It's Now or Never

by June Francis

  ‘Yes, they rewrote the script to cover the accident.’

  He smiled. ‘There you are then, they want you. What they probably won’t want is you appearing with a broken arm in the next film.’

  ‘It could have mended by then.’

  ‘Still, I bet they’ll be prepared to give you some time out and you can spend that in Liverpool.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ She returned his smile. ‘I think I’ll have that sherry now.’

  He nodded but before he could get out the Bristol Cream, they were disturbed by Betty entering the kitchen. ‘Lenny, you’d better come—’ She stopped and stared at Dorothy. ‘I didn’t see you come in. Gosh, you’ve broken your arm?’

  Dorothy said, ‘That’s why I’m wearing this sling, sweetie. I’m surprised Stuart hasn’t mentioned it.’

  ‘No doubt he’ll tell me next time he’s on the blower. Anyway, he’ll be back soon and California here I come! Shouldn’t you be on your way to Scotland?

  ‘Tomorrow.’ Dorothy darted a glance at Lenny. ‘It’s a pity you can’t have a holiday and come and collect some autographs.’

  ‘I thought you were getting some for me,’ he said.

  ‘I did, but they’re in my luggage which is on its way to Scotland,’ she said wryly. ‘Anyway, I’d best go. I can see you’re busy and I’ve had a long journey and another one ahead of me tomorrow. Bye, Lenny. Betty!’ She left the kitchen, thinking she’d had enough emotion for one day.

  She paused in the doorway leading to the pavement and looked back at the crowded coffee bar. Suddenly she recognized Lynne’s daughter, having seen her outside the church at Hester’s wedding. The girl was dancing with a fair-haired lad and they were laughing. She felt a pang of envy. What it was to be young and have your whole life before you! She smiled wryly and left the building. She would drop Lenny a line from Scotland, enclosing the signed photographs she had for him and provide him with the name of the hotel where she would be staying, so he could keep her in touch with what was happening in Liverpool until she got back.

  Twenty-Eight

  Roberta raced from school to Mount Street where the Boys’ Institute was situated. Youths were streaming out of the building and she prayed that she had not missed Nick, whom she had not seen for several days. It was September and she had only been back at school for a week. She had hoped he would turn up at the coffee bar after school yesterday because Betty was back from America and had painted some fantastic pictures. But Nick had not been there and she was bursting to tell him her news.

  She stood on a corner, scanning faces. Then unexpectedly she felt a tap on her shoulder and looked around and there he was. ‘How did you get there without me noticing you?’ she demanded.

  Nick grinned. ‘You were looking in the wrong direction. I was one of the first out and went into the sweet shop. I saw you walk past as I was paying.’ He offered her the paper bag and she took a toffee chocolate eclair. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So what d’you want me for?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve big news! Mam and Inspector Sam are getting married.’

  Nick’s hand froze halfway to his mouth. ‘When?’

  ‘In a fortnight! I’ve been waiting for them to say something for the whole of the summer holidays but not a peep from them. Then suddenly last night they broke the news. Apparently they see no reason to wait. It’s not as if we’re teenagers.’ She mimicked Lynne’s voice. ‘I said I didn’t know what had kept them from marrying earlier. Anyway, I’m going to be the bridesmaid.’ Roberta removed the wrapper and popped the sweet into her mouth. ‘Fortunately Mum already has the pattern for my frock and she’s shown me some material samples and I’ve picked peach figured satin. You’re invited.’

  ‘Let’s go and have a milkshake,’ said Nick, his eyes alight. ‘My treat.’

  Roberta cocked an eye in his direction. ‘You come into money?’ she teased.

  He smiled faintly. ‘I have an allowance.’

  As they made their way to the coffee bar, she told him that she had his invitation in her satchel. ‘I know it’s short notice but I hope you can come. Although, I’ve a feeling that Chris’s parents will already know about it. I overheard Mum and Sam talking when he had Sunday dinner at our house last week.’

  They arrived at the coffee bar and went inside. They found a table and sat down and almost instantly Betty came over, pad in hand. ‘Hello, you two, what can I get you?’

  ‘Two milkshakes,’ said Nick.

  ‘Banana and strawberry flavoured,’ put in Roberta.

  ‘Not in the same glass,’ said Betty, winking at Nick. ‘All well with you?’

  ‘I’m OK!’ he murmured.

  ‘You look like you’ve something on your mind.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve homework that’s a killer.’

  ‘Perhaps I can help,’ said Roberta, leaning forward.

  ‘Oh yeah, brilliant at Algebra, are you?’

  She looked at him with concern. ‘I’d surprise you if I said yes, wouldn’t I?’

  The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Art’s your thing, not Maths.’

  ‘How do you know? You’ve never had a proper look at my sketches.’

  He rested his elbows on the table. ‘Show us your pad then?’

  ‘You open your invitation first. I guarantee you’ll get a surprise.’

  He slit open the envelope with a finger while she delved into her satchel. He read the card and shot her a glance. ‘They’re having the reception here!’

  ‘Something wrong with that?’

  ‘Nooo! Just surprised. It says there’ll be dancing from seven o’clock and Jimmy Miller’s group will be providing the music.’

  ‘Don’t you think that sounds good? Tony will be singing.’

  ‘I’m surprised Chris hasn’t mentioned it now he plays with the group the odd time. Will Lenny be doing the cooking?’

  ‘Not single-handed,’ said Betty, who had been listening. ‘My half-sister, Emma, and Sam’s sister, Hester, are going to help out. They are super duper when it comes to food. You have to be there!’ She walked away.

  ‘You will come, won’t you?’ said Roberta earnestly. ‘We count you as one of the family.’

  ‘But I’m not, am I? Besides I’ve never been to a wedding. They’re for girls, really. They go all gooey-eyed when they hear “Here Comes The Bride”, so Chris says.’

  Roberta frowned. ‘You have to be there! You wouldn’t have an invitation if Mam and Sam didn’t want you there!’ She slapped her sketch book down on the table. ‘Anyway, have a look at that. Mam thinks I’ve really improved. I reckon when she sees Betty’s paintings, she’ll make the decision to let me go to California next time she goes to visit Stuart. After all, I do have an open invitation from my step-grandfather.’

  ‘It’s OK for some,’ murmured Nick, flicking open the sketch book.

  ‘I’m sure you could go as well. You could save up your allowance.’

  He did not answer but carried on turning the pages of drawings. Then he stopped and stared before turning a few pages back and looking intently at a sketch of Sam glancing up from reading a newspaper with a half-smile that twitched the corner of his mouth.

  ‘Mam really likes that one,’ said Roberta. ‘She says I’ve caught him perfectly. I’m going to have it framed for her birthday.’

  Nick made no comment but appeared to be staring into the distance.

  ‘Nick, can you hear me?’

  ‘I thought …’

  ‘What?’

  He left the pad on the table and dropped some money beside it and stood up. ‘I’ll see you!’

  Roberta stared after him. ‘Nick, where are you going? What about your milkshake?’ she called.

  She was about to get up and follow him when Betty approached with the milkshakes. ‘What’s up with Nick?’ she asked, placing the tray on the table.

  ‘He was looking at my sketches and suddenly went all peculiar,’ murmured Roberta.

  ‘Ah!’ exclaimed Betty
, gazing down at the open pad. ‘That’s Sam Walker, isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course!’

  ‘Ever noticed how similar they look?’

  ‘You mean they’re both fair-haired and have brown eyes.’

  ‘I’d say more than that and I’m surprised at you, Bobby, for not seeing it,’ said Betty. ‘Are you going to drink both milkshakes?’

  Roberta frowned. ‘What d’you mean you’re surprised at me? I have noticed they’re alike. I even said so to Mam but she said that it was just the fair hair and brown eyes.’

  ‘Mmmm!’ Betty picked up the money for one milkshake and walked away with the other one.

  Roberta reached for the tall glass and sucked on the straw while at the same time staring down at the drawing of Sam before flicking over the pages to one of Nick. She experienced a surge of excitement and, shooting to her feet, she grabbed her possessions and ran out of the coffee bar.

  ‘Sir, there’s a lad wanting to speak to you,’ said the sergeant. ‘I tried to fob him off, asked him to tell me what he wants but he’s not having any. He keeps saying he must speak to Inspector Walker.’

  ‘Did he give his name?’ asked Sam, putting down his pen.

  ‘Nicholas Rogers.’

  Sam stiffened. ‘Send him in to me.’

  But the sergeant did not have to because Nick had followed him and now he brushed past him and entered the room. Sam could tell he was all worked up about something and wondered for a moment whether by some fluke Dennis Rogers had managed to slip into the country without being noticed.

  ‘What is it, Nick?’ he asked.

  ‘Could you be my natural father?’ said Nick fiercely, not beating around the bush.

  Sam placed his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself upright. He could see the youth was trembling and knew how he felt, needing to hold on tightly to the edge of the desk. ‘Possibly, but I have no legal proof.’

  Nick flinched. ‘Is it that you’re glad about that? You’d rather not own to it?’

  ‘Bloody hell, son, it’s nothing like that! I never suspected I was a father until a few months ago and I was blown away by the thought. As I just said, I had no proof.’

  ‘But when you first saw me …?’

  ‘I saw similarities but not for one minute did I think you could be my son. I thought it was a coincidence. Besides, I didn’t know then that you were adopted. Not until Bobby’s mother told me that was so … And, as I’ve just said, your birth was kept from me until very recently.’

  ‘What about my natural mother?’ asked Nick hoarsely.

  Sam had seen that coming but, as it was, he hesitated. ‘I can’t give you her name.’

  Nick looked taken aback. ‘Why? Could I have more than one mother?’

  ‘Bloody hell, no! It was war time and I was only seventeen!’

  ‘You mean I wasn’t wanted!’ Nick gave a twisted smile. ‘I’d already worked that one out as soon as I knew I was adopted.’

  ‘If I’d known about you I would have married your mother. As it was she had other plans.’

  ‘Do you ever see her?’

  ‘Very rarely. We’d lost touch.’

  ‘Then it’s not Bobby’s mother.’

  Sam thought his son sounded relieved. ‘Of course not.’

  Nick sat down on the chair the other side of the desk. ‘Bobby told me you and Mrs Donegan are getting married.’

  ‘That’s right.’ Sam began to relax because it was obvious his son had accepted what he had told him as the truth.

  Nick flushed. ‘Does she know I might be your son?’

  ‘She was the one who raised the prospect with me! She spotted the likeness before I did.’

  ‘I suppose she saw the drawings,’ said Nick. ‘That’s what happened to me. I left Bobby in the coffee bar. She probably thought I’d gone off my rocker. I left her with two milkshakes to drink.’ He grinned.

  Sam smiled. ‘Then you’d better get back there. You will come to the wedding? We’d like you to be there. We’ve also invited the Nuttall family to the evening do, so you won’t be on your own.’

  Nick stood up. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve spoken to them about me being your son?’

  ‘As it happens, we’ve thought of doing so but were undecided because you seemed happy with them.’

  ‘They’re OK,’ said Nick casually, ‘but things will change soon. I mean Chris is a couple of years older than me and will be leaving school next year. He’s always wanted to be a newspaper reporter even though he likes playing the guitar.’

  ‘What are you saying, Nick?’ asked Sam, staring at him intently.

  Nick took a deep breath. ‘Bobby seems to be of the mind I’m like one of the family. Hers I mean. I’d like it to be true.’

  ‘Then maybe we can do something about making that official,’ said Sam, his voice uneven as he came round the desk and placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

  Epilogue

  Liverpool: 1957

  ‘Hi, Miss Wilson!’ Roberta held the door of the coffee bar open to allow Dorothy through.

  She smiled at the girl. ‘Good morning, Bobby! How’s the family?’ It was nearly two years since she had seen Sam and Lynne but Lenny had let her know when their wedding took place and she had sent them a telegram wishing them the best. Then he had told her how they had discovered the child she had given away and adopted him and she knew she should be glad because he would be secure with them. She had felt the same when he told her they’d had a baby.

  ‘All very well, thank you,’ said Roberta, now fifteen and a Saturday girl at the coffee bar. ‘The baby’s thriving.’

  ‘A girl, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes! Anna! She’s a cutie, blonde with brown eyes … and when she chuckles it makes you laugh, too.’

  Dorothy felt a twinge of envy, thinking it would be nice to have a daughter to dress up and take about but she did not regret a moment of her life so far and one couldn’t have everything. ‘Is Lenny in the kitchen?’

  ‘Yes, he’s been expecting you since your phone call. We’re all looking forward to your play. I know we saw the documentary on telly last year but this performance is going to be special, isn’t it?’

  ‘You can say that again,’ said Lenny from the kitchen doorway.

  Dorothy turned her head and stared at him. ‘I’ve brought you a complimentary ticket.’

  ‘I should think so,’ he said laconically, winking at Roberta. ‘Make us two coffees, love?’

  ‘OK!’ She hurried to do his bidding.

  Dorothy went over to Lenny and kissed him on the cheek. ‘So you have some good ideas, my man! Poppy even agreed that it would do me more good than harm to return to the Liverpool stage briefly, what with the new film coming out soon.’ She thought how it was her third in two years and how she was in need of a break.

  ‘Come into the kitchen,’ said Lenny.

  She linked her arm through his and they went through into the back. She stopped in the middle of the kitchen and her eyes slowly took in the room. ‘You’ve had this place revamped! Why didn’t you mention it in your letter?’

  ‘Didn’t see it as important in your scheme of things,’ he said, removing her hand from his arm, raising it to his lips and kissing it before dropping it.

  She frowned. ‘I’m interested in what you do, Lenny. You’ve been a good friend to me. Keeping in touch, encouraging me and giving me ideas. I’d have never thought of doing anything for the seven hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the signing of Liverpool’s Charter if you hadn’t suggested “Outstanding Women of Liverpool” would go down a treat here. Of course, I had to revamp it for the stage. As Poppy pointed out, it’s a completely different medium. As if I didn’t know!’ She was so glad she had found time between the first two films in fifty-five and fifty-six to make her documentary. Sadly Aunt Ethel hadn’t lived to see it.

  ‘Sit down,’ said Lenny abruptly. ‘You hungry?’

  She pulled a face. ‘I don’t know if I could eat. I feel wobbl
y inside, just like I did the first time I stood on the stage at the Pivvy.’

  ‘That wasn’t the first time,’ said Lenny. ‘You’re forgetting the performances you put on as a kid in your mam’s backyard for us other kids in the street.’

  ‘So I am!’ Dorothy’s eyes softened with reminiscence. ‘How could I forget those early days? I was so happy then.’

  ‘Because you’re away from your roots and too busy thinking of the here and now and letting Poppy plan your future,’ said Lenny.

  She nodded. ‘She’s talking about my booking passage on the Queen Mary for New York, and meeting this American agent she has contact with and then going to Hollywood. I do begin to wonder if she’s aiming too high for me.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like the old Dorothy. She had lots of ambition and wanted to climb to the top,’ said Lenny.

  ‘I’m tired, Lenny.’

  At that moment Roberta entered and placed their coffees on the table in front of them. ‘Anything else I can get you? A doughnut? An Eccles cake?’

  Dorothy shook her head. ‘It sounds quiet out there.’

  ‘Won’t be for much longer,’ said Roberta. ‘The normal crowd will be in, including Nick, but not Tony, who’s working with his dad, and Chris, who has a job on the Daily Post now.’

  Dorothy’s heart lifted at the thought of seeing her son. ‘Will your stepbrother be coming to the theatre?’

  ‘Mam insists on it, despite him saying it wasn’t really his thing and he’s seen it on the telly.’

  Dorothy was disappointed, but told herself not to be ridiculous. The boy could never know she was his mother. Even so …

  ‘Well, you can tell him this production will be different, a proper live performance from me, not just a commentary.’

  ‘Oh, he knows; he’s seen the posters. You’re famous, Miss Wilson.’ On those words Roberta hurried out.

  ‘Famous,’ muttered Dorothy.

  ‘That’s right you’re famous, Dot! Doesn’t that make you happy?’ asked Lenny.

  She sighed. ‘Of course, I know it should, but I’m not at the top of the tree, am I? Will I ever be, despite all my hard work? And after this play, I don’t suppose going to America will be a holiday.’