Liverpool Annie

by Maureen Lee

  'You're definitely coming back, aren't you. Mummy?' Sara asked gravely when Annie left her at the school gates.

  'Sweetheart, as if I'd ever leave my little girl!'

  Daniel seemed unconcerned that his mother was going away. Annie told the playgroup leader his auntie would collect him at mid-day. The woman looked dismayed. On the few occasions Dot had done this before, she was apt to arrive early and tell them how to run things.

  z68

  f Liverpool had ceased to be the place where everything lappened, then London had taken over. London was he swinging city, and the very air seemed to buzz with xcitement. Annie could feel it the minute she stepped >ff the train at Euston Station and saw a pretty girl vearing flared brocade trousers, a tight maroon velvet acket and a big velvet hat covered with cabbage roses, ihe felt over-conscious of her own neat navy-blue frock nd white cardigan, and wished she'd brought her red nini dress, but always felt uncomfortable showing too nuch leg.

  'Hallo, sis,' said the girl, and gave Annie an normous hug.

  'Marie! Oh. I didn't recognise you. You look so ^oung and so ... so way-out! You look terrific - and ^ou've had your ears pierced!' Black stones dangled rom Marie's ears. 'I've always wanted me ears pierced.'

  'You don't look so bad yourself. You'd never guess ^ou were an old married woman with two children.'

  The sisters hadn't met for nearly five years, iometimes, Annie worried they might never meet igain, that Marie was one of those people who didn't leed a family. It was a waste of time telephoning: Marie vas never there and whoever answered the communal )hone either didn't pass on the messages, or Marie gnored them, just as she ignored her sister's letters. It lad taken a telegram to persuade her to ring up and irrange the weekend.

  She linked Annie's arm. 'Let's go for a coffee.'

  Annie was about to enter the station cafe, but Marie jteered her outside. 'There's a nice little place along lere.'

  The coffee bar was in a dark basement, surprisingly

  full for the middle of the afternoon. They found an empty table next to two men playing chess. After ordering two cappuccinos, Marie said eagerly, 'How is everyone?'

  'I've brought some photos,' Annie said shyly. 'We took most of them at Daniel's fourth birthday party in July. Just look at Sara. She'll be six next week. She's dead slim, like you, but I think she's going to be tall. She's got my eyes and almost my hair. And this is Daniel.'

  'Shit, Annie! He's growing to look just like . . .' Marie bit her lip,

  'I know, he's the image of our mam. No-one's noticed except me, not even Auntie Dot. I wondered if you'd see it.' The similarity was most marked when Daniel was asleep.

  'He's incredibly good-looking, but then so was our mother.' Marie sighed. 'Lauri looks well. Who's this?'

  'That's Valerie from next door with her children.'

  'She's the one whose husband made a pass at me at that party!'

  'Kevin. Did he really?'

  'Jaysus, Dot looks old. Her hair's completely white.'

  'She'll be sixty next year. She's been a bit down lately, all her lads are married except Joe, the littlest, and he's joined the Paras. There's only her and Uncle Bert left. He's retiring at Christmas.'

  'I can't imagine Dot being down,' Marie smiled.

  'She's already planning a huge do next August on her birthday. Uncle Bert's the same old Uncle Bert. He never seems to change. His hair's a bit thinner, that's all.'

  'He lives in Dot's shadow, but he's like the Rock of Ages, Uncle Bert. Dot would be lost without him.'

  'I think she realises that.'

  A man on the next table shouted, 'Checkmate'. Marie

  sighed as she put the photos away. 'I'm missing everything, aren't I? Particularly Sara and Daniel growing up.'

  'You don't have to, sis. Sara's making her First Holy Communion next month. Why don't you come? There's always room for you with us.'

  'I know, sis, it's just that it's all so frenetic here. I hardly think about Liverpool most of the time.'

  Annie felt hurt. Her sister was always at the back of her mind.

  'I'm terrified of leaving for even a short while in case something comes up, in case my agent rings to say I've got a part or there's an audition that day, and if I'm not here, I'll miss out. Even hanging round in pubs, you hear useful gossip.'

  'Not much has come up so far, has it, Marie?' Annie said gently. It was a decade since her sister had left Liverpool, and stardom was no nearer now than it was then.

  'I didn't expect overnight success,' Marie said defensively, though Annie distinctly remembered she had. 'Don't forget The Forsyte Saga.'

  Everyone at home had watched The Forsyte Saga to see Annie Menin's sister play a maid. Marie had done the non-speaking part adequately, but it wasn't exactly a platform for displaying her acting talent. Annie sometimes wondered if Marie had talent. Perhaps she was flogging a dead horse and would be better off getting married or pursuing a career with more chance of success.

  Marie had guessed her chain of thought. 'I'll never give up you know, sis.' Her small pointed chin jutted out stubbornly in a way Annie remembered well. It used to drive the nuns wild when she was chastised for some very real misdemeanour. 'I'm not doing so bad. A repertory company in Portsmouth want me next

  spring, and I've another bloody pantomime at Christmas. When I'm "resting", I do office work. Did I tell you I'd learned to type?'

  'Yes, years ago.'

  'I'm not very good, not like you.' She pulled a face.

  Annie squeezed her sister's hand. 'Never mind, sis. I've a feeling in me bones you'll take the world by storm one day.' Inwardly, though, she was worried her sister was wasting her life. Marie had her eyes set on a far distant star, possibly too distant. It wasn't worth the effort.

  She had the same thought when she saw where her sister lived: 'Is it worth it?' Her heart sank when she entered the dark Victorian terraced house in Brixton. The kitchen had an old-fashioned sink which was badly chipped and without a plug, and the grubby floor had several tiles missing. There were no curtains on the window. It was a million times worse than the flat in Upper Parliament Street.

  Marie's room was at the back, overlooking the yard. The situation of the window and the dismal view were exactly the same as the room they'd shared in Orlando Street, but there the similarity ended. The walls could hardly be seen for theatre posters, and a brightly checked blanket covered the single bed on which Annie sat, as there was only one chair.

  'Welcome to my happy home,' cried Marie. She removed her hat. Her hair was a cloudy mass of little curls and waves.

  'You've had a perm!' Annie wasn't sure if she altogether liked it.

  'What d'you think?' Marie pirouetted. 'I hope you're impressed. It cost twenty quid in Knightsbridge.'

  'Twenty quid, for a perm!'

  'You could do with spending a few bob on your own

  air. I don't know how you can stand having it always le same.'

  Annie glanced at herself in the dressing-table mirror, he top was littered with pots of different shades of )undation, eye-shadow and lipsticks. 'I've been leaning to have it cut short for years.'

  'Shall I cut it for you? I'm quite good at cutting hair.'

  'I'm not sure. What's this?' Annie leaned over and oked her finger in a bright red pot. It looked too greasy )r rouge.

  'It's lipstick. You put it on with a brush.'

  'Really! Can I try some?'

  'If you let me cut your hair. Come on, sis,' Marie said Daxingly.

  'Oh, I dunno. I've only been here five minutes.'

  'What does that matter!' Marie picked a pair of :issors up off the dressing table and approached her ster, clicking them threateningly.

  Because she was enjoying them being together and it ^as so much like old times, Annie gave in. 'Don't be too ithless. I only want a trim.'

  'But then you'll look no different than before.' Before .nnie could say another word, Marie seized a lock of air and snipped the lot off.

  'Ma
rie!'

  'Shush. Don't look in the mirror. Close your eyes till ve done.'

  Annie closed her eyes and gritted her teeth and rayed she wouldn't look a sight.

  'You can look now,' Marie said after what seemed ke an age.

  'Jaysus! I look like Topsy.' Her hair was in tiny curls 11 over her head. It was a shock at first, but the more be stared, the more she liked it. It made her look rather ophisticated.

  'You've got a lovely long neck, sis.' Marie stroked her

  sister's neck then left her hands on her shoulders. They stared at each other in the mirror. Marie rested her chin on Annie's curls. 'This is like old times. I almost feel like coming back to Liverpool with you.'

  'Then why don't you?'

  Marie turned away. 'I can't, sis. I can't ever. Come on, wash your hair and it will look even better.'

  They had dinner in an inexpensive restaurant off the King's Road. As soon as they were back, Annie phoned home. Dot informed her that yes, the children were still alive, Annie wasn't to worry about a single thing, and if anything happened they would call her instantly, and of course she knew Annie would come home like a shot if it did.

  Annie went to bed, feeling peculiar, in a room belonging to an actress called Shelley Montpelier whose real name was Brenda Smith. There was a life-size head and shoulders photograph of Shelley/Brenda on the dressing table. After a while, she had to get out of bed and turn the photo round because it felt as if Shelley/Brenda was watching the stranger in her bed with her slightly pop eyes.

  Saturday was sunny and warm. Straight after breakfast, the sisters went to Carnaby Street, bustling with brisk activity, the very hub of the swinging city, though not nearly as exciting as the Cavern used to be. It was too commercial. There were too many people on the make rather than just enjoying themselves, and the clothes were expensive.

  After a hamburger lunch, they caught the tube to Camden Market, where Annie bought a full-length skirt in flowered corduroy, and a skinny ribbed jumper which matched the green leaves perfectly. Marie insisted she must have a pair of clunky-heeled sandals because ordinary shoes would look silly with a long

  skirt, after which Annie only had five pounds left of the twenty-five. She bought Sara a rag doll and a brightly painted soldier wearing a real busby for Daniel.

  She was wondering what to get for Lauri, all she could think of was a tie, when she found herself drawn towards a stall glittering with cheap jewellery. Unfortunately, the earrings were for pierced ears.

  Marie pointed to a notice, ear piercing, including GOLD HOOPS - £2. 'How about it, sis? It can be your birthday present from me. I've a feeling I completely forgot about it last year.'

  'All right,' said Annie recklessly. A few minutes later she was sitting on the sunny pavement of a strange street in Camden having her ears pierced by a bearded man with arms a mass of colourful tattoos.

  They went to a pub for a drink so she could recover. 'Sylvia will be dead envious. It's not often I do things before she does. It's not just my ears, she hasn't got a long skirt, either.'

  'How is the high and mighty Sylvia Delgado?' Marie asked acidly.

  'Not so high and mighty at the moment.' Annie briefly described the situation between Sylvia and Eric. 'She puts on a brave face, but she's desperately unhappy.'

  Marie pursed her lips. 'I'm sorry. I never liked her, though I think it was more a case of her not liking me. I'll never forget the way she completely ignored me when Bruno drove us to that clinic in Southport.'

  The final stall was heaped higgledy-piggledy with dusty books. Annie passed by without a glance. 'I'll get a tie for Lauri somewhere else.'

  'Just a minute.' Marie picked up a tatty paperback. 'Lauri collects these. I noticed them in your bookcase. They were published by the Left Wing Bookclub before the war. Has he got this one?'

  The title meant nothing to Annie. 'I don't think so.' 'I bet Lauri would prefer this to a tie. How much is it?'

  The old man behind the stall shrugged. 'A tanner.' 'Fancy you remembering such a thing,' Annie said as she paid. It seemed rather mean to have spent so much on herself and a mere sixpence on her husband, though as Marie said, it was the thought that counted.

  Wearing her new clothes, it was a very different Annie Menin who stared back from the full-length mirror in Shelley Montpelier's room. The long skirt made her appear taller, slimmer, and it was true she had quite a nice neck which she'd never really noticed before. Her ears hurt like mad, but the pain was worth it because the gold hoops made her look like a gypsy. She'd always liked to be fashionable in the days when she was single and it seemed to matter more than when you were a housewife, but now she looked - what was the word Sylvia used? - outrel

  Annie took a final satisfied glance in the mirror before going to show her sister. Marie said she looked terrific, and on no account to take the clothes off as she could wear them for the theatre that night.

  There was something familiar about the man playing the villain. He had smooth black hair and a swarthy complexion, but it was his walk that convinced Annie she'd seen him before, and something about his voice.

  The play was a highly enjoyable thriller and she wondered how Marie could have afforded such good seats, right at the front. In the interval, she checked the programme to see if the villain was someone she'd seen on television.

  'Clive Hoskins!' she exclaimed. 'Why didn't you tell me?'

  'I wondered if you'd recognise him,' Marie said smugly. 'Isn't he brilHant? He did his best to get me the part of Constance, but the producer wanted someone older. Clive got us the tickets for free.'

  When the play was over, they went backstage and found Clive in his dressing room, in the process of wiping off the dark make-up. He beamed when he saw Marie. 'Hallo, darling. As soon as I've got this muck-up off, I'll give you and your gorgeous sister a nice big kiss.'

  He asked after Lauri and insisted on seeing the photos of the children. Sara was going to be a very beautiful young lady. 'And is this the chap who was giving you so much trouble when I stayed? You were expecting him, remember?'

  Along with several other members of the cast, they went to a club in Soho, where Annie drank only a single glass of wine, but innocently took a puff on a big fat cigarette which was being handed round, mainly because everyone else was doing it. Her head instantly left her body and still hadn't returned when it was time to leave. For some reason, Clive Hoskins was in tears and refused to be parted from Marie. They took a taxi back to Brixton and between them helped Clive indoors.

  'Poor pet,' Marie crooned as they laid him on the bed. 'He's just been jilted.' She kissed his cheek. 'I love him so much.'

  'Isn't that a waste of time?' said Annie. 'Being in love with him, I mean.' In the taxi, her head had returned to its proper place, but everywhere looked slightly askew. Marie had never mentioned a man in her life. Perhaps, as well as wasting herself on a futile career, she was wasting her affections on a futile relationship with a homosexual.

  'I'm not in love with him, Annie. I said I loved him,

  which is a different thing.' She looked down at the sleeping figure. 'Me and Clive cling to each other like creatures drowning in this cruel world.'

  'I see,' said Annie, though she didn't see at all. 'I think I'll make a cup of tea and go to bed. Do you want one?'

  Marie had already started to remove her clothes. 'No thanks.'

  'Would you like to sleep with me? We could sleep top to tail, the way we used to do when we were little.'

  'It's all right, sis. I'll cuddle up beside Clive.'

  Annie was careful only to use things out of the sparsely stocked wall cupboard marked, 'Marie', when she made the tea. There was no fridge, the milk was sour and little shreds of white floated to the mug's surface, but she didn't care. The other two cupboards were marked 'Shelley' and 'Tiffany'. Tiffany lived in the downstairs room and worked in a nightclub. There'd been no sign of her as yet.

  She sat up in bed feeling exceptionally relaxed, staring at Shelley/Brenda'
s carefully posed portrait which she'd turned round again that morning. The face seemed almost real, almost alive. A street lamp shone through the thin curtains and everything in the room was unnaturally clear, the shadows sharply defined. A long woollen dressing gown hung behind the door like a headless monk.

  It seemed odd, wearing earrings in bed, but the man had said to leave them in for six weeks and just turn the rings round from time to time. Her ears throbbed and her heels smarted where the strap of her new sandals had rubbed, yet neither seemed all that unpleasant, almost as if it was happening to someone else.

  She'd actually smoked a drugged cigarette! Although she hadn't realised it at the time, she was quite glad she'd done it. Wait till she told Sylvia! It made her feel

  very much part of swinging London. How strange to think that on the nights she and Lauri were staidly watching television or fast asleep in bed, Marie was flitting round Soho smoking cannabis or whatever it was called. And what a peculiar set-up with Clive - how could you love a man, yet not be in love?

  The front door opened and voices whispered in the hall, one male. Someone used the bathroom, then all was silence. An occasional car drove by, briefly illuminating the room with a flash of yellow light.

  Annie sighed and wondered if Sara and Daniel were missing her, just as another car went by, and as the headlights swept the room, everything became clear. She wasn't in love with Lauri, but she loved him! It had been so right from the start. Dot's words after her twenty-first came back distinctly. 'Ken was never much of a dad, was he? You're looking for a father figure and Lauri Menin fits the bill perfectly.'

  'Oh, God!' She put the mug on the bedside table and leaned forward with her arms around her knees.

  After all those years of responsibility, how nice to be treated like a child and let Lauri take all the decisions. But she'd grown up without him realising, without realising herself, and he resented her becoming independent, just as she resented not being treated as an adult. It explained all those confused, mixed-up emotions she'd had recently.

  Her head was spinning, but it had been an exhausting day and she quickly fell asleep. When she woke, her mind was as clear as crystal. It was early, not yet light outside. Everywhere was very quiet and she missed the sound of birdsong, usually the first thing heard in Heather Close. A radio was switched on next door and she could hear hymns and remembered it was Sunday.