by Maureen Lee
‘I’ll never be posh,’ Nell vowed.
‘Nor me.’ Maggie linked her arm. ‘Shall we go to the pics and have something to eat afterwards?’
‘Yes please.’ Nell felt happy for the first time in ages. ‘Are there any good pictures on?’ She hadn’t seen a picture in ages, either.
‘There’s one called The Spiral Staircase. A woman at work saw it and she said it’s dead creepy.’ Maggie shivered as if to emphasise just how creepy it was. ‘It stars Dorothy McGuire and a woman called Rhonda Fleming who’s got this incredible red hair.’ She tossed her black curls, which had grown long again. ‘I’d love red hair.’
‘You’ve already got beautiful hair. I wish I could do something with mine.’ She hadn’t had it cut in Wales, and it lay on her collar like rats’ tails.
‘Have it cut while you’re here, and buy some clothes too. There’s this enormous C&A Modes by Marble Arch.’ Maggie squeezed Nell’s arm somewhat painfully. ‘We’ll go tomorrow. Oh, Nell. We’ll have a gear time together in London.’
The Spiral Staircase was really terrifying. Maggie swore she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Afterwards, they went to a restaurant in Soho where Nell had spaghetti bolognese for the first time and a man wearing a red bandanna wandered around playing the guitar and singing Italian songs.
Back in Shepherd’s Bush, they sat and talked until almost two o’clock in the morning, and Nell fell asleep sitting up.
London was packed, a lot of the people being foreigners. It couldn’t have been more different from Wales, where Nell had been living only a month ago.
She had brought food with her, basic things like tea, sugar, butter and tins of corned beef and salmon to supplement Maggie’s rations. On Saturday morning, they had beans on toast for breakfast. While they were eating in Maggie’s room, a young woman knocked and put her head around the door to announce that it was her birthday and she was throwing a party that night to which Maggie was invited.
‘And you too,’ she added, smiling at Nell.
‘That’s Violet. I’ll buy her a present while we’re out,’ Maggie said when the young woman had gone.
After breakfast, they left for C&A Modes, where Nell took ages trying to choose between a knee-length white polka-dotted dress and a blue silky one with a full skirt that reached her calves. It was based on the Dior New Look that had so excited the fashion world, using twice as much material as the utility clothes available during the war.
In the end, she bought both dresses. As she said to Maggie, ‘I might have to wait until the New Look arrives in Bootle before I can wear the blue one.’
‘You could wear it at the party tonight,’ Maggie suggested. ‘I’ve seen loads of people wearing the New Look in London.’ She looked appraisingly at the blue dress. ‘In fact I wouldn’t mind one meself, though a different style from yours. I like the look of that red one with the striped collar.’
Nell went on to buy white sandals and a cardy, also white, while Maggie treated herself to a new straw hat and bought a georgette scarf for Violet, whose birthday it was.
They left the shop laden with carrier bags and made their way to Maison Lyons opposite Marble Arch for lunch. The magnificent five-storey building had a different restaurant on each floor, ranging from the very expensive to the very cheap. Maggie, who’d been there before, said the second floor was the cheapest and they could have omelettes at only a shilling each.
‘You’re not very forthcoming about Iris and the new baby,’ she remarked after the food was eaten and they were sharing a pot of tea. ‘I thought you’d be going on and on about it.’
‘There’s not much to say,’ Nell mumbled. ‘The baby’s lovely, I’ve already told you that.’
Maggie narrowed her eyes. ‘Did you and Iris have a row?’
‘No, of course not. Though . . .’ Nell paused. She supposed it did seem odd, hardly mentioning Iris and the baby. For the briefest of moments, she badly wanted to tell Maggie everything, that William was her baby, not Iris’s. But caution won the day. Although Maggie would always be her dearest, closest friend, it was only right that the truth about William should remain a secret between the three people concerned, Iris, Tom and Nell. Anyway, she suspected that Maggie had never divulged the facts about her relationship with Chris Conway, so Nell wasn’t the only one keeping a dark secret.
‘Me and Iris got a bit fed up with each other towards the end,’ she said. ‘The weather was awful and we couldn’t get out the house for a lot of the time. Back in Bootle, I’ve had me hands full with Crown Caterers, y’know, learning to drive an’ all.’ Nell lifted her head. She could hear music, and in the corner of the enormous room an elderly woman had started to play the harp. ‘Isn’t that lovely!’ she remarked. ‘It sounds dead romantic.’
Maggie nodded with her usual enthusiasm. ‘I love London,’ she breathed.
‘So do I.’ It wasn’t until that moment that Nell realised just how much she liked the capital city. It was full of noise, always something going on, buskers everywhere, bright lights, entertainment. Yet she wouldn’t have wanted to live there. There were times when she desperately wanted to shut her eyes, not because she was tired, but she wanted to close down, think a few quiet thoughts, but that would have been impossible except in the privacy of her room. Tonight was the party, tomorrow Mass in Westminster Cathedral, then Petticoat Lane market, and a walk through Hyde Park in the afternoon . . . London was a gear place to stay, but not to live. She couldn’t have stood it and far preferred life in Bootle.
At the party, Nell met Drugi, who was Polish and Maggie’s sort of’ boyfriend.
‘Why is he only “sort of”?’ she’d asked earlier.
Maggie tossed her head. ‘Because I’ve no intention of marrying him. I really fancy his friend Jack, but if I give up Drugi, I might never see Jack again.’
‘Is Jack Polish too?’
‘Yes. His proper name is Jacek Kaminski. He goes out with my friend Daphne Scott, but I’m not sure it’s serious, though Daphne thinks it is.’
‘What about the chap you were going out with at Christmas – Philip something?’
‘Philip Morrison. He’s courting Alicia Black, another friend. Now that’s serious on both sides.’
It all sounded terribly complicated to Nell. She liked Drugi when they met. He was boyishly handsome and had a nice friendly personality. Maggie mainly ignored him at the party and flirted with another chap, leaving Drugi to dance all night with Nell and tell her how much he loved her friend. Nell didn’t think he could love her all that much, else he wouldn’t have laughed quite so often or so heartily.
Mass in the imposing Catholic cathedral was an experience in itself. She emerged, after praying really hard, awed by the beauty of the building and the sense of calm and peace inside.
In Petticoat Lane, she came down to earth amid the clamour and the yelling of the traders. Goods of all kinds, from clothes to cheap jewellery to fresh fruit and vegetables, were pushed under her nose. She bought three sets of cheap earrings for her sisters and a pure silk tie, or so it said on the label, for their Kenny. She’d get something a bit more expensive for Mam and Dad.
The dull morning turned into a sunny afternoon just in time for the visit to Hyde Park. She hadn’t realised that they were meeting Jacek Kaminski – Jack – who Maggie confessed to be madly in love with.
Nell understood why. He was a charming man, not as handsome as his friend Drugi, but with a strong, enigmatic face. It was impossible to imagine what he might be thinking. She thought his expression lightened a little whenever he glanced at Maggie and turned to one of slight irritation when his girlfriend, Daphne, spoke to him. She decided not to tell Maggie that for fear of unintentionally raising her hopes.
Nell returned to Liverpool on Friday, having been in London a whole week. Maggie had been at work at Thomas Cook’s, but they’d met for lunch, and in the afternoons Nell had wandered around the shops by herself or gone to the pictures.
The best part of
her stay, though, was late Tuesday afternoon, when they went to the House of Commons, where Kathleen Curran, Member of Parliament for Bootle Docklands as well as being Maggie’s Aunt Kath, was taking part in a debate on the National Health Service that was due to be introduced next year.
To think she had known this woman all her life, and now here she was, making a speech in the most important building in the land, being listened to with rapt attention and stared at with admiration by politicians from every party. After all, how could you argue with someone who was so concerned about the poor, who said forcefully that everyone had a right to a home, food, a good education for their children and medical care when they were ill?
Nell was therefore astounded when a man on the benches opposite stood to declare in an unbelievably posh voice that the Right Honourable Member was living in cloud cuckoo land. ‘She needs to take her head out of the sand, realise that our country is deeply in debt due to the war. We cannot, in truth, afford to bring in a National Health Service, let alone all the other things the honourable lady demands.’
There were shouts from Auntie Kath’s side of ‘balderdash’, ‘stuff and nonsense’ and ‘twaddle’.
Soon afterwards, Auntie Kath left the chamber. Maggie and Nell met her at the front of the building, where, to Maggie’s delight, her father was waiting too. The girls were treated to tea in the visitors’ restaurant.
Auntie Kath was desperately impressed with Crown Caterers, which Nell assured her would be starting soon. ‘I’ve got the car and all the equipment,’ Nell told them in her calm, unhurried tones. ‘I really need me own kitchen, but I’ll just have to work at home until something comes up. Trouble is, our kitchen is really titchy, and sometimes I need to spread meself out.’
‘Well, dear,’ Auntie Kath said, ‘if you don’t mind hanging on a bit, the flat over the Labour Party offices on the Dock Road will be vacant soon.’ She smiled admiringly at Nell. ‘You’d be a perfect tenant, wouldn’t she, Paddy?’
‘Perfect,’ Paddy O’Neill agreed. ‘Absolutely perfect.’
Giving William up was the most awful thing to have happened to Nell, but she’d had some enormous good luck lately too: the bus to Liverpool, for example, on the day William had been born, the car Dad had acquired for her, and now the flat over the Labour Party, for which she apparently would be perfect. She’d never been there, but Auntie Kath had promised that the kitchen was a good size.
‘I hope you and Jack Kaminski get together soon,’ Nell said to Maggie at Euston station before catching the train home.
‘And I hope you meet a nice feller soon, Nell,’ Maggie said in return. ‘Businesses are all right, but having a husband and babies is what women are born to do.’
‘Your Auntie Kath seems happy enough without either,’ Nell pointed out.
‘Auntie Kath is the exception to the rule.’
‘Perhaps I’m another exception.’ Nell had already had a baby and couldn’t visualise having another. As for a husband, the only man who’d wanted to marry her had been killed not long after proposing. She had a feeling she was destined to be an old maid, and after thinking about it for a while, she decided she didn’t mind a bit.
Chapter 10
Maggie really missed having Nell in her life. Since they were little girls they had done everything together, but, she told herself, she had moved on and Nell had stayed behind. She had made friends in London, built an entirely new life, full of fun and excitement. Barely a week would pass when she didn’t see the latest picture or visit the theatre. She had dinner out regularly, went to numerous parties, and bought new clothes whenever she could afford to. She didn’t even attempt to save any of her wages.
The year before, she had become a permanent member of Thomas Cook’s staff, having discovered that temporary workers were only paid for the hours they worked so lost money when the firm closed over Christmas and Bank Holidays. Working as a shorthand typist wasn’t exactly what she’d come to London for. She’d planned on getting a really interesting job, something fascinating and rewarding. Arranging people’s holidays gave her no thrill at all, it was in fact as dull as ditchwater, but the pay was good, and just then, having a good time was all that mattered.
She knew she was lucky, and so were her friends. They were single, had few responsibilities, and their out-of-work hours were their own to spend as they wished. Although the war had been over for two years, looking after a family wasn’t easy. Most children under ten had never seen an orange or a banana, let alone tasted one. Women still struggled on the meagre rations to feed their families. Some of the tinned food that Nell had brought from Liverpool, Maggie took into the office to give to Rita Chase, a girl she worked with whose father had been killed at Dunkirk and who had five younger brothers and sisters, as well as a mam who’d lost her hearing in the Blitz.
In London, as in every big city, ugly bomb sites were still a feature of most streets, and it would be years before they were tidied up and developed. They remained, like the shortage of food, as reminders of the war that had cost so many precious lives. Although the lights were on again, those in the West End shone on only a handful of Londoners.
It was the first of July, exactly six months since Maggie had met Jack Kaminski and Drugi Nowak in Trafalgar Square. Frequently, she would curse Daphne for turning up and nabbing Jack for herself, leaving her with Drugi.
There was no doubt that Drugi was a generous and amusing boyfriend. One of his uncles owned a popular restaurant in Soho, where Drugi worked as a waiter. There was a whole tribe of Poles in the area, not all Nowaks, who’d come from the same village in Poland and ranged from the very young to the very old. Jack Kaminski was one, but the only person not to have any other family. A week rarely passed without a celebration of some sort: a birthday, an engagement, someone’s wedding. Even the one death – Drugi’s grandfather – had turned into a celebration of sorts.
Drugi seemed to have plenty of money. Maggie frequently offered to pay for herself when they went out, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He professed to be madly in love with her, but didn’t seem to mind that she never claimed to love him back. At the end of the evening, they would kiss, quite passionately. Maggie flatly refused to let him go further. She was worried she would enjoy it as much as she had done with Chris Conway, and had an uneasy feeling that she was oversexed, but didn’t know who she could discuss it with. Nell knew nothing whatsoever about sex. She wondered if Auntie Kath might be a good person to ask, but was too embarrassed.
Daphne confessed to be head over heels in love with Jack Kaminski. She had actually used those words, ‘head over heels’, to describe how she felt.
Maggie wasn’t surprised. She felt the same about Jack, who should have been living in Hollywood like Clark Gable or Alan Ladd and starring in pictures, rather than working in a Polish bank in the city.
‘His job is frightfully important,’ Daphne told Maggie in hushed tones. ‘He doesn’t work behind the counter, he’s not just a bank clerk, but is in charge of foreign investments. He deals with millions of pounds.’
‘Did he tell you that?’ If he had, Maggie thought it rather incautious, not the sort of information that should be spread around.
‘No, but Daddy said he almost certainly would, working in that department. Daddy’s longing to meet him. As you know, he was in the Royal Air Force during the war, and he said that Polish pilots were the best he’d known.’ Both Jack and Drugi had been in the RAF.
‘Hasn’t he met your family yet?’
Daphne puckered her red-painted lips. ‘He’s been invited loads of times, but he flatly refuses to come.’ Her eyes grew moist. ‘Sometimes I worry that he’s not really serious about me.’
Maggie hoped and prayed he never would be. But how could she make him be serious about her? In the past, she had never had a problem getting any man she wanted, and she wanted Jack Kaminski more than anything on earth.
To her pleased surprise, Jack telephoned her at work one day. ‘Maggie, I understand th
e MP Kathleen Curran is a relative of yours?’ he said in his lovely deep voice – his English was almost perfect,
‘She’s me Auntie Kath, yes,’ Maggie replied.
‘Would it be possible for me to meet her? I heard her on the wireless the other evening and I was extremely impressed.’
Maggie’s heart did a somersault. ‘If I want to see her, I sit in the visitors’ gallery in the House of Commons and wave. Once the debate’s over, we meet in the lobby.’
‘So if I accompanied you one evening, would you introduce me?’
‘Of course.’
‘How about tonight? Have you arranged to do anything?’
Maggie had genuinely been intending to wash her hair, but immediately dismissed the idea. ‘Absolutely nothing,’ she said.
He said he would pick her up in a taxi after work. There was no mention of Daphne. Maggie said she’d wait in Piccadilly rather than Thomas Cook’s entrance in the street behind, as it would be easier for the taxi to stop, though the real reason was in case Daphne came out at the same time. She didn’t want to be suspected of two-timing her friend. Not that Jack’s request to meet Auntie Kath could be deemed romantic.
It was rather nice to sit within the sanctuary of a taxi and watch other people pouring down the steps of the Underground or queuing for buses. She said so to Jack, who remarked that that was just like her.
‘Most people find riding in a taxi rather boring; you regard it as fun. You always manage to get the best out of life, Maggie.’
‘I wasn’t getting the best out of life when you found me in Trafalgar Square on New Year’s Eve,’ she snorted. ‘I was desperately miserable.’
Jack smiled. He was dressed as she’d never seen him before, in a black jacket, striped trousers and sparkling white shirt. She was pleased he hadn’t added a bowler hat or a rolled umbrella to the outfit. There weren’t the words to describe just how handsome and desirable he looked.
‘That’s understandable,’ he said. ‘In the same position I would have been desperately miserable myself.’