Laceys Of Liverpool

by Maureen Lee

  ‘I usually make her a bite to eat for breakfast and dinner, and her friend, Mrs Glaister, comes round every day to make her tea and put her to bed. She’s written to Myrtle’s daughter in Southampton to say she needs looking after permanent.’

  ‘You’ll soon be out of a job, then?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  Olive Cousins, Myrtle’s daughter, took her time coming from Southampton. It was over four weeks later, at the beginning of February, that she turned up; a sharp-faced woman in her fifties, wearing too much pink face powder and a beaver lamb coat that smelt of mothballs. Even then, she didn’t go straight upstairs. Alice was in the middle of a perm and was forced to listen while she explained in a dead posh voice, that occasionally lapsed into broad Scouse, that Christmas had been so hectic she was fair worn out and had needed time to recuperate. Her son had been home from university, her daughter had not long married a doctor and his parents had come to stay – she emphasised ‘university’ and ‘doctor’, in the obvious hope Alice would be impressed. Alice was, but decided not to show it. She disliked Olive Cousins on the spot.

  ‘Where is mother?’ Olive enquired, glancing around the salon as if expecting mother to pop up from beneath a chair.

  ‘Upstairs, in bed,’ Alice replied briefly.

  ‘Well, I don’t like the look of her,’ the recipient of the perm announced as Olive Cousins’s high heels clattered up the lino-covered stairs.

  She stayed for three days, eating and sleeping in a bed and breakfast place on Marsh Lane, not that anyone blamed her for that, considering the state of upstairs. On the second day she came into the salon and announced that next morning she was taking mother back with her to Southampton.

  ‘That’s nice of you,’ Alice remarked, revising her opinion of the woman, but not for long. Myrtle would be going into an old people’s home in a strange part of the country where none of her friends and neighbours could visit. It was, however, more convenient for her daughter.

  ‘She couldn’t possibly live with us, there isn’t the room, and I can’t be doing with travelling halfway across the country every time something goes wrong.’

  ‘You’ll let us have the address, won’t you? Of the home, that is, so we can write to her.’

  ‘Of course. It’ll be nice for her to get letters, but I doubt if she’ll be up to reading them,’ Olive said brightly, as if they were discussing the weather not her mother’s health. ‘Now, about the salon. I’d been expecting to sell it as a going concern, but’ – her lip curled – ‘no one would give tuppence for a dump like this, so I’ve written to the company that owns the premises. The salon will close today.’

  ‘Today!’ Alice’s mouth dropped open. She probably looked dead stupid. The thing was, the appointment book was full for weeks ahead, and quite a few women had booked months in advance for weddings and the like. There was a sinking feeling in her belly. She’d have to put a notice on the door.

  ‘Today,’ Olive Cousins repeated firmly. ‘I don’t doubt you’d have liked more notice, but you must have seen this coming for a long time.’

  ‘I suppose I have.’

  ‘Of course, you could always take the place over, assuming you could afford the lease.’

  ‘What’s a lease?’ Alice felt even more stupid.

  ‘Like rent, only more long term,’ Olive explained brusquely, obviously realising that if someone didn’t know what a lease was it was unlikely they could afford it. ‘Mother appears to have signed a new seven-year lease only last year and it still has six years to run. There was a letter upstairs from the property company asking for this year’s payment and complaining about the state of the place. Me mam, I mean mother, hasn’t kept it properly maintained.’ She sniffed derisively. ‘Instead, she’s let it go to rack and ruin.’

  ‘She hasn’t exactly been well,’ Alice said. ‘How much is the lease?’

  ‘A hundred and seventy-five pounds for seven years. That’s cheap at the price. My hubbie’s in business, so I should know. Mam, mother, paid at the rate of twenty-five pounds a year.’

  Twenty-five pounds! Alice had never even seen twenty-five pounds. She glanced around the shabby room and imagined the walls repainted – mauve would look nice – new curtains on the windows, new oilcloth on the floor. The chairs needed upholstering, but could be patched up for now, and the dryers looked as if they’d come out of the ark, but a good polishing would bring them up a treat. She wasn’t sure what came over her when she said to Olive Cousins, ‘Have you posted the letter yet to the property company?’

  ‘It’s in me, my bag, to post as soon as I go outside.’

  ‘Would you mind leaving it till morning? If I’m not round by nine o’clock, post it then.’

  The wireless was on in the living room of number eight Garnet Street. Geraldo and his orchestra were playing a selection of Cole Porter songs.

  ‘Night and day,’ Danny Mitchell hummed as he ironed his favourite shirt: blue and white striped with pearl buttons. He grinned as he thought about the evening ahead. In an hour’s time he would call for Phyllis Henderson, a widow in her forties. They would go to the pub, have a few drinks, Phyllis would play hard to get, but end up inviting him back to her house for a mug of cocoa and thence into her bed.

  Danny had a well-deserved reputation as a ladies’ man. During the ten years he’d been married to his beloved Renee and the ten years after Renee’s death, when he’d had a daughter to bring up, Danny had never given another woman a second glance, but then Alice had got married and he began to sow his wild oats, if rather late.

  He was fifty-one, an electrician on the docks, and as lean and fit as a man half his age, with a full head of wavy hair the same colour as his daughter’s. There was nothing particularly handsome about his face, but he had a quirky smile that people found attractive and a look in his blue eyes that made women go weak at the knees. There were numerous widows and spinsters in Bootle whose main aim in life was to tie the knot with Danny Mitchell.

  ‘Night and Day’ ended. ‘You were never lovelier,’ Danny sang under his breath. He was thinking of Phyllis in her black satin nightie when the back door opened and his daughter came in. All thoughts of Phyllis and the evening ahead fled from his mind and he looked anxiously at the face of his only child. He was relieved to see her eyes were brighter than they’d been in a long while. Perhaps things had started to improve between her and John.

  ‘I’ve brought a couple of mince pies, Dad. There was mincemeat in a jar left over from Christmas.’ She put a paper bag on the table. ‘They’re still warm.’

  ‘Ta, luv. I’ll have them in a minute. There’s tea in the pot if you fancy a cup. Pour one for me, if you don’t mind. I’ve only got the cuffs of this to do.’ He turned the cuffs back, ready for the studs, and hung the shirt behind the door. Then he folded the badly singed blanket he used to iron on, put it away and took the iron into the yard where he left it on the step to cool, by which time Alice had poured the tea. They sat opposite each other across the table, Alice in the place where her mother used to sit.

  ‘How’s Cormac getting on at school?’ Danny asked the same question every day since his grandson had started, mainly because he liked hearing the answer.

  ‘As I said before, Dad, he’s taken to reading like a duck takes to water. The teacher’s ever so pleased. He was sitting up in bed looking at a book when I left.’

  ‘Good.’ He smacked his lips with satisfaction. His grandson had always lived in the shadow of his cousin, Maurice, and it was nice to know Cormac was better at something for a change. From what he could gather Maurice was only average at school.

  ‘Our Orla wants to see you to ask about the Great War. It’s something they’re doing at school.’

  ‘Tell her to come round Saturday. I’ll get some cakes in.’ He would never have admitted it to a soul but Orla, with her enthusiasms and quick temper, was his favourite of the girls. He was already looking forward to Saturday.

  ‘You’ll do no such thing,�
�� Alice remonstrated. ‘If you want cakes I’ll make ’em for you. I’ll send some round with Orla.’

  At the mention of cakes, Danny remembered the mince pies. He removed one from the bag, ate it with obvious enjoyment and quickly demolished the other.

  Alice regarded him suspiciously. ‘Have you had anything to eat since you came home from work?’

  ‘’Course, luv,’ he assured her. He could only be bothered with making himself a Piccalilli sarnie.

  ‘I wish you’d come round to ours for your meals.’

  ‘You’ve enough to do, luv, without having another mouth to feed. And I’m always there for me dinner on Sundays, aren’t I?’

  She reached across the table for his hand. The eyes that had seemed so bright when she came in had dulled. ‘I’d sooner you were there all the time.’ There was a catch in her voice. John was apt to mind his tongue in the presence of his father-in-law and it was nice to have someone on her side, someone who would never turn against her, no matter what happened.

  ‘It wouldn’t be right, Alice,’ Danny said gruffly. He knew why she wanted him, as a buffer between her and her husband, but the situation in Amber Street had to be worked out between the main participants. Lately, though, he felt increasingly tempted to give John Lacey a piece of his mind. It wasn’t right, him taking things out on the folks who loved him most, particularly when the folks concerned were his dearly beloved daughter and his grandchildren.

  Within the space of months, Danny had seen Alice turn from a happy, tranquil young woman into a sad, listless creature who rarely smiled. Lord knew how she’d feel when the hairdressing job went, which was likely to happen any minute. At least it provided some respite from the atmosphere at home. If only he could do something to put things right.

  Alice released his hand. ‘Anyroad, Dad. I’m here on the cadge.’

  ‘Just say the word, luv. What’s mine’s yours, you know that.’ He would have given his life for her and her children.

  ‘I need some money.’

  Danny didn’t show his surprise, though he knew John earned reasonable wages and had never kept her short. He dug into his pocket. ‘How much?’

  ‘I need more than you’ll be carrying in your pocket, Dad.’

  ‘Me wallet’s upstairs.’ He got up. ‘I’ll fetch it.’

  To his horror, she put her head in her hands and burst into tears. ‘I must be daft,’ she sobbed. ‘I must need me head examining. I told the woman to leave the letter till tomorrer, but I couldn’t get twenty-five pounds together in a month of Sundays, let alone a few hours.’

  He felt himself go pale. ‘Twenty-five pounds, luv? It’d take me all me time to scrape together five, and then I’d have to wait till tomorrer when I get paid. What the hell d’you need all that much for?’

  ‘For Myrtle’s. The salon’s closing, it already has, but I can take over the lease if I want. It costs twenty-five pounds. Oh, Dad!’ She turned and put her arms round his waist, pressing her face against his rough working shirt. ‘I’d give anything if Myrtle’s could be mine. I’m good at hairdressing, everyone ses. I’d’ve hated to leave, anyroad, but now, with the way things are at home . . .’

  ‘I know, luv,’ Danny said gently. His mind rapidly assessed his few possessions. What could he pawn? Nothing worth anything much, he realised. There was only the furniture, the bedding, oddments of crockery and cutlery, a few ornaments, his books. He felt guilty for having so many shirts, for not having put away a few bob a week for a rainy day. But he was a man who liked a good time, a man free with his money. His hand was always first in his pocket when it came to a round of drinks. He enjoyed buying presents for his grandchildren. He liked feminine company, perhaps a bit too much, and the various lady friends he’d had over the years hadn’t come cheap. There was a ten-shilling note in his wallet upstairs. At that minute he was worth about twelve and a tanner.

  ‘It’s so horrible at night, Dad.’ Alice’s hands tightened round him. ‘The girls go out, not that I blame them. I encourage them to. I put Cormac to bed as early as possible. He doesn’t mind if I leave the light on, so there’s just me and John downstairs. He won’t even have the wireless on nowadays. It’s as if he can’t stand anything cheerful. I stay in the back kitchen as much as possible, but there’s a limit to how long you can wash dishes and do a bit of baking for tomorrer, so I try to get on with some sewing. It’s hopeless trying to read. I can’t concentrate, knowing John’s glaring at me. Oh, Dad!’ she cried. ‘He accuses me of having affairs. He’s got this thing in his head that I’m having it off with other men. As if I would! He’s the only man I’ve ever wanted. Now Myrtle’s has gone,’ she groaned. ‘At least it was something to look forward to. I loved it there. It was like a fairy-tale world, all bright and shiny.’

  ‘There, there, luv.’ Dan stroked her hair. He’d definitely be having a word with John Lacey. He’d never known his daughter in such a state, as if she were at the end of her tether. He furiously tried to think of a way of getting twenty-five pounds and wondered if there was a bank he could rob and get away with it. He thought of a possible solution and his nose wrinkled with distaste. ‘What about asking that Cora woman?’ he said. He couldn’t abide Cora Lacey.

  ‘Cora!’ Alice stopped crying and looked at him. ‘It didn’t cross me mind. We’re not exactly friends.’

  ‘She’s never been exactly friends with anyone,’ Danny said curtly. ‘But she never seems short of a few bob, though Christ knows where it comes from. Billy earns a pittance clearing bomb sites. There’s no way he could afford to pay for a house in Garibaldi Road.’

  ‘She works for the landlord, Horace Flynn,’ Alice explained. ‘She does his books, whatever that involves. I suppose he let her have the house as a favour.’ Horace Flynn was one of the most notorious landlords in Bootle, who chucked people on to the streets without so much as the blink of a fat eyelid.

  ‘I reckon it involves more than doing his books.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ She sounded shocked. ‘You’ve got a dirty mind. I’ve never known anyone so strait-laced as Cora.’ She put a finger thoughtfully to her chin. ‘I might go round and ask her. It won’t do any harm. All she can do is say no.’

  ‘And she might say yes. Would you like me to come with you?’ He entirely forgot about Phyllis Henderson.

  ‘No, ta, Dad. It would be best if I went on me own.’

  ‘You’d better get a move on. It’s almost half past seven. Does John know where you are?’

  ‘I said I was coming round to yours with the mince pies.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘He probably thinks they’re for one of me secret lovers. I’ll be cross-examined when I get back, particularly if I’m late.’

  ‘Does he know about the twenty-five pounds?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, he might have stopped me coming if he had. John doesn’t like me working no more. He wants me safely at home where I can’t get up to mischief.’

  Danny Mitchell swallowed an expletive. He hadn’t realised things were quite so bad. ‘He won’t be all that pleased if Cora comes up with the cash and you start the hairdressing on your own,’ he said cautiously, worried that Alice was getting into a situation that would only make things worse.

  ‘I don’t care, Dad.’ Her face tightened in a way he’d never seen before. ‘I’m entitled to something out of life and I’m not getting it now. I wish with all my heart John had never had the accident. I love him, I always will, but I’ve given up trying to make him believe it. He’s impossible to live with, so I’ll just have to make a life for meself outside the house.’

  Danny hadn’t thought his normally timid daughter capable of such determination. He nodded approvingly. ‘Right thing too, luv.’

  Come in,’ Cora said in surprise when she opened the door and found her sister-in-law on the step.

  Alice rarely came to Garibaldi Road, mainly because she was rarely asked and Cora wasn’t the sort of person you dropped in on uninvited for a jangle.

  ‘What can I do for you?�
� Cora asked when they were seated in the nicely furnished living room, as if she realised it wasn’t a social visit and Alice had only come for a purpose for which an explanation was due.

  ‘Where’s Billy?’ She didn’t want John’s brother blundering in.

  ‘At the pub, where else?’ Cora sneered.

  Alice nodded. ‘Right. I want to borrow some money,’ she said bluntly. She wasn’t prepared to beat about the bush, engage in chit-chat to pass the time, then tactfully come up with a request for a loan.

  ‘Really!’ Cora laughed. It must be for something of very great importance. Under normal circumstances, Alice wouldn’t have asked her for the time of day, let alone money. ‘What for?’

  In a cool voice Alice explained about Myrtle’s. ‘I’ll pay you back the twenty-five pounds as soon as possible with a fee on top, for borrowing it, like.’

  ‘You mean interest?’

  ‘Do I?’ Alice said, confused.

  ‘Interest is what you pay for borrowing money.’

  ‘Then I’ll pay interest.’

  ‘At what rate?’ Cora asked, in order to confuse her sister-in-law more.

  But Alice understood what Cora was up to. ‘At whatever rate you say,’ she replied, cool again.

  The older woman smiled unpleasantly. ‘Why should I loan you a penny?’

  ‘Because you’ll make a penny in return.’

  Cora smiled again. Then her voice became hard. ‘It would have to be a business arrangement.’

  ‘That’s all right by me,’ Alice said nonchalantly. Inwardly, she was desperately trying to keep her wits about her. She didn’t trust Cora Lacey as far as she could throw her and wished she had taken up Dad’s offer to come with her. What on earth was a business arrangement?

  ‘I’ll lend you the twenty-five quid, but I’ll draw up an agreement and we’ll both sign to say we’ll share the profits till the loan’s paid back.’