Jake had obviously taken on the role of master of ceremonies and he directed the crowd while his wife, Martha, sat with the other young mothers of the street, nursing their babies.
‘Noleen, come on, get your coat off and take a seat.’
Noleen slid on to the chair Stanley held out for her and smiled her thanks.
Maisie noted that Noleen kept her coat on and almost kicked herself. She would have taken a frock down to the house herself if she had thought. There had been a bolt of turquoise satin that had found its way into Mrs Green’s house from a ship and Maisie had made a frock and a skirt from it in exchange for a shilling. She refused to be intimidated by any fabric and made almost everything she wore. She would have happily loaned a frock to Noleen.
‘Here you go, love.’ Stan gave Noleen a wink as he poured a Babycham into a glass with a picture of a dancing deer on the side.
Noleen could not take her eyes off the glass. It was so pretty. Everything around them was changing. There was talk of sugar rationing ending altogether, and new things she couldn’t afford were arriving in the shops every day.
Maisie giggled. ‘Watch the bubbles, they fly up your nose.’
‘Friends! Friends!’ Dessie’s voice boomed out from near the bar.
‘Oh, good, there’s our Pammy and the girls coming in through the door and they’ve got Anthony with them. Stan, look, she’s got Dr Mackintosh with her.’
Stan was aware that Maisie was calling Anthony by his full name to show off in front of Noleen. Never once in conversation between the two of them had she called him ‘Dr’. He lifted his pint and grinned at Paddy.
‘Pammy, Pammy, over here, love,’ Maisie shouted across the room.
Pammy smiled. Anthony Mackintosh had one arm protectively around her shoulders. Pammy, Victoria and Beth waved back at Maisie. The crowd parted with respect. The girls who nursed at St Angelus were treated as heroines, and a doctor was treated as if he was close to God himself and took direct instruction. The girls were all on their off-duty and they turned heads as they walked through. Maisie bathed in the reflected admiration as they wove their way through the tables. Having a daughter who was a nurse at St Angelus put her on an elevated footing in the community. It gave her status and she loved it.
‘Where’s Dana?’ she asked straight away.
‘She’s back at Lovely Lane,’ said Pammy. ‘Said she will follow us on, but she is in such a funny mood, don’t you think so, Victoria?’
Victoria didn’t have time to answer as Stan placed a metal tray in the middle of the table.
‘Thanks, Da.’ Pammy grinned as he placed a glass of Babycham in everyone’s hand and a pint in Anthony’s.
‘Oh, I say! Bottoms up, eh, girls,’ said Pammy as she took a sip and then exclaimed, ‘Oh, those bubbles! Straight up my nose.’
Stan started to drag over some more chairs, but people at tables nearby quickly gave up theirs for the angels of Lovely Lane. This act of rushing to give up seats now made Stan glow with pride. He was a happy man. How could he not be? A wife like Maisie, a daughter with lovely friends whom everyone admired, and a doctor who plainly adored their Pammy.
‘Girls, it’s great you could make it, and Anthony, well, we aren’t used to doctors in the Silvie, unless they arrive in the back of the ambulance when there’s a fight. I just hope your services aren’t needed. Though I doubt anyone will be up for a punch-up tonight, what d’you reckon, Paddy?’ Stan caught Maisie’s eye and almost withered under her gaze.
‘Stan, for pity’s sake, why would you say something like that? Anthony will be put off us if you carry on like that,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you worry about anything like that happening, Anthony. We don’t socialize with that sort, do we, Pammy?’
Pammy laughed and kissed her mother on her powdery cheek. If the Silvie was where Dessie wanted his do, it was good enough for them.
‘I think it’s great here,’ said Anthony. ‘Everyone is having such a laugh – listen to them all. I’ve never seen people so happy.’
Pammy looked around. She had never noticed it before, to her it was just a party night in Liverpool. High spirits were the norm. ‘Do you all know Auntie Noleen and Uncle Paddy?’ she said to the nurses. Everyone who was a neighbour was known as auntie or uncle. It was a mark of respect for the tight bond between them.
‘I do. I know Mr Delaney from the prosthetics clinic,’ said Beth. ‘And I think you have started on nights at St Angelus, haven’t you? Hello, how are you doing? Did the surgical spirit help in the end?’
Beth pulled her chair closer to Paddy, who seemed all at once to be flattered and happy and proud that a beautiful young nurse like Beth had sat next to him. He looked up at Noleen, who smiled. Paddy would be happy now, with a Guinness in his hand and someone from the medical profession to talk to about his stump. Poor girl. Noleen cast her eyes around the room. Lorraine and Mary had arrived and were standing near the lads’ table. She saw Bryan carry a drink over to Lorraine and noted the smile that spread across his face when she looked up at him and said ‘Thank you.’
The door opened and Roland Davenport walked in with Oliver Gaskell. Beth quickly turned to Pammy. ‘Pammy, I have something to tell you…’
Dessie’s voice rang out once again. ‘Friends… Friends…’ He was struggling to be heard. ‘I have something special to say. Listen up everyone.’
Madge placed two plates of food on to the table in front of Bryan and the lads. ‘Here you go,’ she said. ‘Make sure you soak up the alcohol. Lots of food, everyone, get the butties down you.’ She raised an eyebrow as the lads leant in, grabbed a handful each and began to eat before she had finished speaking. ‘We don’t want no one off work tomorrow because of tonight, do you hear me?’ She was mostly ignored and, shaking her head, she walked away. ‘No good ever came from a free bar,’ she said to no one in particular.
‘Madge, stop serving food for a moment, please, love,’ said Dessie across the crowd. ‘Hush, lads. Hush, nurses. Dr Mackintosh, Mr Gaskell, welcome, welcome.’
The bell rang over the door and Dessie blushed as Oliver Gaskell’s father appeared in the doorway with Matron by his side, Blackie in her arms. Just for a moment he was stuck for words. ‘Matron, I didn’t think you would come, it’s so great to see you.’
A cheer went up around the room and people dragged chairs and drinks towards Matron and Dr Gaskell and someone produced a clean ashtray full of water for Blackie.
‘I wouldn’t have missed tonight for the world,’ said Matron as she smiled and accepted a Babycham from Stan Tanner. ‘Goodness me, can I drink this and live, Elsie?’ she asked as she put it to her lips and sipped.
Anthony Mackintosh slipped his hand into Pammy’s. He did that a lot. Just to make sure she was actually there with him and that he wasn’t dreaming. After all his years as a bachelor, his funny, beautiful Pammy was his. When he squeezed her hand, she squeezed his back and, turning, gave him a smile that made him feel a foot taller.
‘I had no idea about Beth and Oliver Gaskell,’ she said.
‘Do you care?’ he asked, a note of concern in his voice.
‘Not a bit. I don’t care a jot.’ She smiled and kissed him briefly on the cheek.
Dessie tried again. ‘Hello everyone, quiet please.’
There were sounds of ‘Shhh’ from every table. Noleen accepted a cigarette from Maisie. She didn’t often smoke and it was only one of Paddy’s when she did. ‘It’s his only pleasure in life,’ she used to say when she sent Finn down to the tobacconist’s with the last of their money. ‘I can’t leave him in all night with you lot without a ciggie, now can I?’ Finn never said a word but always looked at her with disapproval in his eyes.
‘Do you mind? I can’t offer you one back,’ she said as she looked down at the slim cigarettes with gold-foil tips. ‘Not unless you want one of Paddy’s Capstans anyway. These look gorgeous, so they do.’
‘Don’t be daft, Noleen, take one. Have as many as you like. Here you are, put some
in your bag for after. Don’t be worrying about giving me any. Where do you think I got these from, eh? They fell off the back of an American ship, queen. The landlord gets them and sells them behind the bar for a pittance. You have as many as you like. I’d be a bag of nerves if it wasn’t for me fags.’
Noleen bent down to accept a light from the tip of Maisie’s cigarette and began to laugh.
Paddy’s head shot up. Noleen’s laughter sounded to him like a peaty brook in Mayo tripping over weathered stones. It felt like an age had passed since he had heard it, and even longer since they’d been back home to Ireland. She caught his eye through the smoke as she sat back and relaxed. She smiled at her husband. He raised his pint of Guinness and smiled back. His leg and stump were beneath the table and for a brief second it felt like before the war: her good-looking man with the smiling eyes and she with her heart of gold.
*
Outside, in the street, Dana stood on tiptoes and peeped through the edge of the window pane that was free of frosting. She could hear the muffled laughter and the clinking of plates and glasses, and through the fug of smoke she could see the backs of Pammy and Anthony, his arm stretched protectively around her. Beth was seated, with Oliver standing behind her, his hand on her shoulder, making sure everyone knew she was with him, and Victoria was leaning into her Roland. They all looked so happy.
Dana had felt like that once. Her eyes blurred with tears as she turned away. She felt lonely and isolated and standing out there on the street made it even worse. She took her handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She had been crying since the moment Teddy had told her what he had done. As much as he had pleaded and begged, in her heart she knew that she would not be able to believe him ever again. He had snapped their bond, betrayed her trust, deceived her. With one selfish act he’d destroyed the future that could have been theirs. Tucking her handkerchief back into her pocket, she let out a deep sigh. Picking up her suitcase, she made her way down towards the Pier Head and the boat back to Ireland.
*
Back inside, Dessie was still trying to gain the attention of his friends. ‘Biddy, where’s Emily?’ he shouted.
‘Here we go,’ said Biddy to Elsie as the sound of the bar bell rang out, demanding that Dessie be heard. They piled brawn sandwiches on to a plate.
‘Where the hell is Sister Haycock?’ asked Branna.
‘She’s over there,’ said Elsie. ‘Sat with our Martha and the baby, having a sneaky cuddle. Let’s hope there is time for them, eh, and they aren’t too late. They deserve a child of their own.’
They all craned their necks and saw that Emily had moved back into her chair next to Dessie.
‘Oh, doesn’t she look lovely,’ said Biddy as she knocked Elsie with her elbow.
‘She does that,’ said Branna. ‘And you told the nurses about her birthday, Biddy? I bet they didn’t take much persuading to come, did they?’
‘No, not a bit of it. And they knew to keep it a secret, she herself had no idea the party was for her. They are good girls. Easy to see why they’re her favourites.’
‘Here, look, here he goes. Dessie’s up on a chair.’
They shuffled across the floor with empty plates in their hands, back to the buffet table, where their drinks awaited them. Madge almost wobbled over on her high heels. The four ladies picked up their glasses and leant against the buffet table, nudging each other and exchanging knowing smiles. They were in on the secret. They wanted at least someone to notice.
‘Look at that lot,’ said Maisie as she nudged Noleen and nodded towards the buffet table. ‘They all love a good do, don’t they? We should have made a birthday cake, Biddy.’
‘I heard about it from Frank and Lita in the fish shop,’ said Noleen. ‘When Dessie told me he was organizing a bit of a do, I didn’t like to let on that I knew to anyone, bless him. I think everyone as far as Bootle knows it’s Emily’s birthday. Except Emily, of course. She seems to have forgotten.’
The room fell silent and anticipation filled the air as Dessie stood on his seat.
The voice of the barman rang out. ‘Could everyone keep their glasses, please, as we’ve run out.’
Ribald jokes filled the air as the women pretended to cling on to their glasses. ‘Oh, you’re not having ours,’ said Maisie, hugging her Bambi Babycham glass to her chest.
‘Thank you,’ said Dessie. ‘I just wanted to say welcome to everyone and thank you all for making the journey to the Silvestrian on what is a special night.’
‘Why special, Dessie?’ shouted someone who had taken full advantage of the free bar.
‘Well, it is special, because…’ Dessie looked down at Emily.
The three nurses gasped at the sight of her. She had swapped her standard knitted twinset for a cream A-line dress and her usually curly hair had been swept up on top of her head.
‘Golly, she looks beautiful,’ said Victoria. ‘I’ve never seen her look like that before.’ Victoria looked about the room, at the people she had come to know as well as family. She felt a pang of sadness and looked over at Roland trying his best to talk football with Stan Tanner.
‘It must be because she’s happy,’ said Beth.
Maisie looked misty eyed. ‘For the first time in a very long while,’ she said. The night of the George Street bombing came to mind and a shiver ran down her spine. ‘Imagine, Stan, if her mam and their lads could see her now. They were the same age as Jack and Cahill when the bomb dropped right on top of them.’ Tears filled her eyes and spilt on to her cheeks. ‘I just wish her mam could be here, to see her, you know.’
‘I know, love.’ Stan handed Maisie his handkerchief and Noleen picked up her hand.
‘We are here for her,’ said Noleen. ‘We are her mothers. We know how her mam would have felt and we must feel it for her.’ She squeezed Maisie’s hand and they clung to each other, filled with motherly pride and love for Emily.
‘Imagine, Noleen, who else would be in this room right now if that bomb hadn’t fallen on George Street or if the war hadn’t happened. I can almost see their faces.’
Stan reached out for Maisie’s other hand and squeezed it. ‘Don’t think of things like that, love,’ he whispered. ‘We have to always look forward, not back, and this is a good night to remember that.’ He cracked open two more bottles of Babycham with his back teeth and poured them into Maisie and Noleen’s glasses.
‘Lovely, this,’ said Noleen as she took another sip.
Maisie handed Noleen another of the posh cigarettes. They both inhaled, sighed, squeezed hands and gave a little giggle, although neither was sure why.
God, I’ve missed this, Noleen thought to herself as Maisie complained about the American cigarettes. ‘The bleedin’ things are so thin, they’ve burnt down in seconds.’
Paddy’s love for his wife filled his heart as he watched her commiserate and then laugh with Maisie. ‘Women. I can’t understand them, can you?’ he said to Stan. ‘Crying one minute, laughing the next.’ You were a stupid, miserable git, he thought to himself as he turned to the sound of Dessie banging the table.
‘I would like to announce…’ Dessie’s voice boomed across the room and a loud ‘Woohoo!’ went up from the tables. ‘…that I would like to ask this poor woman to be my wife. I say poor, because for some inexplicable reason, she might say yes.’
Dessie reached down and took Emily’s hand. With one pull and some help from his friends, he lifted her through the air so that she was now standing on her seat. Everyone cheered so loudly, it would have taken a more-bomb-damaged roof straight off. He hugged her to his side and laughed so hard that the two of them almost wobbled off the chairs.
Emily’s eyes filled with tears as she scanned the crowd of faces. She thought she saw Rita, her one-time neighbour and friend who had died in the bomb along with Rita’s sons. She tried to raise her hand to wipe her eyes, but Dessie was holding on to her firm and tight. Her arms were pressed into her sides as he hugged her to him. ‘W
ill you say yes?’ he whispered into her hair.
She couldn’t speak as her throat was thick with tears. She nodded her head and, looking up into his eyes, managed to mouth the words, ‘Yes, I will.’
The cheers from the room sent the plasterwork on the ceiling in the room down below, crashing to the floor. Emily looked around her and cried tears of happiness but also tears for the loss of her parents and her brothers. She so wanted them to know. To tell them, to share her news. But, they were all gone, dead. Everyone in the room had known Rita, as they had her mam and Alf. Alf, the only survivor apart from herself, was now in the rest home, too far gone to join them. There was no one there that she belonged to, apart from Dessie. Despite the familiar pull of loss, for the first time since that awful night in the Blitz, she was truly happy. She blinked furiously as the cheering crescendoed and people shouted their good wishes.
‘Don’t let her go, Dessie. Taken you long enough, mate.’
‘Start as you mean to go on, love, make him beg.’
Roland had slipped his arms around Victoria’s shoulders. He had seen the tears flood into her eyes. He had hardly been able to bring himself to speak to her all evening. Her even considering aborting their baby had stunned him and he had felt anger towards her for the first time ever, but now, caught up in the moment, he had to ask her. ‘Vic, when we leave for Bolton tomorrow, are you staying with me? Are you going to become my wife?’ Everyone on their table was standing and cheering; they were the only two still seated.
Victoria’s eyes met his and she had no hesitation when she responded. She felt her mother, close, urging her on. She only had to close her eyes and she knew exactly what her mother would want her to do. She would want Victoria to be the best mother, to finish a job she herself had only started and most of all, Victoria knew, she would want to see her grandchild. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘We will be married. I’m coming home with you to have our baby Roland. I’m sorry, I panicked. I was in a bit of a state, all my plans and dreams, they just came crashing down.’
The Mother's Of Lovely Lane Page 38