by June Francis
She did believe that if Marty had been at that ill-fated lunch party, things would not have turned out so badly. Her brother would have been able to handle their father far better than she or her mother had done. Then she reminded herself that it was Pete’s mother who had put the cat among the pigeons, producing that envelope of photographs and calling her father a hypocrite. She wished that she had got to see the pictures but he hadn’t even allowed her mother to look at them.
No doubt her mother was angry and upset with her for leaving. But at least she had left a note and so they shouldn’t be worrying about her. After all she was a grown woman, able to make her own decisions and look after herself. She had savings and she could work. As for Pete and his mother - what had that woman been thinking of to behave the way she did? A right troublemaker she had turned out to be. Her words still stung every time Peggy thought of them.
Her hands curled into fists and she decided she’d had a lucky escape not having Mrs Marshall for a mother-in-law. Especially if it meant living under the same roof. Tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them away fiercely, telling herself it didn’t matter that she would never be Pete’s wife; there were other fish in the sea.
She had reached the promenade and could feel the wind tugging at her headscarf and the shopping bag that dangled from her wrist. Angry waves were sweeping up the almost-deserted beach. Perhaps it would be busier this coming Easter weekend if the weather improved.
She had commented on it being unseasonably cold to her landlady, Mrs Henderson. Peggy had told her that most probably she would have to leave after the Easter bank holiday. Peggy had shown her the job application she planned to send off to Butlin’s holiday camp in Pwllheli and asked her if she could keep an eye open for their reply.
That morning Mrs Henderson had appeared flustered and surprised Peggy by asking her would she mind going on a message for her. Apparently Clara, her dogsbody, had not turned up and she was short-handed. Peggy was to have her second surprise of the day when she entered the hotel to be greeted by her landlady with the words, ‘Miss McGrath, how would you feel about working for me?’
Peggy stared at her blankly.
Two spots of bright pink appeared on Mrs Henderson’s cheeks. ‘You wanted a job. Why not here in Blackpool? You’re not going to be overworked for the next few weeks, although when the summer season starts you’ll find it hectic – but enjoyable,’ she added hastily. ‘You’ll have time off to lie on the beach and swim. There’s plenty of other entertainment; the top stars appearing in our theatres, dancing at the Tower Ballroom and, of course, there’s all the fun of the fair at the Pleasure Beach.’
‘But what about my job at Butlin’s?’ Peggy blurted out.
‘You haven’t heard from them yet.’ Mrs Henderson rested an elbow on the reception desk and placed her chin under her hand. ‘You don’t think that what Blackpool has to offer can match up to a holiday camp?’
‘I haven’t thought of comparing the two,’ said Peggy.
‘Well, think now! I’m sure Butlin’s get thousands of applications – for would-be entertainers, for instance.’ Her landlady stared at her intently. ‘How good is your singing voice? Is your dancing outstanding? Can you amuse children? You wrote on your application form you’re prepared to do anything but it could be that you end up as a chalet cleaner.’
‘I was thinking mainly of administration work as you know, having seen the form,’ said Peggy honestly. ‘I put the rest down to give them the impression I’m an all-rounder.’
‘Then be an all-rounder for me. Clara has given me quite a shock. She’s going off and getting married. A soldier who’s being posted to Germany, would you believe? I didn’t plan on taking on any other staff for a few weeks, but between us and Gwen, the all-purpose maid, we could cope until then. I’m always willing to help my fellow human beings. I’m sure we could work well together.’
Perhaps they could, thought Peggy. At least here was someone who wanted and needed her right now. ‘Is bed and board included?’ she asked.
‘Of course. Although you’ll have to move rooms.’
‘I’d expect that,’ said Peggy. ‘I’d like to see the room. Is it on the top floor?’
‘As you’d expect,’ said Mrs Henderson, inclining her head. ‘But it does have its own washbasin and a view of the sea. There’s a bathroom with lavatory on the back landing on the floor below.’
As they went upstairs, Peggy determined to set about building a different life for herself altogether from the old. She would make new friends and enjoy herself and not worry too much about those back in Liverpool. Her heart might still be too sore to fall in love again but a light-hearted romance might be just the thing to cheer her up before the year was over.
Sixteen
Irene paused outside the newsagent’s and stared at the display board outside. Written in large black letters were the words MAN’S BODY FOUND FLOATING IN CANAL, NEAR STANLEY DOCK. She was filled with a sense of foreboding and, fumbling in a pocket for change, she wasted no time going inside the shop and buying that evening’s Echo.
As there were other customers waiting, she hurried outside and, slowly walking in the direction of Fair Haven, she read that a man’s body had been found during the early hours of that morning. It had been identified as Mr William McGrath who was believed to have been drinking and had accidentally fallen into the water. The report went on to give a bit more information about his job and family and asked for any witnesses to the incident to contact their nearest police station.
Irene folded the newspaper and hurried back to Fair Haven. As she was on changing nappies and feeding the babies duties that evening, she waited until she had finished her shift and was getting ready for bed in the room that she shared with Deirdre before producing the newspaper and showing it to her friend.
‘That family is really going through it,’ said Irene. ‘I feel so sorry for Mrs McGrath but I guess the burden of attending the inquest and arranging the funeral will fall on Marty’s shoulders.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ said Deirdre. ‘But what about the sister who’s missing and the brother he was searching for?’
Irene tapped a fingernail against her teeth. ‘Maybe they’ll see it in the newspaper or hear about it and get in touch with Marty.’
‘D’you think your Jimmy will have read it?’ asked Deirdre.
‘I should think so,’ said Irene absently, her thoughts still with Marty.
‘Perhaps it’ll make him think twice about going back to sea,’ said Deirdre.
This time the other girl had Irene’s full attention. ‘Why d’you say that?’
‘Well, you never know the minute when something might happen to those you care about.’ Deirdre stared at her, wide-eyed, clutching her old tatty rag doll to her breast – something Irene had noticed her doing more often since they’d heard Fair Haven was likely to be closed down. ‘It must be awful if you’re thousands of miles away,’ Deirdre added.
Irene agreed. ‘But I don’t think the news about Mr McGrath is going to change Jimmy’s mind. He’s really annoyed with Mam about her getting married and, as I told you, I wasn’t able to talk to her on Sunday. I’m just hoping that when she reads the note I left, she’ll get in touch with me.’
‘When d’you think Jimmy will get a ship?’
‘He’ll have to serve his notice first,’ said Irene. ‘I’m sure he’ll let me know in time to say tarrah to him.’
Deirdre sighed and climbed into bed. ‘You’ll go to your mother’s wedding, won’t you?’
‘Probably,’ murmured Irene, thinking if Maisie had been home when she’d visited Nellie Gianelli, then she would know exactly what her mother expected of her.
The following evening, Irene read an appeal to Peggy McGrath in that day’s Echo, asking her to get in touch with her family as she was needed urgently at home. An appeal was also broadcast on the wireless, in the hope of the message reaching further afield, although no mention was made of her father’s
death.
Irene decided to do some letter writing. One to her mother, one to her friend Betty in America, bringing her up to date with all the news, and a letter of condolence to Marty and his family. She specifically added Peggy’s name at the last minute, praying that they would hear from her soon.
Easter was over and the funeral took place on the Tuesday. Marty placed an arm around his mother’s and Lil’s shoulders as the three of them stood at his father’s grave side in Ford cemetery. He could not help thinking about Peggy and how she should have been there. Tommy’s absence did not surprise him.
A coroner had decided William McGrath’s death had been accidental but Marty still felt uneasy about that verdict. He watched as his mother dropped a handful of soil on to the lid of the coffin, then he did the same and lastly Lil took her turn. Bernie and Lil’s fiancé chose to remain in the background, as did the rest of those who had come to pay their respects to William McGrath. One of Bernie’s sisters was looking after the children. Then with Father Francis’s final words ringing in their ears, they left the grave side.
As they approached the awaiting highly polished black Daimler, Marty was distracted by a sudden movement. He could have sworn he had caught sight of a man hovering behind a tree. He told his mother and sister to get into the car and that he would only keep them five minutes, then he sped towards the spot where the figure had been lurking. The man had moved and was now hurrying away along the road.
Marty went after him. ‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he said, grabbing hold of his brother and turning him round to face him. Immediately he saw that Tommy had a fading black eye. ‘You could have come forward for a couple of minutes. You must know Mam would want to see you!’
‘Let me go! I couldn’t risk it.’
‘She cares about you. Don’t you care about her at all? After all she’s lost Dad and is grieving for him.’
‘I’m not going to weep for him if that’s what you want,’ said Tommy in a hard voice. ‘As for Mam, I know you and Lil will take care of her.’
‘Thanks for that! All you think about is number one.’
‘I need to stay in the background in case anyone recognizes me and informs the police,’ said Tommy.
‘Is that why you went to a jazz club?’ asked Marty sarcastically. ‘You’re a selfish sod! Where did you get the black eye from? Did you and Dad meet up accidentally in some pub on the dock road when he went in search of you?’
Tommy looked affronted. ‘Don’t be daft! As soon as I knew he was after me, I went into hiding. As for the black eye, I wasn’t looking where I was going and walked into a lamp post.’
Marty pushed him away from him. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Please yourself. So why did our Peg leave home?’ said Tommy, changing the subject. ‘I bet it was because of Dad.’
‘She wanted to get married and her fella is a Proddy.’
Tommy nodded. ‘Why do parents always have to interfere? Anyway, Dad’s dead and nothing is going to bring him back. I’ll see you around.’ He turned and with his shoulders hunched up about his ears, he walked away.
Marty returned to the waiting Daimler and climbed inside.
‘Who was that you were talking to?’ asked Lil.
‘Tommy,’ said Bernie, her eyes glinting. ‘I bet it was Tommy.’
‘Well, you’d lose your bet,’ said Marty, and ordered the chauffeur to drive on. He was aware that his mother was staring at him. He guessed that later she would probably have plenty to say to him on the subject of his brother, never mind Peggy. Why couldn’t Bernie have kept her mouth shut, instead of planting thoughts in his mother’s head?
He was glad when Bernie left early, making the children her excuse, although he had a feeling that she was not going to let the subject of Tommy drop.
As soon as he arrived home, she pounced on him. ‘It was your Tommy, wasn’t it? You didn’t want him at the funeral? That was why he didn’t come over!’
‘Don’t be stupid! He’s still wanted by the police. He’s keeping his head down. Now let it go,’ said Marty, removing his black tie.
‘Your mother would have liked to have spoken to him. You could have persuaded him to arrange a meeting,’ persisted Bernie. ‘A fine brother you are! You’re jealous of him because he’s your mother’s favourite.’
‘Like hell I am,’ muttered Marty, dropping his tie on the chest of drawers.
After changing into a pair of old corduroys and a short-sleeved shirt, he left the bedroom. He found Monica reading Harry the Dirty Dog to the children in the kitchen and was reminded of the day he had purchased the book and talked to Irene Miller. He felt a rush of affection for her and yearned for that warmth she showed towards him. He thought of the last time he had been with her and how they had walked on the beach and talked about love after they had seen those teenagers writing in the sand. He liked her smile and her sudden seriousness. He liked the shape of her face and the blue of her eyes and that day he had so wanted to kiss her and taste the softness of her skin. To have her body close to his and feel her breasts crushed against his chest. He was aware of his arousal and hastily walked out of the room.
Josie called out to him but he knew that he could not go back just yet. He needed to calm himself and the only way to do that was not to think about Irene. Yet he had to write to her, thanking her for the message of condolence she had sent to him and his family.
He went out into the backyard and paced up and down, wishing he had a cigarette. Monica appeared. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked sympathetically.
‘Life could be better.’
‘Aunt Bernie was telling me that your mam is going to Butlin’s with a friend for Whit week.’
Marty stared at her and said softly, ‘Did she now? That’s news to me.’
‘Apparently it was Aunt Bernie’s suggestion that your mam went with her friend. She said your mam told her that your father had booked it already and she was going to cancel but Aunt Bernie said that she didn’t see why the holiday should go to waste. It would be good for your mother to get away.’
Marty could not deny it but he was annoyed that his mother had not mentioned the holiday to him. It occurred to him that maybe his father’s death was not such a tragedy to Mary as he had thought. It did make him wonder how many marriages were truly happy. His own certainly hadn’t turned out the way he had expected. If only he had met Irene Miller earlier - how different things might be if Irene had been the children’s mother! He sighed: daydreaming would get him nowhere.
Seventeen
The following Saturday Irene was able to visit her mother, who had still made no effort to contact her. It was late afternoon and Maisie was on her way out when her daughter turned up on her doorstep.
‘Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’ Maisie blurted out.
‘Why didn’t you answer my note?’ Irene stared at her mother’s vibrant red hair. ‘Is that a wig you’re wearing?’
‘Don’t be cheeky!’ retorted Maisie, flushing as she lightly touched her hair.
‘Well, is it?’ Irene persisted.
Maisie sighed. ‘You’d better come in.’
Irene stepped inside and closed the front door behind her. ‘Well, is it a wig?’
‘If it is, what’s wrong with me ringing the changes by wearing one?’ said Maisie, sounding exasperated. ‘I suppose you’ve come to ask me about the wedding. As it happens I’m off to meet Alfred to discuss the arrangements with the priest.’
‘So that’s the name of my future stepfather! When is the wedding?’
‘Whit!’
‘The bank holiday Saturday? I’m surprised it hadn’t already been booked up in advance.’
‘Are you going to say you can’t make it, just like our Jimmy?’ asked Maisie, an edge to her voice.
‘No, I’ll try and get the day off. Although I would have thought you would have invited us to meet your future husband before now.’ She paused. ‘Are you meeting him at the vestry? If so, I could
come along with you and say hello,’ said Irene.
Maisie fiddled with the clasp on her artificial crocodile skin handbag before opening it and taking out a packet of cigarettes. She lit up and immediately had a coughing fit.
‘You should give them up,’ said Irene, slapping her on the back.
When Maisie caught her breath she said hoarsely, ‘I’m not getting married local. We’re tying the knot at his church in West Derby.’
‘Oh!’ Irene could not disguise her surprise. ‘Why’s that?’
‘I’m going to be living in his parish and it’s what he wants.’
Irene was silent.
Maisie took a deep drag on her cigarette. ‘Say what yer thinking, girl,’ she said hoarsely.
‘You don’t really want to know, Mam.’
‘What did our Jimmy tell you?’
‘That he’s a widower with three children and he doesn’t want either of us living in his house. Jimmy’s really upset.’
‘Well, Jimmy has no need to be upset. He’s a grown man for God’s sake and you’ve pretty well left home. Alf’s a widower who is looking for a loving companion, just like me, and there’s no room for the pair of you. His children all have their own bedrooms.’