It's Now or Never

by June Francis

  ‘I wonder what happened to them?’ she murmured.

  Two

  Roberta Donegan was hurrying past the hospital on Myrtle Street, wishing that on this day of all days her mother had not arranged for them to meet at the milk bar in Lycee Street. Her cheeks were flushed with cold and several snowflakes landed on her nose. Her auburn fringe curled damply beneath the rim of her navy-blue school hat. She wore a blazer over a cardigan, beneath which she was clad in a gym slip, blouse and tie. Above her knee-length grey stockings, her legs were goose-pimpled and her feet were freezing in clumpy black leather shoes.

  She would have felt even more chilled if it were not for the navy-blue and gold striped school scarf which she had shoved inside her blazer, criss-crossing the ends so it kept the worst of the cold from her chest. Her mother, Lynne, was always fretting about keeping warm because she had suffered from pneumonia when Roberta was a toddler and even her grandmother had a bad chest, mostly due to the Woodbines of which she’d been so fond, but her Nan’s wheezing and chesty cough played a daily, rattling warning of the pitfalls of not looking after yourself.

  Thinking of her great-grandmother made Roberta feel sad and tears pricked her eyes. Dear Nan, who had led such an interesting life and had so many tales to tell of her days as a dresser in the theatre. The one that Roberta liked best was about when she was a tiny baby and had slept in a box which Nan and Lynne had carried with them from place to place on their travels with the repertory theatre. It had all come to an end just after the war, when her mother had fallen ill.

  Suddenly Roberta slipped in the snow and her heart jumped with fright. Concentrate on where you’re putting your feet, she told herself. She thought how it would have been so much simpler for her to catch the number 25 bus outside school as usual and go straight home. That way she and her mother could have visited a local cinema instead of one in town. The thing was that Lynne enjoyed coming into town and so this evening was really to be a treat for both of them. It was Roberta’s own fault, of course, that she was late, having forgotten to tell Lynne that the whole class would be kept in for detention that evening. Her mother was bound to be worrying because she was overprotective of her only daughter.

  Roberta guessed that it could not be helped because like many a war widow, her mother had brought her up without the help of a husband. There had certainly been no help from Robert Donegan’s side of the family, but maybe that was to be expected. After all they lived on the west coast of Ireland and her mother had never met them. As for Lynne’s parents, her father, Nan’s son, was dead and Lynne never spoke about her mother, except to say they had lost touch. Instead she had told her daughter more than once how she and Robert had fallen in love at first sight in an air-raid shelter here in Liverpool and, after a whirlwind romance, had married before his ship had sailed off into the blue – only for it to be torpedoed in the Atlantic.

  Suddenly Roberta felt herself slipping again and she only just managed to save herself from landing flat on her back by grabbing hold of a convenient lamp post. She swung round as she hung on, so she ended up facing the way she had come. It was then she saw the man. Hastily, she dug in her heels and managed to bring herself to a halt. Her heart felt as if it was bouncing about in her chest. For an instant her fingers itched for paper and a stick of charcoal, despite not being able to clearly make out his features due to the brim of his trilby shadowing the upper part of his face. Could it be the same man she’d seen outside her school on Grove Street earlier? She was sure he’d been wearing a black trilby and gaberdine mackintosh but was this one as tall? She hoped that she was mistaken in thinking that he could be following her and wasted no time going on her way.

  After a few minutes she decided that instead of crossing into Hardman Street when she reached the Philharmonic Hall, she would turn into Hope Street at the other end of which loomed the yet unfinished Anglican Cathedral. If he went straight on down to Lycee Street, then she would know that she was wrong in thinking that he could be following her.

  She strained her ears for the sound of his footfall crunching in the snow and yes, there was definitely someone walking behind her. She resisted glancing over her shoulder and her fingers tightened about one of the straps of her satchel. It was getting dark and the street was deserted. She considered risking running as fast as she could to get the hell out of there and then saw light shining through a window. She felt a flood of relief because it came from the coffee bar where Betty Booth, a student at the Art School, worked part time as a waitress. Due to Roberta’s love of art she and the older girl had struck up a friendship.

  She decided to take refuge inside. But before she could do so, the door opened and a woman in police uniform and a man came out. Roberta recognized him as Lenny Colman, a man in his early thirties, of medium height with a mop of thick brown hair, the owner of the coffee bar. The two were talking and then the policewoman noticed her. ‘Were you wanting to go inside, love?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, but …’ Roberta hesitated and glanced at Lenny. ‘Is Betty in there?’

  ‘No, you’ve just missed her. She’s got visitors this evening and has gone home a bit early,’ said Lenny.

  ‘Oh!’ Roberta could not conceal her disappointment. Then she realized that the policewoman was exactly the person she needed in the circumstances. ‘Perhaps you can help me, Constable,’ she said, dropping her voice.

  ‘What is it?’ asked the policewoman.

  ‘I think I’ve been followed from school by a man. There was one hanging around outside the gates.’

  ‘I see.’ The policewoman casually glanced up and down the street before asking, ‘Can you see him now? There’s a man walking in the direction of the cathedral and another in a doorway on the other side up towards Hardman Street, lighting a cigarette.’

  Roberta, feeling safer now that she had company, glanced in both directions. ‘I can’t say for certain that it’s either of them in this light. I can see they’re both wearing a trilby and a mackintosh but that’s all. I’m not much help, am I?’ she said wryly.

  The policewoman smiled faintly. ‘Did you get a good look at the man outside school?’

  ‘Not good enough to sketch a likeness, and when I spotted the man on Myrtle Street, the brim of his trilby cast a shadow over the upper part of his face.’

  The policewoman glanced at the badge on Roberta’s blazer. ‘I see you’re from Liverpool Girls College. What’s your name?’

  ‘Roberta Donegan.’

  ‘You’re a bit late going home from school, aren’t you, Roberta?’

  ‘Detention,’ she said succinctly, hoisting her satchel higher. ‘I shouldn’t even be here in Hope Street. I’m supposed to be meeting my mother in the milk bar on Lycee Street. Anyway, I decided to test whether the man was following me and when I decided he could be I realized I could take refuge here.’

  ‘You thought Betty could telephone the police?’ suggested the policewoman.

  ‘Yes, until you appeared with Lenny and I discovered she wasn’t here.’

  ‘Has she mentioned anything recently to you about a man hanging about outside here?’ she asked.

  Roberta shook her head. ‘No, but it’s not unknown, is it? A friend of mine said they come to eye up the girl students a-and …’ She paused, a blush on her cheeks, remembering talk about a man exposing himself.

  The policewoman eyed her sympathetically and Lenny said, ‘He’s a bloody nuisance and if I get my hands on him …’ His voice trailed off and he obviously altered what he had been about to say when he continued. ‘Anyway, now Constable Walker is aware of your little trouble, kid, she’ll sort it out.’

  ‘Too right I will,’ said Constable Walker firmly. ‘It’s not pleasant for young girls to be scared to walk the streets at this time of evening.’

  ‘I remember Nan telling me that she used to wear big hatpins and she kept one in the lapel of her coat,’ said Roberta. ‘She was ready to use it if she was attacked when she left the theatre in the dark.’


  The policewoman smiled. ‘I’d recommend carrying a small pepper drum with you.’

  Roberta nodded. ‘Mam worries about Teddy Boys … which reminds me, she’ll be waiting for me.’

  ‘I’ll walk with you down to the milk bar just to make certain that you’re OK,’ said Constable Walker. ‘See you, Lenny!’

  He raised a hand and said, ‘See you around, Hester.’

  ‘You’ll tell Betty I’m sorry to have missed her,’ said Roberta.

  ‘Sure, kid,’ he said.

  Roberta thanked him and then turned to Hester. ‘I really appreciate this, Constable.’

  ‘Right, shall we go?’ Hester set off in the direction of the Philharmonic Hall and Roberta fell into step beside her. ‘Tell me what you and your mother are doing in town?’ asked Hester.

  ‘I’m celebrating my thirteenth birthday, so Mam’s giving me a treat. We don’t often get the chance to go out together because we don’t like leaving Nan alone. She hasn’t been well recently but she insisted – and seeing as how Mam was feeling flush because several customers have paid their bills, we’re going to the flicks. A neighbour is going to keep Nan company while we’re out.’

  ‘What does your mother do?’

  ‘She’s a dressmaker – a really good one! She gets that from Nan who used to be a dresser in the theatre because she was mad about the stage. But Mum’s always been handy with a needle and she also designs stuff as well as use other people’s patterns. She actually started out as a seamstress for one of the costumiers in Bold Street. Anyway, if you’re ever in need of a new outfit, styled individually at a decent price, then you know where to come,’ said Roberta, a hint of pride in her voice.

  Hester chuckled. ‘You’re not one to miss an opportunity, are you, Roberta?’

  ‘My friends call me Bobby. Mum’s name is Lynne.’ She changed the subject. ‘I love art, myself. Have you seen Betty’s paintings on the walls of the coffee bar? I’d like to study art, just like her. Do you know that she’s going to Italy?’

  Hester smiled. ‘Yes, I do. I’m friends with her half-sister, Emma. Also Betty is a friend of my half-sister, Jeanette. She told me all about how excited Betty is about her trip to Italy because Betty wants someone to take over her flat while she’s away and Jeanette wants to be that person. She’s visiting Betty this evening, along with the music group who will hopefully be playing at my wedding. One of the members is Italian and he sings like a dream.’

  ‘I’d like to hear him and I’d love to go to Italy and study art,’ murmured Roberta dreamily. ‘I like portraits best but I’d enjoy seeing sculptures as well as the architecture. Rome, Venice, Florence.’

  ‘I believe Betty is hoping to visit all those cities but she’s going to be based in a seaside town called Castellammare di Stabia on the Bay of Naples.’

  ‘So she told me.’ Roberta’s expression was rapt. ‘Apparently it’s about ten miles from Sorrento and has archaeological sites and spas and a castle. I’ve been told the scenery is sensational. Mount Vesuvius is the other side of the bay. We have a copy of a painting on a classroom wall called “Faithful unto Death”. The original painting by Edward Poynter is in the Walker Art Gallery.’ She drew breath. ‘I tried to copy the Roman soldier’s expression but it gave me nightmares! I dreamt I was trying to escape when the volcano erupted and Pompeii was destroyed.’ She stopped abruptly. ‘I’m babbling, aren’t I? But you have to admit that coping with snow seems pretty tame in comparison.’

  Hester smiled. ‘You’re certainly enthusiastic. I suppose Betty told you that there’s a painting by her father in the Walker?’

  ‘Yes, it’s of the Mersey and shipping. It’s interesting but I prefer paintings of people,’ said Roberta with a shrug. ‘But don’t go telling Betty that. She thinks her father’s the bees’ knees and wishes he hadn’t been killed at Dunkirk.’

  ‘She believes she takes after him,’ said Hester, and changed the subject. ‘Do you have any brothers and sisters?’

  ‘No, I’m an only child. Mum’s a widow, same as Nan. My father was a sailor and his ship was torpedoed in the Atlantic. We share a house in Lombard Street, off West Derby Road. We were lucky getting it. Nan’s cousin lived there so we moved in with her after the war. She died not so long ago. Do you know the area?’

  Hester smiled. ‘Yes, as it happens. I live within five minutes’ walk of Lombard Street. How’s that for a coincidence? Also, our Jeanette works part-time at the milk bar where you’re meeting your mum. It’s a small world.’ She came to a halt on the corner outside the Philharmonic Hall. ‘Can you see any sign of the man who might have followed you?’ she asked.

  Roberta gazed about her for any sign of a man in a raincoat wearing a black trilby who might look suspiciously like the one she had seen. ‘I can’t really say. There are several men about, but …’ She sighed. ‘You must consider me terribly indecisive.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Hester. ‘I’ll have a word with your mum and make a couple of suggestions. It’s possible your suspicions could be right, little as we’d like that to be true.’

  Roberta thanked her and they turned and headed down towards Lycee Street. ‘Mum’s not in favour of me going to Art School after I finish grammar school. She’d like me to do teacher training. She sees it as being a respectable and well-paid career.’

  ‘Thinks artists aren’t respectable, I suppose,’ said Hester seriously. ‘There are those who regard women being in the police force as unacceptable.’

  ‘Well, they’re wrong,’ said Roberta firmly.

  For several moments they walked on in silence and then the girl asked, ‘Have you seen the film Three Coins in the Fountain?’

  Hester said that she had and they continued to talk about films, Italy and art. What with being engrossed in their conversation, Roberta didn’t notice if they were being followed or not. It seemed to take no time at all to reach their destination.

  They entered the milk bar and a woman immediately stood up, leaving an empty plate and cup and saucer on the table where she had been sitting. She clutched a handbag and a book. ‘Where have you been, Bobby?’ she asked, hurrying towards them. ‘What’s happened?’ She gazed in alarm at Hester.

  Her daughter did not reply but smiled delightedly at Lynne, pleased with her because she was wearing her favourite coat of russet tweed, flecked with green and styled in the new A-line. On her neat little head she wore a mustard-coloured felt hat with a cream artificial flower tucked in the brim. What Roberta did not approve of was the metal-rimmed spectacles which made Lynne look older and studious and concealed eyes which were a stunning blue.

  ‘Constable Walker, this is my mother, Lynne Donegan,’ said Roberta.

  ‘Mrs Donegan,’ said Hester, offering a hand. ‘Don’t you be worrying. Your daughter hasn’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Lynne, looking relieved. ‘Not that I thought for one moment that she’d broken the law.’ She shook Hester’s hand. ‘Perhaps you’d like to explain, Constable Walker?’

  They dropped hands. ‘Your daughter thought she was being followed, so I decided I’d best keep her company and deliver her to you,’ said Hester.

  Lynne stared at her daughter in dismay. ‘What does Constable Walker mean followed? Who was following you? It’s not a lad, is it? You’re far too young to get involved with boys. What about your schooling?’

  Bright colour flooded Roberta’s face. ‘You’re obsessed with the idea of me getting involved with boys, Mam. Cross my heart, it was a man and I don’t know where he went but I reckon he was scared off by the sight of Constable Walker.’ She darted a smile at Hester. ‘You don’t know this but she lives near us and knows Betty Booth and is a friend of her half-sister, Emma.’

  Lynne sighed. ‘I’m confused. Where did you meet Constable Walker? What’s all this about Betty Booth?’

  ‘We met outside the coffee bar where Betty works,’ said Hester. ‘Your daughter told me that she thought she had seen a
man loitering outside her school and that he might have followed her. I suggest, Mrs Donegan, that you have a word with the headmistress. Better to be safe than sorry.’

  ‘Thank you, Constable Walker. I’ll do that,’ said Lynne, her brow knitting. ‘I thought Liverpool would be a safer place once the war was over but it seems I’m wrong, what with these Teddy Boys to worry about, and recently I’ve heard of several shops being broken into. I think I’ll have to resort to doing what we did in the war and carry a hat pin with me.’

  Hester smiled. ‘Roberta told me you’re a widow.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Lynne smoothly. ‘I presume you’re not married, Constable Walker, or you wouldn’t be in the police force, doing an excellent job, no doubt.’

  ‘It’s good of you to say so. I followed in my father’s and brother’s footsteps. They’re both in the force, although Dad will be retiring soon and I’ll be leaving as I’m getting married at Easter.’

  ‘How lovely!’ exclaimed Lynne. ‘And where will you be living? It’s so difficult to get a house, what with so many being destroyed during the bombing.’

  ‘I’ll be moving to Whalley, a village further north. My mother died when I was only young and I was evacuated there for part of the war. That’s where I first met Emma and my future husband and I will be renting her cottage as she married Betty’s cousin and has moved to Formby.’

  ‘I’ve never lived in a village,’ said Lynne. ‘It’ll be a big change for you.’

  Hester agreed. ‘I have been spending a lot of time up there recently due to the cottage being renovated and I’ve had no time to do anything about my wedding gown.’ Hester paused. ‘Roberta told me that you’re a dressmaker.’

  ‘Yes!’ Lynne hesitated. ‘Perhaps you’d like one of my business cards. I know a lot more brides-to-be are buying their gowns off the peg these days but if you’d like—’

  ‘Something special!’ Hester smiled. ‘Yes, I’ll take one of your business cards, Mrs Donegan.’

  Lynne rummaged in her handbag and produced a card and handed it to Hester. ‘Just drop by any time. I’m home most days and if I’m not there my grandmother will be. You can leave a message with her and let me know if I can be of help to you. Just be patient if she can’t get to the door quick enough. She’s not been well recently.’