by June Francis
‘No.’ She began to place the loaves on the shelves. ‘It’s several things but the main one is that I don’t like working Saturdays.’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘You should be glad because you won’t have to have Viv now.’
‘But – but I like having Viv,’ said Hilda quickly. ‘I can still have her in the mornings. It’ll give you a break, Flo.’
Flora stared at her. ‘You surprise me, but okay. Thanks.’
‘It’s the least I can do to help you out.’
A small laugh escaped Flora. ‘Could it be said that marriage is improving you?’
‘It could.’ Hilda smiled. ‘But that depends on whether you believe I can be improved on.’
‘Conceit!’ Flora shook her head at her. ‘How was the rice pudding?’
Hilda grimaced. ‘He ate it – that’s all I’ll say.’
Flora’s expression was one of puzzlement. ‘What went wrong?’
Her sister shrugged. ‘Two tablespoons of rice didn’t look much in all that milk.’
‘So you put more in.’ Flora smiled.
‘I kept putting more in,’ said Hilda, giggling unexpectedly. ‘And more. You could stand a spoon up in it in the end.’
‘Rice swells,’ said Flora.
‘I know that now.’ Hilda frowned at her. ‘Where are you going when you leave?’
Flora hesitated, not wanting her sister to read things into what she was going to say. ‘Stephen’s place.’
‘Oh! So you’ve taken your big sister’s advice at last.’ She looked towards Maggie and one of the new girls as the bell jangled and a couple of customers came in. ‘What about Mike?’
‘I decided to stop seeing him,’ said Flora, and walked away before Hilda could ask any more questions; although she expected her sister to say more about Mike some other time.
To Flora’s surprise, during the following week her sister remained unusually silent on the subject. Instead she seemed determined to make the other girls and Maggie realise that she was to be treated with the respect that her position as the boss’s wife merited. Flora felt sorry for Maggie and when on her last day her friend said, ‘I’m really gonna miss yer. Yer the only one I felt like I could talk to. These young ones are flighty.’ Flora felt like a traitor, and realised that she was going to miss Maggie and her talks of the Other Side, as well as the smell of freshly baked bread. Printer’s ink didn’t have quite the same appeal.
Still Flora had made up her mind and she started at Martin’s, to be reminded almost instantly of Rosie as she entered the lobby that had been given its brighter coat of paint the day that her daughter had drowned. She brushed the sad memory aside and instead set her thoughts on her job. It was obvious that the firm was doing well. All the machines were in operation and there was a general air of prosperity about the place. There were quite a few new faces, and one other old face besides Molly’s had gone – Johnny Foy’s. She commented about it and received a curt answer from Stephen.
‘I would have kept him on only he gave in his notice when my uncle packed in. Said he’d always had a yen to try his hand at a smallholding in Wales.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’d never heard him mention it before, had you?’ She shook her head. ‘I ask you! To throw everything up at his age and gamble his savings.’
‘He’s all the more to be admired, don’t you think?’ said Flora. ‘He’s got guts.’
Stephen smiled. ‘You always make excuses for people, Floss. That’s what I like about you.’ He squeezed her shoulder and walked away.
Flora wondered if it was true that she made excuses for people. She had only said what she had because she believed Mr Foy had left because he and the Old Man had been through a lot together and she doubted he would have liked Stephen’s new regime.
She had not been back long before she realised that the girl who had taken her own place was not a quarter as good as Molly had been at the job, and not a half as good as herself. She relaxed a little. Perhaps Stephen’s reasons for asking her back were purely business.
Then he asked her to go out with him. She made the children her excuse. Stephen could never take Mike’s place and she would rather suffer the dreadful loneliness and deprivation of life without him. But Stephen was persistent, and in the end she said yes when he asked her to visit his uncle with him.
She was shocked by the change in him. He was agitated and fussed a lot and seemed unable to keep a conversation going. She felt that Stephen was to blame by retiring him too early but kept that to herself.
George was not too pleased about her renewed friendship with Stephen but her father rejoiced. ‘You’ve come to your senses at last,’ he crowed. Vivien was delighted, although she mourned Mike’s no longer being on the scene.
It was on the tip of Flora’s tongue several times in Stephen’s company to bring up the matter of Jimmy and Hilda being friends years ago – and so work her way round to Vivien, and Hilda’s confessing to who her father was. But some inner voice always prevented her from doing so, despite Hilda’s encouragement.
Her sister was another one pleased about Flora’s relationship with Stephen. ‘Now you’re showing sense, Flo. He’s got enough money for you to be comfortable, and when that uncle of his snuffs it, you’ll have a ready made home with garden and bathroom. Everything you want for yourself and Viv. Let’s be honest – she has a right to all that. If Jimmy hadn’t been killed, it would be me and Viv in your place.’
Flora was not convinced, and besides she had been talking to Vivien and had a bone to pick with her sister. ‘Viv’s been telling me that you’ve had her working for you in the flat,’ she said tersely. ‘If that’s true then I think you should give her pocket money.’
Hilda stared at her, a picture of wide-eyed innocence. ‘I don’t see why I should. She’s my daughter and she’s glad to help me out.’
‘Help out!’ exclaimed Flora. ‘From what she says she’s doing more than helping out while you’re putting on your nail varnish.’
‘That’s a lie,’ said Hilda strongly. ‘I’d nearly finished my nails by the time she arrived.’
‘You’ll pay her,’ said Flora emphatically, her hands on her hips and her expression determined.
Hilda shrugged. ‘I’ll give her sixpence.’
‘A shilling,’ said Flora. ‘You’re not an invalid and you’ve given little enough to Viv in the last couple of years.’
A flush darkened Hilda’s cheeks and an angry retort was on the tip of her tongue, only she remembered in time that Kevin did not like kids that much and Flora just might get awkward. ‘Okay!’ she murmured. ‘It’ll be worth it. You’ve trained her well, Flo. I’ll give you that.’
‘Thanks. Could you come and pick her up in future? Because I’ve been asked to go in the odd Saturday morning and it’s likely that I won’t know just which one till the night before.’
‘Sure. That’s fine with me.’
‘And you’ll see that she gets back safe?’
Hilda blew out a stream of smoke. ‘Of course,’ she said with a long-suffering air. ‘Now I’ll have to be going.’
Hilda did come and pick Vivien up, and for that Flora was relieved. The only fault that Flora could find with her was that she lingered and went on about how strong and virile and like James Mason Kevin was – and that Flora really should think of marrying Stephen.
The weeks passed, heralding in spring and the expected arrival of the Murphys’ baby. It was Kathleen who breathlessly brought them the news. ‘I’ve got a brother! We’re callin’ him Brendan Patrick Edward Michael, and Mam said would yer like to be coming and seeing him?’
Flora flushed with pleasure. ‘I would.’ She had only passed the barest of times of day with Carmel since their exchange over Mike in the street.
‘Can I come?’ demanded Vivien.
‘Yeah!’ Kathleen’s eyes sparkled. ‘Mam wouldn’t mind if the whole street comes. Dad’s gone the boozer to wet the baby’s head. I bet he’s already halfway to being paralytic.’
; So they went to see the Murphy boy and an exhausted Carmel lying in the front parlour. ‘He’s beautiful,’ Flora said dishonestly, but expecting that Brendan Patrick Edward Michael would improve once he got over the shock of the birth.
‘Nine pounds, ten ounces,’ Carmel informed her weakly but proudly. ‘He nearly killed me. Paddy says he doesn’t know where he came from being that big, and him so small an’ all.’
‘He’s got Paddy’s eyes and nose,’ said Flora, gazing into the squashed features. ‘As for size, Carmel, he must take after his mother. You’re a fine figure of a woman,’ she teased.
She smiled. ‘It’s good of you to say so, Flo. I’m glad we’re speaking proper.’ She lowered her voice so that the girls crooning over the baby in the drawer would not hear. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings over Mike. I see he hasn’t been around for a long time. I hope it wasn’t –’
‘It was, but –’ Flora forced a smile. ‘I had to make the decision sooner or later as to where we were going. And there were too many things in the way for us to go anywhere in the end.’
Carmel moved her head wearily against the pillow. ‘It’s a pity, Flo, because you made a lovely couple.’
Flora shrugged. ‘Our Hilda got married.’
‘George told Kathleen. A lovely wedding, I believe.’
Flora raised her eyebrows. ‘Did our George say that? I’m surprised.’
‘No. It was Viv. She talks to the other girls. Been telling them about working for your sister.’ She chuckled unexpectedly and the girls turned and looked at her.
Vivien said, ‘Me and Mam have this game where I have to crawl under the bed and bring out Uncle Kev’s socks and underwear.’
‘Doesn’t sound much fun,’ said Flora drily.
‘Mam said that about one of the new girls,’ informed Vivien. ‘She wants Uncle Kev to get rid of her.’
‘Why? Which one is she?’ asked Flora, unable to conceal her curiosity.
‘Dark and smiley. She laughs a lot at things Uncle Kev says and he laughs with her. Mam says that what he’s up to isn’t funny. But I think it is funny when they laugh. Perhaps he tickles her. He tickles me sometimes then gives me a shilling. Mam had a row with him the other morning and threw a cup at him.’
‘Did it break?’ asked Kathleen with sudden interest.
Vivien nodded. ‘I had to clean it up. It was one of the nice ones that had been Uncle Kev’s Mam’s – china with flowers on it. He wasn’t half angry and gave me an extra sixpence for clearing it up before he told me to go on home.’
Flora grimaced. ‘Do they often argue in front of you?’
Vivien shrugged. ‘Not all the time. Mam says she likes a good argument – that it clears the air.’
‘That’s true,’ said Flora, deciding it would be better to drop the subject. She was vaguely worried about her sister but thought it better to keep her worries to herself. She began to talk confinements – a subject that she thought would take Carmel’s mind off Hilda, herself and Mike. Although now he had been mentioned it was difficult for her not to dwell on the times they had spent together and to wonder what he was doing.
Despite all her good intentions, Flora had followed with almost greedy interest the reports in the local newspaper about the goings on at Burtonwood base, or Little Detroit as it was nicknamed. There had been a lot of changes in the lot of the servicemen. Living quarters had been improved and recreation halls built. There was a basketball team, the Burtonwood Bullets, whose record of wins was phenomenal. They even had a football team, the Burtonwood Eagles. Every week a ship sailed into Liverpool from America to stock up the base’s shops with food special to the American palate, and consumer goods which were hard to come by in Britain. There was a dance hall and a theatre.
She read of records being broken in how many planes could be cleaned and maintained and sent back to carry on the air lift to the western sectors of Berlin. Of giant Globemasters landing at the airport. Flora wondered how long it could go on.
Then in May the Russians gave up the blockade and Flora stopped reading the papers, not wanting to know when the Yanks would move out of Burtonwood.
That same month Stephen’s uncle died of a heart attack.
Flora went to the funeral, an occasion of mingled sadness and pleasure. It was good to see Molly there and to talk of old times. She realised that was a sign of her getting older. In June she would be thirty-one. Suddenly she remembered how Stephen had talked of birthdays and having years and years ahead of her. She had yelled at him, only able to think of the loneliness without Tom. Then Stephen had made her fight back, and at the same time roused her pity. She had liked that Stephen – but the new one? She watched him talking to Molly’s husband. He had put on some weight and his jawline was blurred. Success was changing him. He looked over at her and waved a hand and suddenly she had a terrible sense of fatalism. He would persist and she would marry him for Vivien’s and comfort’s sake, and that would be that. She was glad when the funeral tea was over.
A week or so later on the Whit bank holiday Flora was enjoying a day off work, although she was not having a day away from the boss. Stephen had said he would call later in the afternoon. George and Vivien were playing out and Flora was just about to have a cup of tea when the knocker sounded.
Hilda stood on the step, wearing a new waist-length jigger coat in scarlet. It had wide sleeves and deep cuffs and was fastened by a single button at the neck. Flora envied her it.
‘Hello, Flo. I thought I’d come on a social visit.’ Her voice sounded artificially bright.
‘I’m flattered,’ she responded with a smile. ‘But aren’t you and Kevin going out, seeing as how it’s a holiday?’
Hilda pulled a face. ‘He’s working – and he expected me to work as well. I told him I’m sick of it!’
An old familiar feeling swept over Flora. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said, leading the way.
Hilda sat, pulling out the inevitable packet of cigarettes. Flora watched her light up, noticing that she had more make-up on than usual.
Her sister inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. ‘That’s better,’ she murmured. ‘It’s been a hell of a day already because I told Kevin that I’m quitting the shop. I’ve been pulling my guts out in that bakery as well as trying to keep the flat clean and everything else.’ The cat came and stropped its head against her ankles. She pushed it away with her foot, her expression taut. ‘Well, I’m not doing it any more. Watching that girl going in and out of the back, and listening to her giggling drives me mad! She’s been doing hardly any of what I’d call real work.’
‘She’s pretty, isn’t she?’ said Flora, unable to resist making a comment.
A spasm twisted her sister’s face. ‘I wouldn’t say so. F1irty and fluffy more like! But Kevin can’t see anything wrong with her. He says that I’m being ridiculous – that I’m jealous! Me – jealous!’ She gnawed at her lip. ‘I know why he won’t get rid of her, of course.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s getting back at me because I threw away all his socks.’
Flora stared at her. ‘What?’
Hilda smiled maliciously. ‘I used to wash the smelly things in the early days, but I took all the skin off the back of my fingers.’ She gazed down at her hands with their painted nails. ‘I asked him for one of those new boiler type machines, but he refused to buy me one – so I refused to wash his socks. They mounted up and then when he couldn’t find a clean pair and complained, I brought up about the machine again. He told me to go to hell – so I threw out all his socks.’
Flora had to struggle to keep a straight face. ‘What did he say?’
Hilda raised delicately drawn-in eyebrows. ‘What didn’t he say? We had a helluva row and I’m sure he’d have liked to have throttled me.’ The hand that raised the cigarette shook. ‘He doesn’t lift a cup, you know, Flo. He thinks that once his work has finished, that’s it. He never hangs anything up and he throws his underwear under the bed. I’m sure he does that
deliberately. I used to get it out but I’ve stopped that. When our Viv comes I send her under.’
‘I know, she told me.’
Hilda shrugged. ‘I suppose she told you about the fights we have, as well?’
‘Only the odd one. Perhaps things’ll be easier now that you’ve given up the bakery?’
Hilda shrugged. ‘Kevin’s not pleased about it. Slave labour, that’s what I was in that shop. He wasn’t paying me as much as Maggie and I’m his wife.’ She puffed at her cigarette, her brows drawn together. ‘I’m not being a slave for no man. You used to slave for Tom. I don’t think I could be like you, Flo, not in a hundred years.’
‘But you started well. You could change a little bit more if you wanted to.’
Hilda flicked ash into the fire. ‘There you have it, Flo. I don’t want to change any more. I wouldn’t be me then.’ She got up. ‘I think I’ll go into town and look in the shops.’
Flora stood as well. ‘I was just thinking of going out when you came. Father’s marching with the Lodges today. Why don’t you come with me to watch?’
Hilda did not answer immediately. Slowly she picked up her jacket, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she put it on. Flora wondered what was going on in her mind, then she noticed the dark shadow on her cheekbone. Their glances caught and Hilda smiled brightly. ‘I think I will come with you. We’ll probably get caught up in the crowds but it’ll be like old times when Mother used to take us.’
‘Fine,’ said Flora with forced cheerfulness, grabbing her two tone mustard coat. ‘Let’s go then.’
They picked up Vivien on the way and chattered about everything but nothing as they walked through Sheil Park to stand on the corner of Boaler Street among the noisy crowd. In the distance could be heard the deep tone of a single drum beat. The sound grew closer and closer and with it came files of marching men and women. Banners fluttered and flutes began to play. ‘I hope we haven’t missed Father,’ whispered Flora against her sister’s scented ear. ‘Some have already gone into the park by the look of it.’
‘Does it matter?’ said Hilda, frowning.