Honour Thy Father

by Honour Thy Father (retail) (epub)

  Gerry’s band, the Merrymen, had become more professional now. Gerry was on drums, Peter Taylor was the lead singer and also played guitar, and they had two more guitar players, Michael and Martin Hogan, who were twin brothers. Peter was a tall, dark and handsome boy and his appearance on stage always brought screams from the girls in the audience. Gerry was an object of devotion to many of the girls and the twins had their followers but Peter was the main attraction.

  He was a frequent visitor to Gerry’s house and Anne always talked to him about her old home and the happy years she and her family had spent in Magdalen Street. Sometimes Gerry was out when Peter called and Anne was puzzled until Gerry laughed and told her that Peter was probably hoping to see Rosaleen.

  ‘But she’s only a child,’ Anne exclaimed. ‘Your Aunt Sarah wouldn’t like a boy hanging round after her.’

  Gerry laughed even more heartily. ‘You must be kidding, Mum. Peter’s not the only one. Anyway, she should be flattered.’

  ‘You’d better warn him off, Gerry, I mean it,’ Anne said. ‘Tell him her parents won’t like it. She’s far too young to be thinking of courting.’

  ‘Mum, you slay me,’ Gerry laughed but fortunately at that moment the telephone rang and he left the house.

  Anne wondered whether she should warn Sarah but decided in her usual fashion that ‘least said, soonest mended’. Gerry could be mistaken or it could be a passing fancy on Peter’s part so there was no point in worrying Sarah and Joe. The kids are enjoying life so much, she thought, I don’t want to throw a spanner in the works. Gerry would never forgive me if I said something and the group broke up.

  Although Gerry was friendly with the twins Michael and Martin, Peter was his closest friend. Gerry spent a lot of time at Peter’s house while his elder brother Jim was home from sea.

  Jim had fought in Korea during his National Service and had become eager to see more of the world so he became a seaman. He always brought the latest records home from New York or Hamburg and the boys played them over and over again, although Jim’s taste was for jazz.

  ‘That’s what I call music,’ he said to them. ‘I used to go to the Cavern in Mathew Street when the Merseysippi Jazz Band played there. God, it was great! We were packed like sardines and the water was running down the walls but the jazz! It just lifted you out of your skin.’

  ‘You should come to the Cavern with us when we’ve got a free night,’ Peter said. ‘Some great groups on, Faron and the Flamingoes, the Beatles, the Fourmost,’ but Jim refused.

  ‘No, I looked in one lunchtime,’ he said. ‘The music’s all right if you like R and B and rock but the place was full of young kids. For the jazz we went in our lunch hours from the shipping office and got a pass out for the pub during the evening sessions. Different scene altogether.’

  Gerry and Peter were fascinated by Jim’s tales about the clubs in Hamburg. The Beatles and other local groups had played the Hamburg clubs and they thought that it was the place for the Merrymen to find fame. They made a record at Percy Phillip’s recording studio in Kensington and they begged Jim to take it to Hamburg on his next visit and try to interest a club owner.

  ‘I’m not exactly on good terms with them,’ Jim said laughing. ‘Especially if Mick Mulligan’s one of the crew. He could start a fight in an empty house and we usually finish up getting thrown out. The last time it took five fellers to get him out and he was still shouting, “I’ve been thrown out of better places than this, y’know”. Anyway most of them are dead rough.’

  ‘We wouldn’t care as long as we got a start there,’ Gerry said eagerly. ‘We’ve played at some pretty rough places here anyhow, haven’t we, Peter?’

  ‘Yes, scruffy maybe,’ Jim said. ‘But I’m talking about rough. Where it’s not soft drinks but mind-benders. LSD and that sort of stuff and a knife pulled at the drop of a hat.’

  ‘We wouldn’t play that badly,’ Gerry laughed, but Jim refused to take the record. He promised to ask around but that was all. Nevertheless, Peter and Gerry talked constantly of the prospects in Hamburg. Michael and Martin were less enthusiastic.

  ‘It’d mean leaving home and giving up our jobs,’ they said doubtfully.

  ‘We’d have to leave home if we had to do National Service like our Jim,’ Peter said. ‘And we wouldn’t need jobs if we were famous.’

  The twins were unconvinced. They were completely different in appearance, Michael quiet and dark and Martin red-haired and extrovert, but they were united in their resistance to the idea of playing in Hamburg.

  ‘There are more chances here in Liverpool,’ Michael argued. We all know groups no better than us that have been taken on by managers. We just need a bit of luck.’

  ‘And a bit of patience,’ his brother told Gerry. ‘You always want everything yesterday.’

  Gerry was annoyed but the following evening he heard something which made him think that Michael might be right; it was from an unlikely source – his Uncle Joe. Sarah had left some heavy shopping at Anne’s house and Gerry carried it home for her. Joe was searching in a vase on the mantelpiece for a flint for his lighter and he asked casually, ‘How’s the band going, Gerry?’

  ‘All right, thanks,’ Gerry said.

  Joe, still searching, asked, ‘Have you heard of Brian Epstein from Nems in Whitechapel?’

  ‘Yes, he’s a manager – managing groups I mean,’ Gerry said eagerly. ‘Haven’t you heard about him? He manages the Beatles.’

  ‘I thought I’d heard the name,’ said Joe. ‘I believe he’s signed Fred Marsden’s lads. You remember that do we went to in the Dingle, Sar? Fred played the ukalele – or was it a banjo? And later the young lad played the electric guitar and sang.’

  ‘Fred and Mary. Yes, I remember,’ Sarah said. ‘She was a nice woman, Mary, and that kid was good.’

  ‘Remember when he was jumping about singing and he pulled the plug of his guitar out of the socket? But he kept right on singing and strumming while Fred put the plug back in the socket. We were pulling Fred’s leg about the way he stood back with his arms folded beaming – y’know, “That’s ma boy.”’ Joe laughed heartily.

  Before he could say any more, Gerry broke in, ‘Are you sure? They’ve definitely been signed by Brian Epstein?’

  ‘Yes, Fred’s older boy plays the piano, I think, and there are two other boys in the group, Nick Phillips said. Do you know them?’

  ‘Yes. Gerry and the Pacemakers. We’ve done gigs at places they’ve been but they’re way ahead of us. They do places like Litherland Town Hall now.’

  ‘Your turn next, Gerry,’ said Sarah. ‘Perhaps you’d better call yourselves Gerry and the Merrymen.’

  ‘It’d have to be Peter and the Merrymen,’ Gerry grinned. ‘We practise in his cellar and use his dad’s van. His dad used to drive us about until Peter got his driving licence.’

  ‘That cellar,’ Sarah sighed. ‘Your mum’s family used it as an air-raid shelter during the war, Gerry. Your Grandad Fitzgerald made a smashing job of it.’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ Gerry agreed and turned towards the door. ‘I’ll have to go now. The lads are waiting for me,’ and he sped away.

  He was anxious to tell the news about Gerry Marsden to Peter and even before the twins arrived they had decided to postpone their dreams of Hamburg for a while.

  ‘It’s only a few years since they were a skiffle group glad to get a booking,’ Peter said. ‘It just shows you what can happen.’

  Michael and Martin agreed with him when they arrived and Martin said, ‘All you need is a bit of luck.’

  ‘And talent,’ Peter said. ‘We’ll all have to work harder at the rehearsals so we’ll be ready for our bit of luck when it comes.’

  It was fortunate that Anne had known nothing about the Hamburg scheme as she had enough to worry about with Julie’s health at this time. The winter of 1962 started early and Julie contracted a chest infection which quickly became a severe bout of bronchitis. She recovered before Christmas but seemed even thinner a
nd had no energy.

  Snow fell on 28 December and the cold increased. Tony and Helen gave a New Year’s Eve party but Anne stayed at home with Julie and Laura went with Rosa and her family. Gerry was with the Merrymen who had a booking in Bootle.

  Just before twelve o’clock John went out carrying coal and salt and returned to let in the New Year as church bells rang and hooters sounded from the ships on the River Mersey.

  Anne had built up the fire and laid out spare ribs and bunloaf and she and John sat either side of the fire with Julie swathed in blankets in the armchair between them.

  ‘This is nice, isn’t it, pet? Our own little party,’ Anne said and Julie smiled happily. She held a glassful of hot blackcurrant drink, John had whisky and Anne Babycham and they solemnly clinked glasses.

  ‘Here’s to nineteen sixty-three,’ John said. ‘I think it’s going to be a very exciting year.’

  He was obviously thinking of Gerry but Anne said quietly, ‘I’ll be glad when January and February are over.’

  ‘The weather might improve. And at least we’ve got a good stock of coal now.’

  ‘When haven’t we?’ Anne laughed. She always said that coal was an obsession with John. His mother and even more his grandmother had known what it was to be short of coal and both had always ensured that their coalholes were always full.

  John smiled but said, ‘Seriously, though, Anne, coal could be short if this weather lasts. The railways and the roads could be blocked.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be only coal in that case,’ Anne said. ‘But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. This is supposed to be a party. Turn up the telly, John.’

  Scottish dancers appeared on the screen and the sound of bagpipes filled the room. ‘Isn’t it wonderful,’ Anne said. ‘When you think that all that is happening in Scotland and yet it’s here in this room.’

  ‘A girl in our class has a kilt like that,’ Julie said. ‘With a big pin in it. Can I have one, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, they look nice and warm. I’ll get you one, love, but it’ll have to be a lot warmer than this before you go back to school.’

  It had been arranged that Laura would stay with Rosa, and Gerry at Peter’s house, so Anne and John and Julie went to bed.

  Laura had been enjoying the party until a woman with greying fair hair spoke to her. ‘You must be Anne’s daughter,’ she said. ‘I’m Mrs Wilson, a friend of your Auntie Maureen. Have you heard from her lately?’

  ‘Yes, Mum had a letter last week,’ Laura told her. ‘We sent her a parcel of clothes with a Mickey Mouse shirt in it and she said a little boy fancied it so much she let him keep it although it came down to his feet.’

  ‘She’s still abroad with Sue Ryder then?’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘And still happy. She said she was when she wrote to me but that was a while ago.’

  ‘She must be. If she wasn’t she could come home. She’s not a nun or anything.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ the woman agreed, looking amused. ‘Your mother’s not here tonight?’

  ‘No, my sister’s been sick so Mum stayed at home with her,’ explained Laura.

  ‘I’m sorry she’s not here. I was looking forward to seeing her again. I always said Anne lighted up a room when she came in. She was always so happy and full of life. Who did you come with, love?’

  ‘My cousin Rosa and my Auntie Sarah and Uncle Joe,’ said Laura. They looked over to where Sarah and Joe stood talking to another couple. Joe had slipped his arm round Sarah’s waist and they were looking at each other, laughing at something.

  ‘Eh, they’re a happy couple,’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘I always liked Joe and he’s turned out a real good husband. I always say to my girls look for a man that’ll cherish you, that’s what’s most important. Never mind what he earns or anything else. If he’ll cherish you, you’ll be happy.’

  Someone came to speak to Mrs Wilson and she moved away but Laura stood thinking of what she had said. It was true that Uncle Joe cherished his wife. Quietly and unobtrusively he was always on hand, to take heavy dishes from her or to find her a seat near the fire or just to be there if by any chance she stood alone.

  That’s the difference to my mum and dad, Laura thought angrily. If they were here, Dad would be in a corner arguing with someone, taking no notice of Mum and not bothering whether she needed him or not.

  ‘Here you are,’ Rosa suddenly exclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking for you. Come and see the dresses Moira’s made. They’re fab.’

  Laura promptly forgot her gloomy thoughts and spent a happy time in Moira’s bedroom, admiring her clothes. Moira gave each of them a skirt and sweater she had outgrown and a can of hair laquer. ‘They’ll be out of fashion by the time Dilly’s old enough,’ she said.

  The celebrations at twelve o’clock soon followed and at the end of the party Laura and Rosa admitted that they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. ‘I’m not going to tell my dad that though,’ said Laura.

  They had wanted to go to hear their favourite group and on to a teenage party, and Laura felt that they could have persuaded her mother and Rosa’s parents, but her father had been adamant that they were too young and must go to the family party.

  ‘He’s probably forgotten all about the argument by now,’ Rosa said carelessly, ‘and you’re bound to let it out that it was a fab party.’

  It was only as they prepared to go home that Laura remembered Mrs Wilson’s words. Joe wrapped his big woollen scarf round Sarah’s neck and over her head and she protested, ‘Joe, I’ve got a scarf under my coat. You need this.’

  ‘No I don’t,’ he said and tucked her hand firmly under his arm. ‘Rosa, take your mum’s other arm and you hang on to me, Laura.’ Giggling and laughing, occasionally breaking into song, they picked their way, slipping and sliding on the frozen snow but supported by Joe, and exchanging greetings with other groups of people.

  When they reached home they all had a hot drink and Laura and Rosa went up to share Rosa’s bed. Rosa was soon asleep but Laura lay awake thinking over the evening and Mrs Wilson and the word cherish. She thought of the woman’s words about her mother and how true they were. She did light up a room but she was certainly not cherished and she should be.

  Why did she marry him? Laura wondered. There must have been lots of men who wanted to marry Mum so why did she pick him? And why did he marry? He doesn’t love her and cherish her, he only cares about himself.

  Her old dream of providing a home for her mother and Julie revived and seemed much closer. Only a few more years and I’ll be working and able to take them away, she thought. He can pay someone to skivvy for him and he won’t even notice we’ve gone, especially if Gerry is still at home, and I’ll cherish her.

  Making happy plans for the future, Laura fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  The bitter weather continued and grew even worse. There were further falls of snow which quickly froze, farms were cut off, trains derailed and road travel became almost impossible. Shortages of food and fuel followed, sporting fixtures were abandoned and even the River Mersey froze.

  Illness was widespread and in spite of Anne’s care Julie became ill again. The sound of her wheezing breath filled the house and in early January she was admitted to Alder Hey Children’s Hospital.

  At the same time, Sarah developed bronchitis, complicated by a heart condition caused by an earlier bout of rheumatic fever, and she was also admitted to hospital.

  It was a nightmare time for both families as worry over the invalids and daily hospital visits were added to the misery of the conditions and shortages and the difficulty of keeping pipes unfrozen and clothes dried.

  Julie recovered quickly and within weeks she was discharged to be nursed at home but Sarah’s illness was more serious. At first she was in a bed near the door where she could be seen from the sister’s office but when she was out of danger she was moved further up the ward.

  Joe had to attend a parents’ meeting one night and Rosa had a cold so Laura and John went to vis
it Sarah while Anne stayed with Julie.

  The ward was frantically busy and Sarah wept as she told them of the old people brought in from unheated rooms only to die within days or even hours.

  ‘Is nobody doing anything about it?’ John demanded.

  ‘I don’t know, John. There are so many old people living alone not able to cope and everything is stretched with this awful weather,’ said Sarah with a sigh. She looked at Laura’s shocked face and said more cheerfully, ‘It’s not all doom and gloom though. The woman in the next bed and that big fat woman opposite are a real pair of comedians. They have us in fits sometimes, even the nurses.’

  They talked about Anne and Julie for a few moments but John was obviously uneasy and before long he strolled up the ward and spoke to several of the patients who had no visitors.

  ‘I suppose you and Rosa can’t get out with this weather,’ Sarah said to Laura but she shook her head.

  ‘It’s not the weather. We didn’t want to go out while you and Julie were very sick but everything’s still going on. Gerry’s got bookings every night, all over the place.’

  ‘I know you’ve been a good help to your mum and Rosa’s helped Uncle Joe but you’ll have to get out and enjoy yourselves as soon as the weather’s better.’

  ‘We went out at the weekend,’ Laura assured her, feeling that she was receiving praise under false pretences.

  John had now gone to see the doctor and sister in the sister’s office and Laura watched him, fuming. What’s he doing now? she thought. He’s supposed to be visiting Auntie Sarah.

  John returned just before the end of visiting. ‘Sorry, sis,’ he said to Sarah. ‘They say it’s nobody’s fault with these old people but I’m sure something can be done to help them.’

  The next time they visited Sarah she greeted John with a smile. ‘So you got something done to help old people on their own, John?’

  ‘I only talked to some of the men at the factory,’ he said. ‘We raised some funds and got a rota going to visit them. I had to tread on a few toes to get the names and addresses but I’m not worried about that.’