by June Francis
Hester smiled. ‘I’d appreciate that.’
‘Will you be having a honeymoon?’ asked Lynne.
‘We’re not sure about that yet. If so it would probably be just a couple of days up in the Lake District. Were you thinking I might want a going-away costume?’
Lynne smiled. ‘It’s usual. You could take my portfolio with my personal designs home with you if you like?’
‘Thanks, that would be lovely.’
‘Another cup of tea?’ asked Lynne.
‘No thanks. It’s time I was going,’ said Hester. ‘I’ve more shopping to do and work later.’
Lynne stood up and took a slip of paper and a pencil from the mantelpiece. ‘What about your address?’
Hester reached for the pencil and paper and wrote it down. ‘I’m only five minutes away.’
So you are, thought a pleased Lynne.
After she had closed the door behind Hester, Lynne went upstairs to her grandmother’s bedroom. ‘You ready to get up, Nan?’
The old woman gazed at her from faded blue eyes. ‘So, have you a new customer?’
‘I think so,’ said Lynne slowly. ‘She seemed interested and I’m going to get some material samples and do a drawing, redesigning a gown slightly.’
‘Well, that’s promising.’
‘She’s friendly and seems to know what she wants.’ Lynne perched on the side of the bed. ‘Apparently her brother’s girlfriend is the actress Dorothy Wilson. Does it ring a bell at all, Nan?’
Nan’s hands twitched on the bedcover. ‘Can’t say it does. But I remember your mention of the name Booth the other evening. I knew an artist called Booth, used to paint the scenery at one of the theatres in Liverpool. It was owned by his grandmother if I remember right.’
‘Perhaps he and Betty Booth are related. She’s studying art. I can’t say I know of any other Booths,’ said Lynne, helping her grandmother out of bed.
She wasted no time assisting Nan on with her vest, drawers, corset, lisle stockings, underskirt, tweed skirt and a blue twin set. But it wasn’t until the old woman was settled in front of the fire that Lynne brought her a warm soapy flannel for her to wash her face and hands and brushed her scanty white hair.
‘So did she say anything more about the man who followed Bobby?’ asked Nan.
‘Yes, she advised me again to go and speak to the headmistress about him hanging around outside the school.’
‘Better safe than sorry,’ said Nan.
‘That’s what Hester said,’ murmured Lynne, knowing she could not escape getting in touch with the headmistress, Miss Palmer, who had not been at the school when Lynne, herself, had been a pupil.
She decided she would go that very day and catch a bus to T J Hughes. She would go to the school before visiting the wholesalers in Stafford Street for material samples. She could take a short cut that would take her to Myrtle Street and then round the corner into Grove Street.
As she went upstairs to change it was as if butterflies were doing a dance in her stomach. The thought of stepping inside the school walls again made her feel as gauche as a schoolgirl. She had always feared the worst when told to report to the headmistress’s study.
It was only when Lynne was putting on her best hat and coat that it occurred to her it would be sensible to telephone the school first. What if Miss Palmer was not there? What if she thought that Lynne was being overprotective of her daughter? But she had to do what Hester advised, rather than let something horrible happen to Roberta or any of the other girls.
Lynne checked the money in her purse and then raided the cocoa tin and took out several pennies. Having checking the school telephone number, she kissed Nan, told her where she was going, and left the house. She used the red telephone box on West Derby Road and her heart beat fast as she waited for a person at the other end to pick up; she scarcely ever used a telephone. She thanked God that the headmistress’s voice was clear and precise and prayed that she, herself, would not stumble over her words as she explained her reason for calling.
The headmistress listened without interruption and then she said something that almost took Lynne’s breath away. Apparently a man wearing a raincoat and trilby as described by Roberta had visited the school. He was an American and was trying to find a mother and daughter called Graham. He estimated that the daughter would be about thirteen years old and the mother was an old girl of the school. ‘I told him there was no pupil with the surname Graham here,’ she concluded.
It took Lynne all her self-control not to blurt out that her maiden name was Graham. Instead she thanked the headmistress, replaced the receiver and left the telephone kiosk. Who could this American be? Was it possible he was searching for her and her daughter? For a moment Lynne thought of telephoning the headmistress again to ask if he had told her the woman and her daughter’s Christian names but that would mean using up more money. Surely it was just pure coincidence that he had been standing outside the school and had walked in the same direction as Roberta?
Lynne sighed, no longer in the mood to go into town. Tomorrow would be soon enough to go to the wholesaler’s. She would just buy something to eat for their evening meal and return home.
When she arrived back at the house, Nan expressed surprise at seeing her so soon. ‘I changed my mind and decided to telephone the headmistress instead,’ said Lynne.
‘And what did she have to say?’
Lynne told her. Nan was silent, chewing on her gums. A sure sign, thought Lynne, that she was bothered. ‘What is it, Nan?’
‘I’m wondering if your mother could have sent him,’ she wheezed. ‘And when are you going to tell Bobby the truth about you not having been married to her father?’
‘My mother!’ Lynne was so astounded that the tin of baked beans she had just removed from her shopping bag slipped from her fingers. She bent to pick it up and placed it on the table and stared at her grandmother’s wrinkled face, wondering if her mind was starting to go.
‘You’re not the only one who has a secret,’ said Nan, chewing on her bottom lip.
‘What do you mean my mother could have sent him?’ demanded Lynne.
‘Ellen went off with a Yank. An officer!’ Nan sniffed.
‘Are you telling me that she met a Yank during the war and married him?’ cried Lynne.
‘Yes.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘When I visited to tell her you were at death’s door. The next-door neighbour told me how he used to come and see her and stay overnight. Apparently, she used to go dancing with him. He was stationed at Burtonwood air base and, when the war was over and he had to return home, they were married and she sailed off on a liner with hundreds of other GI war brides. Not caring a damn about those she left behind. Selfish cow!’ added Nan, rearing her head and glaring into the distance as if she could see her daughter-in-law in her mind’s eye.
‘Bloody hell!’ muttered Lynne, who seldom swore. ‘I wondered where she went. But I can’t understand why she should send this Yank over here?’
‘I did write to her after I fetched you and Bobby from the home, telling her that you were both with me,’ wheezed Nan.
‘So she knew that much but made no move to get in touch. That says how much she cared about us,’ said Lynne hoarsely. She began to pace the floor. ‘I don’t get it, Nan. Why should she send someone to find us after all this time? That’s if it is her who is behind this.’
‘You’ll only find that out if you get in touch with this Yank,’ said Nan, her eyes alight.
‘How am I going to do that?’ cried Lynne.
‘He’s probably staying in a hotel in Liverpool somewhere.’
‘But which one? There are loads of hotels in the city centre.’
‘You could go asking.’
‘I don’t know his name, Nan! Anyway, I don’t want to have anything to do with my mother. She wasn’t there for me when I needed her.’ There was a bitter note in Lynne’s voice.
‘Perhaps she regrets her
actions,’ said Nan.
‘I don’t care if she does’ said Lynne, stopping her pacing and going back to unpacking the shopping. ‘She’s nothing to me. We’ve managed without her all these years and we’ll carry on doing so. Not a word of this to Bobby, Nan,’ she warned.
‘But what if the man who followed her is this Yank?’
‘We’ve no proof the man she mentioned was following her or that he was a Yank,’ said Lynne, exasperated.
‘I believed she was followed but how did he know she was the right girl?’ muttered Nan. ‘Maybe your mother had kept a photo of you at that age?’
‘No way! Anyhow, you’re not going to tell me that he could recognize my daughter from an old photo of me,’ groaned Lynne, flinging the shopping bag on the sofa.
‘Little as you like it, love, the family resemblance on your mother’s side is strong.’
‘Then why didn’t he show it to the headmistress if that were true?’
‘Maybe he was shy?’
Lynne shook her head. ‘He’s an American and from what I’ve heard of them, they aren’t shy!’
‘He could have lost it but had an idea what you looked like! Easy enough to work out why he’d think twice about speaking to a teenage girl. Could have been concerned about frightening her by approaching her on a dark street?’
‘He did frighten her!’ Lynne sighed. ‘You’ve almost got me convinced now that he is who you think he is.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
A shadow crossed Lynne’s face. ‘I’m going to stick with what I said earlier. Although perhaps I should tell her about Hester Walker’s visit.’
Nan looked thoughtful. ‘It mightn’t be a bad idea if you meet Bobby from school. It could be that he might try again and the school is his only lead.’
‘And if you’re wrong and it’s not him?’
‘Then our girl needs protecting.’
Six
‘Hi there, Mrs McDonald!’
The proprietor looked up from the guest register and smiled. ‘Hello, Mr Anderson! All packed for your trip to Scotland?’
‘Sure am!’
‘Have you had any luck in your search yet?’
‘I’m going to give it another shot before I catch the train this evening.’ He tilted back his trilby and smiled down her. ‘At least I won’t have any trouble tracing my pa’s kin up north. He’s kept in touch with them. If I have no luck today with Lynne Graham, I’ll try again when I get back here before I leave for Europe.’
Kathy sighed. ‘I envy you going to Europe.’
‘Don’t!’ he said. ‘It’s going to be all work!’ He winked at her and was about to walk away when he paused. ‘Have you heard anything from that actress? What’s her name …?’ His brow furrowed.
‘Dorothy Wilson,’ said Kathy. ‘Yes, she telephoned to say that she was staying on in London for a few more days.’
‘Did she have any luck getting the part she was after?’
‘She didn’t say and I had no time to ask her. She was in a hurry, going to the theatre with some friends.’
‘But she’ll be back before I go to Europe?’
‘I should imagine so,’ said Kathy.
‘Good looking woman,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
Stuart left the hotel and headed in the direction of Hope Street. He had it in mind to visit the coffee bar again. It was Mrs McDonald’s daughter who had put him in mind of trying the place. Apparently it was really popular with some of the students and pupils from the nearby colleges and schools to gather because of the jukebox. She had given him the names of some other places, too. He had tried all of them but without any luck. Unfortunately he had misplaced the photo of Lynne that his father had given him. He thought about the red-headed waitress, Betty, he had spoken to and wondered if she’d had any luck in discovering Lynne and her daughter’s whereabouts.
When he arrived at his destination he was glad to find a vacant table because they were filling up swiftly as it was late afternoon and school was out. The jukebox was belting out a song he did not recognize and he guessed the singer was British. He felt out of place because he was definitely the oldest person there and he could not see Betty, only a blonde waitress who was obviously rushed off her feet. Then the door opened and the redhead entered. Instantly he recognized her and, raising a hand, managed to catch her eye.
She mouthed, ‘Just give me a minute!’ Then she disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing shortly wearing an overall. She came over to him. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Anderson. I regret to say that I’ve no news for you. It’s a pity you haven’t a photo of the Grahams you’re looking for.’
‘I had one of the mother as a girl but I’ve misplaced it.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I can see I’m going to have to get in touch with Pa and ask him to send me another. It’s whether it’ll arrive in time before I leave for Europe.’
‘You’re going to Europe!’
He nodded. ‘Sure am! A few days after I get back from Scotland. I’m catching the train up north this evening.’ He paused and glanced about him. ‘Look, I’d better order something. The other waitress is giving you a dirty look. Bring me a coffee and an Eccles cake.’
‘Will do,’ she said and hurried off.
A quarter of an hour passed before she returned with his coffee and Eccles cake as she had taken several other orders on the way. ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting and I won’t be able to linger,’ said Betty regretfully. ‘You can see how busy we are at this time of day. I’d have liked to have asked you about your trip to Europe. I’m visiting Italy, myself, in the summer.’
His face lit up. ‘I’ll be spending some time in Italy. Are you going because of your art?’
‘Yes, I’m hoping to be there for six weeks.’ She placed the bill in front of him. ‘Are you interested in art?’
‘Sure am, but I’m mainly going for the architecture. I’m planning on being in Europe for at least three months,’ said Stuart, spooning sugar into his coffee. ‘Then I’ll be back in Liverpool for a brief time before sailing home. Hopefully we’ll be able to talk some more then.’
‘That’s if I don’t have news for you when you get back from Scotland,’ said Betty. ‘If you manage to get a photo from your Pa that would be a great help, I’m sure.’
He agreed.
She wished him a safe journey to Scotland and hurried away, thinking that even if he had come later when the rush had died down, she would not be able to spend time speaking to him. Emma had stayed last night, having come to Liverpool to go shopping with Hester, and would be going home this evening so Betty couldn’t linger.
Roberta slung her satchel over a shoulder and parted from her school friends on the corner of Grove Street. As she hurried past Myrtle Street children’s hospital, she was thinking of Betty, hoping she would find her at the coffee bar. It was the first chance she’d had to go there in days because her mother had been meeting her from school. Apparently Lynne had decided that she wanted to make certain that man was not hanging around. She might have done the same today if Nan had not been so chesty that morning, making Lynne decide to get in touch with the doctor. Roberta was worried about Nan, too, but told herself that the old woman had suffered one of these bouts before and got over it. What she needed was some warmer weather.
At least Roberta was free to do what she wanted and that was not only to visit the coffee bar but the Central Library in William Brown Street as well. She needed to look up some information for an essay. The pavements were now clear of snow and ice, so it did not take her long to reach Hope Street. She peered through the window of the coffee bar and saw that it was busy, but, having caught sight of Betty, wasted no time going inside.
A harassed-looking Betty glanced in her direction. Instantly Roberta made her way towards her but before she could speak, Betty said, ‘Listen, I can’t talk now. I’m rushed off my feet. If it’s anything important, could you come back about six o’clock and I can give you ten minutes.’
‘OK! I
have to go to the Central Library anyway, so I’ll see you later.’ Roberta left the coffee bar, thinking that she only wanted Betty’s advice about perspective for a sketch she was working on but she would make the effort and come back at six o’clock. Hopefully Lynne and Nan would not worry about her when she was late.
Once inside the library, Roberta found herself a table in the Local History and Records department and after taking a copy of King Cotton from a shelf, she sat down. She made some notes and had almost finished going through the book, which was about Liverpool’s connection to the American cotton trade, when she heard the murmur of boys’ voices and glanced round.
She noticed two youths sitting at the next table. One looked slightly older than the other, was maybe fifteen and had dark curly hair. He was talking in a low voice to the younger one who was fair haired and appeared intent on what the other one was saying. She had a feeling that she had seen the older one before.
Suddenly as if sensing they were being watched, the fair-haired one looked up. For a moment their eyes met. Then he nudged his friend who looked in her direction. Instantly Roberta lowered her gaze, not wanting to be caught staring, but she had seen enough in those short moments to notice that the uniform he was wearing was that of the Boys’ Institute on Mount Street, next to the Art College, which was just round the corner from Hope Street, near Mount Pleasant. No doubt she recognized the older one from the coffee bar but the fair youth was new to her. She decided she could not afford to waste any more time thinking about them after glancing at the clock on the wall. She would spend a bit longer on her research but then she would have to leave if she was to speak to Betty.
Despite trying to concentrate on what she was doing, she was aware when the lads stood up and heard the dark one call the other Nick as they made their way to the exit. Soon afterwards she left the library and hurried across town. It was beginning to get dark by the time she arrived at the coffee bar.