Someone to Trust

by Someone to Trust (retail) (epub)

  She felt a tug on her arm and realised Maureen had paused in front of a shop window displaying women’s fashions. Lucy gazed wistfully at a nifty model in jade green with black spots, and remembered what she’d said to Rob about money and what he’d said to her. Give herself a few years and hopefully she wouldn’t know herself. And neither would he. She’d like to show him how good she could look then. Although maybe it was best if she kept her distance from him. Would she ever be able to look at him without thinking that he was the only person in the whole world who knew she had been responsible for her own uncle’s death? She sighed. Wording it like that felt just as bad as using the M word. M! Murder! Money! She had to make some money and leave this area. To get away from the memories. Everything boiled down to having money.

  ‘One day,’ said her mother, without Lucy saying anything.

  The girl glanced at her and forced a smile as they carried on walking. After a few minutes Lucy could sense tension within her mother as if she was working herself up to say something. Dear God, make it not be about Mick, she thought.

  ‘I found an extra money pouch in your clothes,’ said Maureen. ‘There was five shillings in copper in it. Where did it come from? Did our Mick give it to you?’ Her voice shook.

  At the mention of her uncle’s name yet again Lucy wanted to screw herself up into a ball and hide in a hole. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘I wouldn’t touch his money. He offered me a shilling to tell him more about Barney and Rob but I refused it. I’ve been taking threepence out of the firewood money every day since Gran died. I was scared when you started drinking! Felt I couldn’t depend on you. I didn’t want Timmy and me going hungry.’

  ‘Well!’ Her mother took several deep breaths and there was a surprised look in her eyes. ‘You sneaky thing! I should be angry about that, but I’m just glad it wasn’t our Mick that gave it to you for services rendered.’

  Lucy stared at her, guessing what she was talking about. There were two spots of colour high on Maureen’s cheekbones. ‘Forget what I said. I can see you’re innocent of that and I’m glad, girl, very glad.’ She leaned towards her daughter and kissed her cheek. ‘I loved Mick. He was my brother and I loved him, but I’m glad he died before he completely destroyed every warm feeling I ever had for him. A man needs a woman. If our Mick hadn’t gone off to war – if he had found himself a wife – maybe he wouldn’t have gone off the rails. I just pray that God’ll forgive him. I pray and pray.’

  Lucy felt as if she had a lump in her throat as big as a marble and lowered her head, gazing at the pavement. She pretended to concentrate on avoiding cracks in the pavement.

  ‘You, Lucy, will save yourself for your husband, I’m sure of that. You’re a sensible girl.’

  ‘I don’t want a husband,’ she murmured. ‘I think they could be a lot of trouble. I’ll make my own money!’

  Maureen laughed. ‘I wish you luck, girl! I really do. Some men can be a pain in the backside, but we can’t live without them.’ She turned into Great Homer Street and headed for Everton Heights, much to Lucy’s surprise.

  Eventually her mother stopped in front of a four-storey house on Northumberland Terrace, not far from St George’s church. A flight of steep steps led to an open front door which was flanked on the right by a bay window. There was a basement below and two storeys above. A toddler was sitting on the bottom step, playing with a pull-along wooden horse on wheels.

  ‘This house belongs to Mr Jones,’ said Maureen, almost bursting with pride and pleasure. ‘I can tell you, Luce, he’s come up trumps. As soon as he knew I was homeless he found me a place here. It’s split into apartments. Imagine the rents coming in!’

  Lucy could easily do that but hoped her mother wasn’t getting herself all excited for nothing. She presumed they also were being charged.

  ‘We’re on the top floor which is a bit cheaper than down below,’ said Maureen, climbing the steps. ‘He wanted the one on the ground floor for me but his sister-in-law insisted on moving the old couple from upstairs down into the empty one. I’m sure she only did it so he couldn’t come calling because stairs give him trouble with his gammy leg.’

  Lucy, who was counting the steps (there were nine), thought it was nice of the sister-in-law. A man mightn’t have thought of the difficulties old people have climbing stairs.

  From behind a door came the plaintive wailing of a violin. Lucy wished they’d liven the tune up a bit. She was beginning to feel excited about the move, despite the smell of cooked cabbage and fish on the landing. There was also a hint of gas and something more unsanitary in the air.

  ‘There’s a lavatory on the floor below ours and one in the yard,’ whispered Maureen, panting a little as they came to the top floor. ‘It beats sharing a privy.’ She inserted a key in the lock and pushed open a brown-painted door.

  Sunlight flooded the patch of linoleum where they stood and the heaviness in Lucy’s heart lifted as she walked inside the room. The furniture was new, or at least new to her. Had her mother been able to rescue anything of theirs from the burning house? Then she saw on the mantelpiece above the fireplace several photographs. She hurried over and recognised the one of her parents on their wedding day, and herself as a seven year old with Timmy as a baby taken in a studio in Church Street. There was also the one of Mick in Army uniform. She couldn’t take her gaze from that one. It was as if his eyes were reproaching her. She wanted to slam it away in a drawer.

  ‘I’d like to remember him that way,’ said Maureen, sitting on the sofa with a relieved sigh. ‘What do you think of the place? Not bad, is it?’

  Lucy glanced at the pale blue walls and then up at the high ceiling with its three-lamped gaslight and knew she had to start putting on the act of her life, pretending something she did not feel for her mother’s sake, or they’d all end up miserable. ‘It’s so bright and roomy. It’s great!’ She went over to the window and gazed out, careful not to lean on the arm which had been burned.

  Instantly she was reminded of the day she had stood on the steps of St George’s church. The sea! She could just about see the sea. ‘It’s lovely! Really lovely.’

  ‘I knew you’d like it.’ Her mother sounded delighted. ‘Although it has its drawbacks. There’s the climb, and the kitchen’s downstairs which we have to share. That has a gas stove, but I’ve been cooking on the fire up here. It’s not what we’re used to – no oven – but I’ve managed.’ She grimaced. ‘The other drawback is – herself! Mr Jones’s sister-in-law. She doesn’t approve of me.’

  ‘What’s she like?’ Lucy feigned interest.

  ‘No beauty! And won’t see thirty-five again.’

  Lucy turned away from the window and sat beside her mother. ‘I bet she’s jealous of your looks.’

  Maureen lifted a hand and stroked Lucy’s hair. ‘She’s from Lancashire but met Mr Jones’s brother when he was stationed in the South of England before going off to France. She was visiting her sister who has since died. She must have been years older than him, but perhaps he was looking for a mother figure.’

  ‘Will I get to meet her?’

  ‘She collects the rents. Unusual a woman doing it but Barney said it’s because of his foot.’

  Lucy wondered why he hadn’t got a man but perhaps he didn’t have to pay his sister-in-law. ‘Are you managing the rent OK, Mam?’

  Maureen nodded and gave a sigh. ‘I’ll manage better, though, once you’re back on your round again. Your cart’s in the little room next to this one. And that reminds me.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll have to get moving. I’ve work to go to.’

  ‘At this time of day?’ said Lucy, surprised, following her out of the room and into another which contained a double bed and a tallboy. She raised her eyebrows. ‘Where’s this come from?’

  Maureen looked embarrassed. ‘That bobby Rob arranged it for us. Some benevolent fund. I wanted to refuse but Mr Jones said the boy meant well.’ She took out an overall.

  Boy? thought Lucy. He was a man! But she did not want to think o
f Rob. He knew too much about her, was too old for her – and so she was never going to get married. Suddenly Lucy noticed the overall her mother was wearing. ‘Have you changed your job?’

  Maureen smiled. ‘I have. By the way, if you want something to eat while I’m out, there’s food in a cupboard in the little room next to the front one. Our dishes are there, too, and there’s a cupboard on the landing for coal. I don’t need to tell you to be careful when cooking on that fire.’ She stared at her daughter intently, then surprised Lucy by placing a hand on her cheek and stroking it. ‘I’m glad to have you back. The keys are in the door.’

  Her mother had worked fast, thought Lucy, following her to the door. ‘Where’s this job?’

  ‘Cinema in town that Mr Jones has an interest in. He’s got rid of the other. I’m not a cleaner anymore.’ Maureen smiled and went out before her daughter could ask what the new job was.

  She took the keys from the door and decided to go in search of her cart. She discovered the axe inside it and wondered who’d had the sense to rescue it from the burning house.

  It was noisy trundling the cart down two flights of stairs. A door opened at one point and a balding man popped his head out and told her to stop making that racket. She pretended not to have heard. When she reached the front steps and bump-bumped the cart down them as well, she promised herself not to go up those steps and stairs again. She would find the back door and do her chopping in the yard, leaving the loaded cart there.

  Miss Griffiths was in the office when Lucy arrived at the timber yard. ‘Hello, lovey! It’s nice to see you.’ She gazed across the desk and there was sympathy in her eyes. ‘You ready to start work already? You’ve no colour in your cheeks. What you need is to convalesce. Lots of lovely fresh sea air! The sort you get holidaying on the Welsh coast.’

  ‘That sounds nice,’ said Lucy politely. ‘But we haven’t got that kind of money.’

  ‘Money! Money!’ Miss Griffiths made a noise in her throat. ‘What’s the use of having money if you can’t help people with it? I’ll write a note to your mother and see what she says. I’ve family you can go to. As for your chopping wood into chips, my girl, I think it’s best I get one of the men to do that. We don’t want you tiring that sore arm of yours when you’ve only just come out of hospital.’

  Lucy had known Miss Griffiths to be a kind woman but felt a bit uncomfortable at this overwhelming concern, but she couldn’t turn down the offer and so it was she returned to Northumberland Terrace with the note burning a hole in her pocket. A holiday in Wales! Would her mother agree to that? She had never had a proper holiday before. Neither had Timmy. Thinking of her brother made her realise her mother hadn’t mentioned where he was. It was still the school holidays so she presumed he was out with his friends somewhere.

  She did not have to wait too long to see him and he was obviously glad to see her, surprising her by giving her a hug and asking after her arm.

  ‘It’s still sore but it’s getting better.’

  ‘Can I have a look?’ His eyes were alight with interest. ‘Mam said some of your skin had burned off.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘You’re a real ghoul, you are!’

  ‘But I’ve never seen skin coming off.’ He bent his head so that his nose almost touched her arm. ‘What’s underneath? Blood?’

  ‘Some. But you have more skin underneath. It’s still a bit of a mess and I have to keep it covered so I don’t get septicaemia. If I did, that could be me gone,’ she said, attempting to make a joke of it.

  ‘You mustn’t get dirt in it then. I don’t want you to die.’ Timmy’s expression changed. ‘I’m glad Uncle Mick’s dead, though,’ he said frankly, straightening up and sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘They said you tried to save him. You must have been mad, it nearly killed you.’ For a moment she couldn’t think what to say to that but eventually all she could do was agree with her brother that she must indeed have been mad. Her spirits felt a bit lighter. After all, she had risked her life trying to save Mick’s.

  Lucy did not get to give her mother the note from Rob’s aunt until the following morning. Maureen had not come in until way past midnight but at least the girl knew now what her job was in the new cinema in town. She was a waitress. Sometimes Barney also worked at the same cinema, playing the organ, although more often than not they had a full orchestra in residence. It was a real classy place.

  As it happened Barney and his sister-in-law were in the house when Lucy handed over the note to her mother who immediately took it downstairs to consult Barney about what she should do.

  ‘Eeeh! I never in all my born days heard anything like it!’ said Winnie, the sister-in-law, gazing down her long nose at Lucy. ‘What’s she wanting a holiday for? Work, that’s what the girl needs to help her forget her aches and pains.’

  ‘We’re not all as strong as you, Winnie,’ said Barney, shaking his head and smiling at Lucy. ‘She’s lost all her colour.’

  Lucy beamed at him, thinking she could depend on him not to have changed, to be kind to her. She could smell his hair oil helping to dispel the cooking odours coming from the kitchen as they stood in the lobby.

  ‘I think it’s really generous of her to offer,’ said Maureen, her eyes luminous as she gazed at Barney. ‘I don’t like to say no.’ They were all standing in the lobby.

  ‘Can I go as well?’ asked Timmy.

  ‘Eeeh! You ’re not ill, lad!’ said Winnie, snapping her teeth together. She was dressed in black and her clothes had last been fashionable during the war. She had a wart on her chin and bristling brows hooded deep-set eyes. Not surprisingly she was known as Winnie the Witch by the tenants.

  ‘He is prone to chests,’ said Maureen, gazing at her son anxiously. ‘It would really do him good to have a holiday.’

  ‘I haven’t heard him wheezing,’ objected Winnie.

  Maureen coloured. ‘That’s because I look after him, but a nice trip to the seaside or the country would set him up for the winter.’

  ‘She’s right there, Winnie!’ said Barney, grinning. ‘You’re forever lauding the country air.’

  ‘Eeeh, I should have stayed there,’ she sniffed, ‘but when I married your brother I felt it my duty to come here and look after your ailing mother. With all my family dead I’d nowt to keep me there but if my opinion doesn’t count, I can easily up sticks and leave.’

  ‘No, no, there’s no need for that,’ said Barney hastily, placing an arm about her shoulders, causing both Maureen and Lucy to glance at each other in surprise. ‘We need you here. I don’t know what I’d have done without you since Mam went.’

  Winnie looked mollified and patted his hand. ‘I hope you mean that, lad. Right! I’ve a suggestion to make.’

  ‘What’s that, lovey?’ Barney’s expression was attentive.

  ‘Why doesn’t Mrs Linden take her daughter to Llandudno by steamer on her day off and the girl can be picked up from there? The lad can go with her for the outing. The sea air will blow his pipes clean through. It’ll be as good as a tonic.’

  Lucy thought it a good idea though her mother looked none too pleased. Again Barney enthused. ‘Marvellous idea, Winnie! It’ll do Mrs Linden good, too.’ He turned to Maureen and beamed at her. ‘It will, you know!’

  ‘Oh, yes, it’s a grand idea!’ Her smile was fixed. ‘But perhaps your sister-in-law can tell me how I’m going to pay for the tickets? Not that I wouldn’t sacrifice everything I have for my son. I’ll maybe pawn the bed and we’ll sleep on the floor.’

  ‘Eeeh, woman, you’re being right daft! I’ll find you the money,’ said Winnie, sounding suddenly enthusiastic. ‘There’s plenty of charities that’ll cough up for an outing for those that can’t help themselves. In fact, I’m sure I’d be able to get enough money for you and the lad to have a holiday as well! I can put forward a good case, what with your house burning down.’

  Lucy was thrilled. What was wrong with her mother that she didn’t like Winnie? The girl would love their company
rather than being on her own with strangers. She glanced at her mother’s tight expression and hoped she wouldn’t let her dislike of Winnie and hurt pride get in the way. But before Maureen could say anything Winnie made for the front door, oblivious to any offence she might have given.

  Lucy thought her mother was going to explode when the door closed but Barney must have foreseen such an eventuality because he seized her hands and said hastily, ‘Her intentions are good!’

  ‘She has no idea how to handle people,’ said Maureen, her voice shaking. ‘If she knew what it was to be in my shoes… My family once had a position in the world. As you know, Mr Jones, I haven’t always been poor.’

  ‘You must forgive her. She came here with my brother and within days she’d taken charge of the whole household. “A right bossy piece” Mam called her.’

  ‘Well, she’s not bossing me and mine about,’ said Maureen, removing her hands from his grasp. ‘Anyway, how can I take anything she says seriously when she changes her mind like a weathercock?’

  ‘She realised there was something in what you said. Please, Mrs Linden - Maureen – don’t be upset.’ He seized her hands again. ‘You know how fond I am of you. I don’t like it when you get upset.’

  Lucy was relieved that this time her mother left her hands where they were. ‘I’m thinking that maybe she wants to get rid of me for a few days,’ said Maureen stiffly. ‘She doesn’t like it that you take a kindly interest in me and mine.’

  ‘No, no! It’s not that. She’s a little bit too possessive, maybe. Likes to mother me. But that’s all it is, lovey.’ There was a long silence. Finally Maureen said playfully, ‘You don’t think she’s jealous of me then?’