaps it’s their choice,’ Anne said. ‘They travel a lot, don’t they?’
‘Yes, they do,’ Cathy agreed. ‘I don’t like to say anything to them so I don’t know why they’re childless but I still think it’s a pity.’
‘Never mind, there’s still time.’
Cathy smiled at Anne and pressed her hand. ‘Mick’s not the only lucky son I’ve got. Our John’s been well blessed with a wife like you, Anne. He’s a more complicated character than Mick, love, but you’ve made him very happy.’
Anne smiled and blushed. Then, as Sarah came into the room with Julie, Cathy said, ‘And Sarah’s got a good husband, too. I think the world of Joe. Greg and I are lucky to see three of our children well settled. The less I say about our Kate the better. I don’t know where we went wrong with her, Anne.’
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Anne said.
Sarah came to them with Julie and Anne held out her arms to the child. Although nearly eleven years old, Julie was still small and thin with a timid air. ‘Did you have a good sleep on Nana’s bed, love?’ Anne asked and Julie nodded. ‘She hardly slept at all last night,’ Anne told Cathy. ‘The wheezing was keeping us all awake. You feel as though you want to breathe for her.’
Cathy kissed the little girl. ‘Never mind, pet. Asthma is something people grow out of.’
Julie looked longingly at the group round Mick and Sarah said immediately, ‘Come and see Uncle Mick.’ Julie clung to her hand as they approached Mick and held her head down but Sarah raised her eyebrows at Mick and nodded down at the child.
Mick understood and made no effusive greeting, only took Julie on to his knee and said cheerfully, ‘We’re just talking about a bad boy who climbed on to a roof to catch a pigeon.’
‘It was you,’ the others chorused but Julie hid her face against Mick’s chest.
‘All right, it was me,’ he agreed amiably. ‘That’s how I know so much about it. Anyway, this pigeon had a broken wing and I wanted to put a splint on it. I tried to catch it and it fluttered up on to a wall. I climbed after it but it fluttered away again and again until I was on this big high roof with some glass missing. I reached out again and it fluttered off but I’d reached too far and I fell through the roof and finished up in hospital.’
‘What happened to the pigeon?’ David asked.
‘I think it was codding me,’ Mick said. ‘It probably wasn’t injured at all but it had young near where I was so it decoyed me away. Birds do that, you know. Anyway, I wasn’t worrying about the pigeon when I found myself in hospital.’
‘Were you there long?’ Laura asked.
‘A day would’ve been too long,’ Mick said. ‘It wasn’t like Alder Hey. I couldn’t believe it when I went to see you there, Julie. Nice nurses and toys and pretty pictures on the wall. My hospital was like a barracks and the nurses were like soldiers. And the sister – wow!’
‘Wasn’t she nice?’ asked Rosa.
‘Nice! She was like a dragon and everyone was terrified of her. When she came in the doorway I wouldn’t have been surprised to see horns on her head and flames shooting from her mouth.’
‘Was she a dragon or the devil?’ David said, laughing.
‘A bit of both,’ Mick said solemnly. ‘The worst features of both. She wouldn’t have been allowed in Alder Hey, I can tell you.’
They were all laughing, even Julie, and later Anne said gratefully, ‘Thanks, Mick. Julie didn’t need to go in hospital this time but it’s bound to come. You’ll have made her feel better about it.’
‘Don’t worry so much about her, Anne,’ Mick said gently. ‘She must be pretty tough to have got through what she has and I’m sure she’ll grow out of the asthma too.’
‘I hope so. And I hope she grows out of her shyness. That’s something that’s never bothered the other two and they’re both so healthy as well.’
‘She will,’ Mick said confidently. ‘Julie had a bad start, didn’t she, but she’ll catch up. I know when she was born Mum and Dad didn’t think she’d live but here she is.’
‘I know. She was so tiny and premature.’ Anne smiled. ‘You’re right Mick. I should be counting my blessings.’
‘That’s more like it,’ Mick exclaimed. ‘You don’t look like yourself when you’re not smiling, Anne. What was it your Uncle Fred used to call you? Happy Annie.’
‘Oh, Uncle Fred,’ Anne said laughing. ‘What a character. He never opened his mouth without putting his foot in it but he was smashing. We all missed him when he died.’
Laura looked at her uncle admiringly. Mick’s clear skin was tanned from foreign holidays and his teeth were very white and even. His fair hair was still thick and curly and he was well tailored with gleaming shoes but it was none of these things that made him so attractive, Laura decided. It was his air of vitality and cheerfulness that drew everyone to him and made them feel better after contact with him.
She looked over to where her father and Sarah were standing together talking. How could brothers and sisters be so different? she wondered. Aunt Sarah with her sweet smile and quiet manner was different to Mick but just as nice and her father was different to both of them. Even now he seemed to be laying down the law, Laura thought, ticking off points on his finger as he talked to Sarah. She nodded and smiled but John’s body was tense and he frowned in concentration as he earnestly made his point.
Why does he make such a big thing of everything? Laura thought scornfully. He never talks to people, just lectures them. Everybody else is enjoying themselves.
‘Take that look off your face, Laura Redmond,’ said a voice in her ear and she turned, startled to find Rosa beside her. ‘Why were you looking daggers at your dad?’ Rosa asked. ‘What’s he done now?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t think I was. I was only wondering why he makes such a big deal of everything. He’s so different to your mum and Mick although they’re brothers and sister.’
‘Well, you’re different to Julie and Gerry,’ Rosa pointed out. ‘And I’m certainly different to David, the pride and joy, but so what? Come on. Nana wants us to help.’
Everyone was sorry when Mick and Gerda returned to York but they promised to come again soon and to telephone frequently. Sarah had told Gerda that Rosaleen and Laura were experimenting with make-up. ‘It’s no use forbidding it,’ she said. ‘They only do it after they leave the house. Rosa forgot to wipe hers off one night and she came home looking like a c
lown.’
Gerda showed the girls how to make up their faces skilfully and gave them some of her own cosmetics but though the girls admired Gerda they thought their own efforts made them look more striking. They were grateful for the gifts of scent from Gerda and even more for the money slipped to them by Mick ‘to buy yourself a frock’ but the cosmetics were relegated to the back of a drawer.
Their Friday and Saturday night visits to various clubs and concerts were now accepted by both sets of parents, although they were told that they must be home by eleven o’clock. ‘What can we do?’ Sarah said. ‘All the other kids of their age go to them and I suppose they’re safe enough in a crowd.’
‘But they’re getting later all the time coming home,’ Anne said. ‘It’s a good thing John had gone to bed when Laura came in last Saturday.’
‘I know. Joe read the riot act to Rosa but she’s got an answer to everything.’
It was fortunate that they were unaware that although Laura still walked home with the group Rosa was rarely with them. There was great competition between the boys to walk home with her and she usually said lengthy goodnights to her latest choice. Laura was often in trouble for being late because she loyally waited for a signal from Rosa before returning home to keep up the fiction that they had been together.
With the money from their uncle they bought dresses in the same style but a different colour, Rosa a green one and Laura a blue. They were straight shifts, sleeveless and ending just above the knee. The dresses had a drawstring just below the bust, tactfully undrawn at home but in the cloakrooms of various halls drawn tight to emphasise their developing busts. With a liberal application of mascara and pale lipstick and hair piled high in a beehive they felt that they were the acme of style and sophistication.
Most of the girls wore similar dresses or short tight skirts and tight sweaters and had beehive hairdos but as the weather grew colder most of them put on the navy duffel coats that they wore for school. These were discarded in the cloakrooms and make-up applied with a heavy hand and the girls emerged, telling each other that they looked fab.
Honour Thy Father Page 9