It began to move before Rob reached the stop. He ran after it but it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to catch it. ‘What is it you wanted?’ he shouted.
‘I can’t say it here!’ yelled Lucy, above the clatter of the wheels as she stood on the platform. ‘Can you meet me in town outside the Trocadero at half-past two?’
She saw his lips moving but could not hear what he said, could only hope he would be there. She wanted this business of Shaun O’Neill sorted out. Though she wasn’t going to lie to herself by pretending it was her only reason for wanting to see her favourite policeman.
Lucy found it hard to concentrate on her tasks during the next few hours. She was restless, thinking about that moment of pure happiness. Had she imagined Rob had felt something too? She must have. He was engaged to be married to a woman more his own age and far more beautiful and assured than Lucy was. She had no right to be thinking of him in such a way. If he came it would be purely business. Police business! It was more likely that he had been remembering that with her he was keeping bad company. The company of a murderess! How could she have forgotten? He probably wouldn’t come at all.
He was there. Hunched in an overcoat with the collar turned up against a biting wind which immediately found the gap between coat and hat. Now they were face to face Lucy found herself tongue-tied. He spoke brusquely. ‘So, what is it that you couldn’t shout about?’
She had been right. He had no special feelings for her. ‘Shall we move away from here?’ she muttered. ‘Perhaps we can walk in St John’s Gardens?’
His gaze swept her face. ‘I didn’t come here for a walk. I’m on a case.’ Even so he fell into step beside her as she moved away from the cinema entrance.
‘I should have told you when we first met,’ she said miserably.
‘I was right then, about you looking guilty?’
A sharp laugh escaped her. ‘You were wrong!’
‘You came flying round that corner straight into my arms.’
‘Not intentionally. I didn’t expect to see you. It gave me a shock.’
‘Guilty conscience, like I said.’ There was a smile on his face this time, though.
Relieved, Lucy returned his smile. ‘I was worried about being late for work. I’d been to Aunt Mac’s. We were talking about Shaun O’Neill.’
Rob stiffened. ‘You’ve seen him?’
She shook her head, digging her gloved hands deep into her pockets. ‘She told me Callum was in prison in Ireland with Shaun’s brother. I don’t know what prison but apparently Shaun was badly injured in a car crash and taken away somewhere by the Free State troops. I’m hoping he’s dead. Could you find out if he is for me?’
There was such an expression on Rob’s face that it made her feel good. He grabbed her by both arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. ‘Thanks!’
It gave Lucy such a thrill she touched her own mouth. ‘What were you thinking of? There’s people around.’
He placed his hands firmly in his pockets. ‘I got carried away. Look upon it as a brotherly kiss.’ Oh, that hurt, thought Lucy, but he was still talking. ‘I really want to nail him! I believe he’s responsible for almost killing a police mate of mine. We got into a fight in the Sebastapol area a couple of years back. Tony has never worked again and he’s lucky to be alive. I hate knives.’
Lucy felt a shiver down her spine. ‘You never mentioned that to me before.’
‘I didn’t want to worry you but by the sound of it there was no need. He must have scarpered to Ireland straight after the fight. Where did you get this information? Does Barney know McCallum’s back in town?’
‘He’s not,’ said Lucy hastily, not wanting Rob tying himself up looking for Callum. ‘Unfortunately I don’t know the name of the prison.’
Rob smiled grimly. ‘I shouldn’t have any trouble finding out. That’s if I can persuade the officers over me to let me go to Ireland.’
She glanced at him. ‘You’ll be careful?’ Then she blushed.
His expression altered and he said seriously, ‘Don’t worry about me, Lucy. It makes it more difficult.’
‘I won’t!’ She increased her pace, not looking at him. ‘I’m sure you can take care of yourself, a big bloke like you. Just remember, though, the bigger you are the harder you fall.’
He easily kept up with her. ‘You’re doing it again. You are worrying.’
‘I’d worry about a dog if it came up against Shaun O’Neill, so don’t flatter yourself,’ she said in a hard voice.
‘That’s right! Put me in my place.’ She could hear the smile in his voice and looked at him. ‘Don’t expect to see me for a while,’ he said, and walked away.
When Lucy arrived home late that evening she had decided to keep quiet about what she knew of Shaun O’Neill, knowing it would only stir up unpleasant memories for her mother.
Maureen continued to be moody and Lucy did what she could for her. Often she wouldn’t get up until lunchtime and this worried Lucy. It was obvious Barney was concerned about her, too, because he fussed over her, telling her to rest as much as she could.
It was Owen’s mother who bluntly told Lucy that she was handling her mother the wrong way. ‘You’re spoiling her soft. The same for you, Mr Jones,’ she said, turning to Barney. ‘The way you’re behaving won’t help her get better because it won’t bring the baby back. Your wife needs to get out of this house and get some of God’s good air into her lungs. The devil finds work for idle hands. What she needs is something to do.’
‘Thanks very much for the prescription,’ said a harsh voice.
They all turned and saw Maureen standing in the doorway. She must have come down on one of her rare visits to the kitchen. She did not come in but turned and went straight back upstairs. Lucy rose, intent on following her. Barney limped after her, closing the kitchen door behind him. ‘Leave her, girlie. It had to be said. Mrs Davies is right. Maureen needs something to do.’
‘But what?’ said Lucy, wracking her brains. ‘Would you allow her to work in the cinema again?’
But he was still adamant about not letting her mother do outside work of any sort. ‘You’ve still got that working-class mentality, Lucy. What would the neighbours think if my wife went out to work? They’d assume I was on my uppers. Her job is to be in this house, looking after me. It’s time we put the past behind us.’
Lucy bristled. She was working class and not ashamed of it. ‘I agree we have to put the past behind us, Uncle Barney, but if you owned a shop your wife would be working alongside you.’
His jaw set rigid. ‘I know you mean well but suggesting I now buy a shop is ridiculous. Your mother would have to handle money and she could spend it on drink.’
Lucy could scarcely believe what she was hearing. ‘You can’t think that! She hasn’t touched a drop since she got married. I thought she might have been tempted when she lost the baby but she hasn’t. I’d have smelt it on her breath.’
‘Well, we don’t want her to start, do we?’ said Barney jovially. ‘Keep temptation out of the way, hey?’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘And talking about money, Lucy, what are you doing with your earnings? Have you thought of investing some of your money?’
His change of mood and subject matter caught her offguard and she almost blurted out that she’d already been persuaded to invest some of her hard-earned cash in an exciting new venture. ‘No,’ she lied, and smiling brightly added, ‘I’m a bit of a spendthrift, Uncle Barney.’
He tutted. ‘Shame on you, girlie. I thought you’d have the sense to put a bob or two aside.’
Lucy pulled a face. Why keep her pennies all in one basket? And if it would please him she would take his advice. ‘I have a bob or two but not pounds. Perhaps you could invest ten shillings for me? What do you suggest?’
He perked up. ‘The electrical goods market is a surefire winner. You won’t go wrong there.’
She smiled. ‘OK. You can buy me some shares in that.’
‘I’m sure you won’t lose by it
, Lucy,’ he said earnestly. ‘Even Collins’ Ecclesiastical Supplies have broken new ground by going into the production of electrical kettles, toasters and irons.’
Lucy tried to look impressed. They were marvellous things, although Agnes and Mrs Davies were wary of using the kettle and iron Barney had brought into the house. The thought of investing in such things didn’t excite Lucy one little bit but she’d committed herself now and her stepfather did seem to have a knack for making money. ‘OK, I’ll go and fetch my ten bob.’ She wanted to get away and see how her mother was.
‘You really mustn’t fritter money away, Lucy. I’m surprised at you. I thought you were a sensible girl,’ Barney called after her.
‘There’s so much to fritter it on,’ she retorted frankly. Once upstairs she tapped gently on her mother’s bedroom door. ‘Mam, can I come in?’
‘Not now, Lucy. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘You are OK?’
‘There’s nothing for you to worry about,’ Maureen said firmly. ‘Goodnight.’
Lucy was relieved. ‘Well, if there’s anything you want – a cup of tea?’
‘Goodnight!’
‘Goodnight, Mam.’ Relieved, Lucy went into her bedroom and took a darned stocking from under her mattress. There was more than ten bob inside it but she didn’t intend to leave herself with no money in hand. She’d given the rest to the manager of the Trocadero’s broker after a fascinating discussion about an almost revolutionary new development in the music industry. But it would be hopeless talking about that to Barney because where some things were concerned he was bigoted and short-sighted.
She counted the money. There was a little more than she thought so she decided to invest fifteen shillings in electrical goods. She took it downstairs and gave it to her stepfather. ‘There’s fifteen shillings actually,’ she said.
He smiled and promised to do what he could for her.
The following day was Sunday and Lucy was just turning over to go back to sleep when she heard Maureen’s footsteps going past her door. Lucy stared bleary-eyed at the window. It was only just getting light. What was her mother doing up so early? Perhaps she’d taken what Owen’s mother had said to heart and decided to surprise them all by going for a walk… or even cooking breakfast for them because Mrs Davies never worked Sundays.
When Lucy eventually got up there was no sign of Maureen in the kitchen but Timmy was there heading for the back door with a ball under his arm. ‘What are you doing?’ asked Lucy.
He looked round guiltily. ‘Shhh! You’ll have Uncle Barney down here!’
‘What’s wrong with that? He wouldn’t stop you going out.’
‘Not in so many words. He’d smile at me and say, “Not going to church this morning, boyo?”’ The boy imitated the man’s voice and wide smile perfectly.
Lucy smiled faintly. ‘He can’t make you go. He’s not violent like Uncle Mick was.’
‘No! But he’d go on and on and take all the pleasure out of me skiving off with his nagging. He’s worse than a woman!’
Lucy laughed and didn’t persist. ‘Have you seen Mam?’
‘She went out.’ He sounded pleased.
‘Where?’
‘She didn’t say.’
‘What kind of mood was she in?’
Timmy pursed his lips, bounced the ball and caught it. ‘She’s up to something. She had that look on her face that I remember from when we were younger. She was kinda excited but not wanting to show it.’
Lucy wondered what her mother was up to and debated whether to go in search of her but at that moment she heard the heavy sound of Barney’s boot on the stairs. ‘You’d best go!’ she said, shoving her brother out of the back door.
He had no sooner disappeared than Maureen appeared in the doorway to the yard. She looked furtive and was carrying something wrapped in newspaper. ‘Where’ve you been?’ said Lucy.
Just then Barney called down to the kitchen, ‘Are you there, Lucy? Have you seen your mother?’
‘I’m here, darlin’!’ Maureen placed the parcel on the table and almost skipped up the steps to him. ‘How about bacon and eggs for breakfast?’
‘Mrs Davies put the saltfish in soak,’ he said. ‘You’re up early. Feeling better?’
‘I’m fine. I’ve been and got you some mushrooms. They’re pink and tender as a baby’s bottom.’ She kissed his cheek.
He glanced at Lucy and smiled. ‘See, Mrs Davies was right.’
Maureen’s smile slipped a second. Then she placed a hand on his arm. ‘You’re right. I’ve taken to heart what she said… but don’t you be coming down into the kitchen right now and getting under our feet.’ She led him into the music room and sat him down on the piano stool. ‘You play us some music and I’ll bring your breakfast up on a tray. We’ve missed your music, haven’t we, Luce?’
She agreed and stood in the doorway, waiting to see if he would play. Barney sat there for several minutes, an expression on his face that made her realise anew just how much he’d denied himself since the loss of the baby. Then he unlocked the piano lid and ran his fingers over the keys. Maureen winked at Lucy and left the room.
She followed her mother downstairs into the kitchen. ‘You are in a good mood. Is it really down to what Owen’s mother said?’
Maureen took down the cast-iron frying pan and placed it on the range. ‘Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies.’
‘I think she really riled you,’ said Lucy, going over and taking the bacon from the meat safe. ‘She roused your fighting spirit. You sound like your old self.’
Maureen hesitated, then smiled. ‘I’ve been to church.’ She put lard in the pan.
It was the last answer Lucy had expected. ‘St George’s early communion? You do surprise me.’
Her mother did not answer but began to sing very softly, “‘Ave Maria …’”
Almost instantly Lucy realised where she had been. ‘He’ll hit the roof,’ she whispered.
The singing stopped and Maureen said, tight-lipped, ‘Then we won’t tell him, will we?’ She resumed singing again, louder this time.
Overhead came the sound of Barney vamping on the piano. The fat hissed as Maureen placed several rashers of bacon in the pan. ‘But what if he finds out?’ whispered Lucy.
Maureen glanced over her shoulder at her daughter. ‘He’s not a violent man is Barney. Now, no more questions.’ This time when she began to sing it was ‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling’.
Lucy gave up. It was a relief to see her mother cheerful after months of misery. She only hoped it would continue.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Can I have a wireless or a gramophone as a little present this Christmas to cheer me up?’ Maureen’s teeth crunched on a slice of toast as she looked across the table at her husband.
‘I didn’t hear that,’ said Barney, without lowering the newspaper.
Lucy’s eyes went from one to the other of them and she wondered how long her mother could keep secret her visits to her old church. So far she had managed it by attending St George’s on Sundays and St Anthony’s in the week. Maureen had managed to pull herself together so much she had even dispensed with Mrs Davies’ services. Barney had protested, saying she was an excellent cook, having a way with leeks he particularly liked, but Maureen could be just as stubborn as he was and reminded him in honeyed tones he had told her it was her task to organise the running of the household. There was no need for a cook now she was her old self again. He had given in, but with unaccustomed ill grace.
Maureen rose and went the other side of the table to loop her arms round her husband’s neck. ‘Don’t get prickly, darlin’! Most people have one or the other these days. I could listen to music while you and Lucy are out at work. Liverpool’s had its own station for over a year, and if the Lord Mayor of Liverpool’s in favour of it I don’t know why you have to be against it?’
He sighed heavily and, gripping both her hands, removed them from his heck. ‘I credited you with so
me sense. I’m a musician and the wireless and the gramophone are death to musicians.’
Maureen straightened and her eyes glinted. ‘That’a lie! I’ve been told Jack Hylton and his orchestra are relayed all the way from London on the wireless. It’s a miracle, so it is, like aeroplanes being able to stay up in the air!’
Lucy couldn’t resist tossing in her two pennyworth. ‘Musicians can make a fortune performing on gramophone records these days. Music you can dance to.’
‘Jazz!’ said Barney, exasperated. ‘That’s jungle music, and from what I’ve read about the bright young things I’d say it’s not decent. There’ll be none of that dancing in this house.’
‘What about singing?’ said Maureen, resuming her seat. ‘There’s the Great Caruso – George Robey – Harry Lauder!’
‘I’ve heard their recordings. They’re rubbish, all crackly. Don’t do credit to them. I prefer them live!’
‘The latest recordings aren’t like that,’ said Lucy, pouring herself another cup of tea. ‘They’re electrical and are lovely and clear. I’ve heard them at Dilys’s aunt’s.’ Barney sighed. ‘“Et tu, Brute?” He raised his newspaper.
Lucy and Maureen looked at each other and then pulled faces at the newspaper. “‘Charleston, Charleston,”’ sang Lucy.
Her stepfather lowered his newspaper again. ‘American! It has no style. The waltz at least has grace and a decent tempo but these others crossing the Atlantic…’ He shuddered. ‘Men and women dancing at each other, not with each other. It doesn’t seem right. Not that I’ve ever done much in the way of dancing.’
‘You should try,’ said Maureen, winking at her daughter. ‘What about a clog dance?’
Barney’s face stiffened and his nostrils flared. ‘That’s not funny.’
‘Sorry,’ said his wife meekly.
Lucy wondered what had got into her but perhaps Mam was right and it was a pity Barney had never tried to dance, even though she guessed it would be tremendously difficult and not at all graceful. Lucy’s mind wandered to the other Thursday when she’d had one of her rare nights off. She and Dilys had attended the penny hop at St Polycarp’s church hall on Netherfield Road and had great fun. Owen had turned up and despite a barbed remark about her mother sacking his, he’d asked Lucy to dance during the Gentlemen’s Excuse Me. She’d accepted because he was a natural dancer and despite Dilys’ moody expression had accepted another invitation to foxtrot.
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