Laceys Of Liverpool

by Maureen Lee

  Maeve must have been having the same thoughts. ‘You really appreciate your own family in situations like this,’ she whispered. ‘I shall never feel irritated again if Martin changes Christopher’s nappy wrongly or complains about the car.’ He still did occasionally.

  ‘We’re ever so lucky, sis.’ Fion sighed. ‘We’ve got everything.’

  ‘I know, but it’s a pity it takes a tragedy to make us realise it.’

  Sunday afternoon, and Micky and Alice were persuaded to go home and rest. Jerry drove them. It was still raining heavily and the clouds were even greyer than they’d been the day before. Jerry stopped at the end of Pearl Street, where Micky got out, and Alice said quickly, ‘I think I’ll go and see Bernadette before she leaves for the hospital. She sent a message to say she was going this avvy.’

  ‘Are you sure? I’ll take you home if you prefer. It’s no trouble.’

  ‘It’s kind of you, Jerry, luv. But I prefer Bootle to Birkdale at the moment. Anyroad, me own car’s around here somewhere.’ She couldn’t possibly go back to her smart bungalow at a time like this, even though she would have liked to get rid of her hat, collect a mac and change her suit for something more comfortable. She got out of the car, kissed Micky and almost ran, not to Bernadette’s, but to the dark, silent salon in Opal Street, where she let herself in and sat under the middle dryer –something she hadn’t done in years.

  She hadn’t realised she was quite so tired. Almost immediately, she fell awkwardly asleep, a sleep full of horrible dreams, which she couldn’t remember when she woke up, but she knew her mind had been preoccupied with things unpleasant.

  Jaysus! Would the rain never stop! She could see nothing, not even her watch, because by now it was completely dark, but the downpour sounded even heavier, as if the rain was bouncing off the pavements.

  It would have been better to have gone to Bernadette’s, where she could have slept in a proper bed, had something decent to eat, not be stuck here with nothing but her own miserable thoughts to keep her company.

  Mind you, what other thoughts could you expect to have at a time like this? Alice found herself dredging up every single memory she could of Orla. Orla being born, walking for the first time, saying her first word, her first day at school – she’d come home and informed her mother she was the prettiest in the class, as well as the cleverest.

  ‘Arrogant little madam.’ Danny chuckled when he was told – she’d been her grandad’s favourite, as well as John’s. Alice had never had a favourite. She loved all her children the same and would have felt just as devastated had any one of them been in hospital in a coma.

  ‘Oh, I feel so sad!’ The sadness rolled up into a ball at the back of her throat. In a minute she’d make a cup of tea – except there’d be no milk. At weekends Patsy usually took home what was over in case it went sour.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to turn the light on, go round to Bernie’s who might be home again by now. She was only making it worse, sitting by herself in the pitch dark, longing for a drink. She was about to heave herself out of the chair when the key turned in the lock and someone came in. She held her breath. It was a man, she could just make out his bulky form against the window.

  He reached for the light, turned it on and uttered a startled cry when he saw her. ‘Alice! I am feeling a definite sense of déjà vu.’

  ‘Who are you?’ For some reason, she didn’t feel the least bit frightened.

  ‘Have I changed so much?’ the man said dejectedly.

  She stared at him. He wore a well-cut tweed suit and looked about fifty. Once he had been handsome, still was in a way, but his face was deeply lined, his expression careworn. Iron-grey hair, slightly receding and wet from the rain, was combed back from his forehead in little waves. He was smiling and it was a nice smile that involved his entire face, including his very blue eyes, which were dancing merrily in her direction. Despite everything that was happening in her life, despite the fact that she didn’t recognise the man from Adam and he had just walked uninvited into her salon, that somehow he had a key, Alice smiled back.

  ‘I remember doing precisely the same thing,’ the man said. ‘Coming in, finding you in the dark – oh, it must be twenty years ago. You gave me a fright then. Mind you, this time I deserve it.’

  ‘Neil!’ She stared at him in disbelief. Suddenly he looked achingly familiar and she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t known him straight away.

  ‘Whew! Recognition at last. How are you, my dear Alice? If you knew how many times I have longed for this moment you would be deeply flattered.’ He came and sat beside her.

  ‘How did you get in?’ she stammered. ‘Well, I know how you got in. I mean, how did you get the key? No one’s supposed to have it.’

  He dangled the key in front of her eyes. It was attached to a St Christopher medal keyring that she remembered well. ‘This is my original key. I forgot to give it back and have kept it all these years. I was hoping it would fit, that you hadn’t had the lock changed, because I wanted to see the flat. I intended sneaking in and out so no one would know I’d been, but you seem to make a habit of sitting under a dryer in the dark.’

  ‘What if there’d been someone living upstairs?’

  ‘I knew there wasn’t,’ he said surprisingly. ‘I heard from a friend in Bootle that the flat was vacant, but when I phoned I was told it was badly in need of decoration. I wanted to see exactly how bad it was in case I could manage it myself.’

  ‘Patsy said someone had phoned.’ Alice frowned. ‘Have you taken up painting and decorating?’

  ‘Only of the upstairs flat.’ His smile faded. ‘Things haven’t gone exactly well for me over the last few years, Alice. In fact, nothing’s gone well since I left Liverpool all those years ago. I suddenly decided I’d like a little bolt-hole to hide in when I felt particularly low. And what better place than the one where I spent the happiest years of my life.’

  They’d been happy years for her too. Looking back, the time they’d spent together seemed unreal. The flat had also been her bolt-hole, a place where she’d felt able to leave all her troubles outside and relax in Neil’s arms. It felt like a million years ago.

  ‘Would you mind having me as your upstairs tenant a second time?’ he was saying. ‘It would only be for occasional weekends.’

  ‘I don’t think I would mind that at all, Neil,’ she said, and wondered if she was still dreaming and, if so, how much of the past had been a dream and how much had actually happened. At what point in her life would she wake up?

  He smiled at her delightedly. ‘Well, now that’s settled, enough about me. What about you, Alice. How are Cormac and the girls and your multitude of grandchildren? How many do you have now?’

  ‘Seven,’ she said automatically. ‘No, eight.’ She’d forgotten about the tiny girl who’d been born the night before. Her eyes filled with tears when she thought about Orla, whom, incredibly, she’d almost forgotten since Neil had arrived. Just as she had done the other time he found her in the dark, Alice started to cry. She told him about Orla, the baby in the incubator, the wedding yesterday. Time fell away, the years merged to nothing, as he held her hand, patted her cheek and agreed that it was all quite unbearably sad, but that one day, a long time off, it would be bearable again, incredible though that might seem right now.

  ‘God works in mysterious ways that I don’t pretend to understand,’ he said.

  ‘Me neither.’ She sighed. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Just gone nine.’

  She must have been asleep for hours. Her neck ached from having been in an uncomfortable position and she had pins and needles in her legs. ‘I’d better be getting back to the hospital.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’

  ‘Oh, yes, please’. She didn’t care if it sounded too eager, she just wanted him there. She didn’t care about anything much at the moment. It didn’t matter that she was fifty-seven and he was ten years younger. It didn’t matter if they got back together
again though she had a feeling it was what he wanted. Nor did it matter if they didn’t. It would be nice to have him in the upstairs flat again, but if it all fell through, that didn’t matter either.

  Nothing mattered except the moment, now, when she was about to return to the hospital to see her child who would shortly die.

  She got tiredly to her feet and went over to the window. The street lights were reflected, wobbling slightly, in the wet pavements. ‘It’s stopped raining,’ she remarked. ‘The stars are out.’ She noticed that Neil’s bones creaked as he came to stand beside her. Together, they watched the stars.

  Then one star, more vivid than the others, left its mates and shot across the sky. Alice turned off the light so she could observe more clearly the bright, twinkling point passing over the earth, soaring silently towards who knew where. She pointed. ‘See that one! It must be a shooting star.’

  ‘I can’t see anything.’ Neil shook his head.

  Alice knew then that Orla was dead and, for the Laceys, nothing would ever be the same again. The star had been her daughter’s final flamboyant gesture to the world.

  She held her breath. One day, very soon, she would go abroad, to a place that Orla would have enjoyed. She would go by herself, but she wouldn’t feel lonely, because Orla would be with her in her heart. She’d like that.

  ‘I hope Micky was with her when she passed away,’ she murmured softly. ‘Or at least I hope he saw the star.’

  MAUREEN LEE

  MAUREEN LEE IS ONE OF THE BEST-LOVED SAGA WRITERS AROUND. All her novels are set in Liverpool and the world she evokes is always peopled with characters you’ll never forget. Her familiarity with Liverpool and its people brings the terraced streets and tight-knit communities vividly to life in her books. Maureen is a born storyteller and her many fans love her for her powerful tales of love and life, tragedy and joy in Liverpool.

  The Girl from Bootle

  Born into a working-class family in Bootle, Liverpool, Maureen Lee spent her early years in a terraced house near the docks – an area that was relentlessly bombed during the Second World War. As a child she was bombed out of the house in Bootle and the family were forced to move.

  Maureen left her convent school at 15 and wanted to become an actress. However, her shocked mother, who said that it was ‘as bad as selling your body on the streets’, put her foot down and Maureen had to give up her dreams and go to secretarial college instead.

  As a child, Maureen

  was bombed out of

  her terraced house

  in Bootle

  Family Life

  A regular theme in her books is the fact that apparently happy homes often conceal pain and resentment and she sometimes draws on her own early life for inspiration. ‘My mother always seemed to disapprove of me – she never said “well done” to me. My brother was the favourite,’ Maureen says.

  I know she would

  never have approved

  of my books

  As she and her brother grew up they grew apart. ‘We just see things differently in every way,’ says Maureen. This, and a falling out during the difficult time when her mother was dying, led to an estrangement that has lasted 24 years. ‘Despite the fact that I didn’t see eye-to-eye with my mum, I loved her very much. I deserted my family and lived in her flat in Liverpool after she went into hospital for the final time. My brother, who she thought the world of, never went near. Towards the end when she was fading she kept asking where he was. To comfort her, I had to pretend that he’d been to see her the day before, which was awful. I found it hard to get past that.’

  Freedom – Moving on to a Family of Her Own

  Maureen is well known for writing with realism about subjects like motherhood: ‘I had a painful time giving birth to my children – the middle one was born in the back of a two-door car. So I know things don’t always go as planned.’

  My middle son was

  born in the back

  of a car

  The twists and turns of Maureen’s life have been as interesting as the plots of her books. When she met her husband, Richard, he was getting divorced, and despite falling instantly in love and getting engaged after only two weeks, the pair couldn’t marry. Keen that Maureen should escape her strict family home, they moved to London and lived together before marrying. ‘Had she known, my mother would never have forgiven me. She never knew that Richard had been married before.’ The Lees had to pretend they were married even to their landlord. Of course, they did marry as soon as possible and have had a very happy family life.

  Success at Last

  Despite leaving school at fifteen, Maureen was determined to succeed as a writer. Like Kitty in Kitty and Her Sisters and Millie in Dancing in the Dark, she went to night school and ended up getting two A levels. ‘I think it’s good to “better yourself”. It gives you confidence,’ she says. After her sons grew up she had the time to pursue her dream, but it took several years and a lot of disappointment before she was successful. ‘I was determined to succeed. My husband was one hundred per cent supportive. I wrote

  ‘I think it’s good to

  “better yourself”.

  It gives you confidence’

  lots of articles and short stories. I also started a saga which was eventually called Stepping Stones. Then Orion commissioned me to finish it, it was published – and you know the rest.’

  What are your memories of your early years in Bootle?

  Of being poor, but not poverty-stricken. Of women wearing shawls instead of coats. Of knowing everybody in the street. Of crowds gathering outside houses in the case of a funeral or a wedding, or if an ambulance came to collect a patient, who was carried out in a red blanket. I longed to be such a patient, but when I had diptheria and an ambulance came for me, I was too sick to be aware of the crowds. There were street parties, swings on lamp-posts, hardly any traffic, loads of children playing in the street, dogs without leads. Even though we didn’t have much money, Christmas as a child was fun. I’m sure we appreciated our few presents more than children do now.

  What was it like being young in Liverpool in the 1950s?

  The late fifties were a wonderful time for my friends and me. We had so many places to go: numerous dance halls, The Philharmonic Hall, The Cavern Club, theatres, including The Playhouse where you could buy tickets for ninepence. We were crushed together on benches at the very back. As a teenager I loved the theatre – I was in a dramatic society. I also used to make my own clothes, which meant I could have the latest fashions in just the right sizes, which I loved. Sometimes we’d go on boat trips across the water to New Brighton or on the train to Southport. We’d go for the day and visit the fairground and then go to the dance hall in the evening.

  We clicked instantly

  and got engaged two

  weeks later

  I met Richard at a dance when he asked my friend Margaret up. When she came back she said ‘Oh, he was nice.’ And then somebody else asked her to dance – she was very glamorous, with blonde hair – still is, as it happens. So Richard asked me to dance because she had gone! We clicked instantly and got engaged two weeks later. I’m not impulsive generally, but I just knew that he was the one.

  Do you consider yourself independent and adventurous like Annemarie in The Leaving of Liverpool or Kitty in Kitty and her Sisters?

  In some ways. In the late fifties, when I was 16, Margaret and I hitchhiked to the Continent. It was really, really exciting. We got a lift from London to Dover on the back of a lorry. We sat on top of stacks of beer crates – we didn’t half get cold! We ended up sleeping on the side of the road in Calais because we hadn’t found a hotel. We travelled on to Switzerland and got jobs in the United Nations in Geneva as secretaries. It was a great way to see the world. I’ve no idea what inspired us to go. I think we just wanted some adventure, like lots of my heroines.

  Your books often look at the difficult side

  of family relationships. What experiences

 
do you draw on when you write about

  that?

  I didn’t always find it easy to get on with my mother because she held very rigid views. She was terribly ashamed when I went to Europe. She said ‘If you leave this house you’re not coming back!’ But when we got to Switzerland we got fantastic wages at the United Nations –about four times as much as we got at home. When I wrote and told her she suddenly forgave me and went around telling everybody, ‘Our Maureen’s working at the United Nations in Geneva.’

  ‘If you leave this

  house you’re not

  coming back!’

  She was very much the kind of woman who worried what the neighbours would think. When we moved to Kirby, our neighbours were a bit posher than us and at first she even hung our curtains round the wrong way, so it was the neighbours who would see the pattern and we just had the inside to look at. It seems unbelievable now, but it wasn’t unusual then –my mother-in-law was even worse. When she bought a new three-piece she covered every bit of it with odd bits of curtaining so it wouldn’t wear out – it looked horrible.

  My mother-in-law was a strange woman. She hated the world and everyone in it. We had a wary sort of relationship. She gave Richard’s brother an awful life – she was very controlling and he never left home. She died in the early nineties and for the next few years my kind, gentle brother-in-law had a relationship with a wonderful woman who ran an animal sanctuary. People tend to keep their family problems private but you don’t have to look further than your immediate neighbours to see how things really are and I try to reflect that in my books.