by June Francis
‘There is no way that my name is ever going to be up in lights,’ said Irene.
‘Nor mine,’ said Bobby. ‘Although maybe one day my paintings will be displayed in an art gallery.’
‘It doesn’t do any harm to dream,’ said Irene.
‘And does Miss Miller have a dream to fulfil while she’s over here?’ asked Harry.
‘Only seeing as much of another country as I can,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve come over here to do a job. I’m the sensible type.’
‘We can’t all be dreamers,’ said Harry.
‘Are you a dreamer, Harry?’ asked Bobby, resting her arms on the back of his seat.
‘My folks would say so. I’m an aspiring screenwriter,’ he said.
Irene’s interest was roused. ‘What have you written?’
‘Several plays, had one performed on stage. Now there’s an important mogul in Hollywood who’s shown an interest in my latest script.’
‘What do you write about? Swashbuckling historical adventures? Thrillers? Romantic comedy, the kind Cary Grant stars in, like An Affair to Remember?’ She had seen the film last year and considered it one of the most romantic films she had ever seen.
He did not reply and she wondered if she had said too much and he thought she was mocking him. Although when she heard the blare of a horn, she realized that it could be that he had decided to concentrate on his driving instead of making conversation.
Eventually the car drew up at a kerb and Irene and Bobby got out. Irene gazed up at the frontage of an imposing building and thought that Dorothy Wilson must be doing very well for herself if she could afford to have a suite here.
Harry removed their luggage from the trunk and spoke to a doorman as he came forward. He opened the door for the two girls and they went inside. Another man in uniform came forward and took their luggage.
‘He’ll take your bags up to the suite while you go to reception and sign in,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll park the car and be with you soon.’
Irene and Bobby gazed around at the sumptuous entrance and reception area, all marble and gilt, brocade satin hangings and cushions on huge sofas. ‘Wow!’ exclaimed the younger girl. ‘I can’t wait to tell Mam and Sam about this.’
‘You might want to send them a postcard saying we’ve arrived safely,’ suggested Irene.
Bobby nodded. ‘You’ll want to send one to your mother, won’t you?’ she said.
Irene nodded, thinking, if the truth were known she was feeling overwhelmed by such luxury, so getting in touch with those back home was important to keep her feet on the ground. ‘I must send one to the Gianellis, Deirdre … and Pete and his mother, as well,’ she murmured, feeling in two minds as to whether she should post one off to Marty and his family. What would Bernie think if she did? Surely Marty would have mentioned her name in connection with the house, if at no other time?
‘I’ll send a separate one to Nick and Anna,’ said Bobby.
Irene decided she would also send individual postcards to Georgie and May. It would make the two children feel special receiving one each.
The suite was luxurious, with two bedrooms, a bathroom and living room. Irene felt as if she had stepped into a movie set and, trying not to feel overwhelmed, started unpacking a few things.
By the time she had used the bathroom, unpacked her nightdress and slipped it under the pillow of one of the beds, Harry arrived. He was followed, within minutes, by coffee and cakes.
‘I’ve never tasted such lovely cakes,’ said Bobby, licking chocolate butter cream from around her mouth.
‘There’s lots of treats in store for you on the journey ahead. Miss Wilson said I was to take you the scenic route,’ said Harry.
‘To the Wild and Woolly West,’ Irene murmured.
Harry smiled at her. ‘You’ve seen the movie Hollywood or Bust?’
She nodded.
‘I have, too,’ said Bobby. ‘It starred Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.’
‘Can’t wait,’ said Irene, feeling a thrill of excitement, thinking that at least she had some idea of what to expect from the journey. Old-fashioned showboats on the Mississippi/Missouri; cowboys, cattle and flowers in Oklahoma; oil wells in Texas; the Grand Canyon and Indians in Arizona; the Boulder Dam in Nevada and then San Jose. California, here I come! She imagined a postcard from each state dropping through the letterboxes back home.
Twenty-Two
Pete was fed up and more than a little angry as he parked his second-hand Ford Consul outside the house. He locked it and limped up to the front door and went inside. He found his mother in the back kitchen, stirring a pan of scouse.
‘You all right, son?’ she asked. ‘You look tired.’
‘You can say that again,’ said Pete, before disappearing down the yard to the lavatory.
‘A postcard has come,’ she said, when he arrived back into the kitchen. ‘All the way from New York.’
‘It’ll be from Irene.’ He picked up the postcard and sat down at the table, glancing at the picture of the Empire State Building. He turned it over, noticing that the writing was small so Irene could cram in as much information as she could. When he finished reading it, he dropped it on the tablecloth.
‘She asks about Peggy,’ said Gertie, sighing as she dished out the scouse. ‘That girl! I take it you’ve had no luck, son?’
Pete shook his head. ‘You’ve read it then, Ma. This scouse looks good. Any pickled red cabbage?’
Gertie placed a jar of pickled red cabbage on the table and sat down. ‘No doubt she’ll have sent a postcard to her mother.’
‘I presume you’re talking about Irene now,’ said Pete.
‘She’s Maisie’s only daughter,’ she murmured, staring into space. ‘I wonder how she’s getting on? I miss her.’
‘Then do something!’ exclaimed Pete. ‘I gave you her phone number. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was missing you, too. She’s moved to the other side of Liverpool where she knows no one and her son and daughter are both out of the country and her only brother lives on the Wirral. I bet she’s lonely.’
‘But she’s got a new husband and three stepchildren,’ said Gertie. ‘How can she be lonely?’
‘It’s not the same as having someone to talk to who you’ve known for years. Give her a ring, Mam.’
‘Perhaps I will,’ said Gertie, smiling at her son. ‘Now get on with your scouse before it gets cold.’
Halfway through his meal, Pete looked across at his mother and said, ‘I think I’ll go and visit Marty. You know he’s moved into Maisie’s old house?’
Gertie nodded. ‘Are you thinking he might have heard from Peggy?’
‘Him or his mother. I did get in touch with him at his workplace a couple of weeks ago but he hadn’t heard anything. She’s been gone four and a half months. I really thought she would have been in touch by now.’
Gertie leaned across and patted his hand. ‘You go and see her brother. It’s possible he just might have news.’
An hour later, after a wash and change of clothes, Pete headed off to Marty’s. The front door was open and he could hear a babble of voices coming from inside. He hesitated, thinking that perhaps now was not the right time to call after all, and was about to turn round and get back in the car and go home when a grim-faced Marty came out.
‘Something wrong?’ asked Pete, noticing a streak of white paint on Marty’s cheek.
For a moment he appeared to stare right through Pete and then shook his head as if to clear it and stared at the car parked at the kerb. ‘That yours?’
Pete nodded.
Marty took a deep breath. ‘There’s been an accident. I don’t have the works’ van because I’m on a week’s holiday. I’ll pay for the petrol if you let me borrow your car. I have to get to Blackpool hospital.’
‘Blackpool!’ Pete thought of it being a seaside resort and wondered if it could be Peggy who was involved in the accident and went cold inside. He asked huskily, ‘Who’s been hurt?’
Befo
re Marty could answer, two other people came out of the house. Pete recognized Monica but not the man whose arm she grabbed. ‘Wait until the morning, cousin Dougal! There’s nothing you can do tonight about your motorbike.’
Relief trickled through Pete. ‘Your motorbike was in an accident?’ he said. ‘For a moment I thought Peggy …’
‘As it happens it was our Peg who phoned Bernie’s mother,’ Marty interrupted, holding out a hand. ‘Give me your car keys, Pete, and let me get going.’
Pete stared at him as if he had run mad. ‘You don’t think I’m going to let you go on your own? I’m coming with you! You can tell me what happened on the way.’ He opened the door and told Marty to get in the other side. Marty wasted no time going round and getting inside the car.
Dougal wasn’t to be left out. ‘I’m coming with yus. I want to see the damage that yer bleeding brother’s caused, Marty, and see that he pays for it. He had no right to take me motorbike. He’s a bleeding thief.’
‘Please yourself, Dougal, but if you’re going to go on in that tone all the way to Blackpool, I’ll turf you out,’ said Marty harshly. ‘I’ll deal with my brother, not you. Don’t forget that he and Bernie are both injured.’
Monica’s worried face appeared at the car window. ‘You mustn’t worry about Josie and Jerry, Marty. I’ll pick them up from Mrs Gianelli’s and stay here with them until you get back.’
He thanked her.
Pete drove off. His heart was racing and several thoughts were struggling for prominence in his mind. He’d need to fill up with petrol on the way and take the road to Preston before turning off for Blackpool. And how was it that it had been Peggy who had phoned about the accident? How badly hurt were Bernie and Tommy? And was there going to be an altercation in the car between Dougal and Marty? He hoped not!
As it was nobody spoke until they had left Litherland well behind and were through Maghull and passing between fields.
‘So how come Peggy telephoned?’ asked Pete, his voice sounding loud in the enclosed space of the car.
‘She was there when it happened,’ said Marty. ‘Keep your eyes on the road and don’t be looking at me!’ He lowered his voice. ‘We don’t want another accident. As it is she’s blaming herself.’
‘Why?’ asked Pete, fixing his eyes on the road ahead and trying to ignore his aching leg and foot.
Dougal answered from the back seat. ‘Bernie spotted her and shouted her name.’
‘So distracting Tommy who took his eyes off the road, swerved and went into a skid and crashed into a lamp post,’ said Marty.
Pete let out a whistle. ‘That’s bad. Peggy managed to say all that over the phone?’
‘Yes! Tommy’s injuries don’t appear too severe,’ said Marty. ‘A suspected broken arm, scratches and bruises. Fortunately he was wearing a crash helmet but it appears Bernie wasn’t and was thrown off the pillion seat and landed on the pavement and was knocked unconscious.’
‘She should have had my wife’s crash helmet on,’ groaned Dougal, resting his elbows on the back of Pete’s seat. ‘Bleedin’ vanity, I bet yus. I hope she’ll be all right.’
Pete fell silent. How long had Peggy been in Blackpool? When he thought of the time he had wasted visiting the resorts on the Welsh coast …
‘Was Peggy on her own?’ he asked.
‘Yes. She gave an address in case she’s no longer at the hospital when I get there. She works at a hotel on the Promenade between the South and Central Piers. My hope is that she’ll be allowed to stay with Bernie in case she wakes up.’
So Bernie was still unconscious when Peggy phoned, thought Pete, remembering his own accident and how he’d had concussion, which had not been too severe, unlike his other injuries. He glanced at Marty and one look was enough to cause him to ask no more questions. Instead he thought about seeing Peggy and what he could say to her when they finally met again.
Peggy was sitting on a bench in a corridor of the Victoria hospital, trying not to think of Bernie, who had been X-rayed and was now in a side ward. A nurse was with her and, as far as Peggy knew, Bernie had stirred but drifted into unconsciousness again. As for Tommy, his arm had been X-rayed and it was now being put in plaster. She’d had little opportunity to ask him how he came to be with Bernie on a motorbike.
She could not wait for Marty to get here, although she did not doubt that sooner or later, there would be a reckoning over her leaving home and not getting in touch.
She had nearly jumped out of her skin when she had heard her name being screeched earlier that day but it had certainly attracted her attention. When a motorbike and sidecar had hit the lamp post, she had immediately run to see if she could help. She had been shocked when she recognized the woman lying on the pavement. She had knelt beside her, aware of the motorcyclist grunting with pain as he struggled to remove his helmet. When she realized it was her brother, she had almost fainted.
By then, the incident had attracted attention and someone had dashed into a shop and an ambulance had been called. The unconscious Bernie had been stretchered into the ambulance shortly after it arrived and Tommy had climbed into the back. Wordlessly he continued to stare at Peggy as if he had seen a ghost. A policeman arrived and dealt with the damaged motorcycle and asked for witnesses.
Peggy had explained who she was and what she had seen and had been allowed to go in the ambulance with her brother and sister-in-law to the hospital. She had phoned Bernie’s mother’s house from there and asked to speak to Marty – only to be told that he no longer lived there, which had come as another shock. So she had to tell Bernie’s mother about the accident and had been almost deafened by the scream that came down the line and then came the obscenities at the mention of Tommy’s name. Fortunately Monica had snatched the phone out of her grandmother’s hand and said that she would get a message to Marty.
Peggy had also phoned Mrs Henderson, to explain the situation. Although obviously put out by Peggy’s inability to return to the hotel where she was needed as it was their busiest day of the week, she told her to just get there as soon as she could.
Peggy had decided to wait until she could speak to Tommy properly before going back to the hotel. Hopefully by then Bernie would be fully conscious. She sighed heavily, wondering what Marty would say to her when he eventually arrived. She did not doubt he was going to be angry. Restlessly, she stood up, only to come over all faint and realized that she had not had anything to eat or drink for ages. Everything steadied and she decided she needed some fresh air. If she went for a walk outside, she was bound to find a shop open nearby and could get something to eat. She spoke to one of the nurses and left.
It was twilight as she walked along East Park Drive not far from Stanley Park and the zoo. A car suddenly slammed on its brakes and stopped alongside her. The passenger door opened and a familiar voice said, ‘Peggy?’
She stared at her brother in relief. ‘Marty!’
He got out of the car and, holding the door wide, told her to get inside. ‘You can direct Pete to the hospital. I’ll get in the back.’
Pete! She tripped over her feet as she slipped on the edge of the kerb. Marty gave her a helping hand and she fell into the passenger seat. She did not dare look up as she squirmed around in an attempt to get into a sitting position. She could hear Pete’s breathing and Marty settling in the back seat.
‘Are you comfortable?’ asked Pete.
At the sound of the coldness in his voice, she felt the tears threaten.
He spoke again. ‘Do I go straight on for the hospital?’
She cleared her throat and managed to give him directions.
After that no one asked any more questions until Pete parked the car outside the hospital. Then Marty said, ‘There’s no need for you to come in, Peg. I think you’ve done enough for today. I’m sure Pete will take you back to your hotel.’
‘I’m sorry, Marty,’ she blurted out.
‘You could have sent a postcard,’ he said.
‘I’m coming
in the hospital with you,’ said Dougal, getting out of the car.
‘Please yourself,’ said Marty, and walked away.
Peggy opened the car door and made to get out and follow him.
‘Where are you going?’ asked Pete.
‘I can find my own way,’ she said. ‘I don’t expect you to do me any favours.’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid! You don’t think I’m going to let you walk the streets on your own in the dark,’ said Pete vehemently. ‘Get back in and shut the door!’
Peggy did as she was told and Pete started up the car again.
The atmosphere felt as if it could be sliced with a knife. ‘You’d best direct me,’ said Pete, after several minutes. ‘Which end of the promenade are you?’
She told him.
He drove on in silence and she was aware of him wincing several times. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked eventually when they turned on to the promenade.
‘What d’you think?’ he said.
‘That you’re in pain. You’re an idiot.’
‘That’s gratitude for you.’ He did not look at her.
‘Did you drive all the way here?’
‘Yes, it’s my car.’
‘When did you buy it?’
‘When I decided I needed to find you.’
‘You … you’ve been looking for me?’
‘Rhyl, Prestatyn, Colwyn Bay, Llandudno … today I went to Southport for a change,’ said Pete. ‘I was going to come here next week. Perhaps I mightn’t have found you. It was purely by chance that Bernie saw you, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ Peggy moistened her lips. ‘I thought you’d want nothing more to do with me. I was so angry with you when I ran away.’
‘You don’t think I wasn’t furious with you?’ he said, frowning.
‘Of course!’ She turned in the seat to face him. ‘I just had to get away. I couldn’t stand it any more, what with Dad and you giving me ultimatums. Anyway, I can’t ever go back to Liverpool because it would all start up again. Even if I found myself a place of my own, Dad would come looking for me.’
Pete slowed down. ‘Tommy didn’t tell you?’