A Place To Call Home

by June Francis

  Vera looked vexed. ‘A lodger’s not the same. Now shut up and let me eat in peace.’

  Rene was glad to do just that. She had not forgotten that she had left her handbag at Harry’s and was wondering what excuse she could give to get out of the house and go and collect it. Probably best to wait until Wilf came in, then she could slip out the back way and her mother would think she had just gone to the lavatory. The thought of seeing Harry again so soon caused a frisson of excitement to tremble down her spine.

  ‘I reckon the Civil War in Spain’s as good as over since the Italians stepped in and helped Franco capture Barcelona last month,’ said Vera loudly, startling her daughter out of her reverie. ‘Once that happens everything’ll calm down in Europe.’

  Rene did not argue but thought that Mussolini was another one of them fascists like Hitler and she didn’t trust either of them as far as she could throw them. Thankfully, before Vera could get into her stride, there was a sound at the door and Wilf entered the kitchen.

  His grey moustache drooped due to the damp but his lined, weathered face wore a cheerful expression. Rene stood up and relieved him of his seaman’s greatcoat and hustled him over to the fire. He was the grandfather she had never had and she was very fond of him. ‘I couldn’t see a hand in front of me face down at the Pierhead,’ he said.

  ‘One of these days you’ll fall in a dock and we won’t see you again,’ said Vera, waving a fork at him. ‘You’d be best staying here some days, Wilf. I can’t understand you, at your age, wanting to be down there every day.’

  Rene and Wilf exchanged looks and he winked at her. ‘Keeps me on the go, girl,’ he said.

  Vera said something that Rene did not catch because she was no longer listening. Instead she was dishing up Wilt’s stew. As soon as he sat down and began talking to Vera, Rene slipped out of the kitchen and went down the yard. As she crossed the entry, Rene could hear the mournful sound of a ship’s foghorn on the Mersey, and hoped the weather would clear by tomorrow.

  She was about to press down the latch on Harry’s yard door when it opened from the other side and Cissie appeared. She was carrying a large cardboard box and on one arm hung two handbags. She looked red in the face and started when she saw Rene. ‘I know what you’re doing here, but yer almost bleedin’ frightened me to death appearing suddenly like that.’

  ‘Sorry!’ Rene smiled. ‘I see you’ve my handbag.’

  ‘I’ve got something else for yer ennal. He bleedin’ forced them on me, his chest wheezing and sneezing his head off.’

  Rene realised what was in the cardboard box. She had forgotten about the cat and its kittens. ‘Poor Harry!’

  ‘Never mind poor bleedin’ Harry! Warrabout me? I’ve got work to go to right now. I can’t be seein’ to finding a home for a bleedin’ cat and its kittens … but at least … ’ She stopped abruptly, and surprised Rene with a beaming smile. ‘I’ve got some news for yer. It’s gonna surprise the life out of yer.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Rene cautiously, wondering whether Cissie’d already found another fancy man.

  ‘I’ve asked them to come and live with me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Harry and me granddaughter, of course!’

  Rene could only stare.

  ‘Well, say somethin’!’

  ‘You mean you and Harry living under the same roof? Will it work?’

  Cissie’s smile evaporated and she sniffed. ‘And why shouldn’t it? It’s the perfect answer! I can’t afford to live by meself and that bleedin’ house is getting him down. Even I can sense that. The only bloody thing wrong is that he’s like Cecil and wants me to give up me job. I told him I could have a fire and a hot meal ready for Greta and him when they come in without doing that.’

  ‘So you could,’ agreed Rene, amused. ‘Did he accept that?’

  ‘He said we could see how it worked out.’

  ‘Makes sense. Is there anything I can do to help?’

  Cissie gazed at her across the top of the box and her face brightened. ‘I think yer really mean that. Here yer are, girl … take this!’ She shoved the box at Rene, who clutched it frantically as it threatened to slip to the ground. The old woman chuckled and placed Rene’s handbag on top of the box. ‘Thanks, girl. See yer around.’

  ‘But … !’ cried Rene, clinging to the box as it lurched in her arms, scrabbling and mewing coming from its interior.

  ‘Tatty bye,’ called Cissie, and disappeared into the fog.

  Exasperated, Rene stared after her but she knew there was only one thing to do and that was to take the tabby and its offspring home with her. At least their presence would provide her mother with company and some entertainment. Cats were creatures Vera had voiced a liking for … although, after their last one, Ginger, had died, she had vowed to have no more. Rene did not doubt that after an initial moan her mother would relent and make them welcome. As for where they had come from, Rene would tell Vera that she had found them in a box by the bin.

  2

  Rene drew back the curtain in her mother’s bedroom, letting the morning light flood in. Only a few days ago, gales had caused the Crosby lightship to snap its mooring and be cast adrift in the Mersey but today, the first Sunday in March, felt like spring. She peered down into the street and spotted Harry and Greta standing in the middle of the road, talking to Miss Birkett who lived just across the way from the Millers. Rene’s eyes lingered on the black hair that curled in the nape of Harry’s neck and felt an urge to rush out and ruffle those curls. Crackers! She was going crackers. He did not want her, he’d been mad about Sally. Still, maybe she should go down later and ask if he needed any help. Surely if they were to be neighbours, he’d appreciate a touch of neighbourliness?

  ‘What are yer staring at? Is it Harry Peters and his girl moving in next door?’ asked Vera suspiciously.

  Rene groaned inwardly. ‘How did you guess, Mother?’

  ‘I’m psychic. Will yer come away from there!’ she called.

  Rebelliously, Rene stayed where she was. ‘They’ve a fine day for the move.’

  ‘Aye! But we don’t want him seeing you nosing,’ muttered Vera.

  ‘He’s not looking up here. They’re talking to Miss Birkett.’

  ‘I wonder what about.’

  Rene shrugged. ‘Perhaps she’s welcoming them to the street. She’ll be one of the first to be glad that Cissie’s got family living with her.’

  ‘He’ll stop her gallop that’s for sure. But will you come away,’ said Vera fretfully. ‘I’m waiting for you to tie me shoelaces.’

  Reluctantly, Rene moved away from the window, thinking about her dream last night. It could have been a scene from a Hollywood film with Harry playing the role generally taken by Douglas Fairbanks Jnr or Cary Grant. Remnants of how she had felt still clung and words sang in her head about birds and bees, educated fleas and falling in love. A blush warmed her cheeks and, absent-mindedly, she sat down beside her mother on the bed.

  ‘Expecting me to get me foot up there, are you?’ said Vera sarcastically. ‘On your knees, madam!’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Wilf’s still in his bedroom and I need to go to the lav so get a move on!’

  ‘Sorry, Mother,’ Rene sank to her knees and fastened the brown shoelaces. Then she helped Vera to her feet and opened the bedroom door. They managed to get to the bottom of the stairs without any mishap. Once in the back kitchen, she handed Vera her walking stick, and opened the back door for her and helped her down the step into the yard, before returning upstairs to fetch her mother’s breakfast tray.

  Rene took the opportunity to glance out of the window again and saw that Harry and Greta were still talking to Miss Birkett. She hurried downstairs and went out the front, glad that she had not lingered in bed but had given herself plenty of time to wash and put on her Sunday best that morning. This consisted of a green V-necked hand-knitted sweater and a brown skirt that came just below the knee, which she’d bought from C & A Mode in the January sales. Tre
mbling slightly with a mixture of excitement and nerves, she walked down the step, just in time to see Miss Birkett striding up the street, her Bible and prayer book under her arm. Harry and Greta were heading for Cissie’s front door.

  Rene smiled. ‘Hi, Harry! Hi, Greta! You all finished or would you like some help?’

  Harry’s vivid blue eyes met hers and, for a moment, she’d have sworn he was pleased to see her, but then it was as if a shutter came down. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, ‘No thanks! We’re nearly done.’

  Disappointed but still determined, Rene murmured, ‘Cup of tea? Moving must be thirsty work.’

  He hesitated. ‘Sorry! I’ve still some things to do that only I can see to. Anyway, you must be busy what with your mother and Wilf, and Sunday dinner to get ready.’

  ‘How right you are! Never a dull moment in our house!’ she said brightly, and with an ache inside that felt like a weight, she made to go indoors, only to be stopped on the threshold by a question from Greta. ‘How are the kittens?’

  Rene whirled round and smiled. ‘Why don’t you come and look when you’re not so busy helping your dad?’

  Greta looked at Harry, wrinkled her pert nose, and said hopefully, ‘Can I?’

  A faint smile lit his eyes. ‘OK! Go now but don’t take forever and don’t get hairs on you. I need your help in sorting what to keep of your mam’s bits and pieces.’ He vanished indoors.

  Greta hurried to catch up with Rene and burst into speech immediately. ‘I didn’t think the move would be so hard on him. He’s had a face on him for days like a week of wet Sundays. He’s been almost as bad as just after Mam died.’

  ‘It’s a big step leaving the house where he took your mam as a bride,’ said Rene. ‘How do you feel about living with your gran?’

  Greta shrugged. ‘I wasn’t asked. Dad told me it would be better for me … that there were things that only an older woman could help me with. I suppose it’s something that he hasn’t thought about marrying again just to provide me with a new mother. That’s what a girl in school’s dad did and she and her new mother hate each other.’

  ‘It’s a difficult age, thirteen,’ said Rene, leading the way into the kitchen.

  Greta squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. ‘I’ll be fourteen in October! In six months I’ll be leaving school and getting a job.’

  Rene smiled. ‘Then make the most of your days of freedom before starting work.’

  Greta’s expression was incredulous. ‘What freedom? You can tell it’s years since you were at school. I can’t wait to leave and be a better help to Dad. I’ve already got a little Saturday job. Miss Birkett asked me would I like to do her messages while she’s in the shop.’

  ‘Great!’ said Rene, thinking, so that was what the conversation had been about in the street. Good for Miss Birkett!

  There was no sign of Vera in the kitchen, so Rene left Greta kneeling on the floor beside the cut down cardboard box with mother cat and kittens inside and went outside. She found her mother leaning against the lavatory door, one hand resting on her walking stick. ‘Did you hear them?’ she asked, her eyes dark with malicious excitement.

  ‘Hear what?’ asked Rene.

  Immediately a youthful voice provided the answer. ‘Will yer bloody let me go, mister? I haven’t taken nuthin’! There’s little I’d give yer tuppence for on that handcart!’

  ‘Nobody’s asking your opinion, lad! What I want to know is what you’re doing up this jigger? I haven’t seen your face around here before.’

  ‘That’s Harry,’ whispered Vera.

  Rene rolled her eyes. She folded her arms and rested a shoulder against the wall and listened.

  ‘Know everybody in the neighbourhood, do yer?’ said the other voice.

  ‘Less of the bloody cheek! You either explain to me what you’re up to or you can say your piece to the bobby,’ said Harry, sounding grim.

  At that moment Greta came out into the yard. ‘Was that Dad’s voice I heard?’ she asked.

  Rene nodded and, with a sparkle in her eye, said, ‘Shall we have a look?’ And without waiting for the girl’s answer, she opened the gate and stepped into the entry. Greta followed but Vera hung back, holding the door open by leaning against it. They weren’t the only ones drawn by the voices. Several of their neighbours had come out of their yards to see what was going on.

  A handcart loaded with odd bits and pieces from Harry and Greta’s house, including a flowered vase, a golliwog, a wooden box twice the size of a shoebox, and Sally’s chocolate box of memories, blocked the passage a few feet away. Harry stood at one end of the cart, holding a youth aloft by the lapels of a tweed jacket that was frayed at elbows and cuffs. As he struggled, he appeared in danger of losing his trousers, which were held up by a length of rope. With one hand, he was helping to keep them in place while with the other he was attempting to loosen Harry’s grip on his collar. His face was narrow with high cheekbones and his expression was tight with anger.

  Greta stared at him and then gasped, ‘That’s him!’ She shot out an arm and pointed a finger. ‘He was the one in your bedroom, Dad! He must be daft to come back here. What’s he after?’

  Harry’s frown deepened and he hoisted the youth over to where Greta was standing. ‘Are you sure, luv? Have a good look at him!’

  Greta peered into his face and the youth drew back his head. ‘I’ve never seen her before in me life!’ he muttered.

  ‘You’re a liar!’ said Greta fiercely. ‘I only saw you for a few moments but I haven’t forgotten what you look like. You frightened the life out of me.’

  The youth’s lips curled in a smile of derision. ‘You didn’t half scream but it wasn’t me that made that yowling.’

  ‘You’re admitting you were there, though, now, are you?’ she said robustly.

  The young man said warily, ‘I let myself in with the key on the string that’s hardly breaking and entering.’ He glanced at Harry. ‘Now how about putting me down? The air’s a bit rarefied up here.’

  ‘Smart Alec, aren’t you?’ said Harry, heaving the lad up several more inches and bringing the edges of his jacket closer together and squeezing.

  ‘You’re choking me,’ he gasped.

  Rene took pity on him. ‘Let him down, Harry! What’s the point of scaring him to death if all he took was an egg and some bread? Unless … has he actually taken anything from the cart?’

  ‘I haven’t stolen anything!’ wheezed the youth.

  ‘Only because I caught you hovering before you had a chance to pinch anything,’ said Harry. Even so, he loosened his grip and the lad slid to the ground, but he didn’t get the chance to escape because the man grabbed him by the back of his jacket. ‘I haven’t finished with you yet. I’m going to have a word with your father. Where d’you live?’

  ‘My dad’s dead!’ The youth lowered his eyes and scuffed at an empty cigarette carton with the toe of his boot.

  ‘Are you an orphan?’ asked Rene.

  The lad’s head came up swiftly and there was a flush on his cheeks. ‘I was no bloody orphan when I was put in the orphanage. I’ve a mother and sisters!’ he said, a bitter note in his voice.

  Harry cuffed him across the head. ‘Watch your language!’

  ‘Tell us where you live!’ demanded Greta, moving closer, her skirts swaying, her head thrust forward like a snake ready to strike. ‘If you haven’t done anything really wicked, you’ve nothing to worry about.’

  He glowered at her. ‘I’ve heard others say that and I believed them but it turned out that they were lying.’

  ‘I’m not a liar,’ said Greta indignantly.

  ‘Take him to the bobby,’ shouted one of the neighbours.

  ‘No!’ cried Rene, involuntarily taking a step towards the youth.

  Harry glanced at her. ‘Don’t interfere, Rene. We can’t let him off scot-free. He needs to learn the difference between right and wrong.’

  ‘I know the difference between right and wrong,’ said the yout
h hotly. ‘I also know a person’s innocent until proven guilty. So how about giving me the benefit of the doubt … sir?’

  ‘Sir?’ Greta looked him up and down. ‘Polished, aren’t we? And I notice … you’re putting the voice on … gone all posh.’

  ‘I’d say polite is the word,’ said the youth, flushing.

  ‘The police could have him on a charge of vagrancy,’ said Vera, breaking into the conversation and tapping her stick on the ground. ‘A night in the cells’ll be good for him.’

  Several people nodded, and as if it had been decided, a woman said that she had a joint to put in the oven so was going in. A man muttered something about getting back to feeding his pigeons. Within minutes only Rene, Vera, Greta, Harry and the youth remained.

  The latter’s gaze rested on Rene. ‘I don’t want a night in the cells. I bet none of you has ever had to stay where you don’t want to be. You’re just like the rest, think you know what’s best for other people.’

  Rene wondered who the rest were. Perhaps he had once had a father who beat him and so had run away from home? Maybe he was a thief and had spent time in a borstal. Or could he be one of the many adolescents who couldn’t find work and so had taken to the road? Yet he’d said he had family. It was difficult to know what to do with him without knowing all the facts. One thing was obvious: he had gone hungry lately, there was barely any spare flesh on him. ‘What are you going to do, Harry?’ she asked. ‘I remember you saying that you weren’t bothered about an egg and some bread.’

  He frowned. ‘That’s before he tried to steal from the cart. If he gets a short, sharp shock then he mightn’t end up in Walton gaol. I’m going to take him to the police station and see if he’s known. If he’s not, then I won’t press charges and they’ll let him off with a warning.’

  The youth looked dismayed. ‘But that’s not fair! You didn’t catch me in possession of anything. You’ve got no evidence.’