by Jenny Holmes
‘Remember, she’s a grown woman with a mind of her own.’
‘Hardly,’ Hazel pointed out. ‘She’s ever so young. That’s part of the problem. She does have a husband, but I don’t think he knows anything.’
David clicked his tongue against his teeth. ‘Worse and worse,’ he commiserated. ‘I still say, if she won’t talk to you there’s little you can do except wait until she’s ready.’
‘But by then it might be too late.’ Hazel stood poised with extra coins in case the warning pips sounded. She strained to hear his voice against the roar of early-morning traffic. By ‘too late’ she meant that Sylvia might have already got rid of the baby, with who knew what consequences. ‘Perhaps she would listen to her sister or her mother if I put them in the picture. What do you think?’
‘No, don’t do that.’ David’s reply was immediate. ‘The information is confidential.’
He was right, of course. ‘Thank you. You’re busy. I’d better let you get on.’
‘Goodbye, then. Oh, and Hazel, before you go – this sort of thing happens in our line of work. You mustn’t think you can always solve other people’s problems. Sometimes you have to leave them to get on with it.’
‘I know; thank you,’ she said again before the pips sounded and the line went dead.
Right again. But David didn’t realize it was her cousin Sylvia they were talking about. So Hazel went on worrying and wondering for the rest of the week, while Sylvia kept out of her way in what turned into a chilling game of hide-and-seek with at least one life at stake and possibly two.
‘“Oh I do like to be beside the seaside!”’ Gladys sat in the front passenger seat of John Moxon’s borrowed car. Her voice trilled gaily above the purr of the engine as she, Dan and Hazel caught their first glimpse of the ocean. ‘“Oh, I do like to be beside the sea!”’
‘“I do like to walk along the prom, prom, prom …!”’ Dan joined in with an out-of-tune contribution. He winked over his shoulder at Hazel.
‘“Tiddley-om-pom-pom …”’ she hummed from the back seat. The mass of water below was steel grey and heavy clouds swept along the horizon. ‘Brr – there was definitely no need to bring our swimming costumes in this weather.’
In fact, she was wearing her heavy winter coat and felt hat for her day trip to Blackpool, having taken a quick look out of the kitchen window early that morning at the damp streets and the wind gusting litter along the pavements.
‘I’d get well wrapped up if I were you,’ her dad had advised as Dan had pulled up at the kerb and hooted the horn.
Hazel had compromised between fashion and warmth, leaving off the hand-knitted woollen scarf Robert had offered her and opting instead for a colourful silk one, but sticking with the less than glamorous brown coat. She’d left the house in high spirits and jumped into the grey Ford, shoving to one side John’s cricket equipment that still took up most of the back seat.
‘Lucky us!’ From the start, Gladys had played the lady of leisure, sitting back in her luxurious leather seat and giving a royal wave to Mabel Jackson who had come out onto her top step to shake out her doormat. ‘It’s not every day a girl gets chauffeured all the way to Blackpool.’
‘Yes. How did you wangle it with John?’ Hazel had asked.
‘Let’s just say he owed me a favour,’ Dan had replied, cheerily enigmatic. ‘And when Gladys mentioned a trip to the Illuminations, I thought, why not do it in style?’
‘And lo and behold!’ Gladys had said with a laugh.
Lo and behold, they’d been on the way well before eight o’clock, bowling along the Skipton Road and from there out towards Colne, over the Yorkshire county line, continuing along the main road towards Preston and then into Blackpool itself.
And now they could see the sea.
‘What do you say to fish and chips for dinner?’ Dan suggested as they dipped down towards the town and caught their first sight of the famous Tower. He too was dressed for cold weather in a light brown trench coat, checked scarf and trilby hat.
‘Hark at Errol Flynn!’ Gladys’s taunt highlighted the new, trim, film-star moustache that decorated her brother’s top lip. ‘He certainly knows how to treat a lady.’
But workaday fish and chips wrapped in newspaper it was, followed by a stroll along the prom in the grey dregs of daylight, glancing at solitary dog walkers on the wide, wet beach, breathing in the salt air before they were drawn to the stalls selling candyfloss and lollipops at the entrance to the Pleasure Beach. Then there was the terror of a ride on the Big Dipper (‘Why did we put ourselves through that?’ Gladys gasped afterwards. ‘I nearly had a second viewing of my fish and chips,’ was how green-at-the-gills Dan put it) before the hilarious Hall of Mirrors, which distorted their reflected faces into gurning clowns. The girls finished up by throwing themselves into the screams and thrills of the Ghost Train – an experience that Dan avoided with the feeble excuse of going to the bookmaker’s to place a bet on a sure-fire favourite in the three o’clock at Aintree. He would see them later, he said.
Gladys and Hazel went ahead without him, emerging from the ghostly tunnel shaking and clinging to each other, half-convinced that the giant spiders and rattling skeletons had been real.
Then it was time to leave the Pleasure Beach and sit over a cuppa in the Copper Kettle café where they’d arranged to meet up again with Dan.
‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ Hazel told Gladys when they were cosily settled at a corner table.
‘About Sylvia?’ Gladys’s mind shot straight away to her sister’s supposed predicament. ‘What’s she done now?’ she asked with a sigh.
‘No, it’s not about Sylvia,’ Hazel said a touch too hastily. ‘It’s about me. I’m thinking of leaving home.’
‘Blow me!’ Gladys was genuinely surprised. ‘Where are you gadding off to this time?’
‘Not far – and not just yet. But I’d like to have a shot at living in a place of my own as soon as I can afford it.’
‘You and me both,’ Gladys admitted. It set her thinking about how she and Hazel might find somewhere together. ‘We could split the rent between us and put a few finishing touches to the place – new cushions and rugs and so on. It would be easier to scrape up the money if there were two of us.’
Hazel quickly saw the logic. ‘It’s not just a pipe dream,’ she assured Gladys. ‘This really is something we could do!’
They were excited, talking non-stop so that by the time Dan rejoined them they practically held the keys to their envisaged lodgings in their hands.
He, on the other hand, looked glum. He remained quiet after they left the café and joined a queue for the decorated tram that would take them from Starr Gate in the south to Bispham in the north – a six-mile stretch of miraculous illuminations. Three hundred thousand electric light bulbs had been used in this year’s display of animated tableaux, according to the posters. They would see Aladdin with his magic lamp, fairies fluttering overhead, Cinderella’s coach pulled by six white horses, countless jugglers and clowns all designed to take the visitor’s breath away.
When the tram arrived, Hazel, Gladys and Dan went upstairs and found seats at the front.
‘This gives us the best view,’ Hazel commented, sitting between the others as the tram started its journey through festoons of multicoloured lights. She felt a child’s glee at the glittering display, her enthusiasm undimmed by the gradual onset of a cold drizzling rain. It lasted until the final stop where they got off the tram then shuffled, heads down, away from the thronged promenade, down back streets lined with cheap boarding houses to the place where they had parked the car.
‘That was grand!’ she said with a sigh, ensconced in the front seat of John’s Ford for the return journey, with Gladys in the back this time. ‘It does you good to throw away your cares and have a jolly day out once in a while.’
Gladys agreed but Dan stayed silent as he followed road signs out of town.
‘Take no notice,’ Gladys advised as they left
behind the red rose county for the white of Yorkshire. The car’s headlights raked across hedgerows and stone walls, over stark hillsides and black escarpments. ‘He probably lost his shirt by backing the wrong gee-gee as usual, but we won’t let that spoil our day.’
Dan scowled and pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator. When the road ahead curved suddenly, he slammed on the brake. Hazel and Gladys slid this way and that on the shiny leather seats.
‘Steady on – we’d like to get home in one piece if you don’t mind,’ Gladys complained.
Dan gave a humourless laugh and gripped the wheel as he picked up speed again. ‘John wants his car back by ten on the dot. Hang onto your hats, girls, here we go!’
In fact, Dan’s daring driving meant that they were back home by half past nine. ‘We made good time,’ he told John, who came out of his house to give his car a quick once-over.
John opened the doors for Hazel and Gladys. Collarless, and with his top shirt button undone, he didn’t seem to notice the bitter cold.
‘Such a gentleman!’ Gladys teased, showing plenty of leg as she got out of the car.
Hazel said nothing but gave him a quiet smile.
‘I’ll fill her up before we go to the dog track on Monday night,’ Dan promised as he tossed him the keys.
‘No rush.’ Satisfied that there were no new dents and scratches on the gleaming bodywork but seeming in no hurry, John asked Gladys if they’d had a good day out.
‘Yes, ta – they don’t call it the greatest free light show on earth for nothing,’ she replied.
‘And did it live up to its reputation as far as you were concerned?’ he asked Hazel.
‘It did.’ Though she’d seen John in passing in recent weeks, she hadn’t talked to him since he’d come to the surgery needing stitches in his injured hand. There’d been a lot of water under the bridge since then – Myra’s funeral then back to work at Baxter’s for him, weeks of clinic and home visits for her, shortening days and long, foggy nights for them both. Despite time passing, she still felt awkward answering his friendly enquiry and was reluctant to meet his gaze.
Ignoring Dan and Gladys who were loudly calculating the cost of splitting the petrol three ways, John kept his attention firmly on her. ‘Good. I’m glad it was worth the effort.’
‘Oh, definitely. And ta for lending us the car.’
‘I didn’t need it today, so it was no trouble.’ Though his sentence tailed off and he found nothing else to say, he still regarded Hazel with keen interest. It was only when Gladys broke in to ask Hazel for her share of the petrol money that he turned to speak to Dan. ‘There’s still time for a swift pint if you fancy it?’
Dan readily agreed.
‘What about you two girls?’ John asked, looking from one to the other. ‘Can we buy you a drink down at the Green Cross?’
Gladys smiled brightly. ‘Now you’re talking! Make mine a Cinzano.’
‘No, ta.’ Hazel suspected, wrongly as it turned out, that accepting the invitation would make things as awkward for John as they were for her. ‘I’ve had enough excitement for one day.’
‘You’re sure?’ He hid a flicker of disappointment by stooping to lock the car door.
‘Quite sure.’ While John went inside to fetch his jacket, Hazel said goodbye to Dan and Gladys and set off briskly down the street.
‘Shall I start looking around for a nice flat for us both?’ Gladys called after her, a little too loudly for Hazel’s liking.
She stopped and retraced her steps. ‘Yes, but let’s keep it under our hats until we find somewhere. You know what Dad’s like – he’ll only fret.’
Just then John came back out of his house. The collar of his jacket was turned up and he was settling his cap on his head. ‘Good, you changed your mind,’ he said when he saw Hazel. ‘Come on, everyone, hop in the car. It’ll be quicker.’
Hazel had no time to argue. With a conspiratorial wink, Gladys pushed her towards the car then slid into the back seat beside her. Dan and John jumped in the front. Before Hazel knew it, they were heading down the hill for a convivial drink in the crowded lounge bar of the Green Cross.
‘I wouldn’t worry about John Moxon if I was you,’ Rose said when Hazel called on her and her grandmother before she set off for clinic the following Tuesday.
The purpose of the visit was to tell them all about the Illuminations and show off her pale blue uniform, complete with starched hat and apron. A belted mackintosh and her tan brogues completed the outfit.
‘Who says I’m worried?’ Hazel replied. ‘I was only saying it felt a bit awkward chatting in the pub with him after – well, you know – after what happened to Myra. I can’t help thinking of how lonely he must be.’
‘You’re bound to run into him from time to time.’ Hoping to smooth things over as usual, Rose went back to Hazel’s lively account of the trip to Blackpool. ‘Did Dan and Gladys have a nice time too?’ she asked.
‘Did they behave themselves, more like?’ Ada’s wry intervention made Hazel smile. Her nana sat poker-backed and alert in her hard chair overlooking the yard, hands crossed in her lap, unpicking every detail of the conversation. ‘Or did they get up to no good?’
‘We had a whale of a time,’ Hazel insisted. ‘There was no end of things to see and do. I’d go again at the drop of a hat.’
‘What do you say, Mum – shall we catch the coach to Blackpool and see the Illuminations with Hazel?’ Rose winked at her niece as they awaited Ada’s reply.
‘What for? You’d have to pay me to sit on a draughty coach for half a day there and half a day back again just to look at a few measly electric light bulbs.’
‘But it’s like magic, the way the lights flicker on and off to make it look as if the tableau is moving,’ Hazel insisted. She saw that she’d lost her grandmother’s interest, however.
‘Who’s that going into Sylvia’s?’ Ada pointed across the yard towards number 15.
Rose and Hazel hurried to the window in time to glimpse a figure stepping over the threshold before the door closed.
‘It looked like Mabel Jackson,’ Ada said with a puzzled frown.
‘Why would Mabel visit Sylvia?’ Rose wondered.
Hazel’s heart lurched but she managed to hide her reaction. ‘Does there have to be a reason?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps Mabel’s just being neighbourly.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t her,’ Ada said with a distracted air. ‘It might have been somebody else.’
‘Yes – we only saw the back view.’ Placatory as ever, Rose returned to the fireside.
‘No.’ Ada changed her mind. ‘I’d know that old brown coat and hat anywhere. It was definitely Mabel.’
‘Oh dear,’ Rose said. Her mind raced ahead and alarm showed in her face.
‘Well, I’ll say it if no one else will,’ Ada broke a lengthy silence. ‘Mabel’s visiting Sylvia can only be because Sylvia’s in the family way.’
‘Surely not!’ Rose’s bony hands flew up to her mouth.
‘“Surely not”, nothing! She’s married, isn’t she? What could be more natural than her needing Mabel’s help in the near future?’
‘I didn’t mean that.’ Rose looked towards Hazel. ‘It’s just that it’s so soon. Sylvia – she hasn’t …? I mean to say, she and Norman haven’t had chance to settle down yet.’
‘Stop beating about the bush.’ Ada’s reprimand reduced Rose to silence. ‘Hazel, what we both want to know is why would the silly girl choose Mabel over you?’
Hazel sighed and shook her head. ‘My lips are sealed.’
Ada fixed her sharp, dark eyes on her granddaughter. ‘This isn’t the first you’ve heard about it, is it? No need for you to say anything – I can see it in your face.’
‘I wasn’t sure she would go to Mabel,’ Hazel said weakly, her head spinning as she imagined the conversation going on right then and there in Sylvia’s disorganized kitchen. Was the old handywoman even now explaining to Sylvia about pennyroyal and brewer’s yeast –
a toxic combination that had been tried and tested over centuries – or about juniper and black hellebore? Or perhaps she would bring the more modern Beecham’s pills into it, describing how they might work when combined with aloe, ginger and soap.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ada wanted to know when she saw how pale and quiet Hazel had grown. ‘Why have you clammed up all of a sudden?’
‘I haven’t. When it comes down to it, Sylvia can go to whoever she likes – it’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Rose, fetch me my coat.’ Ada stood up, steadying herself against the shallow window ledge. ‘Don’t just stand there, Hazel. Don’t you have a clinic to get to?’
‘Yes, but where are you going?’
An anxious Rose held her mother’s black, fur-collared coat while Ada slipped her thin arms into the sleeves. ‘Never you mind,’ she told Hazel. ‘Hat!’ she reminded Rose.
‘Nana.’ For a second Hazel stood in the doorway and barred her way. ‘Don’t get on the wrong side of Sylvia. It won’t do any good.’
‘Not to mention Mabel,’ Rose added as she put on her own jacket and shawl.
But there was no stopping Ada. ‘I can deal with Mabel Jackson, don’t you worry.’ She elbowed Hazel to one side and limped down the steps. ‘Rose, go and knock on Ethel’s door. Tell her she’s needed at number 15 – right this minute. And don’t take no for an answer.’
From there on, Hazel’s day went from bad to worse. Much as she wanted to stay in Nelson Yard to help sort out the family storm that was brewing, she was due in clinic in less than an hour. This meant running home to fetch her bike from the back yard and setting out straight away for Westgate Road.
Spotting her from the window, Jinny held up a knife and fork and mouthed, What about your dinner?
‘I’ll heat it up later,’ Hazel called back. Her name would be mud with Eleanor if she arrived late at the surgery.
Emerging from the alley, she set off up the hill, wobbling into the gutter as a car overtook her. Drat! Her front tyre scraped against the kerb and when she started to pedal again she heard the loud hiss of escaping air. She got off to find the tyre already flat as a pancake.