At seven o’clock that evening he was kicking his heels outside a certain house in Cherry Crescent, plucking up the courage to make his presence known. Feeling surprisingly nervous, yet determined not to show it, he finally pressed his thumb on the bell. A portly, red-faced man came to the door, looking down his bulbous nose at Benny as if he were a beetle that had crawled out from under a stone.
‘I’ve called to see Miss Belinda Clarke. Would she be in?’ Benny politely enquired, somewhat overdoing the carefully practised phrases.
‘Indeed she wouldn’t,’ came the brusque reply. Not to the likes of you anyway, he might have added were he not interrupted at that moment by Belinda herself.
‘Yes I am, Father. Don’t be silly. Oh, hello, Benny. Wait there, I’ll get my coat.’
And as Benny stood grinning with pleasure, Councillor Hubert Clarke fidgeted on his own front doorstep as if he itched to give the young soldier a piece of his mind for the impudence of calling without an appointment. ‘I thought you were stopping in tonight,’ he tried, as his daughter brushed past him. ‘Frank will be round, don’t forget.’
‘No, he won’t,’ she said, tucking her arm into Benny’s. ‘I told him not to bother. Don’t wait up, I might be late,’ and the pair strolled off, Belinda smiling, Benny looking as if he’d swallowed a whole dish of cream. Hubert Clarke looked as if he’d been given a lemon to suck.
Benny took Belinda to the Gaumont, which was the most expensive cinema he could afford, to see Meet Me in St Louis. He curbed his natural impatience by contenting himself with holding her hand and she didn’t seem to object. They came out dancing and singing the Trolley Song all along the tramlines, just as if Belinda were Judy Garland and to Benny’s mind she was every bit as fabulous as any film star. She must have enjoyed herself too for she agreed to see him the next afternoon. Benny took her for tea at Lewis’s because he thought that was what classy young women liked to do. Two weeks and several dates later he was beginning to worry that at this rate he’d spend all his demob money in no time, so risked making a suggestion.
‘I’d take you home to meet Mam and Charlie and our Lucy, only you’d happen think us a bit - well - a bit humble like. Clean and honest but ordinary folk, us.’ He’d chosen his words with care, so that she felt obliged to agree. And she did.
‘Don’t be silly. I’m ordinary too. I’d love to meet them,’ she said, with genuine warmth in her voice, exactly as he’d hoped.
Beaming, Benny tucked her arm in his. ‘That’s settled then. Lucy’ll be back from her cleaning job by now, and she’ll make us a cuppa.’
‘I wouldn’t want to get in her way though, if she’s busy.’
‘You won’t be. She likes a bit of company does our Lucy.’ He was anxious for the two girls to meet for, if they got on, Belinda might take to calling while he was away. He hadn’t much cared for the red-faced old geezer who’d opened the door that first evening, though the house had been a real eye-opener, much bigger and grander than he’d expected, and with a garden front and back, no doubt. But if Belinda didn’t think much of her father, then she’d happen take to coming round to his house regular like, and he’d be more sure of her. He was almost certain she and Lucy would hit it off.
In the event he was proved right. Lucy and Belinda liked each other on sight, the two girls were soon laughing and talking as if they’d known each other for years. The children climbed all over Belinda’s knee, vying for her attention, and when it was time for her to go, Lucy went with them to the door.
‘You must call any time. I’d be glad of your company.’
‘Me too.’ They smiled at each other. ‘You could come to the pictures with us some time,’ Belinda added.
Lucy glanced at her brother’s face, noted the quick frown and chuckled. ’I wouldn’t want to play gooseberry.’ Belinda laughed, making it clear she was perfectly capable of choosing for herself, sometimes she would go with Benny, sometimes with Lucy or all together. And so it was agreed.
The two girls became firm friends. Belinda would call regularly and, if Polly was working, Doris-next-door would baby-sit for Lucy and off they would go, shop window gazing along Deansgate or, if they were a bit flush, a trip to the pictures. On these occasions they were two young lasses again, not a wife worrying about a missing husband, or somebody’s daughter trying to hang on to a battered independence. They cheered when Dane Clark won the war, stamped their feet when the cavalry chased the Indians, and wept unashamedly when Ingrid Bergman lost her man.
On other occasions, like today, Benny was with them, and the three of them would walk arm in arm, laughing and joking, their young voices soaring out, singing songs from the movies, making up fantasies of how it felt to live in a vast Hollywood mansion. Afterwards they’d treat themselves to a fish supper, or walk along Liverpool Road eating a meat and potato pie, hot and succulent, giggling as the gravy dribbled from their chins. There was nothing better on a cool autumn evening.
‘Wait till I get my own business going,’ Benny announced, swaggering a little in front of Belinda. ‘Then I’ll buy myself a car and drive you somewhere smarter than the Gaumont. Mebbe all the way to the seaside for a day.’
‘What about Mam?’ Lucy queried, bringing him back to reality. ‘I thought you were helping her with the carpets?’
Benny flushed, for he had done a bit of work for his mam, since so far he’d been unable to find premises or a job to suit him. ‘I can do better than that, Luce, see if I can’t. I mean to set up on me own, you know I do.’
Smiling fondly at him Belinda said, ‘I remember you telling me how good you are with your hands, that you’d like to try joinering and make your own furniture to sell.’
‘Aye, happen so,’ Benny agreed, with not too much conviction in his tone. He could feel himself becoming more and more embroiled in this lie, surely only a white one since he had done quite well in woodwork at school, yet seemed unable to do anything to extricate himself from it. ‘There’s going to be a great call for good furniture. That’s certainly true.’
Lucy snorted her disbelief but, smiling to herself, left him to his harmless fantasies.
Belinda chipped in, ‘I think you’re ever so brave but wise too, to start up on your own, now peace is here. The best way to make money is to work for yourself, or so Pops tells me, and judging from his success I have to believe him. Of course, you’d need premises,’ and so flattered was he by her interest in contrast to his sister’s negative attitude, that Benny couldn’t resist expanding on his theme.
‘Oh, I’m keeping an eye open for summat suitable, though they’re hard to come by these days, shop premises. Once I find a place I’ll set it all up with a bench and tools and everything. Then customers will flock to my door for whatever I produce.’
‘I could help you look.’
‘Really? Well, why not?’ He felt almost breathless with hope. She liked him. She really did. Happen he was in with a chance after all.
Lucy had heard enough of his foolish bragging and sought for a way to change the conversation. They were walking past the Co-op which was still open and doing a brisk trade, for all it was late, the shop’s bright lights spilling out on to the wet pavements. They could see Lily Gantry barging her way to the front of the queue. Lucy shook her head in despair. ‘What a woman! D’you remember what she said at Big Flo’s funeral?’ and related the words that had caused her such hurt at the time.
‘The old witch,’ Belinda said, and put her arm around her friend’s waist, giving her a comforting squeeze. ‘Take no notice. She’s only jealous of your lovely youth.’
‘Aye,’ Benny said. ‘Who’d fancy her, an old goat with whiskers on her chin.’
Belinda gave a merry chuckling laugh. ‘Who is this Michael Hopkins? What’s he like?’
‘A rather private, reliable sort of man. He’s my employer, and a good friend,’ Lucy explained, telling how he helped her keep her job when his aunt would have sacked her. ‘He’s rather nice actually, a sort of Trevor How
ard type.’
‘And our Luce is panting for him,’ Benny said with a snort.
‘Ooh, I never am.’
‘You make his dinner every day for nowt. That sounds pretty keen to me.’
’I’d no choice in the matter. His dragon of an aunt, Minnie Hopkins, insisted I did it if I wanted my job back.’
‘Why don’t you invite him to come to the flicks with us?’ Belinda suggested.
‘Then you can canoodle on the back row,’ Benny teased, thinking this a good idea as it would leave him more free to do the same with Belinda. Having his sister tag along too often hadn’t been the plan at all. Lucy’s response however, was to knock him over the head with her rolled up umbrella.
Belinda laughed as the pair of them tussled together in a play fight. ‘Mind you don’t drop your pie, Lucy.’
‘Quite right. Let’s keep our priorities in order. Eat first and I’ll batter his brains in later.’
Over the next weeks as the days shortened, Belinda continued to see almost as much of Lucy as she did of Benny and seemed content to have it that way. Not that they weren’t pretty inseparable as a couple and, in a way, Lucy envied them that contentment. Yet within the family, disagreement rumbled on. Benny seemed determined to be independent, refusing any sort of commitment beyond a bit of temporary employment now and then with his mother. Polly was clearly upset by his continued stubbornness and went about tight-lipped. Knowing her mother as she did, Lucy could see the situation exploding in Benny’s face if he didn’t make a move to find himself a proper job soon. Much as she adored him, Polly’s patience with her one and only son would surely only stretch so far.
But Lucy was happy for him, she was really. Belinda was a lovely girl, though what she saw in her head-in-the-clouds brother, she really couldn’t imagine. Maybe she was jealous in a way for wouldn’t she just love a man of her own; a life other than one with herself and two children packed in the spare room of her mother’s house.
That Christmas the Ministry of Food handed out free Christmas puddings and one was given to Lucy, since she was bringing a family up alone. A part of her resented this act of charity even as she gladly accepted it. Every day she was forced to remind herself that Tom was only missing, as if she needed to drum this fact into her head. Yet however much she might do so, deep down she held no hope that he would ever return, which left her feeling like a widow with all the problems that brought. But what if she wasn’t? Others, besides Lily Gantry and Minnie Hopkins, didn’t see her as such, so how could she ever rebuild her life, ever start again with another man until she knew for certain one way or the other.
She missed having someone to confide in, to chat with, to open her heart to as she’d used to be able to do with Tom. She didn’t always see eye to eye with her mother though it was admittedly true that Polly had never been one to interfere and when she offered advice, it was usually wise. Like the time she’d urged her to apologise to her employer for those telling sharp words. Nevertheless even a loving mother or a friend like Belinda, however valuable, couldn’t make up for the loss of a soul mate, a husband and lover.
As always Lucy took refuge from her troubles in hard work. It was the only way she could cope with her grief. Every morning she went to the end of the street and cleaned number 179, keeping a well buttoned lip despite much provocation from Minnie Hopkins. Lucy still couldn’t stand her but at least she’d kept her job, one she needed and enjoyed, and they both became reconciled to a state of what might be called an armed truce between them. Generally speaking they managed to keep out of each other’s way, circling each other whenever they met, like a pair of sparring dogs.
Lucy enjoyed looking after Michael. He was a kind and gentle man, had even stood up for her when she’d asked if she could have Sean with her while she worked, since the day nursery had closed. Minnie had been vehemently opposed to the idea, but Michael very reasonably pointed out that if Sean didn’t come, neither would his mother. And by that time, even Minnie had come to appreciate the excellent meals the young woman cooked for them, so had grudgingly accepted the situation.
To Lucy this was a huge relief as it eased the pressure on her over-full day. Sean, though curious about the big house was no trouble and seemed to benefit from spending more time with his mother. He played either in the long back yard or safely in the small front garden. Little bigger than a pocket handkerchief with a few stalwart marigolds surrounded by a privet hedge, the little boy seemed content with his chalks and slate, toy soldiers, or bowl of soapy water for blowing bubbles, and Lucy could keep an eye on him from out of the many windows as she rubbed them clean.
Yet she was aware, as Michael returned each dinner time from the haulage depot where he worked as foreman, of how he watched her with concern, often remarking that she worked too hard, that she’d lost weight and looked worn out.
One day when Lucy made a delicious mutton hot pot, he insisted she sit and share it with them. Minnie looked outraged but for once, wisely perhaps, kept her opinions to herself. Lucy was equally opposed to the idea but the more she protested, the more Michael insisted. Cushions were placed on a chair for Sean and, finally succumbing to the mouth-watering aroma of good meat, the like of which Polly could rarely afford since all her spare cash was being poured into restarting the business, Lucy urged the small boy to be on his best behaviour and seated herself beside him. She was aware, throughout the meal of Minnie Hopkins’s grim silence, apart from the clicking of her false teeth as she sucked on the mutton bones.
After the meal Michael walked the length of the street with her, while Sean skipped and hopped along in front, riding his imaginary cowboy horse. As they approached number 32 among the more tightly packed terraces where Lucy lived, Michael said, ‘You still look tired. What you need is a rest, a day off.’
Lucy laughed out loud at that. ‘What chance do I get for a rest? Today, I have to pick up our Sarah Jane on her way home from school, then make a bite of dinner for everyone. That’s my job, d’you see? Mam, or sometimes Charlie, usually cook supper. Then I’m off to Taylors this afternoon to do their weekly clean through. That’s after I’ve washed the dishes and dropped our Sean off next door and Sarah Jane back at school. Pick the kids up again at four. Then there’s only all the washing, ironing and mending to do, which never stops with two children, plus my share of the housework. After that my time is my own!’
‘You do too much,’ he said as she finished on another laugh, tucking her brown curls behind her ears.
‘When you come up with a way of earning brass without having to work for it, do let me know.’
Michael was thoughtful for a while as they walked, before returning to his argument. ‘I still think you need a day off, a day all to yourself, and by heck I’ll see you get one.’ He was gripping her arms now, swinging her round to face him and the heat of his touch was doing peculiar things to her insides. ‘You could have a day trip to Belle Vue, or Blackpool. I’ll take you myself, Lucy Shackleton.’
‘Belle Vue? Blackpool?” She stared at him in wonder, as if he had suggested a trip to the moon. ‘And who’d take care of the children, if I did?’
‘They’d come with us, of course.’
A day in Blackpool. A ride in a tramcar, a dance in the tower ballroom, sucking on a stick of rock and paddling her feet in the sea. Ooh, it sounded grand. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such a day. Ah, yes, with Aunt Ida and Uncle Nobby just before the war. They were no more than courtesy titles, them being old friends of Charlie’s, but they’d always been good to Lucy. They’d stayed at a boarding house in York Street for a full week, in one of those tall terraced houses with stairs that seemed to reach all the way up to heaven. But she wouldn’t say no to another visit, nor to an afternoon at Belle Vue. Near as it was to her home, she’d rarely visited this magical place, as she’d scarcely had the money since the children were born. A few hours with nothing to do but gawp at exotic animals, lick candy floss like a big kid and whizz on a whirligig. W
ouldn’t that be grand?
For a moment as his big broad hands gripped hers she felt dizzy at the prospect of such heady joys. The temptation was so great, happiness so nearly in her grasp that she almost flung her arms about his neck and said yes, she’d love to, before reality drenched the madness.
She couldn’t let Michael pay for them. That wouldn’t be right. Both the children needed new shoes, and hadn’t she enough trouble finding money to pay the bills, let alone to waste on whirligigs and candy floss. She was supposed to be saving hard for a place of their own; her children deserved a bit of space and privacy, even if they no longer had a dad. So she laughingly refused his kind offer. ‘You must be soft in the head. I’ve no time to take a day off. Anyroad, it’ll be too cold now. Maybe next year?’
‘Is that a promise?’
Lucy could hardly meet the intentness of his gaze. It seemed to be burning her up. ‘Barring accidents, as they say,’ she commented brightly. Yet it stayed in her mind, this foolish dream, and Lucy couldn’t help but wonder what Michael Hopkins would look like dressed up all smart, instead of in his blue work overalls.
Chapter Seven
Lucy was keenly aware that Sean missed the nursery and that he also missed his dad. For all he had never known him, she’d made sure that he kissed Tom’s photo every night and he’d got it into his head that this father would one day come home, play football with him and teach him how to fish. It was surely all her fault if the little boy now felt let down, as if a promise had been broken.
‘When is Dad coming home? He hasn’t forgotten me, has he?’ and Lucy would explain that he might never come back, that she didn’t know the first thing about fishing or football, and he should ask Uncle Benny. But Uncle Benny was always too busy with his own affairs these days, looking for the shop of his dreams and taking Belinda out. When Sarah Jane had gone back to school at the beginning of the autumn term, it was hard for the little boy to accept that he couldn’t go too. It made him feel even more left out of things.
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