by June Francis
‘It was his idea,’ said Mary hastily. ‘I told him that Peter’s mother was a widow and suggested that we invite her, too.’
‘And what did he say to that?’ asked Peggy.
‘He didn’t care one way or the other,’ said Mary, ‘so if you could ask Peter when you see him whether she’d like to come?’
‘When?’
‘Perhaps a week on Sunday. Hopefully the weather will be better by then.’
‘I’ll be seeing him this evening, so I’ll mention it,’ said Peggy, smiling. ‘I’m going to have to go, Mam. We’ll probably go to the pictures, so I’ll be home about eleven.’ She left the house and did not look back.
It was sleeting when Peggy came out of the Cunard Building and found Pete waiting for her. She was feeling anxious and the weather did not help to lighten her mood and neither did his grim expression.
‘Did you hear about the plane crash in Munich?’ he asked, taking her by surprise.
‘No! I take it that all the passengers were killed,’ she said, tucking her arm through his.
‘The Busby Babes were on the plane and several of them have been killed but not all of them. It’s tragic for Manchester United.’
Peggy was stunned. ‘Was it the weather that caused it?’
‘It was slushy on the runway and snowing, as well.’ He sighed. ‘All that talent! You never know the minute, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Imagine if it had been Liverpool’s team? Or even Everton!’ Pete shook his head dolefully.
‘Their poor families,’ she murmured. ‘Do you feel like going to the pictures? I didn’t see anything I liked in the Echo the other evening.’
‘Then how d’you feel about going back to our house? Mam’s supposed to be going out with Irene’s mother this evening. We’d have the place to ourselves,’ said Pete, his expression brightening. ‘Nice roaring fire and we can get a couple of meat pies and chips from the chippy.’
She agreed, thinking it would be easier to bring up the subject of him and his mother coming to Mass and dinner if they were alone and comfortable.
An hour or so later they were sitting on the sofa drawn up in front of the fire with trays on their knees. Pete had bought a bottle of beer and a Babycham from the off licence. Peggy had asked for the television to be switched on while they ate, having remembered that Calling Nurse Roberts was on.
‘You’re as bad as Mam,’ said Pete, shaking his head. ‘She likes this but it just reminds me of when I was in hospital.’
‘You never talk much about that time,’ said Peggy, not taking her eyes from the black and white screen.
‘That’s because they weren’t the best days of my life,’ murmured Pete, supping his beer.
She glanced at him and leaned sideways to kiss his cheek. ‘I wish the doctors could do something so you weren’t in pain.’
‘So do I but there isn’t anything much they can do. They made that clear to Mam before they sent me home. If I’d broken my leg in just one place it wouldn’t have been so bad, but three …’ His eyes clouded. ‘It was my own bloody fault.’
‘Maybe one day they will be able to do something for you. I mean, medicine has come on in leaps and bounds since the National Health Service was introduced. Just think of there being an inoculation for TB and there’s talk of polio being a thing of the past soon.’
‘It’s brilliant! I’ve met kids who had polio,’ said Pete. ‘You’ve never been in hozzie, have you? If you had, it’s not an experience you’re likely to forget and I was there for weeks.’ He cut into his steak and kidney pie. ‘The experience changes you.’
‘I should imagine it would,’ murmured Peggy absently, her eyes straying to the screen where a doctor and nurse were in a clinch. Would they get married? Who was to say? She was reminded of her and Pete’s situation and remembered her mother’s invitation.
‘Mam asked me to ask you if you’d like to come to Mass and lunch a week on Sunday?’ she said.
Pete appeared not to have heard her. In fact he seemed miles away. She repeated what she had just said in a louder voice.
This time he looked at her. ‘What did your dad have to say about it?’
‘It’s his idea. What d’you think? Mam thought your mother might like to come too. I know she’s not a Catholic but Irene’s mam is a friend of hers and she’s a Catholic.’
‘She’ll go to a rummage sale at Our Lady, Star of the Sea’s church hall but she’s never been to Mass with her,’ said Pete. ‘I doubt Mam will agree. So tell your Mam no thanks,’ said Pete.
Peggy was disappointed. ‘Is that no to lunch as well as Mass? And what about you?’ she asked, a tremor in her voice. ‘Are you turning down the invitation, too?’
Before he could answer, there came the sound of a key in the front door and a few moments later Gertie entered the room. Her colour was high and her lips pressed tightly together. ‘Well!’ she exclaimed, staring at the pair of them. ‘I didn’t expect to see you two here!’
Pete set the tray aside. ‘You all right, Ma? Want a cup of tea?’
‘You two aren’t drinking tea! I suppose there isn’t anything stronger for me?’ she said, squeezing past the sofa to stand in front of the fire and hold out her hands to the blaze.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Marshall,’ said Peggy, standing up. ‘I’ll go if you like.’
‘I didn’t say you had to go, Peggy,’ said Gertie, her voice less strident. ‘I’m just so annoyed with Maisie Miller.’
‘What’s she done?’ asked Pete.
‘What hasn’t she done?’ said Gertie, removing her hat and slinging it on an easy chair.
‘What hasn’t she done then?’ asked Pete.
‘Don’t you be smart!’ said Gertie, dropping into a chair. ‘She hasn’t kept to our agreement, that’s what! We promised each other that we’d always get the bus home together.’ Her voice trembled.
Pete glanced at the clock. ‘It’s only early. Is it that she wanted to go on somewhere else?’
‘It’s not that! I’d have stayed later at Reece’s dance if she hadn’t waltzed off almost as soon as we arrived there with some bloke who asked her to dance.’ Gertie took out a handkerchief and blew her nose.
‘You … you mean she left the dance hall without you?’ asked Peggy.
Gertie stared at her. ‘You’ve got it in one, love. Twice she danced with him and then she comes and tells me she’s going on somewhere else with him and she hoped I didn’t mind!’ Her eyes glistened as she tugged at the buttons on her coat.
Peggy set her plate aside, stood up and helped her off with her coat and then hung it on a peg in the lobby. Pete put the kettle on. Gertie sat on the sofa and picked up his plate and began to eat his chips. ‘I’m hungry,’ she said. ‘We went out straight from work and I’ve only had a cake and a cup of tea from Lyon’s cafe.’
Peggy glanced at Pete as he came into the room. ‘Did you hear all that? Your mam’s hungry so she’s having some of your chips. You can share mine.’
‘Thanks, Peg. I’ll cut some bread and we can have butties,’ he said.
With that done and having handed a cup of tea to his mother, Pete squeezed up on to the sofa with the two women. ‘Peggy’s brought you an invitation, Mam, from her mother. We’re invited to lunch a week on Sunday.’
Gertie glanced at Peggy. ‘That’s kind of your mother.’
‘She wondered if you’d like to come to Mass as well?’
‘I don’t think so, love,’ said Gertie. ‘I have my own church if I want to speak to God. I’d be pleased to go to lunch, though.’
‘I’ll tell Mam that,’ said Peggy, relieved.
Gertie looked thoughtful. ‘I’d be right in thinking your father will be there?’
‘Yes,’ said Peggy, ‘and maybe our Lil and her boyfriend.’
‘Nice family gathering,’ said Gertie with a hint of satisfaction. ‘I’m already looking forward to it. Me and our Pete will come together. What time? About two? Give your family a chanc
e to get back from Mass.’
Peggy agreed. She glanced at Pete questioningly. He shrugged; whatever he might be thinking, for the moment he was keeping it to himself.
She would have liked to spend some proper time alone with him but when he suggested seeing her home, she shook her head. ‘Just see me on to the bus. It’s not that late that there’d be drunks around,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you slipping on the ice when you’re on your own.’ His mouth tightened. ‘Now don’t get touchy!’ Peggy added. ‘I’m only thinking of your safety and what you said earlier about your leg being broken in three places.’
He said no more but she guessed that he was thinking he was quite able to take care of himself. But can you look after me if someone were to knock you off balance? she wondered and was ashamed for thinking it.
When Pete arrived back at the house after seeing Peggy on to the bus, he found his mother at the table with a drawer on one of the chairs beside her. He recognized it as being from the sideboard in the parlour. She was in the process of removing several large bulky brown envelopes and placing them on the table. He sat down and asked her what was in them.
‘Photographs,’ said Gertie, slitting a flap with a knife. ‘See where my father wrote the dates of when they were taken on the front of the envelope,’ she pointed out. ‘I should find the ones I’m looking for inside this one.’
‘Who are they of?’
She slanted a glance at him. ‘Now that would be telling, son, and I don’t want to make a mistake. But you’ll see them soon enough if I’m proved right. You want to marry Peggy and I guess her dad could be against a match between the pair of you.’
‘That’s what she’s believed all the time we’ve been seeing each other,’ said Pete.
‘I can imagine,’ said Gertie, a grim little smile playing around her mouth.
‘So these photographs …?’ asked Pete.
‘Be patient.’
He knew there was no persuading her, so instead he asked her about Maisie Miller. ‘Will you be speaking to her when you see her in work tomorrow?’
‘Like hell I will,’ said Gertie vehemently, beginning to go through a handful of photographs. ‘If she wants to be friends with me then I expect an apology. It was downright bad manners what she did to me and I’m not going to forget that in a hurry.’
‘That’s not like you, Ma,’ said Pete.
‘No, but I’m hurt, son. We’ve been friends for years and she must have known how I felt,’ said Gertie, sounding suddenly weary. ‘Now, not another word about her.’
Ten
Irene was on pins as she leaned against the table, watching her mother applying lipstick. Irene had something serious she wished to discuss with Maisie but somehow she was put off from bringing up the subject while her mother titivated herself in front of the mirror. Despite the concern she felt for her own future, she could not help but marvel at the change in Maisie since she’d got her new teeth. She smiled more often and sometimes she even hummed a dance tune. Her hair might still look a bit unusual, to say the least, but she seemed a lot more content than she had been at the beginning of the year.
‘So where are you going this evening, Mam?’ she asked.
‘Ask no questions and you get told no lies,’ replied Maisie.
‘Why so secretive? You always want to know where I’m going when I visit.’
‘That’s because you’re my daughter and I used to feel responsible for yer, but not any more. You’re old enough to take care of yourself. You and our Jimmy, both.’
Irene’s smooth brow knitted. ‘You’ve changed your tune. There was something I wanted to discuss with you.’
‘Not now, love. I haven’t time.’
Irene sighed. ‘All right! But you do know you’re supposedly still responsible for me until I’m twenty-one and I’m not nineteen until the end of March.’
‘Yer not going to tell me yer getting married, are you, and need my permission?’ Maisie smirked as she popped the Max Factor lipstick in her handbag.
‘No!’
‘Pity,’ said Maisie. ‘If yer must know I’m going dancing at Reece’s in town. And if yer wondering where Jimmy is, he’s at the Gianellis’ rehearsing for some “gig” as he called it. I can’t say I’ve ever heard the word before. Maybe you could talk to him about what’s bothering yer.’
‘Thanks,’ said Irene drily. ‘Are you going with Gertie Marshall?’
Maisie scowled. ‘Don’t talk to me about that woman! I’ve never known anyone so selfish! I suppose you won’t be staying here the night?’
‘No, I’ve got to be back in time for the night shift,’ said Irene, wondering what had gone wrong between her mother and Gertie. ‘So who are you going with? That Scottish woman you work with?’
Maisie smirked. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not! See yer next time, love.’ She blew a kiss in Irene’s direction and was about to leave when she added, ‘Oh, by the way, there’s a couple of letters for yer on the sideboard.’ She hurried out.
Irene went over to the sideboard and picked up the envelopes. One was a blue airmail and would be from Betty, while the other had been posted locally. She read them swiftly and both gave her much pause for thought. She decided to pop along to the Gianellis’ and have a word with her brother who was rehearsing there, and with Nellie, too.
She left the house in a hurry and headed towards the canal. As she passed the Red Lion, she couldn’t help thinking of Marty and wondered whether he had heard anything more from his brother. So far she had seen no sign of Tommy, but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t living in Blundell Sands. She had shown his photo to Deirdre but she did not remember having seen him. Perhaps she should show it to a few more people.
She walked along Litherland Park until she came to The Chestnuts. She could hear the group practising as she rang the doorbell. She gazed at clumps of daffodils that were just showing the odd bud. No doubt, just like the hundreds of daffodil bulbs in the gardens of Fair Haven, they would be in bloom in a few weeks. Hopefully there would still be some in flower at Easter, which was at the beginning of April this year.
The door was opened by a slightly breathless Lucia. ‘Oh, it’s you, Irene! Jimmy didn’t say you were coming.’
‘That’s because he didn’t know,’ said Irene promptly. ‘May I come in? I won’t be stopping long.’
‘That’s all right. Did you come to see Auntie Nellie? She was talking about you earlier, asking Jimmy when you’d be visiting your mother next.’
Irene wondered if Nellie had possibly heard the news about Miss Talbot and followed Lucia up the lobby. ‘I’ll have a word with our Jimmy and then speak to your aunt. Is she in the kitchen?’
Lucia nodded and led the way into the front room where all the noise was coming from. The music petered out as Jimmy spotted his sister. ‘Hold on a mo’! My sister’s here and I want a word with her,’ he said.
‘You OK?’ asked Irene, going over to him.
‘Fair to middling! You?’
‘I’ve had some news that’s upset me a bit,’ she said. ‘By the way, the music sounds great from outside. Mam mentioned you had some gig booked.’
‘Yeah, that’s right, and we’re playing at Lenny’s place a week on Saturday. Have you received your invitation to Jeanette and Davy’s party?’
Irene smiled. ‘Just got it. I wouldn’t have known about it if Mam hadn’t remembered at the last minute there was post for me. It’s the same day as my birthday, too.’
‘Thanks for reminding me,’ he drawled. ‘Did you know Jeanette and Davy were moving to New Brighton?’
She nodded. ‘But I had no idea they were moving so soon. I presume Peggy and Pete will be invited.’
‘I should think so. She and Peggy used to see a lot of each other when they were both working in the Cunard Building. I wonder who’ll take over the flat?’ he mused.
‘It probably won’t be anyone we know,’ said Irene. ‘Anyway, I’ll let you get on with rehearsing.’
She was a
lmost out of the door when he called her back. ‘You haven’t told me what’s upset you? It’s not Mam falling out with Gertie Marshall, is it?’
‘No, it’s something else. I’ll tell you later. I just want a word with Mrs Gianelli.’
‘There’s something I meant to tell you,’ said Jimmy.
‘What?’
‘I spotted that Tommy Mac at the Cavern Club the other Saturday. He was with a girl.’
Her eyes widened. ‘The Cavern Club? I haven’t heard of it.’
‘It’s a jazz club in a cellar in Mathew Street.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘Off North John Street. It only opened last year.’
‘I can’t say I like the sound of it being in a cellar. What’s it like?’
He grinned. ‘You wouldn’t like it. Smoky, crowded, noisy, condensation running down the walls.’
She shook her fair head. ‘You must be mad going there.’
His grin widened. ‘It’s got atmosphere and we’ve been asked to fill a small slot.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she said. ‘See you next Saturday if I can get the evening off.’
She heard the music start up again as she left the room, aware that Lucia had been listening to their conversation from her perch on the arm of a chair close by.
As Irene entered the kitchen, Nellie glanced up from the oven and smiled. She had a tray of flapjacks in her hands. ‘You’re just in time if you’re hungry.’
‘I am! I had nothing at Mam’s. She was on her way out. Those smell wonderful. I remember you making flapjacks when you had the nursery here,’ said Irene, her voice soft with reminiscence.
‘Just let this lot cool down first or you’ll burn your fingers,’ said Nellie.
‘I haven’t forgotten the last time I did that,’ said Irene, sitting at the table and resting on her elbows. ‘I wouldn’t mind having a go at making flapjacks with some of the kids back at Fair Haven.’ She sighed.
Nellie glanced at Irene. ‘I read about Miss Talbot’s death in the Crosby Herald the other week and there was even a mention in the Nursery Times.’
‘You still get that?’