Walking Back to Happiness

by June Francis

  ‘So are we,’ responded Lucia. ‘Judge not, lest you be judged. The same goes for forgiveness.’

  ‘OK, you’ve made your point,’ said Irene. ‘I just don’t want you getting hurt.’

  ‘I know. But most people don’t go through life without getting hurt now and again. I learnt that when I lost my parents in a car crash – and earlier when your brother married someone else.’

  ‘I know, and that was tough. More reason why your friends and family don’t want you getting hurt again so soon,’ said Irene.

  Nellie moved so suddenly that it startled both young women. ‘I think it’s time to draw this conversation to an end. The music will be starting up again soon.’

  They left the kitchen.

  ‘So did you learn plenty of interesting stuff from Nick and Tony?’ asked Lucia, pushing the memory of that conversation with her aunt and Irene to the back of her mind. She was glad of the warmth of Tim’s arm against hers as they sat next to each other on the front seat of the upper deck of the bus. It had been a bit of a struggle for Tim climbing the stairs, but earlier she had mentioned how much she used to enjoy sitting up front on the top deck when she was a kid and looking down through the window at what lay below on the pavement and ahead. Besides, Tim wanted a ciggie, and was only allowed to smoke on the upper deck.

  ‘I was particularly interested in what they both had to say about their childhood. I wish I’d got to meet Tony’s father this evening, but apparently he has his own marble business and was working overtime.’

  ‘Uncle Michelangelo has a lovely tenor voice, although, unlike Tony, he’s only half-Italian, his mother was a Liverpudlian who married an Italian before the Great War.’

  ‘So the lad told me. Sadly he scarcely remembers his own mother, but he tells me that your aunt has been like a proper mother to him.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Nellie loves him like one of her own. She was married before she married Uncle Michelangelo, but her first husband was killed in the desert war and, not long after, she miscarried and lost their baby. To see her now, you wouldn’t believe she’d had so much sadness in her life.’

  Tim nodded. ‘Tony told me that you once lived there with your mother.’

  ‘Yes, it used to be Mam’s grandfather’s house. Aunt Nellie went to live with him after her mother died. Her mother had been killed in the Blitz; my mam was injured at the same time. So the three sisters all lived there together with the old man for a while. His sister had died years before and their father was away at the war. The old man left the house to Aunt Nellie. He didn’t like his son, so he didn’t want him to have it, and she had looked after her grandfather even when he started going doolally.’

  ‘Sometimes family members only put up with each other because that’s what they’re expected to do.’

  ‘Yet more often than not, people turn to family when they’re in trouble because they expect they’ll get the help they need from them,’ said Lucia.

  ‘I can’t deny I’ve done that and received help,’ said Tim. ‘Despite having let them down.’

  ‘But now you’re trying to make up for it,’ Lucia said.

  ‘Yeah, which reminds me: I must take Jerry to see Mam sometime during this coming week. I need to wish her a Happy New Year.’

  ‘School will be starting soon.’

  ‘Which means I’ll be able to get on with my writing with fewer distractions,’ Tim said.

  ‘Do you actually write when that journalist woman comes to help you?’

  ‘No, she looks over what I’ve written since her last visit and tells me what she thinks. If there’s stuff she doesn’t like, we discuss it. Sometimes I go along with the alterations she suggests, but if I feel strongly about what she’s against, I leave it in. If the publisher were to agree with her, then probably I’d change my mind. After all, they are the ones who have to sell the book, and the whole reason behind me writing it is to make money to support me and Jerry.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to seeing it on the shelves in the shops so when I buy it I can say I know the author.’

  ‘You don’t have to buy one. I’ll give you a copy,’ said Tim, smiling.

  ‘And will you sign it for me?’

  ‘Of course. It’ll be a pleasure. But here’s hoping I manage to finish it and the publisher likes it.’

  ‘I’m sure they will.’

  ‘Sometimes I feel Isabella is on the side of the gang. She says she can understand if they were mad with me for clearing off the way I did. I asked her what good would it have done if I’d hung around waiting to be arrested by the police? And, as it was, I did end up serving time in prison when I returned to Liverpool, so I didn’t get off scot-free.’

  ‘No, you paid for your mistakes and have learnt your lesson.’

  ‘That’s what I told her – and also that by writing the book, I want tearaways like me to realize that crime doesn’t pay.’

  ‘What did she say to that?’

  ‘That surely most tearaways didn’t read, because if they did they wouldn’t be out getting into trouble. I was lost for words for a while, wondering if she was right and was I wasting my time putting so much work into writing the book if the people I was writing it for wouldn’t read it.’

  ‘But surely your book will encourage them to read? A book written by someone who understands what it’s like being them,’ Lucia said forcefully.

  Tim smiled and thanked Lucia. ‘I’ll tell her that and then step back while she loses her rag. Isabella is a person who likes her own way and can get really difficult if I go against her.’

  ‘So what will you do?’

  ‘I’m going to write what I want and I’m going to tell her that I don’t want her seeing it until I’ve reached the end. And if she doesn’t like it, she’s just going to have to lump it.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  They both fell silent for a while after that, and did not speak again until they left the bus. The wind was still quite strong and Lucia said, ‘I can smell the sea.’

  Tim took a deep breath. ‘So can I. It’s a smell I missed when I was in the bush in Australia.’

  ‘You should have stayed near the coast.’

  ‘I know. But the sea wasn’t the only thing I missed, and if I hadn’t come back, I wouldn’t have discovered I had a son – and I wouldn’t have met you and that would have been my loss on two counts.’

  Lucia felt as if her heart had flipped over. ‘What a nice thing to say,’ she murmured.

  ‘I mean it,’ he said, taking her hand and swinging it. ‘How about us having a walk along the sands?’

  She thought how it would be freezing cold on the beach, as well as pitch black, but she kept her thoughts to herself as the idea appealed to her. ‘OK, it’s not often I get to stroll on the beach at this time of night.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything,’ he said. ‘And it will be magic. You’ll see.’

  The moon was hidden by a small puff of cloud but the sky was sprinkled with stars, which meant they could see where they were going; on the other side of the Mersey, the lights of New Brighton reflected prettily on the surface of the river.

  It was as cold as she had thought it would be and she shivered. Aware of that shiver, Tim unbuttoned his overcoat and suggested she step inside. She did so and he drew it right round her so she felt snug, pressed against the warmth of his body. They stood still, gazing out over the glistening dark waters, listening to the waves lapping on the shore. She was aware that her heartbeat had quickened, and was half expecting him to kiss her. When he did so, it was with such gentleness that it seemed part of the magical moments they were sharing with the natural world. It did not last long, and soon he was turning and guiding her carefully from the beach. When he escorted her to her front door, she wondered whether he would kiss her goodnight or even suggest that he come in, but he didn’t, only thanking her for an enjoyable evening. She told him that it was her pleasure and wished him good night. He walked away and she closed the door and went
to see if Michael or Theresa was still up.

  Six

  Theresa was lying on the sofa reading and Michael was sitting in front of the fire, polishing his shoes. The wireless was on low volume. He looked across at Lucia ‘What time is this to be coming in?’ he asked.

  Lucia glanced at the clock and saw it was only five past ten. ‘It’s not late and there was no need for you to wait up for me.’

  ‘I couldn’t have slept without knowing you were safely home,’ Michael said.

  ‘Well, now you know how I feel when you’re late,’ said Lucia, undoing the buttons of her coat.

  Theresa put a bookmark in her book and looked up at her sister. ‘Did you have a good time?’

  ‘Yes, the group played well and Tony and Nick sang beautifully. Nick’s girlfriend was there, too.’

  ‘What’s she like?’ asked Theresa.

  ‘Attractive with dark curly hair and nice eyes – lovely long dark eyelashes like her brother Chris. He was there as well. He’s a reporter for the Echo.’

  ‘How old?’ asked Theresa.

  ‘Around my age.’

  ‘Has he got a girlfriend?’

  ‘If he has she wasn’t there, and he’s never mentioned one. He’s very attractive, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was courting.’ Lucia stood in front of the slumbering fire, warming herself, hoping her sister wasn’t going to start getting interested in boys. It was enough that Michael had started dating. She needed their help with the younger kids for a bit longer. ‘Anyway, it’s time you were both in bed.’

  They didn’t argue with her but trailed out of the kitchen. Lucia heard Michael go along the lobby to the front door and bolt it top and bottom before following Theresa upstairs. Lucia checked the back door was bolted too before going to bed. It took her a while to get to sleep because the bedroom was cold and so were the sheets, and when eventually she did warm up, she could not stop thinking of that kiss on the beach and whether it had meant anything to Tim. When she did manage to drift off, she dreamt of a man dressed in a long black coat with several capes enveloping her in the folds of his cloak and carrying her off on a large black horse.

  ‘So what was that all about?’ she said aloud to herself, sitting up in bed the following morning and remembering her strange dream.

  Sunlight was streaming through a gap in the curtains and she could hear movement downstairs. From outside came the sound of church bells. Time she was up or they were going to be late for Mass. She would give breakfast a miss and make do with just a cup of tea.

  Within the hour the whole family was in church, except for Theresa who had said she had a migraine. Lucia bent her head in prayer, aware that Michael’s head was bent, and of the fervency of his whispered prayers. Gabrielle was another one whose prayers were whispered in a tone of urgency. Joseph and James, on the other hand, were not even pretending to pray but whispering to each other.

  Lucia prayed for their safekeeping and that 1962 would be a happy, healthy and fulfilling year. She was feeling reasonably at peace with herself and the world when she left church, but now her mind was occupied with thoughts of food and she wished she had been up at her normal time so she could have got the Sunday joint in the oven. She need not have worried, though, because when she arrived home and opened the front door, she was greeted by the mouth-watering smell of roasting mutton. She glanced at Theresa with a question in her eyes. Her sister nodded. Lucia mouthed her thanks and hurried to peel the vegetables.

  Michael followed her. ‘I’m not going to be in for lunch, Lucia. I’m just going to change and then I’m meeting Marjorie.’

  ‘OK, I’ll put yours in the oven,’ said Lucia. ‘Give her my best wishes.’

  ‘I will.’ He paused. ‘By the way, I’ve got myself a paper round.’

  ‘Good on you! That should help with the housekeeping.’

  The way his jaw dropped was almost comical and then he stood up straight. ‘Absolutely not! The money is mine. I’m fed up with hardly having two pennies to rub together. I want to be able to take Marjorie out.’

  She heard his feet thundering on the stairs and then the opening of a wardrobe door and a drawer, then silence, before the front door slammed. She could not help but understand his point of view, while at the same time she felt indignant, thinking how she worked her socks off to support the whole family with a little bit of help from various people.

  After putting on the vegetables, she asked Gabrielle to set the table. While she did so, Lucia sat down and read a couple of pages of the News of the World that Michael had dropped on the sofa, before removing the mutton from the oven, placing the parboiled potatoes in the meat juices and putting them in to roast with the joint.

  They were just sitting down to their meal when there was a ring of the doorbell. Gabrielle rushed to answer it, and Lucia rose from her chair and stood in the kitchen doorway listening. Recognizing the voice of the caller as that of Jerry, she called for him to come in. He walked up the lobby, carefully carrying a cardboard tray flat on his widespread hand.

  ‘What have you got there?’ asked Lucia.

  ‘Dad asked me to bring them, but told me I wasn’t to stay and make a nuisance of myself. He said Joseph could come round and play with me next door. He hasn’t seen the other gifts I got for Christmas yet.’

  Lucia was taken aback. ‘Your dad isn’t working on his book?’

  ‘No, he said that it’s Sunday, a day of rest.’

  ‘Right,’ said Lucia, taking the cardboard tray of iced fairy cakes from him. ‘Joseph is just about to have his dinner, so you can either sit and wait for him to finish or go back home and wait for him there.’

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ said Jerry. ‘Dad’s doing the dishes.’

  ‘So who made the cakes?’ asked Lucia.

  ‘Me and Dad. We used to make them sometimes when we lived in London. Mrs Sinclair, who used to look after me when Mam wasn’t well, let me help her. I showed Dad what to do. He said I had a good memory and was a clever boy. Sometimes he would buy a packet of cake mix and we’d just follow the instructions, but we didn’t have a packet in our cupboard today, so we made our own.’

  ‘Well, I think that’s very clever of both you and your dad.’

  ‘And generous as well to give us so many,’ said Theresa.

  ‘Dad said we’d get fat if we ate them all ourselves,’ Jerry said.

  ‘You thank him for us,’ said Lucia, wondering why Tim had not brought them himself. Could he be feeling awkward after kissing her last night? Perhaps the kiss had meant nothing to him, but he thought she might have taken it seriously? The thought depressed her. She had wanted him to kiss her again, having enjoyed that only too brief contact of their lips. But even more so she had found comfort being held in his arms. Could it possibly be that he still had strong feelings for Maggie? Surely he realized there was no hope for him there and that he had to move on. Or could it simply be that he considered Lucia too young for him, as well as being overly burdened with the responsibility of her brothers and sisters. After all, she had been told he was a man who had avoided responsibility for years, so perhaps he had decided it would be sensible not to get too close to her. At least this latter thought put paid to what her aunt had hinted at when she had said there were men who didn’t believe they had to marry a woman to have sex with her.

  During the rest of that day and in the days that followed Lucia could not help but ask herself what those moments on the beach had been about if Tim wanted to see less of her. If he did want to see her, then he was going to have to make the first move.

  A fortnight later, Lucia was surprised to have a visit from Bobby, Nick and Chris. New Year had come and gone without any fuss. It was early Friday evening and Gabrielle came upstairs to inform her that they had visitors. She went downstairs to discover Theresa playing a recording by one Chubby Checker called ‘The Twist’. Apparently a girl at school had been given it by her sailor brother who had bought it in New York; the girl had lent it to Theresa because the ot
her girl now had his latest hit, ‘Let’s Twist Again’.

  ‘He’s in the top twenty in the States and the dance is gaining in popularity,’ said Theresa. ‘I wondered if you’d heard about him, Nick?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not sure the Twist will catch on here,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think it is all that exciting.’

  ‘You could be right,’ said Theresa, and then turned her head in Chris’s direction. ‘You’re a newspaper man, what do you think?’

  ‘Little as I want to disagree with Nick, I’d say what’s all the rage in America more often than not becomes the next fad over here within the year. Play it again and show us how the dance goes?’ said Chris.

  Theresa did not need asking twice and was soon performing the Twist for their visitors. Bobby and Chris joined her and – not to be outdone – so did Gabrielle and Jerry. Nick exchanged looks with Lucia and soon they were twisting as well. As soon as the music came to an end, Lucia said, ‘You’ll have to excuse me – we were just about to have our dinner.’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you,’ said Nick. ‘I thought we’d just pop in and wish you a Happy New Year.’

  ‘That’s all right. We don’t often get visitors.’

  ‘Except for me and my dad,’ said Jerry.

  ‘Your dad?’ asked Nick.

  ‘Yes, he’s a writer, Tim Murphy,’ said Jerry proudly.

  ‘Of course,’ said Chris. ‘I remember Nick telling me he lived next door to you.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Theresa. ‘He was with us on Boxing Day when a car nearly ran us down.’

  ‘I remember hearing about that,’ said Chris.

  ‘And, don’t forget, Chris, Tim also interviewed me and Tony for the Mersey Beat,’ said Nick. ‘I wonder whether he’s finished the article yet?’

  ‘Why don’t you nip next door and see?’ suggested Lucia.

  ‘It’s Sunday, he mightn’t want to be disturbed,’ said Chris.

  ‘Sunday is a rest day, so he won’t be working,’ said Lucia.

  ‘Then we’ll go,’ said Nick. ‘I wouldn’t mind a chat with him. We’ll see ourselves out.’