‘I work for Matron, Biddy, I think I might know that,’ said Elsie, always quick to assert her position at the top of the food chain.
‘Oh, excuse me, madam, I thought you made the tea, not sorted the rota.’
Elsie winced. ‘I need something,’ she said. ‘Miserable it is. I can’t go through Christmas like this or it’ll be turkey soup for me.’
‘Who has news?’ asked Biddy, keen to change the subject. She blew out the match she’d been holding for Madge to light her cigarette with.
‘I do,’ said Branna. ‘And you’ll never guess, but Sister Paige has got a fella.’
‘Go away, she has not! She never has and she never will,’ said Betty Hutch. ‘She’s wedded to her job, that one, just like Sister Tapps.’
‘Our Gina has seen him,’ said Branna, looking smug and making the most of her moment of glory. ‘Having a good old necking session, they were, under the lamp-post at the bottom of the street. And what’s more, her mother isn’t as poorly as she makes out and apparently she’s putting it all on. And Mrs Paige saw Sister Paige and the fella too and our Gina says she sounded none too happy.’
‘Ooh!’ They gasped in unison and, open-mouthed, turned to each other.
‘Bless her,’ said Elsie, ‘she deserves a bit of fun. Blimey, they are all at it – her and Sister Haycock. Think I’ll have to do a bit better than a quick fuck once a week with the coalman and find meself a proper fella.’ She looked serious as she drew on her cigarette and her toothless cheeks caved inwards.
The table was stunned into silence and they all stared at Elsie. But as she blew out her smoke and grinned, they exploded into laughter.
‘That’s how Bessie Green has always paid for her coal,’ said Branna. ‘She makes no secret of it. He takes three minutes, she said, and she’s had it all taken away, so she’s not bothered about getting caught and her money stays put in her purse.’
‘Did,’ said Elsie. ‘Their Kev caught her out a few weeks ago.’
‘Oh my giddy aunt, is that really true? How?’ asked Madge.
Elsie took a sip of her coffee and made them wait. ‘Their Kev’s not the brightest spark, but they were stood in the yard at the time and he was brushing the coal dust back down the coal hole after the delivery. He wanted to know why there were two big black handprints on her fat arse. She was caught red-handed.’
‘Black-handed, more like,’ said Biddy, and the table hooted with laughter once more.
‘And Sally on the Dock Road,’ said Madge. ‘With her it’s the milkman and he’s a cheeky bastard as he only lives in the dairy around the corner. Trouble is though, she complains ’cause sometimes he wants it every day. Mind you, I suppose she wants her daily pinta. Anyway, you get your ulcers sorted first, before you go looking for a new fella, eh, Elsie? Give yourself a fighting chance.’
Elsie grinned her toothless grin.
‘Well,’ said Betty, ‘one more evening of making stars and we should be finished. Everyone OK for tonight? Pammy Tanner says they’ll probably decorate the wards tomorrow. I think we’ve done really well, you know. I reckon we could even win that competition. Maisie has gone all out. One more push, ladies, and we’re done.’
‘Thank God for that,’ said Biddy. ‘If I have to make another golden star with that fiddly paper, me fingers will drop off. I can still feel it in me joints after the last session.’ She wriggled her left hand to make the point.
‘Well, I think it’s magical,’ said Branna, ‘all that crepe and tinsel. And do you know what’s the most magical bit? That little lad, Louis, he’s doing so well, he’ll be able to see it all. If anything made me want to decorate that ward, it’s that. I can’t wait to see his face.’
‘Just think, if we’d been decorating two wards, it would have taken twice as long. Sister Tapps, I don’t reckon she wanted to take Christmas off, you know,’ said Biddy.
‘She needs to,’ said Betty. ‘Something’s not right there and I don’t know if she asked or Matron made her, but she needs a bit of a rest, I’d say.’
‘Oh, Matron definitely made her, I heard all of that,’ whistled Elsie through her gums. ‘No, she wasn’t at all happy about it. And do you know what else – her sister has died and she didn’t even go to the funeral. I heard her telling Matron. Too busy on the ward, she said.’
One by one they stubbed out their cigarettes in the ashtray.
‘Come on,’ said Biddy, ‘let’s get back.’
As they scraped back their chairs, Betty looked thoughtful. ‘That’s not right, that isn’t,’ she said.
‘What isn’t, Betty?’ asked Madge as she shoved her cigarettes back into her bag.
‘Not attending her own sister’s funeral. I have a sister, and I would never do that. Don’t you think it’s just not right? Like there must be something wrong. It’s not normal.’
‘Oh, don’t be daft, Betty. She’s Sister Tapps by name and Sister Tapped by nature. She’s always been a bit funny, and anyway, what do we know? They might not even have got on. Could have been sworn enemies for all we know. My mam, she never saw her sister at all between the two wars. Even now they only write a letter every now and then, and that’s only because I got them back together. But the jealousy! Jesus, I sometimes wish I hadn’t. I swear to God, the only reason my mam keeps going is because she is determined to outlive her sister, and she will do that by making sure that every day she outdoes her in some way or another. She booked a photographer last week, to take a photo of herself stood next to the new electric mangle so she can post it to her, that’s how bad it is.’
‘She’s losing too much weight if you ask me, Sister Tapps,’ said Biddy as she loaded the empty cups on to the tray. ‘I think it’s a good idea if Matron is making her take Christmas off. Everyone needs a rest. What she needs is to put her feet up and have a few roast dinners.’
They all left the greasy spoon quieter than usual, lost in their thoughts, but not one of them wondered where Sister Tapps would go, where she would find her rest and those roast dinners. For the women of the dockside streets had no idea what solitude was like. They were never short of friends or company and spent their days at home with neighbours and children freely wandering in and out. It never occurred to them that for Sister Tapps there was no one and nothing other than St Angelus, her ward and the sick children of Liverpool’s dockside.
*
Over in the Lovely Lane home, Mrs Duffy was arranging for Jake to give her a lift in his van to collect the decorations from Maisie and take them both up to the hospital. ‘It’s to be tomorrow, Jake, when everything’s ready. You’ll wait for me after your morning delivery so I can see my nurses off first.’ She wiped her hands on her apron and fixed him with a smile. ‘There’ll be a cooked breakfast in it for you, lad.’
‘I’d like to, Mrs Duffy, but Dessie won’t let me if I’m not back by nine for the deliveries.’
Mrs Duffy was unimpressed. ‘You tell Dessie, he may be the head porter and all, but we have to get cracking, on Matron’s orders, and I don’t have a magic carpet at my disposal.’
Jake shook his head. ‘Mrs Duffy, you have me stuck between a rock and a hard place. What will I do?’
‘I’ll tell you what you will do, you will inform Dessie that there will be no decorations on the children’s ward if we don’t get on to it tomorrow. Is that what he wants now?’
*
Jake fled the nurses’ home and drove straight back to the porter’s lodge to plead with Dessie. ‘If I don’t do what Mrs Duffy asks, I reckon she’ll be coming up here to deal with you directly. She’s a woman who won’t be taking no for an answer.’
Much to Jake’s surprise, Dessie grinned. ‘You do whatever Mrs Duffy asks of you,’ he said. ‘I’ll put Bryan on the deliveries.’
Jake was standing in the doorway to the porter’s hut and Dessie was sitting behind the desk, filling in the work chart for the day. ‘Right you are,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll be off then.’ And to Jake’s additional surprise, Dessie didn’t
invite him to take a cup of tea from the pot and nor did he even look up and crack a joke – he was fully focused on filling out his chart.
Seconds after Jake had run back down the steps, Dessie said, ‘You can come out now,’ and leant back in his chair, grinning.
‘You are a cheeky monkey, Dessie Horton,’ said Emily. ‘I only came in here to drop off my case, I didn’t expect to be trapped. You know better than I do that this hut is in full view of Matron’s window.’
‘Aye, I do.’ Dessie stood up. ‘Is that the last of your things?’
‘It is. There’s nothing left in my room now, it’s all either already at your house or in this case. Will it be all right here?’ She looked him full in the eye, more serious now. ‘You know I’m not going to tell Matron yet, Dessie? Not till the new year at least. I’m keeping my room on and I’ve put a sign up for the domestics so they won’t come in and clean over the holidays. You do understand, don’t you?’
‘I do. Don’t you worry. I have no problem with that, and your suitcase will be fine. I’ll bring it home in the van tonight.’ His calm tone belied his inner turmoil; he couldn’t help worrying that she might not stay, that one day she would pack her bags and walk right back out of his life. ‘And don’t worry about Matron seeing you. I happen to know she is helping decorate the tree in the main entrance. She took two of the lads and a set of ladders with her not half an hour ago. So we are safe.’
He moved towards Emily. There was no mistaking the look in his eye.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ Emily said, a look of horror on her face. ‘I will remind you that I am the director of the school of nursing. I lead by example.’
‘Just one,’ whispered Dessie with a grin. ‘No one will know.’
‘No! Certainly not!’ Emily squealed. ‘You cannot kiss me here, Dessie Horton. Can you imagine? The next thing you know, we’ll have nurses breaking the rules all over St Angelus. They’ll be kissing on the wards before we know it. You keep your hands to yourself.’ And then she grinned as she backed towards the door. ‘Until tonight then.’
Dessie stood and watched as Emily flew down the steps and across the cobbled yard to the school of nursing. He smiled as she pulled her cape around her, protecting herself from the biting wind that was whistling up from the Mersey. In the distance he heard the familiar horns of the tugs sounding their farewells and sail safes to the ships they had just led out to the deeper waters beyond the bar. Over to the far side of the yard he could hear the clatter of the oxygen bottles as they were wheeled away to whichever wards had requested them. All around him life went on as usual. Everything was as it always had been – everything except the contents of his heart.
He marvelled at the ways in which Emily had turned his life upside down. He had always been very busy, his days fully occupied with looking after the needs of others, but he’d also been lonely. There had always been that point at the end of the day when he could no longer escape the inevitable. When he had to leave work, the pool hall, the pub or the kitchen of whoever had invited him in for a bite and a cuppa. He knew that he was just a small part of the lives of most of the families he helped, the lads he employed, and that he likely got just a passing mention in their conversations – ‘Oh by the way, I saw Dessie today’ – before they turned out the light. But for him, those families amounted to the whole of his life, and when he closed his door at night he could run from his loneliness no more. He’d been aware that the way to end his misery was to find a wife, but he hadn’t known how. And now here she was, his Emily. His house was full of her. Her clothes and bags and possessions. She had transformed his life and he was loving it. A lifetime of orderliness turned into chaos, and he didn’t mind one little bit. He revelled in his new-found joy.
Every time he opened his back door of an evening and her voice shouted out ‘Hello!’ to welcome him home, his heart smiled. He wanted her there with him for ever, to hear that hello singing out to him every night for the rest of his days. He would have liked to shout his happiness from the rooftops; he wanted to share it with everyone, wanted to brag about having Emily Haycock safely tucked into his terrace house. But Emily wanted to keep their living arrangements discreet until they had officially tied the knot, and he respected that. Matron, Mrs Duffy, Hattie Lloyd – they would all have something to say if they knew. So he would bide his time, let Emily do things her way.
Across the yard, Emily had reached the door to the school of nursing. As if she sensed him watching her, she turned and beamed, flashing him that mischievous smile that sent his pulse racing. She waved before she disappeared inside the building and, lifting his hand from the pocket of his brown porter’s coat, he waved back.
*
Maura’s feet were chilled to the bone. She’d spent all afternoon doing the laundry in the freezing back kitchen and now the warmth of the fire was making her toes tingle. Tommy had just got back from the docks and they were sitting in front of the fire together, enjoying a rare half hour of peace while the twins were napping. Maura was knitting a jumper for Kitty, having discovered that the only way she could stop fretting was to keep her hands and mind busy. Tommy was studying the form of the horses that had run that day and struggling to read all of the words in the Racing Post.
‘Why are you even bothering with that when you lost?’ asked Maura. ‘You lost nearly a shilling and we can ill afford to do that just before Christmas, Tommy.’
Tommy felt chastened. He was studying the form because he wanted to know where he’d gone wrong. He’d been brought up around horses in Ireland and they had been his passion ever since. Everyone in the four streets knew Tommy to be the horse man and they looked to him for the tips. He hated to lose and was still smarting. ‘It’s the worrying about our Angela, it put me off.’
‘Don’t be blaming our Angela,’ said Maura. ‘Don’t you even think about it. That poor kid is lying in a hospital bed and we’re none the wiser. You bet on the wrong horse and you lost.’
Before Tommy could reply, their next-door neighbour, Peggy, came bustling in through the back door.
Tommy wrinkled his nose. He always said he could smell Peggy before he saw her. ‘And what can we be getting for ye, Peggy?’ he asked, before Peggy had even opened her mouth.
‘Who says I’m wanting anything?’ said Peggy.
Tommy looked over the rim of his glasses. ‘Well, Peggy, I don’t know of a day when you’ve walked out of me house empty-handed. Is that the sugar bowl in yer hand?’
Peggy looked down at her hand as though seeing the sugar bowl for the first time. ‘Oh aye, it is, I nearly forgot.’ Turning from Tommy, Peggy said to Maura, ‘I’ve run out until payday, can I borrow a bowl of sugar?’
Maura raised her eyebrows and looked at Tommy. What she wanted to say was, ‘Peggy, how is it I never run out of sugar and yet the same wage comes into my house as yours?’ But she didn’t. She rose and took the bowl out of Peggy’s hand and went to the press to fill it. ‘I can’t give you a full bowl, Peggy, I need a bit extra to make a cake this weekend.’
‘Oh, don’t be worrying – anything ye can spare.’ Peggy followed her to the press and peered inside without even attempting to conceal her nosiness. ‘You have Camp Coffee?’ she said as she put her hand in and pulled the bottle out.
Maura refilled the sugar bowl and, barely managing to conceal her irritation, snatched the Camp Coffee out of Peggy’s hand, placed it firmly back where it had come from and almost slammed the press door shut. ‘I do. I have it because I pay into the Christmas club every week without fail. Do you?’
Peggy didn’t have to reply to the question. They both knew the answer. If Peggy needed extra fags, she didn’t think twice about buying some. If she wanted a Saturday night in the clubhouse, she would get her hair set even if it meant there wouldn’t be enough money for food to see them through the week. ‘She pushes us all too far,’ Maura often complained to Tommy. ‘What if we had nothing, eh? What if Kathleen kicked off and didn’t let her have whatever she borrows
. I swear to God, they survive in that house on every bugger else’s leftovers. It’s poor little Paddy I feel sorry for. His legs are as bandy as hell. I’m going to tell the welfare.’
‘No you’re not, Maura,’ Tommy would say, and he’d pat his knee invitingly, so that she’d come over and sit in his lap. ‘You won’t be telling no one now.’ And she’d walk over and flop on to his knee. Even with her slim frame, the chair always groaned at having to support the weight of them both. The springs, half of them missing, would stretch and give so that Tommy’s backside was almost touching the floor. ‘That’s not how we do things round here. We look after each other, even the neighbours you want to knock into the middle of next week. And little Paddy, don’t be worrying about him now. He has his tea in here with our lot most nights, and the welfare would look at your cooking and think he was a lucky little lad. I know me and our Kitty do. Jesus, all the kids do.’
The conversation always went the same way whenever Peggy tested Maura’s patience to breaking point. And it always ended with Maura throwing her arms around Tommy’s neck and him clasping her around her waist and holding her tight. ‘There now, you know I’m making sense, don’t you, Maura. We all have to look after each other. Look at the way we was brought up in Ireland. We never had so much as a pair of shoes. Our kids do and they get to school every day and they have never gone a day without a warm meal in their bellies. I’ve always had work, so what have we to complain about? If it’s nothing more than having Peggy and big Paddy in our lives, we can manage that, can’t we?’
Maura would silently nod into his neck. Tommy would stroke her back. Maura would kiss him. Tommy would search for the bottom of her skirt and with skilful ease slide his hand up her legs. Maura would lift his cap from his head, slap it back down and, pushing his hand away, say, ‘Get off, Tommy Doherty, I’ve ’tatoes to peel and scones in the range.’
Tommy would chuckle as she leapt off his knee, then bend down to rescue his paper from beside the chair. ‘Well you can’t blame a man for trying, can you, and I’m dying of the thirst here.’
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