Lucy didn’t waste time asking her what she thought she was doing up there in her condition but called Owen. She did not like leaving her mother, so scribbled a message and asked him to take it straight away to the address on the front and then go and tell Barney what was happening. Then she got her mother into bed.
The next few hours were fraught and in the end, despite all the midwife’s efforts, Maureen lost the baby. Lucy wept but her mother lay silently in bed, her face ashen, seemingly in control of her emotions. Unlike Barney who blundered out of the house and did not return until the following morning. He looked as pale and exhausted as his wife when Lucy saw him. She did not know what to say to him but placed a cup of hot sweet tea in front of him and a plate of bacon and eggs. He drank the tea but only picked at the food before getting up and going into the music room. She waited, expecting him to start playing, but there was only silence. It was later that day Maureen began to say that losing the baby was God’s punishment upon her.
Lucy shook her head. ‘What for? He wouldn’t punish an innocent little baby.’
‘An innocent little baby born in sin,’ muttered her mother.
She continued to say it every day, morning, noon and night, like a litany, until Lucy felt like screaming.
She expected Barney to dissuade her mother from such a belief but he seemed to have retreated inside himself and although he still played at the cinema, the piano in the music room remained untouched. He was dour and seldom spoke, only rousing himself enough to give Lucy the announcement she had been waiting for: she was to attend an interview for the job of waitress at the Trocadero.
Chapter Thirteen
After an interview with the manager and head waitress Lucy was informed she could start work the following Monday. She was presented with two navy blue frocks trimmed with pale blue to wear and felt glad to be getting out of the house.
The Trocadero was the largest and poshest cinema in Liverpool and that fact alone pleased Lucy. The hours were long and she spent most of them on her feet but she was enjoying herself despite the hard work. She earned fifteen shillings for a six-day week, working from ten in the morning to ten at night with two hours off each day, and was allowed to keep ten of them.
‘God only knows what you’ll waste it on,’ said her mother, who still looked unwell.
‘That’s unfair! I’ve never had money to waste. If anything, I think I could easily be a skinflint,’ said Lucy with a smile.
Out of her first wage packet she bought her mother some flowers. Maureen thanked her but it was Lucy who put them in water, placing them on the dressing table in Maureen’s and Barney’s room. Lucy was determined to save money. She walked to work, and the only thing she regretted about her working hours was that she had to give up her dancing lessons. They were in the middle of learning the Charleston, the Black Bottom and the Shimmy. Lucy loved to shimmy and would like a dress with fringing from top to bottom, but that would have to wait. She was lucky at least that she didn’t have to pay to see the best and newest films in town.
The Trocadero was situated in Camden Street, off London Road. It had an imposing frontage of white faience tiling in which the cinema’s name was carved. Running the entire width of the frontage was a glass canopy with electric lights which sheltered the queues which formed every evening.
Every time Lucy walked through the main entrance into the large foyer with its marble wall panels she experienced a thrill of pleasure. Sometimes she was given the job of watering the potted palms dotted here and there among wickerwork settees and chairs, but most of her time was spent upstairs. A staircase to the rear of the pay-box led to a lounge and it was here she helped serve tea and coffee, Welsh Rarebit, sandwiches and the daintiest, most delicious chocolate eclairs and vanilla slices she had ever tasted. They came from a high-class confectioner’s in Bold Street.
Lucy loved it up there. Sometimes if she had a minute she would pull back the velvet curtain dividing the lounge from the balcony. It provided a bird’s eye view of the screen and stage. She not only saw what was happening on the screen but could also watch the audience’s reactions. The auditorium had seating for over thirteen hundred people. To either side of the apron of the main stage were miniature stages in which scenes were painted throughout the year by an artist from the Liverpool Playhouse. During the interval these were illuminated and much enjoyed by all who saw them. Lucy wouldn’t have minded a couple on her bedroom walls.
It was just before Christmas, when she went through the door behind the display unit and cash desk she found the head waitress talking to the manager. The other girls were washing their hands, knowing they would be inspected before they started work. Lucy went to join them.
‘Anything up?’ she whispered.
‘Some Irish singer’s coming in a fortnight’s time. He’s been on the wireless so they’re expecting us to be even busier up here than usual that Saturday.’
Lucy’s hands stilled on the soap, thinking her mother would enjoy that. Now that her daughter was working Maureen only had Timmy and Agnes to keep her company. Lucy decided she would get tickets for Timmy and her mother to see the show. She doubted Barney would take time off from yet another cinema he had an interest in and where he played, but she would ask him what he thought. It just might get husband and wife talking again.
* * *
“‘Roses are blooming in Picardy…’” Lucy felt a wrench at her heart as the Irish tenor’s voice soared. She was aware of the head waitress dabbing her eyes. She wasn’t the only one moved to tears. Lucy could see wisps of white all over the auditorium. Was her mother crying? Were all those other women who’d lost husbands, sons, brothers or fathers? It was seven years since the guns had fallen silent at the front but it could have been yesterday. So much sadness, so much grief, so many families having to cope without a father. So many men crippled or damaged in some way or other. She thought of her grandparents in Yorkshire and was certain they still grieved for their son. One day she would go and see them. She must ask her mother for their address and write to them.
‘Luv’ly, ain’t it?’ murmured a voice behind her.
Lucy turned and looked at one of the other waitresses. ‘Don’t you find it sad?’ she whispered.
‘Oh, yeah! But luv’ly with it. A good cry does you good. A good cry, or a kick at the cat and smash a few plates! It does yer the world of good.’
Lucy giggled. ‘Poor cat!’
She received a disapproving stare from the head waitress and immediately sobered. The song finished and there was a hush before a burst of rapturous applause.
‘Action stations, girls!’ cried the head waitress.
Lucy let the curtain drop and hurried to her post.
They were rushed off their feet and it was a good twenty minutes before demand slackened and she was able to draw breath and look about her. It was then she caught sight of Aunt Mac. She wasn’t alone but with a man, but he was not Uncle Mac. This one was as skinny as a rake and had a bushy brown beard streaked with grey which concealed half his face. He inclined his head towards Aunt Mac as she said something and Lucy stared at him so intently she thought her eyes would pop out of her head. Surely, surely it couldn’t be Callum sitting there, drinking tea for all the world as if he didn’t have a thing to worry about?
She looked away in case she was caught staring and gazed about her for Timmy and her mother. They had been sitting in a corner by a potted palm but she could no longer see them. When she looked again for Aunt Mac and Callum, they too had disappeared. Was it a coincidence or had they seen each other? Lucy had no way of knowing and had to wait until she arrived home before being able to speak to her mother.
‘So was he good?’ Barney sat down heavily in his leather armchair in front of the blazing fire. He had to repeat the question before Maureen answered.
‘He sang better than any bird!’ Her eyes glistened as she cupped her hands and held them against her breast. ‘He had the audience in the palm of his hand.’
‘That good?’ Barney looked at Lucy. ‘What do you say?’
She eased off her shoes and stretched her artificial silk-stockinged feet towards the hearth. ‘There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. He sang “Roses of Picardy” and “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary”. Your brother was killed in the war, wasn’t he, Uncle Barney? I’m sure you’d have been moved.’
He said something softly in Welsh.
Maureen frowned. ‘I don’t know why you do that. It’s a waste of time when we don’t know what you’re saying.’ She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.
‘I don’t want you to know. It was rude. I can’t be doing with all this sentimentality about the war. It’s over. It should be forgotten.’
‘We should never forget,’ said Lucy, shocked and unable to stop herself. ‘When I see a man with no legs pushing himself about by his hands on a trolley and playing the mouth organ for a few coppers, it breaks my heart.’
‘I know it’s terrible but it’s not my fault so don’t vent your anger on me!’ said Barney, pursing his lips. ‘Change the subject.’ He glanced at his wife. ‘Tell me, did the rent collector call while I’ve been out?’
‘Yes. He’ll hand the books over to you on Friday morning.’
His brows drew together in a V above his nose. ‘Fine, fine. I’ll get young Owen to be here. I want him to take the work over. He’s strong and tough and woe betide anyone who grapples with him. He can come to the bank with me.’ Maureen and Lucy stared at him. ‘Is that wise?’ said his wife. ‘I could have gone to the bank for you or with you, but I suppose you don’t trust me.’
There was silence and her words seemed to echo around the room. Lucy felt annoyed that Owen had managed to worm his way into her stepfather’s good books this far. She darted a glance at Barney and was surprised to see him smiling. ‘Don’t be silly, sweetheart. You have enough to do – and, as I said, young Owen is tough and strong and will keep any unwelcome attentions away from me. Why don’t you go along to the women’s group at the church and get involved in good works like I’ve suggested before, if you’ve got time on your hands?’
Maureen said, tight-lipped, ‘I’m not one of them and I have enough to do. Thanks very much but you can stick that idea where Paddy stuck his ninepence!’
‘Don’t be common.’ Barney looked pained. ‘There’s nothing wrong with showing charity. It’s the Christian thing to do.’
‘Christian? Christian! I’m a bloody Catholic, I don’t need telling what’s the Christian thing to do so leave me be!’ Maureen jumped to her feet and rushed out of the room.
‘What did I say?’ said Barney, with a helpless spreading of his hands. ‘I only want her to have friends. You talk to her. Find out what’s wrong.’
That was exactly what Lucy intended to do. Although she was worried that Maureen’s outburst might be due to her having seen Callum at the Trocadero and she was unsure how to handle that. Should she bring it up or wait for her mother to mention it? Lucy was worried about her mother and stepfather. She didn’t know what to do to ease the mental anguish they were obviously suffering and they seemed unable to help each other.
Her mother refused to talk to Lucy, told her to go away and leave her alone. The girl had no choice but to go.
The following morning she decided before going to work to see if she could catch Aunt Mac in. She was in luck and it seemed the old lady had mellowed a bit since last they met. Lucy asked after Callum.
Aunt Mac snorted. ‘A fat lot you and your mother care! He’s suffered has my boy.’
‘Is he still in Ireland?’ she asked innocently, accepting a cup of tea and stretching her legs towards the fire.
The old woman did not look at her. ‘Where else would he be? He’s not doing too badly now since he came out of prison.’
Prison! thought Lucy.
‘You don’t have to say anything. I know what you’re thinking,’ said Aunt Mac hastily. ‘But you’d be wrong. You mightn’t have noticed, busy as you and your mother are living in the lap of luxury, but there’s been a civil war in Ireland and he was caught up in it and ended up in prison with that Shaun O’Neill’s brother. It’s over now, of course, but…’
Lucy almost shot out of her seat. ‘Shaun’s in prison?’
The old woman’s mouth worked and a few specks of spittle appeared on her chin. ‘You got flannel ears, have yer, girl? I said his brother. I wish the other one bloody was! If you’ll excuse my language. Trouble, that’s all he is. Him wanting my Callum to do things was what got him into trouble in the first place!’
‘What d’you mean? Are they both over here?’
‘Now why should you think that?’ Aunt Mac glared at her and folded her arms across her bosom. ‘I haven’t forgotten, Lucy, you’re in cahoots with a policeman.’
She flushed. ‘I haven’t seen him for ages. All I’m interested in, Aunt Mac, is whether Shaun O’Neill’s alive or dead.’
The old woman was silent. Lucy waited and after several minutes Aunt Mac said, ‘I remember our Callum telling me he was in a car crash with his brother. Daniel was arrested but the nasty piece of work was badly injured and taken off somewhere by the Free Irish Troops.’
‘Perhaps he’s dead?’ said Lucy hopefully.
Aunt Mac stared at her with sudden understanding. ‘You’re scared of him, and I don’t blame you.’
‘Me and Mam know things about him. If he isn’t dead and he decided to come over here, he just might…’ Lucy’s voice trailed off.
‘It’s a pity we can’t pin that woman’s death on him,’ Auntie Mac muttered.
‘I’d like nothing better,’ said Lucy eagerly. ‘Only I don’t know how we can do it. I’d really like your Callum off the hook.’ Her tone was utterly sincere.
‘Aye, well,’ Aunt Mac said grudgingly. ‘I never did believe you wanted him dead because you did tell the truth about that there pipe of his not being a gun. So tell me, how is your mother? Yer realise she’s living in sin? A Catholic, married in the Proddy church. By all that’s holy! Your gran would never have got over it,’ she tutted.
Lucy decided not to mention her mother’s having lost a baby. Aunt Mac might have more harsh words to say about that so she just asked after Uncle Mac and soon afterwards she left.
She realised there was no walking to work for her today. She was late and would have to catch the tram. She ran and as she turned the corner on to Netherfield Road came face to face with Rob. Maybe it was because she was thinking of what Aunt Mac had said that she took a step back and tripped over her own foot. She would have banged her head against the shop window behind her if he had not seized her arm and jerked her upright. It came as a pleasant shock to feel the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms around her. She felt all of a dither and when his grey eyes quizzed her, she blushed.
‘Have you been up to something, Lucy? You’re looking guilty.’
‘Me? What could I have done? It’s you being a policeman! You’re always looking for someone to arrest,’ she babbled.
‘Not true! I have another life, but of course you don’t know anything about that.’
‘I know you’ve a girlfriend called Blodwen.’ She was conscious of his arms still about her and although it was a lovely feeling and made her feel secure, she thought it only right to point that fact out to him.
His brow clouded and he removed them instantly. ‘Guilty, m’lud.’ Lucy looked questioningly up at him. ‘She thinks what I do isn’t respectable.’ Rob sounded hurt.
Lucy thought the girl needed locking up. ‘You stand for law and order! Take no notice of her.’
‘That’s what I told her but it won’t wash. She says the people I have to mix with are the lowest of the low and it’s brushing off on me. You wouldn’t say I’m a disreputable character, Lucy, now I’ve told you that?’ His eyes twinkled down at her.
‘Oh, definitely,’ she said boldly. ‘You probably take bribes and turn a blind eye to out of hours drinking. Has Blod
wen signed the pledge? I bet she has! And I bet if she saw you talking to me right now, knowing I was once a slummy, she’d be terrified that I’d be a bad influence on you.’
‘You’ve changed.’ There was a surprised expression on his face. ‘You sound like you’ve more confidence in yourself.’
‘I have. That’s a good thing, don’t you think?’
‘Of course.’ His smile caused her to catch her breath and for a moment she felt a happiness she had never felt before. Then someone jogged her arm and she blinked and found herself asking him whether Blodwen had suggested what he could do instead of being a policeman.
Rob didn’t answer immediately and she wondered with a lift of her heart whether he had felt what she had felt, but that had to be wishful thinking. He said tersely, ‘Take over my aunt’s timber yard.’
‘Your aunt must have been talking to her.’
‘It wouldn’t come as a surprise.’ Rob frowned.
‘And will you?’
He did not answer but she could see he was unhappy with the idea. Yet if he loved Blodwen as much as Dilys seemed to think he did, perhaps that was why he looked so unhappy? Maybe he would do as she wanted because he wanted to please her. Lucy felt so angry with the girl. She felt angry with Rob, too, for even thinking of giving up a job which he obviously found interesting. Still he did not answer her and she was aware that time was passing. ‘I must go,’ she said, moving away from him. ‘I’m going to be late if I don’t move myself.’ She raised a hand in farewell and raced across the road to the tram stop.
It was only when she reached it that she realised she should have told him what Aunt Mac had said about Shaun O’Neill. She glanced across the road and saw that he hadn’t moved, was still gazing in her direction. She signalled frantically and when he began to head towards her, breathed a sigh of relief. Then, frustratingly, a tram rattled up and she knew if she didn’t take this one she would be late. There was nothing for it but to jump aboard.
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