Megan of Merseyside

by Rosie Harris

  ‘You can forget that right away,’ her sister exploded hotly. ‘And don’t go putting any of those stupid ideas in our mam’s head either. I’m leaving school at Easter.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’

  ‘Oh yes I most certainly can. In fact, it might even be earlier. I’m going to ask if I can leave on my birthday.’

  Long after she was back at her desk, Megan was haunted by their conversation. Although she was only two years older than Lynn, Megan had always been made to feel responsible for her younger sister and the habit was hard to break.

  When Lynn had first started school, she had been expected to make sure that no one bullied her. With her fair, wavy hair, enormous grey eyes and round, pretty face there had been very little likelihood of that ever happening.

  Even at five, Lynn had been gregarious. Making the most of her wide, cheeky grin and dare-devil nature she easily made friends.

  In fact, Megan recalled, she’d been the one who had been bullied at school, often by Lynn and her playmates. And if she ever complained about it her mother refused to listen.

  ‘Picking on Lynn because you are jealous of her is a waste of time as far as I am concerned,’ Kathy would scold. ‘You’ll do a lot better if instead of burying your nose in a book you go out and play with your sister and her friends.’

  That hadn’t been easy because Lynn and her friends didn’t want her around. Now, though, with Lynn’s birthday only six weeks away, Megan felt she ought to try to talk to her and make her see sense.

  The trouble was, Lynn hated taking advice. It wouldn’t be easy convincing her that she might be ruining her future prospects if she left school too early and without any qualifications.

  It was not only a matter of her leaving school, either. It worried her that Lynn was still visiting the Stork Club even though they’d both been told not to do so. Equally worrying was the fact that she was still meeting this boy called Flash.

  None of them had met him, and Lynn didn’t even seem to know his proper name or where he lived. He was obviously a reckless sort of character to have earned a nickname like Flash.

  She didn’t like telling tales about her sister, but she felt her mother and father ought to know in case Lynn landed herself in some sort of trouble.

  Chapter Eight

  WATKIN WILLIAMS WAS extremely concerned when Megan told him that Lynn was planning to leave school as soon as she possibly could.

  ‘Don’t you worry about it, I’ll have a quiet word with her,’ he promised.

  Lynn was almost a replica of what Kathy had been like when he had first met her and it seemed to him that history was repeating itself.

  He would never forget the first time he had met Kathy. It had been a bitterly cold, wet November night. The crowd of sailors he had come ashore with had decided to go into a pub called the Angel. Kathy’s smile had been so warm and friendly when she came over to take their order that he had fallen for her on the spot.

  When the others decided to leave, he had stayed on, smoking a cigarette, waiting for her to come and clear the table so that he could talk to her.

  By the time the Angel closed he had won her interest and knew he was madly in love with her. The thought of sailing on the morning’s tide, and perhaps never seeing her again, filled him with despair.

  He had taken her to the State Restaurant for a meal, the only place that was still open. When that closed, they sheltered against a corner of the building, his greatcoat shielding her from the cold drizzle as they made love.

  His ship had sailed before dawn but, when he returned to Liverpool six months later, the moment they disembarked he’d gone straight to the Angel to look her up.

  A hatchet-faced woman behind the tea urn had laughed at him when he’d asked for Kathy Miller. ‘Some sod put her in the club the end of last year and then sailed off. Don’t know where she is now.’

  All the time he had been away at sea he’d thought constantly about the pretty fair-haired girl who’d won his heart. He’d been strictly brought up and now he was aghast at what had resulted from his unforgivable, rash action.

  Anxious to make amends, he was determined to find her. He’d asked around for several days and then, surprisingly, he had bumped into her in the busy shopping centre. The fair, wavy hair, the deep-set grey eyes, the round, pretty face were just as he remembered them. Instead of looking slim with delicate curves, however, she was now heavily pregnant.

  She recognised him immediately and he thought she was going to faint she went so white as she murmured his name. They were married as soon as he could get a licence. Ten weeks later Megan had been born.

  He’d been bewitched from the moment he set eyes on the baby. Megan had his dark hair, and dark eyes. As she grew older they shared so many similar interests that it was like reliving his own childhood all over again.

  Lynn, who had been born two years later, took after Kathy, something that became even more apparent as Lynn grew older. They were like two peas from the same pod. As well as looks, she had her mother’s impulsive nature, love of noise and crowds, and her habit of sulking if she couldn’t have her own way. Like her mother, she was also prone to inconsequential chatter, a habit that irritated both him and Megan.

  Neither Kathy nor Lynn had been really settled in Beddgelert. He’d persuaded Kathy that they should go to live there with his mother after the war had started in 1914, but right from the start she’d been alienated by what she called the desolation and wildness.

  It bewildered him when she claimed that the towering mountains were overpowering and threatening. Whenever he scaled their rugged sides, and rested in one of the shadowy groves, he found the utter silence peaceful and soothing.

  To him the mountains were like sentinels guarding his home. Earth mothers, holding the sheep safe in their green, velvet-soft aprons.

  Kathy hated the sheep. She complained that their plaintive bleating made her feel so irritable that she wanted to scream. She refused to walk where they were grazing in case they butted her.

  In winter, when the narrow roads around Beddgelert were icy or blocked by snow, she stayed indoors, huddled over the fire, and he and the girls had to do all the shopping.

  Only in summer, when the sun was shining and it was hot enough to lie on the sands at Porthmadog, did Kathy seem in the least bit happy. Then she was never at home. She would pack up a picnic and take Megan and Lynn to the beach, arriving back only minutes before he got home from work.

  He never complained. It was enough for him that Kathy was happy.

  Now, when Megan told him about Lynn’s friendship with a boy called Flash, all this came rushing back and all his old anxieties surfaced. He tackled Lynn about it in front of Kathy, hoping she would add her weight to his rebukes.

  Lynn stared at him insolently, tossing back her mane of fair hair. ‘Our Megan’s been tittle-tattling about me again.’ She pouted, her big grey eyes filling with tears as she looked at her mother for support.

  ‘She didn’t need to, I’ve got eyes in my head,’ her father told her sharply. ‘I’ve noticed the change in you since we’ve been in Liverpool. You even dress differently. You go to extremes and wear your skirts inches above your knees trying to look like these young flappers. It’s a wonder you don’t find yourself mistaken for a “totty”. You mend your ways, girl. I shan’t tell you again,’ he threatened.

  Her defiant attitude angered Watkin. Usually, he ignored her sulks and moods, but this was more serious. The time had come to take a firm stand, he decided grimly.

  The following day, when Robert Field suggested to him at work that they might all like to go to a New Year’s Eve dance at the Tower Ballroom in New Brighton, Watkin turned down the idea.

  He didn’t care for dancing himself, he explained, and Kathy had gone down with a heavy cold after their walk on Boxing Day. He went on to tell him about Lynn and that he deemed it a good way of punishing her.

  ‘That means Megan is being made to suffer as well,’ Robert pointed o
ut. ‘Why not let me take her on her own? I’m sure she would enjoy it.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ agreed Watkin. ‘Mind you have her back home before midnight, though.’

  ‘On New Year’s Eve! Surely she can stay and see the New Year in,’ protested Robert. ‘We’ll leave right afterwards,’ he added quickly. ‘They’re running extra boats and buses so there won’t be any problem about getting back here.’

  Megan was rather taken aback when her father told her what had been arranged. ‘It sounds too grand for me,’ she demurred. ‘I’ve nothing suitable to wear.’

  ‘Then you’d better go out and buy yourself something,’ he told her in a conspiratorial whisper and slipped a crumpled five pound note into her hand.

  ‘Thanks, Dad!’ Her dark eyes widened with delight. Then her face clouded. ‘Won’t our Lynn be awfully upset if I go and she has to stay at home?’

  ‘Her turn will come when she’s old enough. You are out working now, so it’s time you started having a life of your own.’

  ‘Whose idea was it … this dance, I mean?’ Megan persisted, frowning.

  ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t been doing any matchmaking,’ he assured her. ‘Robert wanted all of us to go but when I refused he suggested you might like to go with him. He’s a nice fellow, Megan, so go and enjoy yourself. Give 1925 a good start. Now run along and buy that dress before all the shops are shut.’

  The Tower Ballroom was quite the grandest place Megan had ever been in. It stood about a hundred yards from New Brighton Pier and Megan felt quite nervous as she walked off the boat with Robert and saw what an imposing building it was.

  Once inside the ballroom her excitement increased. The shining parquet floor was already crowded. On a raised stage at one end of the room a five-piece orchestra was playing popular dance tunes which she enjoyed, and coloured beams of light from a revolving central chandelier played on those who were dancing.

  Megan was glad she’d done as her father had suggested and bought something new to wear. She felt very elegant and glamorous in her sleek full-length, deep-blue evening dress, with its floating panel of light-blue chiffon.

  Although Robert had told Lynn that he didn’t like jazz very much, he was quite an expert when it came to the more traditional dances like the Fox Trot and the Waltz.

  By the time the interval came, she felt quite exhausted. When Robert led her across to one of the small tables on the edge of the dance floor and told her to sit there while he went to fetch some refreshments, Megan was more than happy to comply.

  With a sigh of relief she sat down and slipped her aching feet out of her shoes.

  ‘Someone been dancing on your toes?’

  Megan’s heart flipped at the sound of a familiar voice. She looked up, startled. Miles Walker, looking incredibly handsome in flawlessly cut evening wear, with a frilled white dress shirt, was standing there.

  ‘Whatever are you doing here?’ she gasped.

  ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ he countered, his vivid blue eyes studying her with amusement.

  Before she could answer, Robert returned with their drinks. For a moment the two men stared at each other in silence, then with a brief nod Miles nonchalantly walked away.

  Megan felt deflated. She scanned the crowded ballroom, trying to spot him, wondering who he was with, desperately willing him to come back and ask her to dance.

  Up until that moment, she had been having a wonderful time, but now she found herself comparing the two men. Miles, darkly handsome, dominant and dashing; Robert so solid and reliable.

  She had to admit that she felt very comfortable and relaxed in Robert’s company, but Miles was a challenge. His brilliant blue eyes mesmerised her, arousing feelings that were new and strange to her.

  Commonsense told her that Robert was by far the more dependable of the two men, but she was drawn to Miles. He excited her even though she suspected he was selfish and egotistical. She already knew he was quite prepared to do an about-face if it suited his purpose, as he had the day when he’d ignored her in the office.

  At the stroke of midnight, the lights dimmed and a piper circled the ballroom while outside bells, bugles and sirens, from ships lying at anchor in the Mersey, sounded their noisy greeting to the New Year in a wild cacophony of sound.

  When Robert kissed her on the cheek and wished her a happy New Year, Megan closed her eyes and thought of Miles.

  As her warm, sweet breath cascaded over him, Robert held her more tightly. He felt stunned by the overpowering reactions she created in him.

  The magical moment ended abruptly. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and before he knew what was happening he was pushed aside and Megan was swept out of his arms.

  The vast crowd had become delirious. Megan found herself whirled from one to the other as complete strangers hugged and kissed and wished each other a happy New Year.

  ‘I wonder what 1925 has in store for us.’

  Unbelievably, she found herself in Miles’ arms. His intense blue eyes were unfathomable as she looked up at him.

  The noise, the cigarette smoke, and even the crowd all faded into the background as she slid her hand around Miles’ neck. With her fingers entwined in his crisp dark hair, she pulled his face closer clinging to him, waiting for him to kiss her.

  His lips trailed across her cheek, then hovered tantalisingly above her eager mouth for an intolerably tormenting moment before they met hers.

  As he kissed her, his lips hot, hard and demanding, she felt an uprush of emotion. She closed her eyes, savouring every second. Then he was gone, swallowed up in the melee, leaving her dizzy with desire.

  Chapter Nine

  LIKE HER MOTHER, Lynn loved everything about Liverpool. She found the huge buildings were far more inspiring than towering mountains; the murky grey Mersey more fascinating than the crystal clear Glaslyn. The noisy, never-ending stream of traffic, mingled with the wild cries of seagulls when rough seas drove them inland, excited her, made her feel alive.

  Most of all, she enjoyed being a part of the thrusting, jostling crowds. The city never seemed to sleep. After dark, when everywhere was lit up by the street lights and shop window displays, it was sheer magic.

  Ever since she had been very young, and her mother had told her stories about the great bustling seaport that had been her home, Lynn had dreamed of coming back there to live.

  One of Lynn’s most vivid memories was the occasion when she had been about nine and Kathy had brought her on a visit to Liverpool to see her grandmother. The busy streets with their huge, clanging trams, the crowds and all the wonderful shops had made a lasting impression.

  Inside the semi-detached house where old Mrs Miller lived, everything had been neat and orderly with starched lace curtains at all the windows. The bedroom had smelled of lavender and moth balls.

  Lynn remembered how every piece of furniture had gleamed and there had been little crocheted mats under all the ornaments so that they wouldn’t scratch the polished surfaces. As well as a rug in front of each armchair, to protect the patterned carpet from people’s feet, there were also embroidered covers on the back and arms of the chairs. Lynn remembered lifting one of them to peek underneath and had been startled to find the colours were so much brighter that without them the chairs would have looked like patchwork.

  Everyone had shushed her to silence when she had asked where Grandad Miller was. Afterwards, her mother had explained that he’d gone to heaven a long long time ago. A few weeks after they returned home to Wales, she was told that Grandma Miller had gone to join him.

  After that, whenever possible, Lynn would cajole her mother into talking about her childhood in Liverpool. She never tired of hearing about the days when Kathy had lived in Anfield and she would listen with rapt attention, seeing it all as clearly as if she was living there herself.

  ‘It was lovely out there, away from the docks, yet you could be right in the centre of the city in next to no time,’ Kathy would say dreamily.


  Sometimes, Lynn would try to hurry her past these details of her early years, eager to hear what happened after her mother had left school.

  ‘Those were the days, I can tell you,’ Kathy would say and sigh ecstatically. ‘Nights out, going dancing, and taking trips over to New Brighton on the ferry boat with Ruby Adams. She was my best friend at school and we started work together serving in a grocer’s shop.’

  Lynn’s eyes would shine with delight when they reached this part of the story. ‘Go on, Mam,’ she would beg, ‘tell me about when you met Dad.’

  ‘Well, I was almost seventeen by then and Ruby and me were having some real fun. We knew it couldn’t last for ever so we decided to make the most of it while we could. For a start we decided to change our jobs and become barmaids.’

  Although she had heard it a dozen times before, Lynn never tired of listening to the account of how her parents had first met. Kathy’s face would soften, her eyes grow dreamy and there would be a pause before she started speaking again as if she was inwardly reliving the occasion.

  ‘One day Watkin came into the Angel, the pub where we worked, with a bunch of young sailors. They were only in Liverpool for one night as they were due to sail on the morning tide.’

  ‘Go on, Mam,’ Lynn would beg, hanging on her every word. ‘Tell me how old he was and what he was like. Did you both fall in love at first sight?’

  ‘Well, he was different from the others who came in with him. He was older for a start and he had an air of authority about him. The others didn’t stay long, they wanted a bit more excitement than the Angel had to offer. As soon as they had finished their pints they were off. Watkin went on sitting there, smoking a cigarette, and I could feel his dark eyes following my every movement. When I went over to clear his table he asked me what time I finished.’

  ‘And he was waiting for you and you went to the State Restaurant and had a crazy night out before he sailed away next morning. I know that bit,’ Lynn said impatiently. ‘Tell me about after that, when he came back to Liverpool again.’