It's Now or Never

by June Francis

  ‘That’ll be Bobby,’ said Lynne, placing a plate of jam tarts on the table.

  A moment later her daughter entered the kitchen with a bulky brown envelope under her arm. She smiled at Betty. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘She’s come to let us know that Dorothy Wilson can’t make it,’ said Lynne.

  ‘I could have told you that. I met Jeanette at the top of the street. She was with her boyfriend. She was going to pop in to let you know that Dorothy couldn’t be here before they went on for a meal. Sam phoned and asked her to do it. Apparently he’s up to his eyes due to there being another robbery and couldn’t come himself.’

  ‘Thanks anyway, love,’ said Lynne. ‘Were you able to get what I needed?’

  Roberta nodded and handed her the envelope. ‘Instructions inside. By the way, Mam, you know that murder you mentioned. It’s in tonight’s Echo. It’s blazoned all over the page.’

  ‘What murder is this?’ asked Betty.

  ‘The victim was a widower called Kenneth Rogers who owned a hardware shop on Prescot Road,’ said Roberta. ‘His son found the body. Guess who he is?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Betty.

  ‘Nick who comes into the coffee bar!’

  Betty’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re serious! Poor Nick!’

  ‘So who’s this Nick?’ asked Lynne.

  ‘I know who he is,’ said Nan. ‘He’s the lad Bobby and I saw in a rowing boat in Newsham Park after the wedding. She called out to him and later she showed me her drawing of him. What a terrible thing to happen. He looked to really be enjoying himself.’

  ‘It’s so sad,’ said Roberta forlornly. ‘Nick told me that he lost his mother a couple of years ago and now he’s lost his dad, too. How awful to be an orphan.’

  Betty frowned. ‘He does have another relative. An uncle! Don’t you remember he was hanging about outside the coffee bar.’

  ‘I know who you mean,’ said Roberta. ‘Nick gave me the impression he wasn’t his favourite person. I wonder if we can do anything to help.’

  ‘I don’t see what we can do to help,’ said Lynne.

  ‘If the police are involved, I bet Hester’s brother will know about it,’ said Betty.

  ‘Of course he will,’ murmured Lynne.

  ‘I’ll see what his friend Chris has to say next time he comes into the coffee bar,’ said Betty. ‘Although it’s possible Nick could be with him.’

  ‘No, it says in the Echo that his uncle lives in Shotton in Flintshire.’ Roberta sighed. ‘Shall I go and make some tea or cocoa?’

  ‘Cocoa, love,’ said Lynne.

  As her daughter left the room, Lynne changed the subject. ‘How’s Emma been since the wedding?’

  ‘I knew there was another reason why I came,’ said Betty, taking a piece of paper from her pocket. ‘She’s written her address down in case she forgot to give it to you. Since she got pregnant she’s become real absent-minded. She said that any day this week is fine if you want to visit her in Formby.’

  Lynne smiled and took the paper from her and glanced at it. ‘I have the address and we agreed Friday but I see from this note that she’s written down instructions how to get to the house.’ She folded the note. ‘Now you relax and Nan can get on with telling you about her life in the theatre.’

  For a while Betty just listened to the old woman talking and then she said, ‘I have a couple of questions.’

  ‘Ask away, girl,’ said Nan.

  ‘Emma’s mother ran away because she wanted to be on the stage. I wonder if you ever met her.’

  ‘What was her name?’

  ‘Mary Harrison – she was from Whalley. Apparently she had a lovely singing voice and lodged in the same street as my mother and her sister in Liverpool. Mary and my mother, Lizzie, ended up marrying the same man, William Booth. He was an artist and his grandmother owned a theatre here in Liverpool.’

  ‘Sounds familiar,’ said Nan, puckering her brow. ‘But my memory isn’t what it used to be.’

  Betty said casually, ‘I believe before she was married, Mum had a boyfriend who was an actor called Johnny. Apparently he died of blood poisoning.’

  Nan nodded and said that perhaps there was something in her memory box about them.

  Over cocoa and jam tarts, Lynne broached the subject of Italy. ‘Did you give any more thought to what I said about taking a holiday now instead of putting your trip to Italy off altogether, Betty? I’m sure even a week would do you good and although I get the impression the Italians don’t seem to go in for modern art like the painting you gave me, and prefer the Old Masters, you’ll probably find encouragement and inspiration once you’re there. And you just might bump into someone you know,’ she added in a teasing voice.

  Betty licked a jammy finger. ‘You make it sound as if I’d be a fool not to go.’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t say that but if you were to meet up with Stuart, I bet he’ll know lots about the architecture. Then there’s Dorothy Wilson who’ll be filming there. You might just get an invitation to go on set and that would be interesting,’ said Lynne.

  ‘It’s a bit of a long shot me meeting up with them,’ said Betty, doubtfully.

  ‘Didn’t Stuart send you his itinerary?’ asked Roberta.

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘And as for our famous film star, I bet Jeanette could find out from her brother where they’re filming,’ said Lynne.

  ‘She could ask him at the same time about Nick,’ suggested Roberta.

  Betty smiled. ‘You’ve got it all worked out! I’ll see what Lenny has to say about my taking time off in the next week or two and what can be arranged if things fit into place.’

  ‘That’s the ticket,’ chuckled Nan. ‘There’s nothing like a break from everything to make you feel a new woman, ready for anything life throws at you.’

  Betty stayed another half hour and then she hugged them all and reminded Lynne not to forget to go and see Emma on Friday.

  Lynne had no intention of forgetting because she was looking forward to the day out and seeing Emma again.

  Friday morning was almost cloudless and after Lynne had placed the envelope from behind the clock in her shoulder bag, along with her purse, some material samples, tape measure, pencil and notebook, she wasted no time setting off for Exchange Station, leaving her daughter to keep Nan company for it was still the school Easter holidays. Lynne could not remember ever visiting the village of Formby before, although she knew the beach, sand dunes and pinewoods to be popular with Liverpudlians, especially during the summer months.

  It was busy inside the railway station because folk were making the best of the fine day. She was soon on the Southport train heading north. There were mothers and children in the carriage, so it was quite noisy as the young ones chattered excitedly but Lynne did not let it bother her; she was enjoying gazing out of the window at the dockyards, Tate & Lyle sugar refinery and the enormous Victorian tobacco warehouse. She found herself thinking of the orphaned youth, Nick, and whether Sam was any closer to discovering the person who had murdered the lad’s father. She wondered whether the uncle had a wife. There had been no mention of one, so he could be a bachelor. If so, how would the nephew and uncle manage? Teenagers were not easy to handle, so would a man, unused to children, cope? It was not going to be easy for either of them.

  Her thoughts drifted to the wedding and that dance with Sam and a smile played around her lips. Then she thought of Dorothy and lastly Lenny, Betty’s boss. She found the idea of her calling in with her autograph for Lenny an unlikely thing to do on the day she had to leave for London to begin filming, so had she felt a need to inform him that she wasn’t going to be around for a while? If so what would Sam have thought about that?

  The train began to pass through fields until eventually it arrived at Formby station where she stepped down on to the platform. Following the pencil-written directions to Emma and Jared’s house, she managed to find it without any difficulty. She was welcomed warmly by Emma and after a cup
of tea and home-made scones, Lynne took out the material samples that she had brought with her. Emma finally chose a glazed cotton floral print and a polka dot one in green and white for maternity smocks. Then she picked out a plain green gaberdine and a burgundy twill for maternity skirts. That done, Lynne took Emma’s measurements and wrote them down and then Emma suggested they sat in the garden and relaxed.

  ‘I phoned Hester this morning to see that everything was all right with the cottage,’ said Emma, wielding knitting needles with an expertise beyond Lynne’s capabilities. ‘She told me that she’d had a phone call from Sam telling her that he had already heard from Dorothy and that she was in Venice.’

  ‘Venice! Somehow I thought she’d be in Rome,’ said Lynne, feeling almost envious. She held her face up to the sun and imagined gliding along with Sam in a gondola. ‘I wonder if he’s wishing he was there with her.’

  ‘Not according to Hester,’ said Emma. ‘He’s too involved with a murder case to think of much else.’

  ‘You mean the shopkeeper?’ asked Lynne, opening her eyes and staring at Emma. ‘I think the surname was Rogers.’

  ‘That’s him! Apparently they hauled in a suspect but while the man’s admitted to several other burglaries, he swore that he hadn’t had anything to do with the one involving the murder. Hester says Sam reckons that there’s something odd about the whole thing.’

  ‘Bobby told me that she knows the victim’s son. He’s some lad that she met in the coffee bar.’

  ‘Betty hasn’t mentioned him to me,’ said Emma, ‘but then why should she when she’s had other things on her mind?’

  ‘Apparently he’s gone to live with his uncle. I feel sorry for the lad but I don’t know much about bringing up boys. I only know when you’re the mother of a teenage daughter you can’t help worrying when they become interested in the opposite sex.’

  ‘I know what you mean,’ said Emma. ‘I worry about Betty going off to Italy despite her being eighteen. You know this American, Stuart Anderson – is he as decent as she seems to think he is?’

  Lynne’s face lit up. ‘I think so. So she’s definitely going?’

  ‘Yes, she’s booked a flight and all the arrangements are made, thanks to Tony’s father and stepmother.’ Emma frowned.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine. She has a good head on her shoulders and it’s not as if she won’t have anyone to turn to if she needs help.’

  Immediately Emma’s expression lightened. ‘You’re right, of course.

  There was a silence.

  ‘I wonder if Sam feels he can trust Dorothy? Venice is such a romantic city and what with all those handsome film stars …’ Emma let the words hang.

  ‘If you don’t have trust, then I think everything would fall apart,’ murmured Lynne.

  Emma nodded. ‘Betty was telling me that Dorothy dropped by at the coffee bar to speak to her boss.’

  ‘She told me that, too,’ said Lynne, glancing at Emma.

  ‘I mentioned it to Hester when she rang up because she knows him, what with her having visited the coffee bar on more than one occasion. She’s never mentioned, though, that she knew him when they were all kids growing up. It’s strange the way life turns out, isn’t it?’ murmured Emma. ‘Meeting those you haven’t seen for years and probably haven’t given any thought to after all that time.’

  ‘That’s life,’ said Lynne, hesitating before adding, ‘I met Dorothy years ago, too, but we were just like ships passing in the night.’

  Emma stared at her. ‘But you remembered her?’

  ‘Not immediately.’ She changed the subject by reaching into her handbag and taking out an airmail envelope. ‘This is from my mother’s husband, Stuart’s father.’

  ‘That was out of the ordinary the way your mother died,’ said Emma, her hands stilling on her knitting.

  Lynne agreed. ‘It still makes me shiver when I think about it. Anyway, Stuart’s father wants my advice about the wording for her gravestone. He’s suggested several different verses from the Bible and wants me to choose one. All extolling her excellence as a wife and mother. I find it really difficult what with my mother and I having fallen out years ago.’

  ‘What was it about, if you don’t mind my asking?’ Emma murmured. ‘I know my mother didn’t really want me because she believed it would ruin her singing career on the stage.’

  Lynne hesitated and then decided to tell Emma the truth. ‘I got pregnant. I met Robert when I was only sixteen and what with the war and knowing we might never see each other again, we got carried away and we didn’t have time to get married before his ship sailed.’

  Emma stared at Lynne. ‘It must have been a terrible time for you!’

  ‘Yes, it was. Mother told me never to darken her doors again or something like that. Robert’s ship was torpedoed and I ended up in a home for unmarried mothers in Cheshire. If it weren’t for Nan, I’d have had to give up my daughter for adoption like so many others did … although, not everyone wanted to keep their babies,’ added Lynne. ‘Bobby does know the truth about her father, although it’s only a couple of months since I told her we weren’t married when she was born.’

  ‘How did she react?’ asked Emma.

  ‘Pretty well, considering. I’d always talked about her father to her and all she seemed to care about was that he and I were in love when it happened.’

  ‘And you were?’

  ‘Oh, yes, but it was an adolescent love and I sometimes wonder if it would have survived if he’d come back from the war. We didn’t really know each other that well.’

  Emma leaned forward and patted her hand. ‘My mother was married and still didn’t want me. After she died, my grandparents brought me up. I never really knew my father. They didn’t approve of him because he was an artist and discouraged him from seeing me. That’s how he ended up marrying Betty’s mother in Liverpool.’

  ‘Betty told Nan that your mothers had married the same man. She hoped that she might have met them in the theatre.’

  ‘And had she?’

  ‘At the moment it’s slipped her mind but she’s searching through her memory box of newspaper cuttings and the like, so hopefully she’ll find something.’ She glanced at Emma. ‘Is it important to Betty? I know I wish Nan would talk about my father more. He was her only son but he died before his time, rescuing some children from a fire. I suppose she finds it too painful.’

  Emma sighed. ‘I’m sure it is painful for Betty. Just like your daughter, she was told something recently about her parents that she didn’t know and it came as a shock.’

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘In brief, we don’t know for certain whether we do share the same father. It’s possible her mother was already pregnant when she married him.’

  Lynne thought about that. ‘Was the other man an actor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a silence.

  Lynne said softly, ‘I like Betty. She’s kind and willing to help people.’

  ‘She got pregnant once,’ said Emma abruptly.

  Lynne blinked at her. ‘When?’

  ‘Jared’s uncle raped her. She was only fifteen.’

  ‘That’s terrible!’ Lynne gasped.

  ‘Her aunt arranged an abortion.’

  ‘What happened to the uncle?’

  ‘He’s dead now. It’s not only wicked stepmothers in fairy tales who do nasty things to children,’ said Emma.

  Lynne shivered. ‘It puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It damaged her and she doesn’t find it easy making friends with men but I think she is managing to put what happened behind her.’ Emma stared at Lynne. ‘That’s why it’s so important this American is a decent bloke.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘I don’t think she’ll ever forgive the uncle but it would be good for you if you could forgive your mother.’

  Lynne hesitated. ‘I can do that but when it comes to choosing one of these Biblical verses, I reall
y find it difficult to agree to any of his choices.’

  ‘Why don’t you pick one that you’d choose if your mother had been the kind of mother you wanted. Someone like your grandmother. Make the man happy,’ Emma urged.

  Lynne smiled. ‘I’ll do it. Although my mother will never be worthy of rubies to me,’ she said, referring to a verse from Proverbs.

  With that settled she felt a lifting of her spirits and thought how good it was to have friends as well as family. It was only on the way home that she thought about what Emma had said about it not only being wicked stepmothers in fairy tales who did nasty things to children.

  Twenty-One

  ‘I don’t believe you!’ Nick’s face drained of colour as he gazed across the kitchen table at his father’s brother. It had taken less than a week to age the youth. Since he had come to live in Shotton, his features had matured so that he looked older than his thirteen years. ‘You’re lying because you want to keep the proceeds of the sale of this house all to yourself! You want me to be left with nothing! You’re determined to steal Dad’s share and take the shop and its contents, as well.’ His voice cracked. ‘Well, you can’t! Dad made a will.’

  ‘How dare you call me a thief!’ Dennis Rogers’ expression was ugly and a tic twitched at the corner of his left eye. ‘And I’m telling you the truth about you being adopted, so don’t you be accusing me of being a liar!’

  ‘You are a liar!’ flashed Nick, who deep inside had been scared ever since his uncle had come for him but he was not going to be bullied. That way lay even more misery. ‘Mum and Dad would never have deceived me.’

  Dennis smacked him across the head. ‘It’s true I tell you! Our Kenny and bloody Muriel adopted you when you were a baby. I’ll be seeing our Kenny’s solicitor today and I’ll bring the document home with me. He’s sure to have it.’

  Nick’s ear stung and there was a ringing in his head but he clenched his fists and said, ‘I bet this document doesn’t exist. I’m going with you.’

  ‘It’ll cost me more if I take you with me. And if anyone calls, you tell them they’ll get their money as soon as the sale of the house is completed.’