by June Francis
Rosie stared in bedazzled amusement. The jewels were so pretty, sparkling and glowing, that they gave her enormous pleasure. ‘You make a fine Christmas tree, Gran. We should stand you in the window and you’d brighten the place up.’
‘Aye, I would that! But don’t I look like I’m worth something now?’
‘You look a million dollars.’
‘I do, don’t I?’ Maggie preened herself in front of the mirror. ‘Some of these have seen the inside of the pawnshop more than once, girl. I’ve had it hard.’ She bowed her head a moment as if in prayer before beginning to remove her precious trinkets.
The girl watched and waited. When Maggie removed the black-stoned necklace and looped it around Rosie’s neck, she thanked her and tried her best to look pleased.
‘Yer granddad brought me that home from Africa,’ said Maggie, a wistful note in her voice.
‘My granddad!’ Rosie fingered the necklace. ‘Tell me about him, Gran?’
Immediately, Maggie’s expression changed. Her lips tightened. ‘I’ve said enough. Now put the kettle on and we’ll have a cuppa with some of them there cookies the Yank’s given yous.’
Rosie saw there was nothing for it but to accept what her grandmother said. The necklace, though, had now grown in value in Rosie’s eyes. It did not matter what it was worth moneywise because it had come from her granddad. She would regard it as a family heirloom and pass it on to her daughter, if ever she had one. One thing was for sure: she would wear it on Boxing Day when she went to West Derby, her grandmother having already told her she was going out that day to visit old friends.
‘Now yer’d better behave yerself if that lad comes round,’ said Maggie, dusting her nose with a pinky-orange shade of face powder. Rings sparkled on her fingers and she was wearing an astrakhan coat with a fur collar which smelt of mothballs.
‘Davey’s not coming round, Gran. He’s been roped in for a family celebration. His cousin’s home from the war. So how about going to the pantomime tomorrow night as a treat?’ asked Rosie.
‘What? Spend money on seeing people make fools of themselves,’ said Maggie, her mellow expression vanishing.
‘It’s George Formby at the Empire! I thought you liked him?’ Rosie was doing her best to see the old lady enjoyed herself this Christmas. After all, she mightn’t be here the next!
‘Yeah, I do.’ Maggie pinned a butterfly brooch on to her coat. ‘But we’ll see.’ She bustled out.
Rosie waited ten minutes and then left the house too.
Amelia opened the door to Rosie wearing a harassed expression. Her hair was wispy and there were dark rings beneath her eyes. ‘We’d almost given you up. Have you eaten?’
‘Yes, with Gran. But I could eat more,’ said Rosie hopefully.
‘Well, you can wait for tea now. I’m going to put my feet up. Your Uncle Pete’s taking the twins and Dotty out for a walk. You go with them. I need the house to myself for an hour.’
Dotty made an appearance, wearing her red and green plaid frock. Her barley-white hair had grown and as she wasn’t wearing her spectacles she looked quite pretty. ‘I don’t want to go out for a walk,’ she said. ‘I’m getting a cold.’
‘I haven’t noticed you sneezing. Anyway, the fresh air’ll kill off any germs,’ said Amelia firmly.
‘It’ll probably kill me and then you’ll be glad,’ muttered Dotty, a sulky expression coming over her face.
Amelia exchanged glances with Rosie and threw up her hands. ‘She’s been like this all morning! Tell her, Rosie, you’ll dose her with nice big spoonfuls of nasty-tasting medicine. That’ll soon have her dancing around with a smile on her face.’
Dotty glared at her aunt, and if looks had the power to dispatch people to Timbuctoo, Amelia would have gone flying straight through the front door.
‘Is it OK for me to take my new ball?’ asked Jimmy, bouncing it into the hall.
‘Stop that!’ said his father, catching the ball in mid-air. ‘You’ll carry it until we get to the estate. Then you can have a good kick around.’
Rosie wished him Happy Christmas with a kiss.
‘Happy Christmas to you too.’ He hugged her. ‘We thought we’d walk to meet Chris, who’s had to go in just for a couple of hours to milk the cows.’
Amelia, watching them, felt that familiar stab of jealousy again.
They set out, Dotty complaining it was a waste of time because it would be dark soon. Rosie decided not to show her sister the necklace. The mood she was in, she would probably have a good moan about not getting anything off her grandmother.
When they reached Lord Sefton’s estate, the twins and Peter began to kick the ball around on the white-rimed grass. The girls huddled together, watching them. ‘Has Aunt Amelia mentioned anything about Babs and Harry coming home?’ asked Rosie.
‘Not to me. I wish I lived in Canada. Everything’s better over there,’ said Dotty moodily.
‘Here’s our Chris!’ shouted Tom.
Rosie noticed the colour rise in Dotty’s face and kept an eye on her as Chris came up to them. ‘Hi!’ he said.
‘Hi!’ said Rosie, nudging her sister. ‘Here’s Chris.’
‘I know! I’m not deaf as well as half-blind,’ muttered Dotty, cheeks scarlet.
‘You’re not going on about going blind again, are you?’ groaned Rosie.
‘Why should you?’ said Chris, bringing his face close to Dotty’s. ‘It’s not as if you’re diabetic like my mam was, is it?’
Dotty said in a queer voice, ‘Your mum was diabetic?’
‘Yeah. Not that all diabetics go blind. Most just have trouble with their eyes. But Mam was going blind and it really bothered her,’ he said, suddenly looking strained.
‘There’s a girl at school who has diabetes but I only discovered that the other day. I haven’t got it, have I?’ said Dotty, turning to Rosie.
‘Of course not!’ She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Is that what’s been worrying you?’
‘A bit. But it’s OK now.’ Dotty sounded relieved and beamed up at Chris. ‘Thanks for mentioning it. I feel so much better.’
‘Good. Does that mean we’re friends?’
‘I didn’t know we were enemies,’ said Dotty, slipping her arm through his. ‘Let’s go home. It’s freezing here.’
So they all went home to be welcomed by a smiling Amelia, who was feeling better for a bit of peace and quiet.
Rosie showed her necklace to her aunt as she helped her with the dishes. Amelia pleased her by saying, ‘It could have more than sentimental value, Rosie. The beads look like jet to me. I’m not saying they’re worth anything like rubies or diamonds, but they’re not rubbish.’
It was Amelia, too, who lingered in the doorway when the family came to wave Rosie off, not Dotty. ‘I just wondered if you’d had any news from Babs since the beginning of the month?’ she said.
Rosie shook her head. ‘You haven’t heard from Aunt Iris?’
‘No.’ She hesitated. ‘I was wondering, if Iris, Babs and Harry do come over, whether your gran could have the children to live with her?’
‘I’ve already thought of it,’ said Rosie. At least in this they agreed.
Amelia smiled. ‘Great minds think alike. Have you mentioned it to Mrs Kilshaw?’
‘Not yet.’ Rosie rubbed her cold nose with the back of one gloved hand. ‘I’ll have to get Gran in the right mood.’
‘Perhaps if I write her a note? Offer her some money to help towards their keep?’
Rosie nodded. ‘Money would help. Do the letter tomorrow and I’ll see how she takes to the idea.’
The next day, Amelia wrote a note to Maggie and handed it to Rosie. Amelia was feeling so pleased they’d both had the same idea that when Peter came home from work she wanted to share it with him and followed him up to his room. ‘Before you start writing,’ she said, ‘I’ve something to tell you.’
‘Sounds serious,’ he murmured, twirling a pencil between his fingers. ‘Someone sick?’
‘Oh, no. Nothing like that.’
‘OK.’ He smiled encouragingly. ‘Something funny the twins have done?’
She shook her head, returning his smile, and began to tell him what she and Rosie had decided. She did not get far before his smile vanished. ‘You’re joking? You’re expecting that grouchy old woman you’ve told me about to take on an extra two kids? One of them a boy of five!’
‘Nearly six,’ said Amelia, her smile fading. ‘What’s wrong with that? I’m going to give her some money.’
‘And where’s that coming from? Sorry!’ He pulled himself up immediately, his mouth set grimly. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. You’ll take it out of the shop’s profits, I suppose.’
She was so upset he could not see any good in her plan that she flared up. ‘And if I did, so what? They’re my profits! But as it is I’ve money available for such a contingency.’
‘What money? Some your father left?’
‘No.’ She toyed with the door knob. ‘It’s compensation for Violet’s death. It belongs to the children. I saw a solicitor and—’ She was prevented from going on by the incredulity in his eyes.
‘I see.’ His expression was bleak and he threw down the pencil. ‘I wonder if you would ever have told me if it weren’t for the fact you want Iris home and living here with us.’
‘I didn’t intentionally keep it from you. And this was her home,’ Amelia retorted in a flash.
He dragged off his tie. ‘I can see the way your mind’s working. She’ll be able to stay home and look after everything while you carry on at the shop.’
Now it was her turn to look incredulous. ‘That wasn’t my idea at all! She’s my sister and I miss her. She’s all the family I’ve got. I just want her home.’
‘And you’re my wife! And aren’t I and the boys your family too?’ The anger in his voice made her wince. ‘Or is our marriage such a sham that we don’t count as real family?’
Emotion caught her by the throat and she had to swallow before she could speak. ‘This has got out of hand.’ Her voice was low. ‘I didn’t intend to say half of that. All I was thinking was that if Babs and Harry could live with the grandmother, we wouldn’t be overcrowded.’
‘And what does the grandmother think?’ he said stiffly, running the tie round and round his hand.
She fixed her gaze on that, rather than look into his eyes. ‘I don’t know. I gave Rosie a note to hand to her this evening.’
‘You’ve what?’ He almost choked on the words. ‘You haven’t even the good manners to go and see the woman yourself and ask her?’
‘Mrs Kilshaw and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms,’ said Amelia, temper flaring again. ‘I don’t see what’s wrong with a note!’
‘Well, I do. You must go and see the woman and talk to her properly about this if it’s what you want,’ he rasped.
Amelia lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes. They were the colour of flint and just as hard. ‘Right!’ she said. ‘I’ll go now. Your dinner’s in the oven. The twins were hungry so I gave them theirs. ’Bye!’
She ran downstairs, pausing only to put on her outdoor things and pick up her handbag. She slammed the front door behind her. Her high heels made an angry click-clacking noise on the path. She felt like never seeing him again. Suddenly, the thought occurred to her that their marriage had not been consummated. So what was stopping her getting it annulled? But first she had to see the old granny.
Chapter Thirteen
Rosie decided to wait until tea was over and the dishes washed before giving Amelia’s note to her grandmother. But the advent of several customers, even shorter of ready cash than normal after Christmas, delayed the moment further. It was getting on for eight o’clock when she broached the subject and handed over the note.
Immediately, Maggie’s face turned a shade that was almost beetroot. ‘What does that bloody woman think I am – taking on a family at my age? Selfish, that’s what she is. Selfish! Just like yer mam was. Does she think I’m made of money?’
‘Gran, read the note. She said it’ll explain everything, including money. She—’
‘She’s the cat’s mother,’ said Maggie, panting as she attempted a swipe at Rosie. ‘Yer know what yer trouble is, girl? Yer haven’t been brought up properly. That mam of yours so-cken-fun—’
‘What?’ Rosie rested her hands on the counter. ‘What did you say, Gran?’
‘Haz’s mock . . .’ The words were slurred and didn’t make sense. Then Maggie collapsed against the counter and slid out of sight.
Oh, hell! thought Rosie, rushing round to the other side where her grandmother lay slumped on the floor. ‘Oh, God, mustn’t panic!’ she said aloud, feeling for a pulse and sighing with relief when she found one. Even so, Maggie did not look at all well.
Somehow Rosie managed to get an arm beneath the old woman, placing her arm about her neck. But Maggie’s arm seemed to have no life of its own, dropping down heavily again. Rosie struggled on, managing to get her grandmother into the kitchen and on to the sofa. There she propped her up with cushions, unsure what to do next. It seemed wrong to leave her but she had to get help.
‘Sorry, Gran, but I’m going to have to leave you for a few minutes. I won’t be long.’ She hesitated before kissing the old woman’s cheek.
Rosie went next door but there was no answer to her frantic knocking. The woman on the other side had no time for Maggie so the girl decided not to bother her. Instead she thought of Mrs Baxendale and raced along the street.
‘Keep your hair on, I’m coming,’ called Davey in response to her hammering on the front door. Rosie sagged against the wall of the house, getting her breath back.
His eyes narrowed at the sight of her. ‘What’s up? You look done in.’
‘It’s Gran! She’s had a funny turn,’ gasped Rosie. ‘Will your mam come and look at her?’
Davey pulled Rosie inside and ushered her into the kitchen where his mother was sitting, feet on the fender. ‘Rosie’s gran’s gone funny,’ he said without any preamble. ‘You’re needed, Ma.’
Mrs Baxendale got up awkwardly. ‘What happened? Have you phoned a doctor?’
Rosie sank on to a chair. ‘I don’t know her doctor. I wasn’t sure what to do so I came here.’
‘Is she conscious?’ said Mrs Baxendale, looking serious as she took her coat from her son.
‘Not when I left she wasn’t. Her speech went all funny, though. If we need a doctor, perhaps we should telephone the one Mam had? Not that we ever saw much of him. Couldn’t afford him.’
‘He’s the same as ours. You phone him from the corner shop, Davey. It sounds like a stroke to me,’ said his mother grimly. ‘Come on, lovey. Let’s go and see how she is.’
Maggie’s eyes were closed and she had not shifted from the position in which Rosie had left her. For a moment, the girl thought she was dead, but when Mrs Baxendale spoke the old woman’s eyes opened and she tried to speak, spittle dribbling from the corner of her mouth.
‘Poor old dear,’ said Mrs Baxendale, tutting. ‘But at least she’s showing signs of life.’
‘She’s a tough old bird,’ said Rosie, a sound escaping her which veered between a laugh and a sob. She had not realised she cared about her grandmother that much but seeing her like this upset her. She sat on the corner of the sofa, taking one of Maggie’s hands in hers and squeezing it, but there was no response.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Mrs Baxendale, limping over to the sink. ‘We won’t know anything for sure until the doctor comes.’
Davey arrived just as his mother was pouring out tea. ‘He’s on his way.’
‘Good,’ said his mother. ‘You sit down and cheer Rosie up. It’s been a shock to her.’
Davey pulled a raffia-topped stool close to the sofa and took her hand.
The letter box went and the girl sprang to her feet. To her amazement, Amelia stood on the doorstep. ‘Don’t look so shocked,’ said her aunt in her old abrupt manner. ‘I’m no
t the devil incarnate. I’ve just had a row with Peter. He’s utterly against our idea. Said I should speak to your grandmother myself, not send a note.’
Rosie’s mouth trembled. ‘She got very angry. We think she’s had a stroke. I thought you were the doctor.’
Amelia’s hand tightened on the door jamb. ‘It’s my fault,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t think she’d take it like that.’
‘It’s mine as well then,’ said Rosie. ‘I wanted it, too.’
Amelia pulled herself together. ‘Let me see her. I know something about strokes.’
‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ stammered Rosie. ‘You know how you and she feel about each other.’
‘She mightn’t even know me, Rosie. So don’t be worrying about that.’
Rosie hurried up the lobby and Amelia followed her into the kitchen, nodding a greeting when she saw Davey and his mother.
Rosie’s concern as to how her grandmother might react to Amelia’s presence soon vanished because Maggie did not appear to recognise the visitor at all. The doctor arrived a few minutes later and immediately addressed Amelia, who stepped forward to greet him. He asked was she a relative of the sick woman and Amelia surprised Rosie by saying yes. He dismissed the girl and the Baxendales from the room.
‘Why did she do that?’ said Rosie, irritated, as she led the way to the parlour. ‘I’m Gran’s nearest relative. They don’t even like each other, and they’re not related the way Aunt Amelia made it sound.’
‘She’s related by marriage,’ said Mrs Baxendale, patting Rosie’s hand. ‘And listen, lovey – he’ll tell her more than he’ll tell you.’
Reluctantly, she realised that was probably true, though it annoyed her.
It was not long before they heard footsteps in the lobby and the murmur of voices. Rosie opened the parlour door just in time to see Amelia closing the front one. ‘What about his fee?’ she said hastily.
‘I’ve seen to that,’ said her aunt, rubbing her eyes. ‘Your grandmother can reimburse me when she recovers.’