‘Yes. I relied on her so much. On her good sense. She was always a tower of strength to all the people in the neighbourhood where we lived when I was young. You only knew her as an old lady, Laura, but she did so much for other people all her life.’
‘There were a lot of people at her funeral,’ Laura said. ‘I remember an old man said to someone, “By God, there were plenty round us who would have foundered without Sally and Lawrie Ward.” I thought that was lovely. To be remembered like that.’
‘It was,’ agreed Cathy. ‘Before the welfare state, you know, Laura, people had no one to turn to except people like my mum and dad. When we were children we were quite used to hearing a knock at the door or a stone thrown at the window in the middle of the night and Mum would go out to help. Dad would go with her. They must have been at hundreds of deathbeds and at births too.’
‘Grandma must have been very clever if so many people relied on her.’
‘She was very sensible and experienced. She had her own remedies that she made herself and she was always so calm in an emergency. Sometimes if she was just there, it helped. I remember a woman saying after some sort of accident, “People were screaming and we were all frantic then someone said Sally Ward’s here and everyone calmed down.”’
‘I wish I could be remembered like that,’ Laura said wistfully. She smiled. ‘I’ll probably be remembered for my big mouth.’
‘Don’t run yourself down, love. Anyway let’s hope it’s a long, long time before you need think about being remembered. You’ve got all your life ahead of you. We live in a different world and Grandma’s skills aren’t needed now with such a good health service.’
‘”Security from the cradle to the grave,”’ Laura quoted with a smile.
‘Yes, it’s my dad’s dream come true. Mam always said that she did what was next to her hand but Dad worked on a bigger scale. Mind you, he did a lot to help neighbours in a practical way, stuff from his allotment and that sort of thing, but he’d tackle anyone. Go right to the top if necessary to get justice for poor people.’
‘No wonder they were remembered as good people.’
‘Yes, but they weren’t thinking of being remembered when they did these things, love,’ said Cathy. ‘Just did them because they needed doing. Just like your dad does now as a councillor.’
Laura’s head jerked round. ‘My dad?’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t think it’s the same at all. He’s not a councillor for unselfish reasons. He enjoys the power it gives him.’
‘I think you’re too hard on him, Laura. He does an awful lot of good and he really tries to help people. You know he was always very close to my father and they talked about my dad’s ideals even when John was only a little lad. He’s tried all his life to live up to his grandad.’
‘He has a funny way of doing it,’ Laura muttered, fiddling with the braid on the arm of the chair. ‘He rubs everyone up the wrong way and he’s always causing rows among the committees because he argues about everything they propose.’
‘That’s his way of getting things done, I suppose,’ said Cathy. ‘People can’t help the nature they were born with or inherited. My mother’s father Matthew Palin had strong views and spoke out about them even if it got him into trouble, according to my mother.’ She paused. Laura said nothing and kept her head down, still fiddling with the braid. Cathy went on gently, ‘You, if anyone, should understand him, Laura. He may be outspoken and offend people but he has a very kind heart and he really tries to help those who can’t help themselves.’
Laura was uncertain about how to reply. She felt that she had hurt or annoyed her grandmother so she said no more about her father. ‘Heredity is a strange thing, isn’t it, Nan? The three of us have the same parents, brought up the same way yet we are all different, and Rosa and David couldn’t be more different yet the same applies to them.’
‘Sometimes you have to go further back, the same as with John,’ said Cathy. ‘Rosa may not be like our Sarah or like Joe but she puts me in mind of my own sister Mary. She was beautiful, too, and with that same red-gold hair and lots of boyfriends. She charmed everyone, Mary did, and she could twist my dad round her little finger, although our mam was strict with her. She was afraid Mary was too beautiful for her own good. I was like a little mouse beside her.’
Greg had come back into the room and he said quietly, ‘Your nana’s too modest, Laura. She was beautiful too but in a less flamboyant way than Mary and she had a lovely character to match her looks.’ Cathy blushed and they smiled at each other. ‘She hasn’t changed, either,’ Greg added.
To Laura it was like the thrust of a knife. They were old, really old, she thought, over seventy, yet they could still look at each other like that. Will I ever meet anyone who could love me like that, she wondered, or who I could love?
She thought of her unsatisfactory affair with Sean, her dates which never led anywhere and now Nick. She felt the familiar fear that she was unloveable as she compared herself with Rosa and Julie.
She stood up. ‘Speaking about Rosa reminds me. I’d better get back. I’ve hardly seen Rosa since she came home and she might be at ours now.’ Even to herself she could not acknowledge that she was anxious to see if there was a message from Nick.
Her grandfather insisted that he would drive her home. He seemed to think that she might have been upset by Cathy’s words about Mary and Rosa and as soon as they were in the car he said quietly, ‘Rosa has only been once to see us since she came home. I’m afraid she is like Mary unfortunately. Hard-hearted and selfish. Not like you, love.’
‘Rosa’s all right, Grandad,’ Laura protested. ‘She’s not really selfish. She just gets mixed up with the wrong people but she’s got a lovely character really.’
‘Mary had some good points too,’ Greg said, ‘but she also mixed with the wrong people and was influenced by them. She brought a lot of grief to her parents and family, just as Rosa has done.’
They said nothing for a moment then Laura laughed. ‘You were lucky that you married the right sister then, weren’t you, Grandad?’
‘I was indeed,’ Greg said gravely. ‘I hope you will be as happy as we are when you marry, Laura. It’s not just luck, you know, love. You have to work at a marriage to make it a success. Give and take. That’s the secret.’ He glanced at her. ‘Even when you’re courting that applies. Cathy and I disagreed about several things when we were courting but a bit of give and take and we soon sorted them out.’
Laura felt that he understood more than she had realised about Nick and was trying to give her good advice. I suppose they wonder why I can never keep a boyfriend, she thought miserably, but they had reached her home so it was not necessary for her to reply.
Greg came in with her and they found Anne alone. Julie was out with Peter and Gerry with Margaret, she told them, and John had just sat down to his meal when he was called out to settle a dispute with a landlord. ‘The woman was in floods of tears so he left his meal and went off with her, swearing vengeance on the landlord,’ Anne said.
‘He must be sorry sometimes that he’s on the housing committee,’ Greg said but Anne laughed.
‘No, I think he enjoys a good fight, especially with someone who’s trying to take advantage of a widow. How is Nana?’
‘Very well,’ Greg told her. ‘She always enjoys a visit from Laura and Gerda and Mick are coming for the weekend.’
‘We were talking about Grandma. All the good she did before the welfare state,’ said Laura. ‘It’s hard to picture the lives women lived then, especially before the war. Grandma was badly needed.’
‘Yes, she was a woman of her time,’ Greg said. ‘And very wise and tolerant too, although she was a woman of strong principles in her own life.’
A woman of her time. Laura repeated the phrase to herself, thinking that no one would ever apply it to her. I’m out of step with nearly everybody of my own generation. Even Nick, she thought suddenly.
She recalled on their second date Nick’s casual que
stion, ‘Are you on the pill?’ and her own swift reply: ‘No, I don’t need to be. I told you, I’m old-fashioned.’ He had laughed and it had all seemed light-hearted but now she wondered. Perhaps he wanted to know where he stood and their quarrel had been fortuitous. It had given him the excuse to finish with her and find someone more ‘with it’ and less uncompromising about sex.
She was unaware that she was scowling until her grandfather touched her arm and said quietly, ‘I’m off now love,’ then even more quietly, ‘Cheer up. Everything works out in the end.’ He kissed her and said goodbye to Anne.
Laura went into the other room. She needed time to consider her unwelcome thoughts about Nick’s motives before she spoke to anyone, and anyway, nobody here either knew or cared how she felt. None of them had even mentioned Nick to her, she thought bitterly.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Anne had watched Laura’s scowling face with dismay. Whatever’s upset her now? she thought. Laura’s moods were so unpredictable and now she had disappeared into the back room to brood on something. She was so short-tempered that everyone was afraid to provoke her by asking any questions but Anne felt that Laura was the one who suffered most.
If only she’d tell me, talk to me, she thought. I can’t help her when she bottles everything up like this. I know something has gone wrong between her and Nick but I can’t ask her outright when she obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.
She heard a car draw up and a moment later Julie and Peter Cunliffe came in. ‘I’ve just come to say hello and goodbye, Mrs Redmond,’ Peter said cheerfully. ‘I’ve got to get off right away.’
‘No time for a cup of tea?’ Anne asked.
‘Oh no, thanks all the same.’
Julie went to the door with him and came back smiling. ‘We’ve had a lovely evening,’ she said. ‘We went out to a carvery in Aughton and then on to a pub where there was a fab group playing.’
Anne smiled at her. Thank God for Julie, she thought. Happy, uncomplicated Julie, then she felt guilty as she thought of Laura’s unhappiness, which was surely the cause of her moods and short temper.
‘Where’s Dad?’ asked Julie.
Anne told her about the weeping woman. ‘He must be following it up tonight because he hasn’t come back. He didn’t have a mouthful of his tea either.’
‘Never mind. He’ll get something somewhere. Laura not back either?’
‘Yes, Laura’s back.’ Anne looked meaningfully at Julie and jerked her head towards the other room. ‘Grandad came in with her.’
‘Something wrong?’ Julie whispered.
‘Not that I know of,’ Anne whispered back. ‘She seemed all right when they came in.’
They heard a noise in the hall and Laura looked in. ‘Hi, Julie,’ she said. ‘Anyone want the bathroom? I’m going up for a bath.’
‘No, no,’ Anne said hurriedly. As Laura went upstairs, she said in a low voice, ‘Oh Julie, I hope she didn’t hear us talking about her.’
‘She couldn’t have done,’ Julie assured her. ‘And anyway, we weren’t saying anything nasty about her.’
A little later Laura came down in her dressing gown and Julie made tea for all of them. A moment later they heard voices and Gerry came in at the back door with Phil Casey. Both were soaked, their hair plastered to their heads by the rain and their hands filthy.
Phil looked flushed and uncomfortable and he said diffidently, ‘I’m sorry. It’s so late. I could have driven straight home.’
‘All the way to Woolton?’ Gerry exclaimed boisterously. ‘No way. I had a burst tyre and luckily Phil saw me and stopped to help. Is the bathroom clear, Mum?’
‘Yes. There are plenty of towels in the airing cupboard,’ Anne said, smiling at Phil.
Gerry led the way to the bathroom followed by Phil who smiled at Laura as he passed her. She nodded curtly, uneasily conscious of her faded candlewick dressing gown and her damp hair and shiny face.
‘Gerry’s an idiot,’ she exclaimed as soon as the young men had gone upstairs. ‘Barging in with him without any warning. Look at the state of me.’
‘You’re quite respectable,’ Anne assured her.
Julie said mischievously, ‘And nice and clean.’
‘I’ll cut some of that ham for sandwiches,’ Anne said and both girls helped her. When Gerry and Phil returned with clean hands and dry hair the table had been laid for supper. Anne took Phil’s wet jacket and hung it near the Aga to dry. He seemed bewildered and said nothing but Anne pressed him to eat and Laura poured tea for him. Her dark mood seemed to have lifted and she joined cheerfully in the conversation.
The talk turned to Rilla. ‘Did you know that they know the real father now, Phil?’ Laura asked.
He nodded. ‘Yes, Gerry told me. I’m glad the baby’s all right.’
‘Yes, a little girl,’ Anne said. ‘My brother and his wife are thrilled with her. Mr and Mrs Taylor were very good about it.’
‘They’re nice people,’ Phil said.
‘Have you known them long?’ asked Anne.
‘Since I was about eleven. I was at school with Peter. We lived in Prospect Vale then and we were both at St Edward’s. Two years before Gerry.’
‘I don’t remember you at all at school,’ Gerry said. ‘I knew Pete but only because of the skiffle groups.’ He laughed. ‘We were beneath the notice of most of the older fellows.’
‘Two years makes a big difference when you’re at school,’ Phil agreed.
‘And you never got mixed up with the pop groups?’ Anne asked him.
‘I don’t play an instrument and I can’t sing,’ Phil said. ‘But Pete and I have always been good mates. When I started school I was a right shrimp but Peter was always a big strong lad and he sort of looked after me.’
‘Not much of a shrimp about you now,’ Anne said laughing and looking at his tall, broad-shouldered figure.
‘I was glad of your strength tonight, I can tell you,’ Gerry exclaimed. ‘I was never so glad to see anyone. Those damn nuts were jammed fast and I’d never have managed without you.’
‘Lucky you met,’ Anne commented.
‘We were all together in Southport,’ Gerry explained, ‘and I’d taken Margaret home and was coming here. Phil was on his way home.’
‘The others were in the van,’ Phil said. ‘I’d left just before them and I saw Gerry broken down.’ He looked at the clock and said he must go.
Anne examined his coat. It was nearly dry and he put it on. He glanced at Laura. ‘It’s nice to see you at home.’
‘In all the glory of my tatty dressing gown,’ Laura retorted. ‘Gerry should have had more sense than to barge in like that with you.’ She regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. I made it sound as though he was unwelcome, she thought, and saw with dismay the tide of red which suffused his face, his fair skin making it even more noticeable.
Anne and Julie seemed to notice nothing and Julie offered to lend him an umbrella as the rain still poured down. ‘His car’s just outside. You won’t melt, will you, Phil?’ Gerry laughed and went to the door with him.’
When he returned, Anne said thoughtfully, ‘He seems a nice lad. Mrs Taylor thinks a lot of him.’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Gerry. ‘Awful quiet though. I’ve never heard him talk so much. Must be your ham sandwiches, Ma.’
‘It’s just Mum,’ Julie said. ‘She can get anyone talking.’
Laura said nothing, still cursing herself for her tactless remark, but the next moment John arrived home, full of indignation about the landlord and satisfaction with what he had done about him.
‘A right damn Rachman, he was,’ he declared. ‘But I’ve clipped his wings. He’ll frighten no more women.’
‘I hope you were careful,’ Anne said anxiously. ‘These people can be dangerous, you know.’
‘I just made some people get off their fat backsides and earn their big salaries,’ he chuckled. ‘I got one fellow out of a Masonic dinner. He wasn’t very pleased.’
Anne went and brought the pad from beside the phone. ‘There were several messages for you,’ she said.
John glanced at the pad and said that he had seen two of the callers. ‘I’ll see the other fellow tomorrow.’
They used small blocks of offcuts for messages and Laura picked up the pad to replace it on her way to bed. She was about to put it on the telephone table when she dropped it and realised that there was writing on both sides of the pad.
The top pages carried tonight’s messages but on the underside, written in her father’s sprawling handwriting, was a message. ‘Laura, Nick rang. No message but will you ring him back on this number when you get in from work.’
She stood holding the pad feeling a mixture of relief that Nick had phoned and anger that he had left it so long, then a growing doubt about the message. How long had it been there?
She marched back into the living room and thrust the pad before her father’s eyes. ‘When was this written?’ she demanded.
‘Last night – no, Monday night,’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘Why didn’t you mention it?’
‘Because I was out when you came in probably,’ he said impatiently. ‘It’s clear enough, God knows. There’s even a phone number I took down.’
‘What is it? Is it important?’ her mother asked.
Laura ripped off the page and said curtly, ‘No. Goodnight again,’ and left the room.
She flung the pad on the telephone table but carried the message up to her bedroom, to sit looking at it and thinking. Monday. He had rung on Monday and had probably been waiting for a phone call from her ever since, but how had she missed the message? She thought back to Monday evening.
She had come in late from the office, after her father had gone out. She remembered the phone calls she had attempted to answer but which had been answered by Julie or her mother, and Julie’s long conversation with Peter, and the other call while she was in the bathroom. A vivid memory rose in her mind of leaning over the banister and seeing her mother flip over the pad and call for a pen to take down the details of the call from Canada.
Honour Thy Father Page 33