‘Good. Remember, it’s always “them” and “us” so perhaps the two of us should stick together from now on,’ Ivy suggested.
‘And make sure we don’t let “them” get us down,’ Trixie agreed fervently.
‘See you Monday morning, then, bright and early,’ Ivy grinned as she crossed the road and headed for the maze of streets on the far side of Scotland Road.
Chapter Four
At first Trixie found it very hard to get used to working at the biscuit factory. She knew that without Ivy’s support and encouragement she would never have managed to endure the long day or survive Fred’s constant nagging and taunting which made her so nervous that she ended up making even more mistakes.
There were so many different jobs to be learned because the factory made such a wide variety of biscuits. Some days it was straightforward enough when they were making the plainer biscuits like Marie, Shortbread, Gingers, Arrowroot or even Garibaldi. With these they merely had to check that the finished biscuits were all intact and the right shape before they were carefully stacked into the big square tins at the end of the line ready to be taken to grocery shops all over the Liverpool area.
At other times, when they had to add a filling or decorate the biscuits as they passed by, it was far more complicated. One girl would put on a blob of white icing, and the next would top it with a dot of bright red or some other colour. Or they would have to add a layer of custard cream or jam as a filling and then the next girl would add a biscuit on top, like a sandwich.
The worst job was when they had to smear the cream filling over a very thin wafer biscuit which would then be topped with another wafer and so on till it was three or four layers deep.
In time, though, she found she was actually begin to enjoy the variety of her work. She also learned to more or less ignore Fred’s constant sarcastic remarks. She knew that the moment she and Ivy were on their own they’d have a good laugh about what he’d said or done to try and humiliate her and how she’d reacted.
It had become almost a game with them. When they met up each morning before they started work they’d try and work out how Fred would try to victimise Trixie before the day was out.
She and Ivy had become such good friends that after a few weeks they shared confidences about most things, including talking quite a lot about their respective families.
Trixie knew that Ivy’s mother was a widow and that Ivy’s father had been killed right at the beginning of the war. She also knew that Ivy had an older brother, Jake, and a sister called Hazel.
‘Hazel has already left home and Jake’s three years older than me and he works over at Camell Laird’s shipyard in Birkenhead,’ Ivy confided. ‘We both give up practically all our wages to help Mum make ends meet, but with the price of everything going up we’re still on the breadline. It will be easier when Jake finishes his apprenticeship and starts earning a man’s wage.’
‘Why doesn’t your mum go out to work till then?’ Trixie asked in surprise.
‘She did till about a year ago, but she was in a terrible accident when she was crossing the road in Lord Street with my youngest sister Nelly.’
‘What happened?’
‘They were knocked down by a tram,’ Ivy told her. She shook her head sadly. ‘Our Nelly was so badly injured that she never recovered and died in hospital about a month later.’
‘Was your mum hurt?’
‘Yes! Mum’s left arm was broken and some of the nerves in it were damaged so that she’s almost lost the use of it. She can’t carry anything and has difficulty picking up anything heavier than a plate with her left hand. It was because of that she lost her job. She hasn’t been able to get another one since.’ She sighed. ‘She was an Alteration Hand at Hendersons so now she does dressmaking and alterations at home, but it’s not like a regular job.’
‘My mum goes out charring and it means my younger sister is on her own from when I leave for work till she gets in just after nine, and then again in the evening from when Mum goes out around four o’clock till I get in after five,’ Trixie confided in return.
‘She wanted to give up her job now that I’ve started work but my dad wouldn’t let her, so she’s not done so. I don’t think she can go on working for much longer, though, because of leaving Cilla on her own,’ she added.
‘Why’s that? Isn’t your sister old enough to take care of herself after school or is she ill or something?’
Trixie hesitated. She liked Ivy and she didn’t want to lose her as a friend but she knew a lot of people didn’t like the idea of being around anyone they considered to be barmy. She didn’t think that Ivy would be like that but she wasn’t sure.
‘Well, tell me,’ Ivy insisted, looking at her curiously as she waited for her answer.
Trixie took a deep breath and decided that Ivy’s reaction when she told her the truth about Cilla would be the real test of whether their friendship was going to last.
‘She’s five . . .’
‘So what’s the problem? At that age she should be able to get herself dressed and ready for school in the morning and she can play out with the other kids for an hour when she comes home at night till you get in.’
‘She doesn’t go to school.’ Trixie bit her lip, then said in a rush, ‘Cilla doesn’t go to school because she’s different; she’s sort of a bit backward.’
‘Are you saying that she isn’t quite right in the head?’ Ivy asked, her blue eyes sharp as she stared at Trixie.
Trixie shot her a sideways glance, not sure what she might be thinking. Then when she saw the concern on her friend’s face, she relaxed. As they walked through the gates into the factory she did her best to explain all about Cilla in the few minutes they had while they changed into their white overalls.
‘Poor little mite,’ Ivy murmured sympathetically. ‘Is that why you said you didn’t want to go to the pictures with me when I suggested it last night?’
Trixie nodded. ‘Any spare time I have after work I spend helping my mum or looking after Cilla. She loves me taking her out or playing with her,’ she said, smiling.
‘I can understand that. I wish you’d told me. I didn’t know what to think. I thought perhaps you were ashamed to be seen out with me because my clothes are second-hand and I look so scruffy,’ Ivy grinned as they put on their mob caps and fastened up their overalls ready to start the day’s work.
They looked at each other and laughed, knowing that under the white overalls both of them were dressed in cheap bargains they’d managed to find in Paddy’s Market.
‘Tell you what,’ Ivy suggested before they separated to take their seats on the assembly line, ‘since it’s Saturday and we finish work at midday, why don’t I come with you when you take your Cilla to the park or wherever you’re thinking of going this afternoon?’
‘That would be wonderful; I’d love that,’ Trixie agreed enthusiastically.
From then on, spending Saturday and Sunday afternoons together and taking Cilla out somewhere became their regular routine. Ivy liked Cilla from the first moment she saw her and, to Trixie’s relief, treated her as though she was perfectly normal.
Trixie enjoyed having someone to share her outings with and who didn’t object to Cilla being with them because it meant she was able to do so much more. She was no longer restricted to walking to St John’s Gardens or down to the Pier Head. When the weather was good, with Ivy there to help her, they’d even be able to take the ferry boat over to New Brighton or perhaps a bus to Southport or anywhere else they fancied visiting.
With so much extra attention Cilla seemed to improve in leaps and bounds. When Ivy was with them and there was someone on each side to hold her hands she walked more and more. She liked nothing better than to be allowed out of her pram and to be trotting along between them, squealing with delight when they swung her up in her air, or helped her jump over cracks in the pavement.
‘I think she would enjoy our outings even more if we took her out in a pushchair rather than in
this thing,’ Ivy mused as Cilla struggled when they had to put her back in her big pram even though she was too tired to walk any more.
‘I’m sure she would but we can’t afford one, not even a second-hand one,’ Trixie sighed.
‘My mum’s still got the pushchair she used for my kid sister so perhaps we should use that,’ Ivy said thoughtfully. ‘She’s only hung on to it because of her bad arm so that when she buys heavy things like potatoes she can wheel them home from the shops rather than try to carry them.’
‘That would be great if your mum wouldn’t mind us borrowing it,’ Trixie agreed.
‘It would make things a lot easier, especially when we want to go on a tram or bus; in fact, if we use that we’ll be able to go wherever we want,’ Ivy pointed out.
‘As long as we have a penny for the fare, you mean, don’t you?’ Trixie laughed. ‘And, as I said, as long as your mum doesn’t mind us using it.’
‘I’m sure she’ll agree,’ Ivy assured her. ‘Once she meets Cilla she’ll probably suggest it herself.’
Saturday turned out to be so grey, dismal and cold that when they finished work at midday, Ivy thought that it would be a good idea for Trixie to bring her little sister round to meet her mother rather than go out anywhere.
‘I’m to bring Cilla round to your place, then?’ Trixie asked as they left the factory. ‘Are you sure your mum won’t mind?’
‘Of course she won’t mind; why should she? She’s always saying she wants to meet you.’
‘Well, with your little sister dying and you saying that she would have been about the same age as Cilla, I thought it might bring it all back and upset your mum.’
Ivy’s eyes clouded but she shook her head. ‘Don’t be daft! She’ll love seeing her. Do you want me to come and meet you?’
‘Well.’ Trixie hesitated for a moment. She had to admit she did feel nervous about meeting Mrs O’Malley for the first time, though she wasn’t quite sure why. ‘Walk to the corner of your street and wait for me there unless it’s raining,’ she suggested.
‘Right. If it is, then I’ll be waiting on the doorstep for you, how’s that!’
‘I’ll be there about three,’ Trixie promised.
Ella O’Malley was a motherly little roly-poly woman with brown hair, hazel eyes, plump cheeks, a kindly smile and an easy, friendly manner.
‘Ivy’s talked about you so much that it’s as if I’ve known you for ever,’ she greeted Trixie. ‘Come along in and make yourself at home. I’ve got the kettle on. And whose little girl are you?’ she asked, patting Cilla’s curly hair and smiling kindly at her.
When Cilla simply stared at Mrs O’Malley and didn’t say a word Trixie explained that Cilla didn’t talk very much and that she was inclined to be shy with strangers.
Ella nodded understandingly. ‘Ah, she’ll come round given time,’ she said philosophically. ‘She’s never seen me in her life before so why should she want to talk to me? Better that way than talking to every stranger who speaks to her.’
‘It’s a little bit more than mere shyness,’ Trixie said rather hesitantly. Then, before she knew what was happening, she found herself telling Ella O’Malley all about Cilla and wondering why Ivy hadn’t already done so.
Ella nodded her head from time to time sympathetically but said very little. Nevertheless, she seemed to be a little taken aback when Trixie told her that Cilla was five years old.
‘Sure and it’s hard to believe that such an angelic-looking little girl is retarded,’ she said sadly. ‘You come with me, chooks, and I’ll find you a nice biscuit.’ She held out her hand to Cilla.
Cilla hesitated for a moment, but Ella waited patiently till Cilla walked over to her, then she led her into the kitchen, talking to her all the time.
When she was sure that Cilla was contentedly enjoying a biscuit and a cup of milk, Ella brought in tea for the rest of them and began asking Trixie more and more questions about her sister.
‘My Nelly was four when she died,’ she said dreamily. ‘I remember her so well when she was a little toddler. I still can’t believe I’ll never see her again. She had a mop of curly hair just like your Cilla, only it was dark like Ivy’s. Our Hazel is the only one who takes after me and has brown hair. Jake and Ivy are dark like our Nelly was; they take after their dad’s side of the family. He ran away from his home in Ireland when he was fourteen and went to sea and stayed over here the first time he came ashore because . . .’
She’d obviously being going to say much more but they were interrupted by Jake arriving home from work. Although much taller than Ivy he had the same jet-black hair. As he shook hands with her and his gaze held hers, Trixie felt quite mesmerised by the vividness of his blue eyes.
It was the first time Trixie had met him and she liked him right away. He had the same friendly manner as his mother and she felt at ease talking to him.
He greeted Cilla by picking her up and holding her high in the air so that her head was almost touching the ceiling. Trixie thought Cilla would be frightened, but to her surprise she gave a happy laugh as if she was thoroughly enjoying it. When Jake put her back down on the floor again she clung on to him and insisted on sitting on his knee while he drank the cup of tea his mother had poured out for him.
Ivy took advantage of the convivial atmosphere to ask her mother about them borrowing the pushchair to take Cilla out.
‘Of course you can use it! It will need a good clean and polish up, though. When do you want it?’
‘We thought of taking her out in it tomorow afternoon if it’s a nice day,’ Ivy told her.
‘Then I’ll get on and do it the minute we’ve finished our cuppa,’ Ella promised. ‘It’s got a bit of a squeak,’ she warned them. ‘Do you think you can do anything about that, Jake?’
‘I’ll have a look at it. Probably all it needs is a spot of oil on the wheels or the brakes to sort it out.’
‘Well, you’d better get on and do that first,’ his mother told him. ‘I don’t want you getting oily finger marks all over it after I’ve finished putting a shine on it. While you’re doing that I’ll go upstairs and see if I have a nice little cushion to put in it for her, and I’m sure I’ve still got a warm blanket to put round her legs tucked away somewhere.’
‘There you are, I told you she’d be happy to let us use it.’ Ivy smiled after her mother went out of the room to search upstairs for the things she’d promised them.
‘I’d better go and do my bit, then.’ Jake grinned as he passed Cilla back to Trixie and went out whistling.
‘It’s awfully good of your mum and Jake to take so much trouble,’ Trixie told Ivy when they were on their own. ‘It means so much to me that they both really seemed to take to Cilla and were happy to have her around.’
‘Why shouldn’t they be? Cilla’s a lovely little girl and she’s always as good as gold when we take her out.’
‘I know, but because she’s so slow and is a bit backward and doesn’t walk very well, a lot of people treat her as if she is some sort of freak. There’s an awful lot who don’t want to have anything to do with her.’
Ivy shook her head as if she couldn’t understand it. ‘They’re dafter than her, then. In fact,’ she corrected herself quickly, ‘I wouldn’t say she was daft at all, and if you hadn’t mentioned it then I’d probably never have noticed.’
‘I hope my bringing her round to your place hasn’t brought back too many sad memories for your mum,’ Trixie murmured.
‘I think Mum enjoyed seeing her and I could tell that Jake did. I think he misses Nelly more than I do. Being the eldest he was the one left in charge while Mum was at work. I used to get fed up of playing with Nelly and start reading a comic or something but he never did; he’d amuse her for hours. Jake was always the one who comforted her if she fell over and hurt herself or if she wasn’t feeling well.’
‘It must have been wonderful having a brother to share things with,’ Trixie said dreamily.
‘I had a brother but n
o dad; you had a dad,’ Ivy reminded her.
‘Your brother is so nice and understanding that I can’t help wishing it had been the other way round,’ Trixie said wistfully.
Chapter Five
The first time Trixie and Ivy took Cilla out in the pushchair she was so scared that even though she was safely strapped in she clutched hold of the sides and whimpered as if she was afraid of falling out of it.
‘Why don’t you walk by her side and hold her hand and I’ll push it,’ Ivy suggested.
It only took one more outing for her to get used to the pushchair and after that Cilla hated being in her big pram so they only used it if it was raining, although Maggie still had to use it, of course, if she took her out when Trixie was at work.
Cilla loved seeing Ella and Jake and their regular visits on Saturday and Sunday afternoons to collect the pushchair became one of the highlights of her week.
Ella was very patient with her and encouraged her to talk; she knew a variety of little rhyming ditties, as well as all the usual nursery rhymes, and she would repeat them over and over, quietly waiting for Cilla to say the words after her.
Whenever Jake was there and joined in as well Cilla’s face would light up and her grey eyes would shine with enthusiasm the moment he and Ella started chanting one of the little verses along with her. As soon as she was singing away with them they would stop and wait to see if she could remember all the words on her own. She usually managed to do so and when she’d finished both Jake and Ella would clap their hands, praising her and telling her what a clever girl she was.
When she was at home Cilla would sit repeating the rhymes and verses over and over again and having something to occupy her mind meant that she was less fractious.
Being able to entertain herself meant she rarely screamed for attention any longer.
In the afternoons, when she was strapped into her high chair, Maggie would give her a big wooden spoon before she left home so that she could bang on the table attached to her high chair in time to the song she was singing.
Love Changes Everything Page 4