When the Clouds Go Rolling By

by June Francis

  Dear Clara,

  I was so glad to receive your letter. Mrs Black was pleased to bear that your grandmother is benefiting from her tonic and also that your complexion is much improved. She is pleased to send you – just this once – replacements for the medicines you have used. She requires no payment for these as she feels certain that now the war is over, you will soon have no need for the ointment. As for Mrs O’ Toole, if she gets through the winter then it will prove that she is much stronger than we all thought and won’t need another tonic.

  Now on to the next matter of importance. I am assured that Alice did receive your letter. Seb is now home but life is not easy for him at the moment due to the injuries he received. I would suggest that you write to him and Alice once he’s had time to adjust to his new circumstances. Perhaps in the new year?

  With my very best wishes,

  Joy Kirk.

  P.S. Freddie is fine but still not home.

  Clara had trouble concealing her disappointment that her cousin did not wish to get in touch with her just yet. She felt deeply sorry for him with his injuries, whatever they were. She wished she could help but what could she do? She noticed there was no mention of Gertie, so could only assume they had not been in touch with her.

  ‘Well, what does the letter say?’ demanded Bernie. ‘Any news of Gertie?’

  Clara shook her head. ‘It looks like we’ll have to carry on playing a waiting game, Gran, and get on with life as we know it for now.’

  Bernie’s face fell. ‘But how long do I wait, girl? At my age and with my chest, I don’t know how long I’ve got. I’d like to see me daughter again, and what about me grandson and his kids?’

  ‘He’s home, but life’s not easy for him because of his injuries. I’ll write again in the new year, don’t you worry. Perhaps then we’ll get a positive reply.’

  Bernie removed the cork from the bottle of tonic and took a large swig. ‘Pigs might fly, girl. You can carry on hoping but I have to accept that my daughter and grandson don’t want to know me, or you. They think themselves too good for us. Yer a dreamer if yer think things will change. Snobby, that’s what they are.’

  Perhaps they were, thought Clara. She had no way of knowing without meeting them. Even so, she wished them well and hoped that one day they would change their minds and she could get to know them. She believed it was what her dad would have wanted.

  Chapter Nine

  Alice clenched her fists and curled her toes as Seb ground his teeth in his sleep again. She found it intensely disturbing, but at least it was better than his crying out men’s names and then starting awake and seeming not to know where he was. In those first weeks, he had allowed her to put her arms round him and comfort him, but more recently, he had told her to leave him alone and left their bed and went downstairs when he woke in the night. She guessed he had a lot on his mind and wished that he would share his thoughts with her. She believed only then would she be able to be honest with him about her fears for their future.

  He sat up suddenly, causing her to almost jump out of her skin. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re bloody doing it again,’ he rasped.

  ‘Doing what?’ Alice turned over and could just about make out his face in the dim light coming through a gap in the curtains.

  His features twisted into a snarl. ‘Lying there listening to me. Are you waiting for me to draw my last breath? Wishing I was bloody dead.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, aghast. ‘If you want to know the truth, you grind your teeth in your sleep.’

  ‘I what?’

  ‘Grind your teeth. It keeps me awake.’

  ‘Well, excuse me if I should keep your bloody ladyship awake. I’ll remove myself from your presence. You can have the bed to yourself.’ He threw back the bedcovers and slid out of bed.

  Alice was horrified by his tone. ‘Don’t talk to me like that. You know I didn’t mean it like that.’ There was a tremor in her voice because suddenly she was reminded of her father speaking in that harsh way to her mother. In her mind’s eye, she could see his hand coming up and she could even hear the smack.

  ‘Are you sure?’ He lowered his head and pressed the scarred side of his face against her smooth cheek. She did not answer, scared of saying the wrong words. He straightened up. ‘Enough bloody said,’ he muttered and left the bedroom.

  She felt cold with the fear of what Seb was becoming. Her father had once been kind and loving, speaking in a caring way to her mother and herself. He had taken them out on Sundays, and they had had happy times as a family. Yet she had always been aware that Kenny was never relaxed in his presence. Life had changed as her father gradually became more violent. Of course, there were times when he was almost normal, but then had come those dreadful days just before her mother died, giving premature birth to Tilly after a beating.

  Suddenly, her ears caught the sound of the squeaking of a bolt downstairs and she sat up. What was that? She left the bed and padded across the cold linoleum in her bare feet. Drawing back a curtain, she gazed down onto the crescent and her heart seemed to leap into her mouth when she saw Seb, still dressed in his pyjamas, opening the front gate. Where was he going? He would catch his death of cold. Only for a second did she hesitate. Then she realised, with mounting horror, that he was heading in the direction of the river.

  Quickly, she found her slippers and put them on and went downstairs. Taking her coat from the hall stand, she put it on over her nightgown and, leaving the front door on the latch, hurried out into the night. He was already out of sight and Alice did not want to put a name to the different fear she felt now. What could he be thinking of, leaving the house in his pyjamas? Now she ran, slipping and sliding on the icy path that led to the footbridge.

  She found him standing in the middle of the bridge, shivering and clutching his right arm as he gazed down at the black silky water. ‘You’re mad,’ she said.

  He clenched his teeth. ‘I’m perfectly sane. Go back home, Alice.’

  ‘No. I’m not going anywhere without you. Let’s go home.’ She went to put an arm round him but he shook her off.

  ‘I’m no bloody use to you or the children,’ he said savagely. ‘It would have been better if I’d died in the trenches with the rest of them.’

  ‘That’s a stupid thing to say.’ Her voice was shrill with anger and fear. ‘What would the children think? That their daddy was a coward who couldn’t cope with being alive? Who didn’t care about them?’

  He flinched. ‘Go on. Stick the knife in. Say what you’re bloody really thinking! Well, you’re wrong. There’ll be no dramatic exit with me jumping off the middle of the bridge. You tell me how I can do it when I can’t get the leverage with my bloody arm.’

  She was silent, relieved that he did sound sane.

  ‘There you are, that proves I’m thinking straight,’ he said.

  ‘OK. It does. Now let’s go home before the pair of us catch our deaths of cold.’ She reached out a hand and, for a moment she thought he was going to ignore it, but then he gripped it tight. She knew that for now they were both safe, but for how long? she wondered.

  * * *

  ‘Have you read this?’

  ‘What?’ asked Alice, lifting her eyes from her sewing and gazing at Hanny, who had dropped by to ask what she was planning for Christmas and Boxing Day. Having decided that they would gather at Alice’s for the big day, Hanny was reading the newspaper.

  ‘“Changes in the aims of the suffragette movement have caused a widening gap in its membership as well as the Pankhurst family,”’ read out Hanny. ‘“The WSPU has become the Women’s Party, with Mrs Pankhurst and her daughter Christabel standing for opposition to Home Rule for Ireland and the abolition of the Trade Unions.”’ She frowned. ‘It’s all right for them now that they’ve got the vote. What about working-class women and those under thirty?’

  ‘I don’t know how you can take an interest in that now you’re so close to your confinement,’ said Alice
, with a yawn. She recalled the happy days after the birth of her first two children, when she and Seb had looked towards the future, confident that all would go well for them.

  ‘Because it interests me and should be of interest to you, too, Alice,’ said Hanny firmly. ‘This country wouldn’t have won the war without women taking over so many of the men’s jobs on the home front.’ She lowered her eyes to the newspaper again. ‘At least her other daughters, Sylvia and Adela, considered that suffrage is a class struggle. And it’s partly thanks to them and others like them that Lloyd George gave the vote to working-class men.’ She stared at Alice with a concerned expression. ‘You used to care about these things when we were younger. If I had the vote I’d be voting for the Labour Party on the 14th. We’ve both been poor and know what it’s like to struggle to make ends meet.’

  ‘Still do,’ murmured Alice, not looking at her.

  ‘I know it’s not easy even now. We’d both like more money. Especially with the baby coming and mother to care for. But we’re fortunate to have decent roofs over our heads and food in our stomachs. Labour says that the housing of the people is a task for the nation to solve and that there should be no going back to low wages for the working classes.’

  Alice put down her sewing and placed a log on the fire. It was one from a tree that Kenny had cut down due to the warning that there would be a shortage of coal that winter. ‘They’re not the only party who believe that. Lloyd George’s Liberal Party feels the same. He said in his opening speech that it was the Government’s task to make Britain a country fit for heroes.’

  ‘I read that,’ said Hanny, smiling because she had got Alice interested in something outside herself.

  ‘He also said that, where jobs are concerned, he thinks that a return to the land is called for and that agriculture is important as a basis for industrial policy.’

  Hanny’s blue eyes brightened. ‘I suppose you remembered that because of Seb’s mother being down on the farm?’

  Alice shrugged. ‘I pointed it out to Seb because I thought he might be interested. It roused him enough to agree that we should be producing more of our own food instead of depending on the colonies and the United States. He said that the U-boats wouldn’t have had such a devastating effect during the war if we had done so.’

  ‘So what’s Seb going to do about work?’ asked Hanny, dropping the newspaper on the occasional table and placing a hand on her swollen belly. ‘Kenny hoped he would have taken an interest in the company by now. Business is bound to improve when the country gears itself up for peace work.’

  Alice resumed her darning. ‘Seb says he’s not ready yet. That he’s too tired and has too much on his mind.’ She hesitated. ‘It’s true that he doesn’t sleep well, and neither do I. He grinds his teeth when he does manage to doze off. When he first came home, he would shout out men’s names in his sleep and then start awake. Sometimes he didn’t seem to know where he was, even when I spoke to him. Eventually, when he did realise he was in our bedroom, he’d get up and go downstairs. I’d fall asleep and wake when he came back to bed just before dawn. He’s resting upstairs now.’

  ‘No wonder you both look worn out,’ said Hanny sympathetically.

  Alice dropped her needle and said in a rush, ‘It’s got worse lately. We had a disagreement and he got up and then I heard the door opening downstairs. I followed him out and found him on the bridge in his pyjamas.’

  Hanny stared at her in dismay. ‘You don’t mean…’

  Alice nodded. ‘I was that scared I didn’t even bother getting dressed. I told him to come home. Put my arms around him but he-he pushed me away and swore at me. He thinks me and the kids would be better off without him, that he should have died in the trenches.’

  ‘Poor Seb and poor you,’ said Hanny, distressed. She reached out and covered her friend’s hand. ‘But I’m sure he’s not alone amongst the survivors in feeling guilty because he’s alive when so many were killed.’

  ‘I think it’s more than that but he won’t talk to me. I don’t know what to do to make things better for him,’ murmured Alice. ‘I only know that I can’t go on like this much longer. I hate to say it, but he scares me sometimes. I keep thinking of Dad. You know what he was like.’

  Hanny shook her head in disbelief. ‘You can’t really believe that Seb would beat you? Let’s look at this practically, he can hardly use his right arm.’

  ‘I know. I’m not being logical,’ she admitted, getting up and going over to the drinks’ cupboard. ‘Sherry?’

  ‘No. It’s too early in the day for me.’ Hanny looked at her with concern. ‘I wish I could help you.’

  Alice came back over to the fireplace empty-handed. ‘You do help me,’ she said, smiling faintly. ‘Just knowing you’re a couple of doors away is a comfort. If things get really desperate, I know I can run to you and Kenny.’

  ‘That’s what family and friends are for, love,’ said Hanny, her voice uneven. ‘You mustn’t think twice about dropping in at ours. Don’t wait until you’re desperate. That goes for Seb, too.’

  Alice was near to tears and could only nod wordlessly. ‘I just wish he’d talk to me more about how he’s feeling.’

  ‘Perhaps he could talk to Kenny.’ As soon as the words were out Hanny contradicted herself. ‘No. I’ve come to realise lately that he’s not the right person. He wasn’t there at the Front. If Freddie was here…’

  ‘Freddie!’ exclaimed Alice. ‘How could he help? He’s too young and he wasn’t there either.’

  Immediately Hanny sprang to her brother’s defence. ‘His ship was torpedoed and he’s seen men die. He almost lost his life! I think Freddie can be of help to him.’

  Alice was not convinced. ‘He’s a good lad, I’m not disputing it, but all things considered, he’s not here, is he?’

  ‘But it shouldn’t be too long before he is home,’ said Hanny brightly. ‘In the meantime, Alice, keep your chin up. I’m sure things will come right in the end.’ She stood up and kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek. ‘I’d best be going. Mother will be wondering what’s happened to me. I only meant to be out for half an hour.’

  Alice followed Hanny into the hall and helped her on with her coat. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  Hanny nodded, and was almost out of the door when she stopped. ‘By the way, did you ever get round to answering that letter you had from Seb’s cousin?’

  Alice shook her head. ‘I can’t even remember where I put it now.’

  ‘Pity. Joy said she’s a nice sort.’ Hanny smiled. ‘I suppose if she’s really keen to meet up with Seb and his mother then she’ll be in touch again. Trouble is, his grandmother is not getting any younger. That’s if she’s still alive.’

  Alice could only agree. She watched Hanny walk carefully down the drive and then closed the door. If she could have remembered where she had put the letter then perhaps she might have answered it. She knew from experience that it was extremely frustrating waiting for someone to tell you what you long to know.

  Chapter Ten

  Clara was thinking about Seb and Gertie as she passed the Olympia theatre on West Derby Road. The billboards were advertising Jack and the Beanstalk, due to open on the 2nd of January. She thought of Gertie having had a career on the stage and knew she would have enjoyed listening to her talk about it. She was determined not to give up her attempt to reunite her aunt and grandmother but in the meantime, it was more important that she found a job. She was on her way now to see whether the Palladium picture house had reopened.

  When she reached the building, she was pleased to see a notice declaring that the picture house would be reopening soon and that there was a vacancy for a cashier. She felt certain that she was capable of such a job. She had always received top marks in arithmetic and she had her references in her handbag. She tried the door and to her delight it opened beneath her hand. A woman was washing the floor, so Clara hurried over and asked where could she find the manager.

  The woman paused to wrin
g out a floor cloth. ‘Mr Walsh is standing in for Mr Eaton at the moment. You’ll find him in the office. D’yer want me to show yer where it is?’

  Clara thanked her and was pointed in the right direction. On the office door there was a notice saying ‘Samuel Eaton, manager’. She remembered the name and that the managing director was Don Ellis, famous for producing variety acts. She wondered if there were to be more of them now that the war was over and the troops would be coming home.

  She knocked on the door and a voice called, ‘Come in.’

  She went inside.

  Behind a desk sat a jolly looking middle-aged man with rosy cheeks and pale blue eyes. He was wearing a pinstriped suit. ‘Hello, love. What can I do for you?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve come about the job,’ blurted out Clara. ‘I’ve always wanted to work here since it opened, but first I was too young and then I went into munitions for the war effort.’

  He smiled. ‘I like enthusiasm. Sadly, the last cashier died of the flu. How’s your arithmetic and have you any references with you?’

  ‘I can add up and make columns balance if that’s what you need,’ said Clara, thinking modesty would get her nowhere. She produced a brown envelope from her handbag and placed it on his desk. He stretched out a hand for it but at that moment the telephone rang.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, picking up the earpiece.

  As a conversation ensued, she stepped back, not wanting to appear as if she was listening. He looked up at her and said, ‘Leave your references, love, and come back later.’

  She thanked him and walked out, wondering how long she should wait before returning. Perhaps she should walk home, have a bit of lunch and see how her gran was doing. It should only take her an hour or so. Having made the decision, she left the picture house and crossed the road. Passing St Michael’s church, she eventually turned into Boundary Lane and decided to buy a portion of chips from the wet fish shop to save her cooking lunch. When she arrived home, it was to find Bernie dozing in front of the fire. Sometimes it seemed to Clara that her grandmother had become even more lazy recently and, like a cat, spent most of her time in front of the fire, half asleep.