by June Francis
Soon she would meet Daisy, Rose, Patrick and their father for the first time as her mother had made no arrangements for Irene to do so earlier. She still hadn’t made up her mind about going to America or applying for the job at Litherland Nursery. She had mentioned the latter to Deirdre, who had asked if Irene minded if she applied – which, of course, she hadn’t.
Maisie entered the bedroom. ‘Aren’t you ready yet?’ she asked, cigarette dangling from her lips.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ said Irene, picking up her posy and dolly bag containing lipstick, a small box of confetti and her purse.
‘You do look nice,’ said Maisie, her heavily made-up face relaxing. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d think that style too young for you.’
‘I could have done without the puffed sleeves but I’m not complaining,’ said Irene, relieved that her mother had had the sense to buy an outfit suitable for a woman of mature years.
Maisie frowned at herself in the mirror. ‘I wish our Jimmy hadn’t been so awkward. I can imagine how it looks to people, him going off to sea the way he did.’
‘Forget it, Mam. We’d best be going. We don’t want to keep Uncle Martin waiting.’ Even as she spoke, Irene’s thoughts flew to Marty McGrath. He had sent her a thank you note for her letter of condolence and mentioned that his mother was spending Whit week at Butlin’s, Pwllheli. He had hopes that Peggy might be there but had not mentioned the possibility to his mother, in case she built up her hopes, only to be disappointed.
Irene had wondered why he had not thought of writing to the holiday camp, enquiring about Peggy. Maybe his father’s sudden death had put such an idea out of his head. Shock did strange things to people.
She was pleased that Pete Marshall had been in touch, although their mothers were still not speaking. Apparently he had bought a second-hand car and was taking driving lessons.
‘Another of those airmail letters has come for you, by the way,’ said Maisie. ‘I put it on the sideboard.’
Irene could not wait to read what Betty had to say and hurried downstairs. She noticed her uncle waiting at the front door, smoking a cigarette. ‘Get a move on, Irene,’ he said.
Irene nodded, went into the kitchen and picked up the flimsy blue envelope and placed it in her dolly bag. Then she hurried after her mother and aunt to her uncle’s waiting car.
Some of the neighbours stood on their doorsteps and gave Irene a cheer as she appeared. She grinned and waved before squeezing into the back seat, alongside her mother and her two younger cousins. She thought how fortunate it was that the car was a large one. How different it had been when Maisie had married Terence and the Millers had lived just a few doors away.
Those same neighbours watching them now had been invited to the do in the evening after that wedding. Unlike this one, which was immediate family only. Terence’s son, Billy, had turned down Maisie’s invitation. Irene did not blame him as she could understand his feelings.
Irene was oblivious to the conversation taking place in the car as she read the single flimsy pale blue sheet of paper covered in Betty’s large scrawl. Her friend so wanted her to go to America and she looked forward to having a definite reply from her soon. She mentioned Bobby and had even written down the Walkers’ address in Liverpool if she wanted to get in touch with Bobby’s mother.
Irene felt a nudge in her ribs. ‘Well, what does Betty have to say?’ asked Maisie.
Irene folded the letter and replaced it in its envelope and put it in her dolly bag. ‘Didn’t I tell you what her last letter said?’
‘Not that I remember,’ said Maisie.
‘Betty’s having a baby. Isn’t that great! She’d love me to go and help her before the birth and afterwards. I’ll be getting paid, of course,’ she added hastily. ‘I’ll be a proper nanny.’
‘Who’s this Betty?’ asked her aunt.
‘My best friend, she lives in America.’
‘That’s some distance,’ said her uncle.
Irene agreed that it was a long way to California.
‘It’d cost money to get there,’ said her mother.
‘I know,’ said Irene, who had made enquiries and knew exactly how much it would cost.
‘You could work your passage on a liner,’ said her uncle. ‘Write to Cunard and tell them what you’re good at and ask if there are any jobs going.’
‘That sounds good advice,’ said Maisie, stifling a cough. ‘If our Jimmy had been here he could have given you advice.’
‘I can’t understand your Jimmy going to sea and not coming to your wedding,’ said Maisie’s sister-in-law.
‘I can,’ said Irene’s uncle. ‘Jealousy. He doesn’t want to see his mam marrying another man.’
‘I don’t think it’s that,’ Irene blurted out.
‘Then what is it?’ asked Irene’s aunt.
‘Mam getting married again means nothing will ever be the same again,’ said Irene.
‘It’s time our Jimmy found himself a decent girl and got married himself,’ said her aunt. ‘She’d make a home for him.’
Irene said, ‘He’s in no rush to get married - just like me. We both want to travel before we settle down.’
‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to,’ said her aunt. ‘We were happy to get married and settle down and have kids in my day.’
‘Things have changed since the war,’ said Irene.
‘You can say that again,’ said her uncle.
But no more was said until the car drew up outside St Paul’s, Spring Grove in West Derby and they all climbed out of the vehicle. The church was a red sandstone building with a bell tower. Waiting in the porch was a small group.
‘Is that them?’ asked Irene’s uncle.
‘I can’t see how it can be anyone else,’ said Maisie, a tremor in her voice. She squared her shoulders. ‘Come on then! Let’s get on with it.’
Irene glanced at her mother and wondered if she was absolutely certain she was doing the right thing in getting married again. ‘You can still change your mind, Mam,’ she whispered, slipping a hand through her mother’s arm.
Maisie gave her one of her looks. ‘What are you saying that for, you dafty? Now smile and look like you’re pleased to see them.’
Greetings were exchanged. Irene was surprised by how much older her future stepfather appeared in comparison to her mother. Obviously he must have married late the first time around and to a woman much younger than himself. He was not what she would call handsome but his Clark Gable moustache gave him a distinguished air and he looked really smart in a dark grey suit.
He shook her hand and said how pleased he was to meet her. She responded politely, saying, ‘It’s nice to meet you, too.’
He introduced his three children and they all shook hands with her. Daisy and Rosie were both dark-haired with sallow complexions, whereas their brother was fair-haired with a fresh complexion and much nicer looking. She suddenly felt sorry for the girls. They’d lost their mother and no doubt in their minds Maisie could never replace her, however hard she might try. Their immediate future was going to be much more difficult than her own in Irene’s opinion, knowing her mother would stand no nonsense from them.
After the wedding, they went back to her stepfather’s semi-detached house which was bigger than the terrace in Litherland. Nicely decorated, with an upstairs bathroom, downstairs cloakroom, large back garden and three reception rooms, she could understand why her mother fancied living there. A buffet had been prepared and set out in the dining room. Irene was surprised by how good the food tasted and she said so.
‘Thanks,’ said Daisy, her cheeks turning pink. ‘Mum did catering with a couple of friends and she began teaching us about food when we were only little. I’m going to do it for a job when I’m old enough.’
‘Good for you,’ said Irene warmly, thinking that at least her mother would not have to concern herself about Daisy’s future.
‘Keep in touch, girl,’ said Maisie before they parted. ‘And phone me if you decide you’
re definitely going to America, so I can see you before you go. Have you and Jimmy decided what you’re doing about keeping on the house?’
‘Not yet. I’ll let you know, Mam,’ said Irene.
There was to be no evening do or honeymoon, so Irene left with her uncle, aunt and cousins at about half past five, as they were giving her a lift into town. Her uncle dropped her off in Lime Street, as he and his family lived on the Wirral and were heading for the Mersey Tunnel. She had left her everyday clothes at the house in Litherland, so headed off to catch a bus in Skelhorne Street. She had just turned the corner opposite the Crown Hotel when a van pulled up at the kerb and she heard her name being called.
She glanced up at the driver and recognized Marty McGrath. ‘What are you doing here all dressed up in your glad rags?’ he asked. ‘You look the gear.’
She blushed. ‘My mother was married today and I’m just off to pick up my ordinary clothes in Litherland before catching the train to Blundell Sands.’
‘No glass coach to whisk you there?’ he joked.
Her eyes twinkled. ‘As if there was ever a chance of that.’
‘Did everything go off all right?’
She nodded. ‘There was just close family – except Jimmy who’s on his way to New Zealand.’
‘When does the children’s home close?’
‘Sometime in July. Some of the children are going to a home in Formby, so not too far away.’ She felt a lump in her throat, knowing she was going to miss George and May more than any of the other children.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Marty, sounding really concerned.
She nodded wordlessly.
‘Could you get a job there or are you still thinking of going to see your friend, Betty, in America?’ asked Marty.
Irene cleared her throat. ‘I told her that I’d make up my mind after Mam’s wedding.’
‘So what’s happening to your mother’s house if you go?’
Irene stared at him and an idea came to her. ‘Would you be interested in taking over the rent book? I know you live with your mother-in-law but if you were thinking about moving out because you need more room … and if you could afford the key money …’ She paused. ‘It’s a nice little house, three bedrooms with a decent-sized back yard, but no indoor bathroom. Convenient for the shops, bus into town, as well as the train to Liverpool and Southport.’
He looked down at her with such warmth in his eyes that she just knew that she was not wasting her time, making such a suggestion.
‘You’re a good kid, thinking of us like this.’ He hesitated. ‘You said you were going to the house now. How about I give you a lift there and take a look at it now?’
She beamed up at him. ‘Sounds fine to me.’
‘Get in then and let’s go,’ said Marty, leaning across and opening the passenger door.
She hurried to the other side and climbed in. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘This will save me the bus fare.’
‘Money tight, is it?’ he asked, pulling away from the kerb.
‘I have to watch my pennies if I’m going to go to America.’ She gazed ahead as he drove up Skelhorne Street past the side of the railway station and on to Copperas Hill before turning left towards London Road. Once they were across London Road and driving along St Anne’s Street, she said, ‘I think I’ll regret it if I don’t give America a try.’
He glanced at her. ‘Would you stay forever?’
She frowned. ‘I don’t know about that.’
‘You’ll be missed here,’ he said. ‘And not only by the children you’ve cared for.’
She wondered if he would miss her.
‘No doubt our Peggy will miss you too,’ he murmured.
‘I take it you haven’t heard from her?’ said Irene.
‘No.’ He sighed.
‘If only she’d send a postcard it would be something,’ said Irene.
He agreed.
They both fell silent and did not speak again until they had passed St Andrew’s church on Linacre Road, but Irene was overwhelmingly aware of him, wondering what he was thinking. She tried to imagine him living in her old home with Bernie and the children. A sigh escaped her lips.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Marty, glancing at her. ‘All this upheaval in your life must be upsetting.’
‘It is,’ she said, toying with her dolly bag. ‘Although I haven’t been home much since I went to work in Blundell Sands. D’you think your wife would be happy living here?’ She did not wait for his answer but pointed through the windscreen to the sausage factory opposite the library ahead. ‘That’s where Mam used to work and Pete’s mother still works there. Did I tell you they’d fallen out? I must try and see Pete before I go. And this is where we turn,’ she added, pointing left.
Marty parked the van and got out, thinking about Pete and wondering how friendly Irene might have been with the other man if Peggy had not been on the scene, as was now the case. His expression was grim as he went to help Irene out of the van but she had beaten him to it. She had the front door open by the time he locked the van.
A couple of girls were playing top and whip in the street and other children had obviously chalked numbers on the pavement for they were playing hopscotch. He was aware of several pairs of eyes on him as he stared up at the front of the house, noticing that the paintwork had probably been renewed during the past three years. He stepped back several paces and looked up at the roof and the chimney and could not see any obvious slates missing.
He nodded at a woman standing on the step a few doors away before following Irene into the house, closing the front door after him. He guessed that the news would soon spread that Irene Miller had come home from her mother’s wedding with a man.
‘Irene!’ he called.
‘In the back kitchen!’ she replied.
He walked up the lobby, past a closed door on the right and into the open doorway a bit further on near the foot of the stairs. He went into a back room and his gaze took in its size, decoration and furnishings before crossing to the sash window and looking out on to the back yard.
Irene popped her head through the other doorway, holding a teapot in her hand. ‘Cup of tea? The kettle’s on.’
Marty nodded. ‘Thanks.’ He followed her into the back kitchen that was more the size of the scullery in his mother-in-law’s house.
‘Go and have a look in the yard,’ said Irene. ‘My stepfather built a little lean-to shed next to the lavatory. He loved doing bits of carpentry after he retired.’
‘He was a policeman, wasn’t he?’ asked Marty, unbolting the back door.
‘Yes. He had some funny ways but he was a good stepfather. I was really sorry when he died. I still blame myself.’ Tears welled in her eyes.
Marty turned swiftly and took a step towards her. ‘You shouldn’t still be feeling like that. It was his decision to try and save you. He must have thought there was no one else to do it.’
‘I know. I suppose I’m feeling a bit emotional,’ she said unsteadily, wiping her eyes with the edge of her mother’s pinny that she had put on to protect her bridesmaid’s frock.
He put his arms around her. ‘It’s not surprising. Your brother’s gone to sea and your mother’s married and taken on a new family.’
Her head drooped on to his chest. ‘What about you? You’ve lost your dad, Peggy’s missing and there’s your brother to worry about. But then you’re a man. You can cope with these things.’ She stared up at him and saw a muscle clench in his jaw.
‘I’m glad you think so,’ he said. ‘But I’m not really much of a hero. I might be able to swim but …’ His voice trailed off.
She could feel the thud of his heart matching her own as they stared into each other’s eyes. She stretched up her hand and caressed his cheek, then his chin that felt slightly bristly. She could not resist pressing her lips against the curve of his jaw and then the corner of his mouth. He turned his head ever so slightly but it was enough and their lips met in a kiss that felt as if i
t could go on forever.
Then he lifted his mouth and took a deep breath and eased himself a few inches away from her but he did not let her go. She thought some people would say that she had led him on to kiss her. Did Marty think that?
‘Say something,’ he said.
‘I was waiting for you to speak.’
‘You mean because you don’t know what to say?’
‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ she said. ‘But if this was a film I’d probably say, “You are my hero!” because it would have been you who rescued me.’
‘Such things don’t only happen in films,’ said Marty, releasing her abruptly. He took a deep breath, opened the back door and went into the yard.
At that moment the kettle began to whistle but Irene made no move to switch it off. She could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers and would like him to kiss her again. But that was wrong, wrong, wrong! He was a married man with a wife and two children and that was the reason he was here. Not for them to … to …
Tears pricked her eyes. The only part she had a right to play in his life was to help him and his family have a home of their own. She felt like bursting into tears. Why couldn’t she have met him first?
Taking several deep breaths, she turned off the gas under the kettle and poured scalding water into the teapot. Milk into cups came next and then spoons, sugar basin and there were still some biscuits in the tin.
She was about to call him when she heard footsteps outside and he appeared in the doorway. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s a good size yard and the shed would come in useful. Jimmy really should have brought your stepfather’s tools inside though. It’s a good job they were greased.’
His words were as matter-of-fact as they were unexpected but it was enough to enable her to behave almost normally. ‘You know something about tools?’
He smiled.
She realized her stupidity. ‘Of course you do. Sorry. I’m not thinking straight. Cup of tea?’
‘Thanks!’
She carried the tray into the other room and placed it on the table, determined to carry on as if nothing untoward had happened. ‘So what d’you think of the house so far?’