by June Francis
‘So how are you all?’ Nellie asked brightly.
‘The kids are getting better – but I presume Tony has mentioned Michael’s news to you?’ said Lucia awkwardly.
‘What news is that?’ Nellie asked.
‘Marjorie is having a baby, so she and Michael are getting married next week.’
‘Well, worse things happen,’ said Nellie. ‘At least he’ll have a roof over his head because they’ll be living with her mother.’
‘So Tony did tell you.’
‘He mentioned it to his father, who told him to tell me.’
‘So that’s why you’re here.’
‘Not entirely. I did want to see for myself how the children were getting along, and to invite you all for Sunday lunch if the children are fit. You and Theresa could do with a break. Michelangelo said he’ll come and pick you up.’
‘He won’t fit us all in the car.’
‘Then he’ll make two journeys,’ said Nellie.
‘Did Tony tell you that Marjorie’s a Proddy?’
‘Yes, and I hope you aren’t going to hold that against the girl?’ Nellie said strongly. ‘I don’t know if your mother ever mentioned to you that I was a widow when I married Tony’s father?’
‘Yes, she did!’
‘But I don’t suppose she told you that my first husband was a Proddy. My parents wanted nothing to do with us. When I wrote to your mother and Babs, my mother intercepted my letters so they would believe I didn’t want anything to do with them. It wasn’t until Mother was killed and your mother was in hospital that Francis found one of my letters. He wrote to me in the Lake District, telling me the news, and also that Granddad needed someone to keep house for him. So I left my job and came to live with him and Babs – and eventually Lottie, as well, when she was discharged from hospital.’
‘What about your husband?’
‘Teddy was in the desert with the army. I was pregnant with our baby when the news came that he had been killed. I fainted and miscarried.’ Her voice trembled. ‘When my father came home from sea, he said it was my punishment for marrying a Proddy.’
‘What a terrible thing to say,’ murmured Lucia, tears in her eyes.
‘He wasn’t a nice man, and he treated your mother abominably. Babs was always his favourite; she was pretty and had a lovely way with her. She still does.’
‘I wonder why Mam never told me about …’ Lucia stopped abruptly.
‘I think you can work that out for yourself,’ Nellie said.
Lucia nodded, remembering her mother constantly attending Mass, even if she’d been the day before. ‘I’ve no intention of cutting Michael and Marjorie from our lives. I love him too much for that.’
‘I didn’t believe you would, but I thought if you hadn’t heard about my having married a Proddy, it would interest you. Anyway, enough said about sad, far-off times. At least you won’t have to do any of the arranging for the wedding. Presumably Marjorie’s mother will do most of that.’
‘Michael sounds to me as if he likes her,’ said Lucia.
‘That’s a good start,’ Nellie said. ‘Now, is there anything you’d like me to do for you?’
‘Your company’s enough,’ Lucia said, going over and hugging her aunt. ‘But if you could stay with the kids while I nip next door, I’d appreciate it?’
‘You’re visiting Jerry’s father?’
‘Yes, and take that tone out of your voice. I’m just being neighbourly. He’s been very ill and Jerry doesn’t want to lose another parent.’
Nellie nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I know you are a good girl. It’s not as though Michelangelo and I didn’t encounter some prejudice. Lots of people in Liverpool had no time for Eyeties when Mussolini entered the war on Hitler’s side, and even later when Italy came over to the side of the Allies.’
‘You’ve never regretted marrying him, though, have you? You always appear so happy in each other’s company.’
‘It’s true I have no regrets. We’ve been blessed.’ Nellie changed the subject. ‘Now you go off next door and see if all is right with Jerry and his father. Did any of his family visit him, by the way?’
‘Marty brought his mother in the car yesterday, but she had to go back home because she was babysitting for the daughter and the husband who live with her.’
‘That would be Lily. According to Irene, there’s no love lost between her and Tim.’
‘So I’ve heard.’
Lucia left her aunt. No sooner had she pressed her neighbour’s doorbell than the door opened and Tim stood there, smiling down at her.
‘You’re up and dressed!’ she exclaimed.
‘Our Peg phoned to say she and Pete would be coming to visit me this evening. I didn’t want to welcome them from my bed, so I made an enormous effort, and with Jerry’s help you can see I’m fit for company once more.’
‘I’m pleased to see it,’ Lucia said, ‘but don’t go overdoing it. You still sound hoarse and you don’t want a relapse.’
‘Yes, nurse,’ he said. ‘Are you coming in?’
‘Only briefly. My aunt’s here, so I said I wouldn’t be long. I thought I’d let you know Michael is getting your sherry and will bring it to you. I also wanted to ask if you’d mind if Jerry came round to ours to play with Joseph?’
‘As long as he’s back for tea because Peg is bound to want to see him.’
‘I’ll make sure of it,’ she promised. ‘Where is he now?’
‘Plaguing Mrs Hudson who’s making jam tarts. Since we tasted your gingerbread men he’s been wanting to have a go at baking again. She said she didn’t have any cutters for gingerbread men, so he agreed that jam tarts would be fine.’
‘She’s a lovely lady.’
Tim agreed. ‘I can never thank you enough for telling me about this place and preparing the way for me with her.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ said Lucia, blushing. ‘When Jerry’s finished helping Mrs Hudson, tell him he can come round when he’s ready?’
‘Will do,’ said Tim, twinkling down at her. ‘I’ll see you out.’
‘No, you won’t. You’ll stay in the warmth and rest,’ she said firmly.
‘I hear and obey,’ he said, saluting.
She giggled. ‘I’m glad you’re up to making jokes. You worried me when you sounded so rough.’
‘You mustn’t worry about me,’ Tim said. ‘You have enough on your plate right now without that.’
‘Oh, stop it,’ said Lucia. ‘If I want to worry about you, I will. Although, I don’t think I need to now. When you’re completely better, maybe we can go to the flicks, or go somewhere to listen to music? Get away from the house. It would be lovely to get out into the countryside, but that’s out of the question.’
He nodded his fair head, a lock of which curled on his forehead. ‘Sounds good to me. I’ll sit and read last night’s Echo and see what’s on next week.’ Even as he was speaking, Tim was thinking, if only he still had his car and was able to drive, he could have taken her out into the countryside. They could have gone through the Mersey tunnel to Eastham Woods or to Chester Zoo – although that was an outing that Jerry would like to be part of – and then there was the lovely North Wales coast to visit, not to mention Snowdonia National Park. Just thinking of all that scenic beauty lifted his spirits. It also gave him ideas which he prayed he could put into action. He looked forward to Michael’s visit, as well as that of his sister, Peggy, and her husband, Pete Marshall.
Michael turned up at five o’clock, holding Jerry by the hand, and was soon seated across from Tim in front of a glowing fire with a cup of coffee. ‘You look better than I thought you would,’ said Michael. ‘Although, you do sound croaky.’
‘I’m a lot better, thanks to your sister and the tablets the doctor prescribed,’ said Tim. ‘I don’t know what he’d make of your uncle’s recommendation of sherry to lubricate the throat, though.’
‘Lucia swears by honey for the kids. I find it a bit sweet for my taste, although she does gen
erally give it to them in warm water.’
‘She’s a sensible young lady.’
‘Lucia’s nineteen,’ said Michael. ‘How old are you Mr Murphy?’
‘I’ll be thirty next birthday, so ten years older,’ Tim replied, not avoiding the direct question. ‘How old are you, Michael?’
‘Eighteen next birthday.’
‘Lucia told me that you’ll be leaving school any day now and looking for work. I’d like to put a proposition before you.’
Michael gave him a suspicious look. ‘What kind of proposition?’
‘It’s above board,’ Tim said dryly. ‘You can’t believe that I’d betray your sister’s trust by involving you in anything criminal?’
‘Does Lucia know about this then?’ asked Michael, flushing.
‘No!’ He paused. ‘You might have heard that I used to have a garage in Lark Lane, near Sefton Park on the south side of Liverpool?’
‘Yes, Lucia told me.’
‘I served an apprenticeship as a motor mechanic, and eventually was able to go into the motor repair business for myself. Everything fell apart when I was badly injured. Anyway, I still have the garage and the ground lease still has a few years to run. My brother has been on at me to get rid of it, but I just couldn’t let it go. All my dreams of going straight had been tied up in that garage business. But my injuries meant I couldn’t do the work I once could. My proposition is this – would you like to be my hands and legs and, under my direction, learn a trade? You wouldn’t only be learning to be a motor mechanic, but how to run a business as well, because I’d teach you the organization side too.’
Different emotions flitted across Michael’s face, and he took a deep breath. ‘Can I think about it before giving you my answer?’
‘Of course, it’s an important decision. You might want to talk it over with your young lady.’
‘I will,’ said Michael. ‘Did Lucia tell you Marjorie and I are getting married?’
‘She did. I hope you’ll both be very happy.’
‘Thanks, Mr Murphy. I’d better go now. I have an important phone call to make.’
‘You’ve forgotten one thing, Michael.’
Michael glanced over his shoulder. ‘How much will you pay me?’
‘You do know that apprentices don’t earn much while they’re training?’ said Tim.
‘I am aware of that – but I consider our situation a little out of the ordinary,’ said Michael.
‘Yeah, so how does ten pounds a week to start with sound to you?’
‘I have no idea of the going rate, but it sounds good to me.’
‘If I told you that when I started my apprenticeship fifteen years ago I was paid two pounds fifteen shillings, does that help to put it into perspective?’
Michael nodded. ‘I’ll drop in to see you tomorrow, Mr Murphy.’
Tim lowered himself into the chair he had vacated and wondered what he was doing offering to pay Michael so much. He reached for the sherry bottle. It occurred to him that there was something else he should have mentioned to Michael. Should he call him back or wait until tomorrow? He decided on the former and, getting to his feet, went after him.
‘There’s something else I should tell you before you make your decision. I have enemies, and now some of the crooks are out they might show their faces. So I’ve been thinking that we should alter the name of the garage from “Tim Murphy” to yours – or better still, your father’s.’
‘My dad’s dead.’
‘He doesn’t need to be alive. It’s just so that if anyone asks, you can tell them that I’ve sold the garage to your father and he’s put you in charge. If they ask you for my address you say you don’t know it; that your father only ever met me in a pub in town, and on the paperwork the address I gave was the garage’s.’
‘But what if you’re around if they turn up?’
‘I have every intention of staying in the background … and there’s a back entrance to the property, as well as an office and upstairs rooms. Besides, you can put up a notice saying nobody is allowed in the actual indoor work area for safety reasons. If you agree to accept the job, all I need to know is what name to put on the yard gates and invoice headings.’
‘Brookes – Davy Brookes was my dad’s name,’ said Michael hesitantly, aware of excitement and apprehension churning inside him. ‘I’ll tell Marjorie and Lucia that I’ve a job but won’t mention your name just yet. By the way, I think you need to know I can’t drive.’
‘Well, we can remedy that – I’ll buy a second-hand car. We’re going to need a works van at some point, too; not only will I teach you how to drive, but you can learn all about the anatomy of the automobile at the same time,’ said Tim. ‘You can also do a course at one of the technical schools in town. We can discuss all this in detail at a later date.’
‘Right,’ said Michael, squaring his shoulders. ‘I’d better get going. I’ve a date with Marjorie.’
Tim felt all of a tremble as he made his way into his sitting room and lowered himself into the chair in front of the fire. He hoped he was doing the right thing, but he was convinced the way would have been blocked by Michael turning his plan down if he had erred by trying to help Michael in this way. Hopefully none of the gang would get wind of what he was doing and cause trouble. He sat there, watching the flames dancing, half-expecting Lucia to call if the lad had not been able to keep Tim’s plan to himself. But there was no ring of the door bell or knock on the window, and gradually Tim relaxed, his eyelids drooping. He drifted off into that half-conscious state when one can hear but is not disturbed by sounds until they are loud enough to demand attention.
Which is what happened an hour later when Mrs Hudson came into the room and told him that Isabella had been knocking on the window but had failed to rouse him.
‘I thought you were dead,’ Isabella said, from a position three feet away. ‘You look dreadful. No more good looks. I thought the spots would have gone by now – but they’re still there and your face has gone puffy for some reason, so your lovely dimples are barely noticeable.’
‘Thanks for making me feel so much better,’ Tim rasped. ‘You’d best not stay if you can’t stand the sight of me.’
‘No, you’ve given me an idea for an article. How adults can suffer when they succumb to childhood complaints. We’d need a picture, of course, to stress the point. You wouldn’t object, would you?’
‘Yes, I bloody would. Where are your brains, woman? You’ve just told me how terrible I look, so how can you believe I’d want this face staring back at people throughout Merseyside?’
‘I’d make it a very sympathetic article.’
‘I don’t care. Besides, you haven’t uttered a word of sympathy to me since you came in.’
‘I’d offer to kiss you better but you don’t sound as if you’d welcome my kisses.’
‘I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me – unless you’ve already had measles?’
‘I wouldn’t have mentioned kisses if I hadn’t.’ She came alongside him and slid an arm about his neck and snuggled up, pressing her lips against his cheek before drawing back, ‘Gosh, you’re hot stuff.’
‘Is that a compliment or a complaint?’
‘I’m not complaining about anything, sweetie. It’ll be more fun, though, when you’re A1.’
‘That shouldn’t be too long – and once I’m back to normal I’ve plans for if the book doesn’t make my fortune.’
‘Our fortune, sweetie,’ she cooed, kissing his ear. ‘Tell me your plans? Is it a bigger and better book? After all, we are in this together.’
‘I doubt you’d want to be part of what I have in mind to help young Michael next door. He’s having to get married and needs a job, so I’ve offered him the chance of earning some money by taking over the garage. I’ll teach him all I know and I can see him doing well.’
She was silent a moment before saying slowly, ‘Is this your proposed ending for the book? Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve
said about the need for an exciting finish?’
‘This is for real,’ said Tim, his voice breaking. He eased her away from him and reached for the sherry bottle. ‘What can be more exciting than helping the younger generation?’
She stood, gazing down at him as he took a swig of sherry from the bottle. ‘I never saw you as a philanthropist,’ she said.
‘There’s still a lot you don’t know about me,’ Tim said, offering her the bottle. ‘Like a swig?’
She shook her head.
‘You don’t have to look so disgusted, I have it on excellent authority it’s good for the throat.’
‘Maybe, but it’s time I was going. It’s obvious you’re still not yourself.’
He admitted he was feeling exhausted and that it was probably best she left.
Placing a hand on his cheek, she said, ‘Nightie-nightie,’ and sashayed out of the room.
After she left, Tim mulled over the scene until Jerry joined him in the sitting room. As he listened to his son chatting away, Tim told himself that his relationship with Jerry and Lucia and the opportunity to get his business back on its feet again was more important than getting his manuscript published; although surely his having a contract for the book with a publisher meant he could still see it in print one day as long as he finished it? Having come to that conclusion, he put the matter out of his mind and opened a tin of Baxter’s Scotch Broth, heated it up in a saucepan, and cut several slices from the fresh Vienna loaf Mrs Hudson had fetched for him from the corner shop. He then served out the soup in two bowls, placed them on the table and bade Jerry sit and eat.
It was as they sat across from each other and heard a dog barking outside that Tim was reminded of Fang, the stray mongrel, who had wandered into the garage not long after Tim had started up in business. While he had been in prison, Marty had taken the dog in. Tim had intended taking control of Fang once he had his own place, but had not considered it right to bring him to Mrs Hudson’s house. He recalled that his original plan when he had adopted the dog had been to keep him at the garage as a watchdog. Tim had slept in a room over the office at the time: it had not been suitable for Jerry to live with him there, so Jerry had lived with Marty and Irene for a while.