It's Now or Never

by June Francis

  ‘I–I thought you might have changed your mind about selling the house now.’

  ‘No, I need to get away from here and I have plans for you, boyo.’ He slapped Nick on the shoulder. ‘Good plans! Have you ever thought of the kind of life you could have living in one of the dominions?’

  Nick rested his hands on the table, remembering confronting his uncle after overhearing him talking about wanting to send him on a youth training scheme to South Africa. ‘You want to be rid of me and you think you can do it by forcing me to emigrate.’

  ‘What’s wrong with emigration? You could have a great life. South Africa want the brainy boys. You could go into mining. Or what about Canada or Australia? It would be a great experience living on a sheep station in the Outback, wouldn’t it?’ he said persuasively.

  Nick stared at him fixedly. ‘What about my schooling? Mum and Dad had plans for me! What about the shop?’ The timbre of his voice altered and went up an octave. ‘We could go back there and open up again. You lost your job at the steelworks, so what’s stopping us moving to Liverpool? Dad put his heart and soul into making the shop a success. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps and I’m willing to do that because it was what he wanted, even though Mum had something different in mind for me.’

  ‘He wasn’t your dad! Forget about the shop! I’m going to sell it lock, stock and barrel as soon as probate’s gone through,’ snapped Dennis, slamming his hand down on the table, causing Nick to jump. ‘Do you think I’m a fool? Once in Liverpool you’d be off with your friends, telling them lies about me. Well, our Kenny’s will that you mention names me as your guardian! And I don’t want to ever set foot in that bloody shop again. Leaving here and going to Liverpool changed my brother. He should never have married Muriel and did what she wanted. Scouse bitch! Pity he ever met her. He should have stayed over here. Should never have adopted you. Only she miscarried and couldn’t have another baby and her heart was set on having a child.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ said Nick, but his voice wavered and he felt sick inside.

  ‘It’s the truth, I tell you! The shop originally belonged to her brother but he was killed in the war. After that, all our Kenny could think about was throwing bloody money at it – and for what? Just so he could leave it to you instead of his own flesh and blood.’

  Nick still did not want to believe him but his conviction that Kenneth and Muriel Rogers would never have lied to him was weakening. Yet still he wished his mother was alive to tell him that Nick was her son. He would believe her above anyone, even Dad, but neither of them was here. He thought of Chris’s parents who had been prepared to foster him but he doubted they would know the truth. Then Nick remembered the detective sergeant whom he had first seen the evening of his father’s murder and who had commented on his being double-jointed. He had seemed an observant bloke. The difficulty was that he hadn’t seen him since his uncle had brought him here, so it could be that his uncle had already told him that he was adopted or the detective had been in touch with Kenneth’s solicitor and he had shown him the evidence.

  Nick’s throat felt suddenly tight and tears welled in his eyes. ‘I am his flesh and blood,’ he gasped. ‘You shouldn’t tell lies.’

  ‘Listen, boyo,’ said Dennis, prodding him in the chest. ‘I can tell you where you were born and it was in no hospital or comfortable semi-detached in West Derby.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but there was a war on when I was born, so Mum could have been evacuated for the birth.’

  Dennis looked annoyed. ‘You have a bloody answer for everything, don’t you?’ He thrust his face close up to Nick’s. ‘You were born in a home for unmarried mothers in Cheshire. I was in the army and our Kenny, who was flat footed and had a damaged lung seared by the heat from the furnaces in the works, wrote to let me know all about you. I thought him a bloody fool taking on the responsibility of a child that wasn’t his own!’

  Nick felt hollow inside. What was he going to do? Why was his father killed? Surely a common burglar would know he would hang if he was caught, so would rather have avoided such a crime? It had to have been an accident. Unless …

  He looked at Dennis and remembered the arguments he had overheard between him and Kenneth. An idea occurred to him that frightened him almost out of his wits. If Dennis was to read his mind then God only knew what he would do to him. He might not be a tall man but he was broad and strong from having worked in the steelworks.

  ‘Well, do you believe me now?’ asked Dennis, that tic throbbing at the corner of his eye.

  Nick nodded. ‘But it means that you’re not my uncle and because of that you see no need to take responsibility for me, even though Dad appointed you as my guardian.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Dennis looked relieved. ‘Muriel always said you were a clever boy. As soon as I’ve spoken with the solicitor, I’ll be in touch with someone I’ve spoken to who helps orphans to find a new life away from war-damaged Britain. There are great opportunities for lads like you to climb the ladder and make their fortune the other side of the world. If you have sense, you’ll take your chance at a new life.’

  ‘It sounds … exciting … but aren’t I too young to be working on a sheep station or in mining? I’d have liked to finish my education.’

  ‘You will be educated, boyo,’ said Dennis eagerly. ‘It’ll take weeks and weeks for you to get there on a ship. There’ll be lots of other boys and girls so you’ll have company and there’ll be lessons. I’ve been reading up about it.’

  ‘And what will you do when I’m gone?’

  ‘It’s none of your business, boyo,’ said Dennis, slapping him on the back. ‘But I can tell you one thing for certain, I won’t be staying around here. Now why don’t you write a nice cheery letter to your friend Chris, and I’ll post it for you on my way to the solicitor’s? I’ll have to read it over, mind.’

  Nick’s spirits sank further. What was he to do? He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and began to think hard.

  Twenty-Two

  ‘You off to school now, Bobby love?’ asked Nan, who was downstairs before eight o’clock for a change and sitting beneath the window in the early morning sun. The fire had not been lit because there was a shortage of coal on Merseyside. The tug men had been on strike and now there was talk of the rail workers walking out, too.

  ‘Where else would I be going, Nan?’ asked Roberta, kissing the old woman on the cheek.

  ‘Nowhere, I suppose,’ said Nan, patting her face.

  As Lynne handed a cup of tea to her grandmother, she thought about how they had all been woken early by the sun on that fine May morning. May was one of her favourite months with all the signs of spring to lift the spirits, and summer to look forward to with its long evenings of daylight.

  She remembered how on the 1st of May, the young girls in her street would dress up in their mothers’ frocks as it was a simple way of providing the girls with long dresses. Some had even borrowed a pair of their mother’s high heels, and a touch of lipstick to parade around the block, rattling an empty tin can on a length of string in the hope of being given some coppers by adults. Some customs die hard, thought Lynne, remembering her daughter doing the same thing only a few short years ago.

  ‘So what time will you be home this evening?’ she asked, plucking a single strand of hair from the lapel of Roberta’ s blazer.

  Her daughter pursed her lips and then took a deep breath. ‘I was thinking of calling in at the coffee bar to see if there’s any sign of Chris, Nick’s friend. I hardly know him but he might have heard from him.’

  Lynne agreed. ‘Maybe I should pay Emma another visit and see if she’s had a postcard from Betty.’

  ‘It’ll cost you the fare, Mum,’ reminded Roberta. ‘Why don’t you wait and see what I find out at the coffee bar? I thought we’d have had one by now. It must be that they take ages coming from abroad. It could be that either she’s back or she’s decided to stay longer.’

  ‘All right, but don’t be
too late home.’

  ‘I won’t,’ said Roberta.

  With a wave of her hand, she hurried off to catch the bus. The day dragged by and it was a relief when school let out and Roberta could make her way to the coffee bar. She found the place half-empty and to her disappointment there was no sign of Betty or Chris but perhaps Lenny had heard from her. Roberta went to the rear of the cafe and after asking if she could come in, she entered the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of fried bacon and toast lingered in the air.

  Lenny glanced up from the worktop where he was filling a bread roll with ham and sliced hard-boiled egg. ‘Hello, Bobby, can I help you?’

  ‘I wondered if you’d heard from Betty?’

  He placed the filled roll on a plate and washed his hands, saying over his shoulder, ‘I’ve had a letter. She’s planning on returning after the Whit bank holiday. I got the impression she would be writing to you.’

  Roberta frowned. ‘I wonder when.’

  He shrugged and rested his back against the table and folding his arms. ‘How old are you? You wouldn’t like a Saturday job working here, would you?’

  She was surprised at the question and flushed with pleasure. ‘I’m thirteen and I wouldn’t mind at all working here Saturdays but I’d have to ask Mum.’

  ‘I thought you were fourteen,’ said Lenny, looking disappointed. ‘Sorry, kid, it wouldn’t be legal.’

  She sighed. ‘I’m sorry, too. I won’t be fourteen until next February.’

  ‘Well, if you still want a Saturday job, come back then. Somehow I doubt Betty will be working here.’

  ‘Did she mention Stuart Anderson?’

  ‘You mean the Yank?’

  ‘Yes, he’s Mum’s stepbrother and was staying at the same hotel as the actress Dorothy Wilson.’

  He smiled. ‘I know. Dorothy met them in Venice and fixed it so they were allowed on the set.’

  ‘Wow! That was good of her.’

  At that moment there were footsteps and the other waitress came in. ‘I’d best be going,’ said Roberta. ‘Thanks for the information, Lenny. Tarrah!’

  She passed the waitress and went into the cafe and was about to leave when she caught sight of Chris sitting at the same table as Tony. Her heart gave a flutter and her legs seemed to turn to jelly. Two gorgeous looking lads at one swoop but did she have the nerve to go over and play it cool?

  At that moment Tony glanced her way and must have recognized her because he signalled for her to come over. She hoisted her satchel higher on her shoulder and approached the table.

  ‘I didn’t know you two knew each other,’ she said, slightly breathless.

  ‘Only through coming here.’ Tony pulled out a chair for her. ‘We got talking about music. Chris plays the guitar.’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ she said, sitting down and placing her satchel on the floor.

  ‘Why should you?’ said Chris. ‘We only met briefly that time you were sitting with Nick.’

  She was glad he had mentioned Nick. ‘Have you heard from him? I was shocked when I read that his father had been murdered and that he’s now living with his uncle.’

  ‘Not for long,’ said Chris, frowning.

  ‘Is he coming back to Liverpool?’ asked Roberta eagerly.

  ‘No, supposedly he’s emigrating to South Africa!’

  Roberta gasped in surprise. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s his uncle’s idea. He thinks it’s a marvellous opportunity for someone like Nick. Although, as it turns out, he’s not his real uncle. Apparently Nick was adopted as a baby.’

  ‘That must have come as a terrible shock to him.’

  ‘As it would to anyone,’ said Tony.

  Chris nodded. ‘I wouldn’t argue but I find the whole thing weird. There’s something odd about the letter. It doesn’t sound like him. I know he’s had a shock but even so … I’m wondering whether his uncle dictated it to him.’

  ‘Why should he have done that?’ asked Tony.

  ‘From what Nick’s told me the uncle has always been a bit nasty to him, as if he resented him. If it’s true he’s adopted, then maybe that’s the reason why,’ said Chris.

  ‘I think he wants Nick out of the way and I bet it’s something to do with the house the grandfather left,’ said Roberta thoughtfully.

  They stared at her. ‘What do you know about that?’ asked Chris.

  ‘I overheard you and Nick talking about his father wanting to sell it.’

  There was a silence.

  Roberta cleared her throat. ‘I wish there was something we could do but I don’t see what. Anyway, I’d better get cracking. Mam told me not to be late.’

  ‘See you around!’ said both youths.

  She nodded and left. As she sat on the bus on the way home, she thought about Nick and what she knew of his situation. Should she mention it to her mother and see what she thought? Although, most likely Lynne would be more interested in what Lenny had told her about Betty and Stuart seeing Dorothy in Venice.

  ‘So here you are at last,’ said Lynne, switching off the wireless as her daughter entered the room.

  ‘I’ve news for you,’ said Roberta. ‘Lenny told me that Betty and Stuart went to Venice and met up with Dorothy Wilson and she arranged for them to see some of the filming.’ She took off her blazer. ‘And Nick, whose father was murdered, has turned out to be adopted and so his uncle, who isn’t his uncle, is sending him to South Africa!’

  ‘What!’ Lynne stared at her in surprise. ‘Did Lenny tell you that, too?’

  ‘No, Nick’s friend, Chris, was there with Tony. You remember him, don’t you, Mam? Italian with a fab singing voice?’

  ‘Yes, I remember him,’ said Lynne drily.

  Roberta chewed on her lip. ‘I’m worried, Mam.’

  ‘No more than I am. These two lads …’

  ‘Oh, Mam, don’t be fussing just because I talk to boys. I only wanted to know whether Chris had any news of Nick and that’s what he told me.’

  ‘So why are you worried?’

  ‘I don’t trust the uncle. Apparently, he’d been arguing with Nick’s dad over a house left to them by their father. I just have a feeling that the uncle wants Nick out of the way and it’s to do with the house.’

  ‘This Nick, is he the one in your sketch book?’

  Roberta blinked at her. ‘Have you been looking at my drawings?’

  Lynne nodded. ‘Obviously. You’ve nothing to hide, have you? You haven’t been meeting him before all this happened, have you?’

  ‘If you mean sneakily – no! I’ve only ever seen him in the library and the coffee bar.’ Roberta frowned. ‘Anyway, I thought you might mention about Nick being adopted and sent away to his uncle, to Hester Walker’s brother, the policeman.’

  ‘I’ll see,’ said Lynne, reaching into her apron pocket and taking out an envelope. ‘You didn’t really need to talk to Lenny. This is a letter from Betty and Stuart. I can’t say that either of them has wasted any time getting together and making plans.’

  Roberta smiled. ‘You mean they’ve had a whirlwind romance and are getting married?’

  ‘No-oo!’ Lynne handed her the envelope. ‘Read it and you’ll see. I’m wondering what Emma and Jared will make of it.’

  Roberta took the letter out of the envelope and began to read. Her eyes widened as she came to the part that her mother had referred to and then she looked at Lynne. ‘She’s going to go to California with Stuart to paint! She’s going to get herself a job over there.’

  ‘Yes, although she’ll be coming home to Liverpool before then. She wants to be here when Emma’s baby arrives and Stuart will be staying in Europe a bit longer.’

  ‘D’you think they plan on getting married eventually?’ asked Roberta.

  ‘I’ve no idea. She’d need Jared’s permission because he’s her guardian and she isn’t twenty-one yet,’ Lynne murmured.

  ‘I hope they do get married,’ said Roberta happily, handing the letter back to her mother. ‘What’s to eat? And w
here’s Nan?’

  ‘With the weather being so nice, she decided to go for a walk to the park,’ said Lynne, frowning. ‘I would have gone with her but she told me not to bother and get on with sewing. I’ll go and get your dinner out the oven and then take a stroll that way and see if she’s fallen asleep or is talking to someone.’

  ‘You get going now, Mam. I can get my own dinner out of the oven,’ said Roberta, shooing her mother out of the kitchen.

  Lynne put on her cardigan and headed for the front door. ‘I’ll be back soon,’ she said.

  But Lynne did not return as quickly as she would have liked because when she reached West Derby Road there was still no sign of Nan. She crossed to Sheil Park, passed the prefabs and the children’s play area, still without catching a glimpse of her grandmother. Her concern increased and she continued walking towards Sheil Road and crossed to the road that led to Newsham Park on the other side.

  The park consisted of a large area of grassland where children and adults alike played ball games or picnicked and occasionally listened to a brass band playing at the weekend. At the far end of the park there was the boating lake where Roberta and Nan had seen Nick and Chris rowing the day of the wedding. Lynne told herself that it was possible that her grandmother had managed to walk alone this far with having her walking stick. Of course, she could have also met a neighbour who had lent her an arm and both could be sitting on a bench, resting.

  Suddenly Lynne spotted the green-coated bulky figure of Nan on a bench several yards away. She appeared to be asleep in the evening sun but a feeling of foreboding caused Lynne to run the last few yards. Reaching out a trembling hand, she touched her grandmother’s wrinkled cheek. It still felt warm but Lynne knew that the dear old woman was dead because there was no familiar sound of her laboured breathing.

  She sat next to Nan and took her hand in hers and felt for a pulse but could not find one. Tears rolled down her cheeks but she made no move to get up. Eventually she knew that she would need help. She glanced about her. Where was the park keeper when you needed him? Certainly nowhere in sight and she couldn’t see anyone else either. But then it was tea time. Then she spotted a youth standing on the bridge, gazing down at the lake’s surface.