Child of the Mersey

by Annie Groves

  ‘Oh, Kitty!’ Sarah exclaimed, bringing Kitty back to the present moment. ‘Would you look at that beautiful cake! I’ve never seen such a work of art – and it is a work of art, to be sure.’

  Nancy, the bride-to-be, was dumbstruck by the sight of the beautiful cake.

  ‘You have done yourself proud with this one, Kit,’ Dolly said, while Nancy threw her arms around Kitty and gave her a hug so tight it took the breath right out of her.

  ‘Gloria is going to be so jealous when she sees this cake,’ Nancy laughed. Gloria was her best friend and chief bridesmaid, and like many best friends they were always in competition with each other. The Feeny women gazed at the exquisite latticework and perfectly crafted white roses, so wonderfully sculptured with the finest icing sugar they looked perfectly real.

  ‘Mine was nowhere near as good as that, and I paid a fortune for it,’ Rita joined in, eyeing the three cakes with obvious admiration.

  ‘Well, we couldn’t expect the poor widow to put her hand in her purse, could we?’ Dolly was unable to confine the sardonic words.

  ‘Nancy’s wedding will be smashing, Aunty Doll,’ Kitty said, thrilled that they liked her creation and equally sure they would enjoy eating it. ‘You’ll have nothing to worry about, just you wait and see.’ She smiled as Dolly rippled with unashamed pride.

  ‘I’ll not have Madam Kennedy looking down her nose and finding us wanting.’

  ‘Hell will freeze over before she’ll lay on a spread!’ Rita laughed, knowing everybody was aware of her mother-in-law’s miserly reputation. ‘Anyway, I’ll be off now before Charlie gets in from work.’

  ‘You’d better make tracks, he’ll be coming down the street pretty soon.’ From her window Dolly could watch her son-in-law’s daily arrival home with amusement. The insurance salesman, his bicycle clips wrapped firmly around his trouser legs, always sat far back on the saddle, riding his cycle down the street like a powerful Norton motorbike. ‘Madam Kennedy didn’t have cause to complain at your wedding, Rita.’

  ‘And she won’t have any reason to carp at Nancy’s either.’ Rita knew her mother had been saving for months for this day, and she was proud of her family’s generous nature.

  ‘I’d sooner starve than ask her to help me out, moneylender or not.’ Dolly’s nostrils flared with disdain.

  Kitty sighed. Some of us have no option, she thought, knowing she would shortly have to go cap in hand to Mrs Kennedy and grovel for a loan.

  For, as much as she had rescued the money that Danny and her dad almost gambled away, she still did not have enough to rig out Tommy, who was one of Nancy’s ushers. He was going to need a new pair of trousers and shoes, not to mention a new shirt and tie.

  ‘Right then,’ said Rita, ‘I’ll have to be going now, Mam. As it’s my and Charlie’s anniversary I’ve made a special tea with sherry trifle for afters.’

  ‘Oh, that sounds lovely,’ said Pop. ‘Can I come?’

  ‘You might as well, Pop,’ Rita laughed. ‘Mrs Kennedy will be there.’

  ‘In that case I don’t think I’ll bother, but give her my regards.’ Pop rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Rita had never heard him say a bad word about anybody, not even the old dragon Winnie Kennedy, her own mother-in-law.

  ‘You’d think she’d leave you alone on your anniversary!’ Eddy said. ‘Or even better, Charlie should have taken you out instead.’

  ‘We’re saving for a deposit, Eddy.’ Rita pulled her son’s socks up as she was talking. ‘We’ll never get a house if we waste our money on nights out.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll win the money for a deposit,’ Nancy said. Rita’s look of confusion told her she had said too much so she added suddenly, ‘Let’s go into the parlour,’ linking her arm through Kitty’s, ‘and we’ll see what’s what.’ Amidst the bustle of Rita and the two kids leaving, Nancy, Dolly and Kitty went into the parlour. Kitty eyed up the room, which Pop had decorated in preparation for the wedding, and decided the top table would look better under the window. They wanted everything just right.

  ‘The wedding cake could go there,’ Kitty pointed to the imaginary table, ‘with Nancy’s bouquet in front … and then we could have the groom’s family over here …’

  ‘You can say what you like about Kitty Callaghan …’ A deep, melodious voice coming from the direction of the parlour door made Kitty’s insides turn to jelly, ‘… but she knows how to put on a splash.’ Kitty’s head whipped round and that familiar feeling of pleasure tingled through her at the sound of Frank Feeny’s velvety voice. She only just managed to hold on to a gasp of delight at the sight of him, and heaved a sigh of relief when Dolly rushed past her to throw her arms around her elder son. It gave Kitty the chance to drink in his compelling presence.

  Frank had grown from a gangly six-footer to a strong, handsome man. Confidently self-assured without being cocky, he was a petty officer in the Royal Navy and the only man whose tanned good looks had ever made her pulse race. Kitty stepped back and, as the lid was up, leaned on the piano keys, causing a plinkety-plonk, which almost turned into a tune as she tried to retain a little dignity.

  ‘Give us a song then, Kit!’ Frank laughed, dropped his kitbag on the floor and almost hugged the living daylights out of his mother. Kitty reluctantly lowered her gaze; she had been staring, intentionally, of course. However, she did not want him to think she had lost her marbles …

  ‘You said you wouldn’t be home until Friday. You’re a day early,’ Dolly cried when she got her breath back.

  Frank looked comically sad before turning his gaze to Kitty. ‘Hello, Kit, maybe you’ll be glad to see me?’ His dark blue eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary before he gave Kitty’s arm a playful squeeze. ‘Those muscles are still a bit puny.’

  ‘You look well, Frank,’ Kitty said shyly, hoping her cheeks were not glowing, and felt the surprising sting of happy tears threaten. Annoyed with herself for the way a hot colour always rose to her throat and neck when Frank was around, she said in a mock hurt voice, ‘They are not puny!’ Her eyes widened and she blinked back the unshed tears. He would be a good catch for some lucky girl one day. If that girl could drag him onto dry land long enough, that was.

  ‘How long are you home for?’ she asked, feeling her colour rise even more.

  ‘Listen to her, Mam!’ Frank pretended to be hurt. ‘I’ve only just stepped through the door; you tell me you don’t want me home for another day and Kitty’s trying to get shut of me.’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean …’ Kitty was tongue-tied now. ‘I just meant … I didn’t mean …’ Then she saw his handsome, mischievous eyes dance and she laughed, relieved. ‘Oh, you, Frank …’

  ‘I get you every time, Kit.’ He squeezed her arm again and Kitty, reluctantly, shrugged him away. She had to get back to Tommy; if he was feeling better he would be out in the street and she would never get him in.

  ‘I’ll be going then, Aunty Doll … Glad to see you home again, Frank,’ Kitty said, blushing to the roots of her hair and pushing a damp curl back under her turbaned headscarf. She headed for the parlour door.

  ‘Was it something I said?’ Frank gently caught her arm and his eyes, the deep colour of a tropical ocean, sparkled when he smiled. Kitty could see her reflection in them, he was so close. For a moment, she felt as if they were the only two in the room. A small cough from Dolly brought her out of her reverie and Kitty began distractedly to tidy together the things she had brought over to show her: the small bride and groom to go on the top tier of the cake, the sprig of white silk flowers to adorn the bottom layer.

  ‘You’ll have a lot to catch up on,’ she said shyly. ‘I don’t want to intrude.’

  ‘You could never do that, Kit.’ Frank’s voice, lower, gentler, even a little solemn now, caused her to smile self-consciously. Feeling flustered, she dropped the small bride on the floor and bent down to pick it up, as Frank did the same. They knocked their heads together gently, and Kitty put her hand to her own. She felt her cheeks must be crim
son now. Frank laughed softly and touched her forehead where they had bumped into each other.

  ‘You all right, Kit? I haven’t given you a concussion, have I?’ He handed her the little model of the bride. ‘Here you go, pretty as a picture. Just like you.’

  Kitty thought that Frank looked so handsome at that moment and her heart was bursting with so much emotion and embarrassment that she could hardly bear to look at him. Mumbling her excuses, she departed the Feenys’ parlour quicker that a hare round a race track – as their Danny would say.

  If she had known Frank was coming home on leave she would have … what? What would she have done? Washed her hair? Left her turban off? What would be the point? Kitty knew that he was joking when he said she was pretty. She had never seen him look at girls like her. She was not one for wearing lippy and rouge. Living in a house of men, she had never given a thought to such things. Therefore, what hope was there of Frank Feeny seeing her as anything other than another sister? Relieved to be back outdoors and away from Frank’s unsettling presence, she smiled: fancy having all these daft notions. It was amazing what an imminent wedding could do to your head.

  Outside in the sunshine she breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. Oh, he was a joker, that Frank Feeny, she thought dreamily. The girl who got him would be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world.

  Now Dolly called from the doorway as Kitty was just about to cross the road. ‘Kitty! Hang on a minute!’

  She stopped and turned round.

  ‘Here, you put this in your purse. You’ve earned it.’ Kitty opened her mouth to protest when Aunty Dolly raised her chin, a sign that she would not take ‘no’ for an answer and the matter was closed. When Dolly had hurried back into the house, Kitty looked down at the roll of pound notes and gasped in surprise. There was enough for Tommy’s clothes and his shoes.

  ‘Oh, thank God for you, Aunty Doll,’ Kitty whispered as her throat tightened, bringing a tearful sigh of relief. The extra money would allow her to get a little present for Tommy’s birthday too. He would soon be nine years old.

  ‘How are you feeling, Tom?’ As soon as she was back, Kitty took her young brother another drink and this time she also brought some Ashton & Parsons Infants’ Powders. Dolly had said it would work wonders and even if it did not, at least Tommy would feel as if something was being done. Sometimes mind over matter was the best cure, she’d added.

  ‘I’m feeling much better now,’ Tommy said, eyeing the powder on the end of the teaspoon.

  ‘Well, just in case you still feel a bit under the weather, have this.’

  Tommy did not look keen. ‘I know you wouldn’t poison me deliberately, Kit,’ he said, wrinkling his nose and taking the powder.

  ‘You’ll be as right as rain,’ Kitty smiled, ‘and tomorrow we are going out to buy you some new clothes for the wedding.’

  Tommy’s eyes were wide in amazement. ‘Truly, Kit?’ Tommy had never had new clothes before; they were usually second- or even third-hand from Cazneau Street market. Kitty, smiling, nodded.

  ‘I’m feeling better already.’

  ‘Right, well, it’s about time I shut that front door. It’s been open all day and the pub’s cat keeps wandering in.’ As Kitty made to close the door, she saw Nancy’s best friend and chief bridesmaid-to-be, Gloria, arm in arm with a dashing Royal Air Force officer in immaculate uniform. They made a lovely couple.

  ‘Going somewhere nice?’ Kitty asked, friendly as ever.

  Gloria’s crimson lips parted to reveal perfect teeth. ‘We’re going to the Adelphi and then on to a jazz club.’

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ Kitty said, wondering what it must feel like to be dressed in beautiful clothes and taken somewhere as posh as the Adelphi Hotel. Still, she would not dwell on the matter. What she never had she couldn’t miss. Although, somehow … she did.

  Gloria watched over the rim of her champagne glass as Giles, her debonair escort, beckoned over the maître d’hôtel in the swish lounge of the fashionable Adelphi.

  Giles whispered something into his ear and the waiter nodded and accepted the folded note Giles slipped into his hand. Gloria did not catch what he was saying above the sound of the band playing.

  ‘Certainly, sir,’ the waiter answered. ‘I can arrange that for you.’

  ‘And while you’re at it,’ said Giles, ‘another bottle of your finest champagne.’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ the waiter said with the reverence reserved for an officer in uniform who had plenty of cash to throw around.

  ‘Happy, darling?’ Giles smiled. He reached across the candle-lit table for Gloria’s hand, his lips delicately caressing the perfectly manicured nails that matched her pouting ruby-coloured lips, which were just begging to be kissed.

  ‘Couldn’t be happier,’ Gloria answered, her elbow resting elegantly on the arm of the velvet-covered chair, aware the position showed her slim neck and décolletage to the best advantage.

  ‘Shall we dance?’ Giles asked, eager to hold her close and feel the smooth voluptuous contours of her body against his own.

  ‘Let’s dance after I’ve taken my spot.’ Gloria stood up, and with the fluid grace of a sensual stretching cat she sashayed across the dance floor towards the band, aware of all eyes upon her as her exquisite silver gown shimmered in the half-light. She took in the fashionable clientele with a single sweep of her lengthened lashes and a ripple of pleasure coursed through her. What woman would not want such attention? She walked with the confidence of one who knew all male eyes would be fully appreciative, regardless of the attractions of their female companions. Leaning over the rail, she whispered to the bandleader, who smiled before announcing loudly, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce Miss Gloria Arden.’

  Gloria let the applause die down completely before she opened her glossy lips to sing.

  War was turning from a possibility to an inevitability, and many uniforms graced the swish tables. After her first song, Gloria was encouraged to sing again and again, enjoying the attention and laughing aloud at each order to ‘Sing another one!’

  Eventually she held up her hand to let the audience know this was going to be her last song. Giles, although smiling and clapping enthusiastically, looked a little lonely out there all on his own. Gloria finished her set with a rousing rendition of ‘There’ll Always Be an England’, which had the audience on their feet, waving and singing along.

  The applause was deafening, and Gloria felt ten feet tall as she walked back to Giles with shouts of ‘Encore!’ ringing in her ears. It was then that she saw, among a group of people sitting at a table just off the dance floor, Sid Kerrigan. His arm was draped around a woman who looked as if she had more money than dress sense, given the tight-fitting frock she was wearing, and he certainly didn’t look like a man who was ready to marry Gloria’s best friend in two days’ time.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Rita stood back and looked at the table, resplendent with a new white tablecloth and five cotton napkins, each folded into a bishop’s mitre.

  She had worked hard getting the food ready for her and Charlie’s anniversary. She had cooked Charlie’s favourite, steak and kidney pudding, which always put him in a good mood. The suet pastry cases filled with meat in rich gravy had been steaming all afternoon. Rita had had to leave the shop frequently to check the pan had not boiled dry. Much to her mother-in-law’s annoyance, in the end she’d asked if she could take the rest of the afternoon off. Mrs Kennedy was not keen on her cutting her hours short, complaining about her arthritic leg, which she did frequently. Nevertheless, Rita pointed out that it was only the second time and the first was when she’d gone into labour with Megan. It was a bonus to her little holiday that she’d popped in to see her mam and had seen Nancy’s wedding cake.

  Rita wanted to make the tea special for the children too, especially after the news on the wireless that the Germans were about to cross the Polish border and England, promising to stand by Poland, was now on
heightened alert. Rita felt a fizz of terror run through her. How many more teas would they have together? Every one of them would be special now and she must keep her chin up for the children’s sake.

  You’ll do, Rita thought, checking her appearance one more time. She was slimmer than the day she had married Charlie. But she’d been pregnant then.

  Dressed in her best, a pale blue crêpe de Chine frock with a sweetheart neckline and short puffed sleeves, she felt wonderful. Earlier she had sent Michael to get the accumulator filled for the wireless and was humming along to the lively tune now playing. Everything was perfect.

  ‘Is that dress new?’ Charlie asked when he came in. The children were in the kitchen washing their hands and making a right song-and-dance about it, too. Rita laughed and told Charlie the dress was over five years old. ‘I don’t remember it,’ he said, walking over to her and giving her a perfunctory peck on the cheek. Rita took this as an opportunity to pin her husband down, and put her arms around his neck. ‘Aren’t you going to wish me Happy Anniversary?’

  Charlie was so hard to read these days and Rita wasn’t really sure what reception she’d get, but she was thrilled when he placed his hand on the small of her back and ran his fingers through her hair. Rita thrilled at this rare moment of intimacy as she leaned against him.

  However, the moment was short-lived when the door between the shop and the sitting room opened, and Charlie’s mother entered the room like a ship in full sail. Charlie immediately pushed Rita away none too gently, as if she were contaminated in some way.

  She could only imagine how it might feel if her husband were to kiss her cheek in front of his mother. Charlie never showed any emotion when she was around.