Daughters of Penny Lane

by Ruth Hamilton

  Yuri and Vera made their vows, and Olga walked up the aisle to stand with the newly wed pair. With no accompaniment, she delivered a Russian hymn in a beautiful contralto voice. Nobody but herself and Yuri understood a word, though all appreciated the delivery. When new applause died, bride and groom went off to sign the register.

  It was over. The crowd followed members of the wedding party into the chill autumnal air, and the main players climbed into a charabanc provided by Nigel and Marie. They were waved off by the crowd and by people standing at their front doors or gates. The bride, unable to pronounce her married name, was practising Ivanovski under her breath. Her husband was easy to live with, but difficult to say.

  ‘No matter,’ Yuri whispered, ‘we learn this at home. Plenty time to get it right.’

  ‘Well, you don’t need to learn it, cos you’ve been stuck with it forever.’

  ‘Shorten it to Ivan,’ he suggested.

  ‘Yuri Ivan,’ Vera whispered. ‘It doesn’t sound right.’

  ‘Ivanov?’

  She tried that, and it seemed to fit. ‘That’ll do. Hey, I hope we get trifle.’

  Yuri pretended to be sorry. ‘We will get dogs, cats, horses, donkeys and a llama. Trifle? Perhaps no.’ He grinned. ‘Sorry, I am pulling leg. Alice has made trifle with no jelly and lots of sherry. The wedding cake has had so much brandy poured into it for weeks that it will walk to us.’

  ‘Stagger,’ Vera said. ‘Drink makes walking hard.’ She closed her eyes and thought of Jimmy. But Jimmy was gone, and she had a new, decent husband. She had her own business, which belonged to Yuri too, and a shop was a great place for picking up gossip. They were both members of the Penny Lane Traders’ Association, and that made her proud. Her beautiful dress made her proud, as did her lovely, gentle husband, as did her reformed and hardworking sons. ‘I’m happy,’ she told Yuri.

  ‘As am I, Vera. Yes, very happy.’

  It will be bonfire night soon, little Callum.

  You will both be with us in four months. Now, I must say hello to your sister. She will be Danielle, but we’ll call her Ellie, I think. What a surprise, Ellie. The doctor has found two heartbeats, and I feel sure that you two are one of each. I will get twice the joy, twice the love, and twice the trouble, I suppose, but I am so happy to be expecting twins.

  ‘Didn’t you believe me, then?’ Angel Callum asked. ‘I told you about the twins.’

  ‘Of course I believed you. But I had to write something sensible, didn’t I?’

  ‘She’ll be tiny, blonde and beautiful like you. Callum’s going to look like his dad, so he’ll be handsome.’

  ‘Good. Now, go away, because I’m writing to my children. And you are harassing me again.’

  ‘All right, I’m going. But I was the one who told you about Ellie – not the doctor.’

  She finished her message and sat chewing her pen. What did Angel Callum expect? The idea of her children reading about a ghost delivering messages was not a good one. It was better to say that the doctor had told her. Twins. She would go to see the doctor soon and ask him to listen for two heartbeats. Fortunately, he was getting used to what he called her feyness.

  After walking upstairs, she looked into the front bedroom which was still a parlour and sewing room. Everything needed to be swapped back again. The back bedroom would become a nursery for the twins, and she would have to tell Dan that a second cot would be required. ‘Jeez,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not telling him till the doctor does find the second heartbeat. All that banging and cursing – I’ve had enough of him and his woodwork.’

  Dan had a job. The doctor, shocked and delighted by the patient’s sudden, unexpected recovery, had given Dan permission to work. He was helping to front the furniture shop, since Martin now travelled about taking orders for bespoke items. Kevin and Paul, formerly Royal Air Force engineers, had turned themselves into carpenters and were doing very well. Nellie was still looking after babies who were now mobile, and she travelled to north Liverpool almost every day to chase and catch crawling infants in order to feed and clean them. She was a busy woman.

  Alice, too, was busy. While Kevin and Paul made furniture, she produced soft furnishings for the firm. Fortunately, her advancing pregnancy meant an end to morning sickness, though she was aware that she wouldn’t be able to work indefinitely; she was carrying two babies, and was beginning to look like a barrel on legs. Once the doctor had found the second beating heart, Alice knew that her real job would be to make sure that her twins remained healthy; she would cease working after Christ-mas, though she might continue with a little dressmaking.

  Muth came for Sunday dinner twice a month, and was behaving herself for a change. She professed to being happy about her youngest daughter’s pregnancy, yet sometimes Alice thought she caught an expression on the older woman’s face as if she might be planning something or other. It was hormones, of course. Pregnancy had its drawbacks.

  The cover provided by the longer nights of autumn and winter was a boon to Elsie Stewart. At last, she knew where everybody was. She had found the house shared by Nellie’s daughters and their families, discovered the workshop behind the garage from which the husbands had meant to make their money, and she’d already known where Marie and Alice lived.

  Her relationship with the youngest of her daughters was working quite well, though Dan contributed only infrequently to conversations. But Elsie knew something about Alice; the scene she had witnessed was burnt into her brain, and it made her smile, because Alice had another man. He lived next door, and was a handsome chap . . .

  Harry Thompson had been holding the pigeon. The dog was wagging his rump wildly and making small noises; the bird had wriggled and Harry had laughed. ‘They’re like lovers, but without the contact,’ he had said. ‘They’re like us.’

  Elsie had stayed hidden; she was looking at them through the gap Alice had left in the back door. If her daughter didn’t want to be spied on she should learn to close it properly, shouldn’t she?

  ‘Loving two men isn’t easy,’ Alice had told him, ‘so yes, I suppose we are like Frank and Oscar, together but separate.’

  ‘But at least we’re the same species,’ Thompson had said, chuckling.

  Alice had taken the bird from him and placed it on the dog’s head. Elsie had seen bird and dog together before, but never the two mice playing while the cat was away. It had looked like what people call real love, though it was hard to tell these days, with so many war widows snapping up returning soldiers and sailors and air force men.

  Elsie had backed silently away from the door, turned and walked quietly out of the house.

  The job continued to be all right. Everyone paid rent on time, and there was no trouble, little noise, and a lack of drunken marauders. Phyllis continued to visit occasionally, but Phyllis was very boring. The good side of boring was a tendency to be biddable, so Elsie allowed the relationship to continue, though the two women came together only once or twice a week.

  A few days before bonfire night, Phyllis knocked on Elsie’s door. She was tearful when she confessed to the caretaker that her grandson had not been working abroad; he was out of prison today, was staying in a halfway house, and wanted to visit his grandmother. ‘Oh, I’m not sure,’ Elsie replied. ‘It’ll be my fault if anything happens.’

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen, Elsie. My Lawrence is a good lad who fell in with a bad crowd, and he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Four of them were sent down, but Lawrie never done nothing. Me son and his wife were as much use as a concrete couch, so it’s no surprise that Lawrence joined up with that crowd of scallies.’

  Elsie folded her arms. ‘He can come in daylight for half an hour, and you will both sit in here with me. That way, I won’t be letting any criminal—’ she raised a hand when she saw Phyllis open her mouth to protest. ‘I know you say he’s innocent, love, but he still has a record. I can’t let him in any of the bedsits. The boss would have my guts for Christmas decorations and my head on a po
le down Crosby beach. Look at me, Phyllis. We’re not young, you and I. We need a roof, food, heating and lighting, so we have to hang on here. At least it’s cheap.’

  ‘All right – thanks, Elsie. I’ll go and see him tomorrow and tell him what you said. I mean, how’s he going to get a job while he has a prison record? He could end up living on the streets, and his mam and dad don’t give a hoot. He sent me a letter to say he was coming out, and I should have been there to meet him at the gates, but I thought I might show him up by crying. But it meant there was nobody waiting for him when he got out. Like I said before, I’m not proud of my son and the bitch he married.’

  Elsie nodded. ‘Don’t talk to me about families. My lot’s useless, too.’

  ‘But you get your Sunday dinner sometimes, don’t you?’

  ‘I do. But my son-in-law hates me, so I’m not comfortable. I eat what I can and end up with indigestion every time. You go and see your Lawrence, eh? Tell him I’ll get some little cakes tomorrow, and explain that I daren’t lose my job by letting him loose in the rest of the house. Try not to worry. We’ll play cards and stretch his first half-hour to most of the afternoon.’

  Phyllis sniffed. ‘You’re a good woman, Elsie Stewart.’ She left with a handkerchief held to her damp face.

  Elsie shook her head. She knew all about damp. She knew all about dripping wet, and she would neither forget nor forgive anyone involved in the incident on Smithdown Road. Sitting in a comfortable chair, she began to think about Phyllis’s grandson. Would he be up for earning a few quid? Or was he going to be too scared of prison to risk his freedom all over again? ‘I’d have to get him on his own,’ she mouthed. Better still, she might find the halfway house and keep an eye on its inhabitants . . .

  She clung to one solid fact; if she hurt Nellie, all three sisters would be bruised emotionally. Marie? Hell, no, because she and her fool of a husband sometimes took in dangerous animals. As for Alice – well, she was the only one who was making an effort to mend fences. If Alice stopped being amenable, Elsie already held a weapon, and its name was Harry Thompson.

  It was time to get real, and Lawrence Rigby might well be the means to a perfect end. As long as no one got caught, she mused. If arrested, Phyllis’s grandson might well give them the name of the woman who’d paid him to – to what? She hadn’t worked that out yet. ‘Hurt one, hurt all three.’ She whispered her mantra to the empty living room. It had to be Nellie’s lot. Marie was untouchable, and Alice was pleasant. And that bucket of water had been Nellie’s fault. Oh, and Lawrence was a bad idea . . . except for the fact that there would be others in the house for newly released criminals.

  My dear Callum and Danielle,

  It will be Christmas next month, the final Christmas Daddy and I will have without you. Next year will be all teddy bears and noisy rattles, I suppose. You will be nine months old, so possibly crawling and getting into mischief, but I can’t wait.

  Ellie, your father managed a lot better when building your cot. He didn’t have pieces left over, and there were enough screws. Don’t worry about your cot, Callum. I had Uncle Paul give it the once-over, and he says it’s strong and sturdy, so that’s another weight off my mind.

  ‘Alice?’

  She didn’t even turn her head. ‘Not now, Angel Callum.’

  ‘Yes, now. It’s important.’

  Alice slammed down her pen. ‘You are harassing me,’ she accused him.

  ‘So get a solicitor and sue me.’

  ‘Go away. I’m writing to my babies.’ Picking up her pen, she suddenly became aware that the room’s walls were brightly coloured. He was serious, then. ‘OK, you win.’ This angel in his current state would not be ignored. She laid the pen down again. ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Your mother. You have no idea what that woman is capable of.’

  ‘And you do?’

  ‘Oh yes, I most certainly do. So does your dad – you’ll be seeing him in April.’

  ‘On my birthday.’

  ‘And Elsie’s. Alice, she’s up to no good.’

  She pondered, a hand resting on her swollen belly. ‘Go on.’ After several months of living with Callum, she knew when he was fooling and when he was not. He had shown himself to Dan and to Harry, so if she refused to listen, he would probably start mithering one or both of the men in her life. ‘I’m ready,’ she sighed.

  He began by reminding her of the day Nellie had attacked her mother with the awning pole. ‘I tell you, even if she lived for three hundred years, Elsie would keep that occasion at the front of her mind, as fresh as a daisy, as infuriating as a mosquito. Well, that night I had to tidy up after she was attacked by Nigel’s two baby tigers – remember them? He got the pair of them onto solids and moved them on.’

  ‘Was she hurt?’

  ‘Do you care?’

  Alice pondered. ‘I’m not sure. Why would she go near Marie’s house, anyway? Nellie was the one who started the kerfuffle, so what was Muth doing round at our Marie’s?’

  ‘It’s hurt one and hurt all three, isn’t it? It’s been like that since you lost four of your sisters and there were just three of you left. Then Marie escaped. You joined her and married Dan. Nellie was treated as if she lacked brainpower, so you’ve all looked after each other. Your mother meant to let all the Stantons’ outside animals go. You see? Punish Marie and Nigel Stanton, and the other two sisters would have been collateral damage – job done. Anyway, I took charge of a certain padlock, and she was mauled.’

  Alice kept quiet while absorbing this information. She remembered Muth walking awkwardly because her back was hurting, supposedly the result of a fall outside the house that contained her little flat.

  ‘Yes,’ Callum said, ‘you’re right – it was tigers, not a fall.’

  ‘Get out of my head, please.’

  ‘Listen to me, young lady—’

  ‘Don’t call me a lady – I’m a woman.’

  Callum chuckled, and colours on walls shivered. ‘Woman, then. It’s Guy Fawkes soon, isn’t it? Lots of bonfires. One extra behind a row of businesses may not get noticed.’

  ‘You what?’

  He explained. Elsie had followed a young man to a place that housed recently released prisoners. ‘She was clever enough not to use him, because she knows his grandmother, but she hung round yesterday until she found a hard man. He’s going to burn down Kevin and Paul’s workshop. Your mother intends to pay him to commit arson on the fifth of November. We need to move fast.’

  Alice snapped her mouth into the closed position, and blinked several times. ‘Just another bonfire,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Yes. Behind petrol containers that may be almost empty, but could do harm if the fire spreads. It has to be stopped, but not by me.’

  She remained seated. ‘We could warn the police.’

  ‘Yes, and your mother would be in jail.’

  Alice jumped to her feet. ‘Isn’t that what she deserves?’

  ‘Of course. But she also deserves to be here on her birthday and yours. After that night you won’t be bothered by her again for the rest of your lives. That I can promise you, and angels don’t lie.’

  She walked to the window and stared out at nothing in particular. ‘I suppose you could force yourself to stop her, Callum.’

  ‘We want her here next April. I can stop her by wiping it out of her mind. But I have a better plan, one that will make her think before she leaps in future. Two plans, actually. One, you could go round and tell her that everyone knows what she’s planning, because the criminal community is spreading the word.’

  ‘And plan number two? Because I don’t know any criminals.’

  ‘Right – let’s move to idea the second. Tell her the police know about a plan to commit arson at the woodwork shop.’

  ‘I don’t know any policemen.’

  ‘Use your imagination, Alice.’

  ‘I am all out of imagination and full of two babies instead. Leave me out of it. None of this is fair on a woman who’
s pregnant. Twice.’

  ‘An anonymous letter might do the trick.’

  ‘Fingerprints,’ she reminded him. ‘And there are handwriting experts.’ The room shimmered. ‘You’re smiling,’ she accused him. ‘I don’t know what you find so funny.’

  ‘You’re funny. Alice, I leave no prints, and no one will recognize my writing. Anyway, your mother isn’t foolish enough to show the authorities a letter that charges her with planning an arson attack.’

  ‘Oh, I see – I never thought.’

  ‘Exactly – you’re pregnant, so cloudy-minded. I’ll even deliver it, cut out the postman. She won’t know who sent it, and there’ll be no prints, no evidence. Yes, it will be done by me, but she’ll think it’s the work of an earthling.’

  ‘Shall I get you some paper?’

  ‘No. You have fingerprints. I could remove them, but I want you, above all, to be safe. I’ll get what I need elsewhere. Trust me? Trust between the two of us is vital.’

  ‘Do I have an option?’

  He laughed again. ‘No, although you reached the right conclusion anyway. With my help, of course.’

  ‘But you make all the decisions. You pretend to ask.’

  Colours faded. ‘I’ll go now, Alice. The letter will be on her doormat before tomorrow morning. There’s no need to involve the family – you know how nervous Nellie gets. Claire and Janet will worry, too, and the men would probably break the necks of Muth and the hired arsonist. So say nothing.’

  ‘Have faith in me, Callum.’

  A brief flash of light touched her arm. ‘I have. I love you, Alice.’

  She tutted and muttered something about not wanting three men – life was bad enough with two. But when he’d gone, she felt the wet rolling down her face. She wept because she loved him, and she wasn’t sure why. ‘I suppose I’ll miss him,’ she told herself. ‘Well, you miss earache when it stops, don’t you?’

  Callum never left her completely. Inside her head his voice whispered, ‘I heard that.’

  ‘Oh, go and write your letter.’