The Forgotten Family of Liverpool: A gritty postwar family saga novel that will break your heart

by Pam Howes

  He pulled up outside Dora’s mam’s place, ready to face Frank’s wrath about how irresponsible he’d been, as had happened each time they met lately, and was shocked when Dora opened the door to him. He took a step backwards as she half-smiled and ushered their daughters outside.

  ‘Dora, I, I, er, wasn’t expecting you,’ he stuttered, taking the bag with swimming costumes and towels from her.

  ‘Frank’s out with his mates,’ she told him. ‘He’s joining me later at my place. Mam’s across the lane at Maisie’s for the afternoon. It’s a nice change for her. I’m going to call home and then go and see Esther and Sammy while I’ve got a bit of spare time. They have a lovely garden and it’s a pleasure to sit in it. Jackie loves going there and they treat her like she’s their own grandchild. They’ll be the same with Carol once they get to know her; which is more than I can say for your mother. She’s only ever seen them a handful of times since they were born.’

  Joe wasn’t about to get into a slanging match about his mother. He agreed with Dora. His mum had hardly been supportive. Apart from buying a pram for Carol and giving him money to put towards a car when she sold her house, she’d always kept her distance. Since her move to Cheadle in Cheshire a few years ago there’d been no commitment from her and the last time he’d called her to tell her he was getting a divorce from Dora she’d been more than displeased, telling him he should never have married the girl in the first place. He dreaded introducing her to Ivy.

  ‘Yes, I know she has,’ he muttered. ‘Right, come on, girls, let’s get going.’

  ‘Are we seeing Ivy and Roly today, Daddy?’ Carol asked, not even waving goodbye to her mother, who was hugging Jackie on the garden path.

  ‘Er, no. Not today. Ivy’s away for a few days. It’s just me, I’m afraid. Say goodbye to Mammy in case you don’t come back with me when I bring Jackie home.’

  ‘Bye, Mammy,’ Carol called and clambered into the car.

  ‘What time will you be home?’ Joe asked, ushering Jackie into the car alongside Carol.

  ‘Teatime, I expect. Mam’ll be tired by then.’

  ‘Okay.’ He walked around to the driver’s door and stopped. ‘Look, Dora, can I give you a lift into town? Save you waiting around for buses that are rubbish on a Sunday. Seems a bit daft when I’m taking these two swimming down that way.’ He looked at her as a hopeful expression crossed her face, closely followed by a guarded one.

  ‘Well, if you don’t mind. Thank you. It will certainly save me some time. Just let me nip over to Maisie’s to tell Mam I’m going now. Wait in the car while I get myself organised.’

  Joe did as he was told. At least she hadn’t bitten his head off and sent him away with a flea in his ear. He’d need to tell her about his proposal to Ivy, sooner rather than later. But not today; it was unexpected but nice to see her again, and there’d be time enough for the final nail in his coffin another time.

  25

  ‘You can drop me off on Scottie Road, Joe. I’ll walk the rest of the way. Save you messing about having to turn the car around on Wright Street. I’ve got plenty of time now. I might even get a bit of work done before I go on my visit.’

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll bring Jackie back later to your mam’s.’

  ‘Thanks. Have a lovely time with Daddy, girls.’ She blew them both a kiss and got out of the car, waving as Joe pulled away. She hurried down the street and rummaged for the front door key in her handbag, then noticed the door was already standing ajar. Her heart thudded as she called out, ‘Hello. Who’s there?’ She hoped it might be Frank arrived early. He had a spare key for emergencies. No reply. Dora pushed the door open further and warily stepped inside. The house felt cold, as though it had been open to the elements all night. A shiver ran through her as she opened the door to the front room and looked around. There was no mess, but her wireless was gone from the shelf in the chimney breast alcove and her Singer electric sewing machine, a present from Frank a few years ago, wasn’t on the table where she’d left it after finishing a job the other night. Nor was the machine’s case on the floor next to the chair under the window.

  Heart pounding, she hurried into the back room, but it all seemed to be in order as she glanced quickly around. There was nothing in here that a burglar would be interested in anyway. She had little of value to steal. She strained her ears at the bottom of the stairs before willing herself to go up there. It was just as she’d left it; tidy with the bed made. Her wardrobe door was closed but she looked inside anyway. The few clothes she had were still hanging there. She glanced around and frowned as she saw something white spilling out of one of the drawers of the dressing table.

  Her stomach lurched as she realised it was the drawer where she kept her underwear and the small, carved wooden jewellery box that Joe had brought her back from his war travels. She kept her diamond engagement ring and the wedding ring she no longer wore in it. She snatched the drawer open and pushed back the stray slip that had got caught up. She rummaged amongst her underwear, and sure enough, the box had gone. With a sick feeling she pulled everything out, looking for the big white envelope in which she kept all the smaller envelopes that Joe gave her each week, containing money for Jackie that she’d been saving for her daughter’s future and the possibility of sending her to drama school when she was old enough. The envelope was missing too. All the money and anything of value that she had in the world had gone, stolen by someone who knew she wasn’t home, even though the curtains had been drawn and lamps left on while she was in Knowsley. She sank to the floor and burst into loud sobs.

  By the time Frank arrived with his mate, who had given him a lift on the back of a motorbike, Dora was in such a state she could hardly speak without crying. She’d called the police from the phone box on Scotland Road and they’d been round to check for fingerprints and to take a statement from her. They suggested she get a new lock and bolt for the front door and Frank said he’d see to that. She told them about the Smyths from across, who’d recently moved and knew that she occasionally spent the weekend away from the house. One of the officers told her they’d check that out as the Smyths were known to them.

  Frank and his mate went off to Knowsley so that Frank could pick up his car to take Dora back to their mam’s. Dora waited anxiously for him to return, with a chair wedged behind the front door and under the back door handle.

  ‘I can’t stay here tonight,’ she sobbed as he arrived back. ‘I’d be too scared, and you need to stay with Mam, Frank, so you can’t be here with me and Jackie.’

  Frank had found a couple of old bolts and a lock in his dad’s shed and fixed them to Dora’s front door, making it secure, before they left by the back door.

  ‘Don’t forget you’ll have to come in by the back door,’ he reminded her as she slipped the key into her pocket.

  ‘Thanks, Frank,’ Dora said, giving him a hug. ‘I haven’t got much, but I can’t afford to lose anything else.’

  ‘If I ever get my hands on the bastard that robbed you he’ll be sorry he was ever born,’ Frank growled, placing a protective arm around her shoulders. ‘The rest of your things should be safe enough for now. But we need to get you moved out of there as soon as possible, Sis. I’ll start asking around my mates to see if they know of anything going and tomorrow you get on to the bloody council again and give them what for.’

  Ivy’s friend, Vera, was meeting her at Piccadilly station when she got off the train in Manchester. Ivy, wearing her padded underskirt for effect, adopted her best pregnant waddle and made her way across the platform to where Vera was sitting on a bench with a look on her face that told Ivy she was miles away. She’d always been away with the fairies, as Vera’s mother used to say, even at school. She reminded Ivy of Flo: old-fashioned dress sense, and her mousey brown hair fluffed out around her face in no particular style, but a nice enough person. Vera jumped as Ivy approached and bellowed her name above the noise of the engine, which was announcing with a belch of steam and a loud toot tha
t it was leaving the platform behind her.

  ‘Ivy,’ Vera said and jumped to her feet. ‘Ooh, give me that case. You shouldn’t be carrying anything heavy.’

  Ivy smiled. ‘I’m okay; it’s only small and not heavy at all.’

  ‘Right,’ Vera said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘It’s good to see you. We’d best get in the queue for a bus to Levenshulme.’ Vera still lived in her old family home on Dickenson Road near where Ivy had grown up before moving to Liverpool when she’d married her late soldier husband, whose family were from Toxteth. ‘I hope your journey was okay.’

  ‘It was fine. I read most of the way and almost fell asleep.’

  They stood in the queue in Piccadilly Gardens for a while and waited for the number 92 bus. They were at Vera’s house in no time, passing places on the way that Ivy recognised from her younger years.

  The Victorian detached house, in its own large garden, was now in a shabby state on the outside with peeling paint on the frames around the stained-glass windows and the brickwork crumbling in places. It was comfortable enough inside, with tall-ceilinged rooms that must cost a fortune in coal to keep warm. Ivy looked around the drawing room, as Vera called it, while her friend made tea in the kitchen. It was years since she’d last been in here; she used to come back with Vera after school. The marble fireplace spoke of grander days when the house had belonged to Vera’s father, a wealthy factory owner who had become seriously ill. The family had fallen on hard times following his death.

  Vera came back with a tray of pots and a plate of home-made scones, and put the tray down on the coffee table. Ivy remembered that, like her, Vera had always been good at domestic science at school and loved to cook. Ivy had made a career of her skills, but Vera had chosen to stay at home, forgoing marriage and a job, to help her late mother look after her ailing father.

  ‘You’ll have to tell me all about this new man in your life,’ Vera said, pouring tea into dainty china cups and pushing the matching sugar bowl in Ivy’s direction. ‘I see he’s given you a ring, so hopefully his intentions are honourable, considering your condition.’

  Ivy felt her cheeks heating. ‘Yes, we’ll be getting wed shortly. We need to decide on a date and make the arrangements.’

  ‘And you said he was a divorcé?’

  ‘He is almost. Another couple of weeks and it will all be done with.’

  ‘Well, when you weigh up what’s happened to you it’s a good job he is.’ Vera pursed her lips disapprovingly.

  ‘Quite.’ To her knowledge, Vera had never even had a boyfriend, so was hardly qualified to give advice on relationships. Ivy changed the subject. ‘I was thinking that while I’m over this way we might have an afternoon or two out, maybe go and see a film and do a bit of shopping in the city.’

  ‘That would be lovely,’ Vera said. ‘I never go anywhere. I’ve no one to go out with.’

  ‘You could maybe join a club through the church or the WI or something to meet new people. You’re only thirty, like me. It’s a bit too young to do nothing with your life. Perhaps you could go to night school and learn a skill and then get a job. You’ll meet people to go out with then.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ Vera raised her cup to her lips and took a sip.

  Ivy realised she was wasting her breath and changed the subject. She patted her stomach gently. ‘Shame about this really. We could have gone to Belle Vue Zoo and had a few rides on the fair. I love the Bobs and the Caterpillar.’

  ‘Oh no, it would be most unsuitable. You can’t take that sort of risk,’ Vera said.

  ‘Have you ever considered selling this big house and buying something more suitable for one person?’ Ivy asked.

  Vera sighed. ‘I’ve thought about it, often; but I haven’t got around to doing anything about it yet. This house needs money spending on it and I simply haven’t got any apart from a small endowment left to me by Mother. When that runs out I’ll have to do something.’

  Ivy nodded, wishing she and Joe had a big house to sell. It would set them up nicely in an area well away from Dora and his kids.

  On Wednesday evening, Ivy told Vera she was going upstairs to pack her case in readiness for her trip home tomorrow. Vera had bought a couple of tiny nightgowns when they’d been shopping yesterday and had given them to her for the baby. Ivy felt a bit guilty as her friend was short of money and the gowns would never be worn. But she’d managed to assuage her feelings by treating them both to fish and chips in a local café for dinner today, followed by a matinee at the ABC Ardwick. They’d both enjoyed Doris Day in Calamity Jane and had laughed and slapped their thighs as they’d sung along to ‘The Deadwood Stage’.

  ‘Vera,’ Ivy called downstairs. ‘Is it okay if I have a bath? My back’s aching a bit. It might help ease it.’

  ‘Of course,’ Vera called back. ‘The heater’s been on so there should be enough hot water for you.’

  Ivy ran a bath and lay back in the warm water, putting her plan into action. She’d complain of stomach pains later as well as the backache, and during the night would ‘miscarry’ down the lavatory; not wishing to wake Vera, she’d ‘manage’ on her own until her friend was up. Then she’d involve Vera tomorrow by asking her to get her some sanitary towels from the chemist, which she could burn on the parlour fire that was always lit to take the chill off the cold house. She’d ask her to ring Joe at work from a phone box and tell him that she’d lost the baby and would be staying here until the weekend to recover. Vera would no doubt want to call the doctor but Ivy would tell her there was nothing to be done other than rest for a few days and that she’d rather see her own doctor when she got home. Joe could do the explaining to management and hopefully he would drive over here on Saturday and pick her up. It was an easy enough plan; fingers crossed it all worked in her favour.

  ‘Oh, Dora!’ Esther exclaimed as Dora apologised for being late into work and explained about the burglary and that she and Jackie had to get the bus and tram from Knowsley this morning. ‘Oh you poor girl. Get on the phone right away and tell the council you don’t feel safe any more. I’ll leave you to do that while I just pop upstairs to have a quick word with Sammy.’

  Dora settled Jackie at the table with her crayons and a colouring book and then phoned the council offices. She was eventually put through to the right department and, after pleading her case once more, she waited patiently as she was passed on to a more senior housing officer. But the end result was the same as before. She would be offered a new property in due course.

  ‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you when that will be, Mrs Rodgers,’ the man on the line said as Dora protested that she thought she’d been waiting long enough and didn’t feel safe in her own home any more. She burst into tears and slammed down the phone as Esther, followed by Sammy, came down the stairs. They were both looking secretive.

  Esther put her arm around Dora’s shoulders and sat her down on a chair. She made a pot of tea and, when they were all holding steaming mugs and Jackie had her juice and biscuits, Sammy cleared his throat and looked at Esther, who nodded.

  Dora looked at the pair, hoping they weren’t going to tell her they no longer required her services.

  ‘We’ve been having a bit of a think over the last week or so,’ Sammy began. ‘And we’ve come up with what we both think is a wonderful idea.’

  Dora frowned and put her mug down on the table. She placed her hands together on her lap.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ Esther said. ‘You might not think it’s as good an idea as we do, but we’ll tell you anyway.’

  Sammy nodded. ‘Stop me if you think I’m getting carried away,’ he said, smiling. ‘The top floor of this building is not used for anything useful. Everything that’s stored up there, and it’s only a few boxes of junk, can be put on a garden bonfire. There are three rooms; two large ones and a small one at the back. The windows are in decent condition and the wiring was done when we had electricity put in a few years ago. We had the gas mantels up until then. The sm
all room at the back is over the cloakroom, so we could get water plumbed up there and it would make a nice little kitchen area with a sink and some cupboards fitted. The other two rooms would do nicely as a sitting room and a big bedroom that could be split by a screen for privacy. The only thing missing is a bathroom, but there’s the toilet and sink in the cloakroom on the floor below to use.’

  Esther smiled at Dora’s puzzled expression. ‘What Sammy is trying to say is that we wondered if you’d like to live up there and we’d help you turn it into a nice little flat. It’s very private and you can use the back door to come and go and then just slip up the stairs, so there’s no need to worry about coming to and fro through the shop when we’re closed. There’s room to have Carol visiting because we’ve got a bed settee at home that has hardly been used, so it could go in the sitting room for you, and the girls would have the bedroom to themselves. If you like the idea, once we’ve got it ship-shape, you could tell that man from the welfare that this is your permanent residence and he might say yes to you having Carol back for good and she could go to the school off Scottie Road where Jackie will be going. No need for either of them to change then, is there?’

  Sammy nodded enthusiastically. ‘And of course we’ve got the garden at the house for them to play in. You can always pop over at the weekend. There’s still the swing from when Sonny was a little boy and the pond with fish, and we always get frogs in the spring.’ Sammy looked so excited at the prospect of showing the girls the frogs that Dora flung her arms around him and gave him a hug.

  ‘It all sounds wonderful. You need to tell me how much rent you’d like me to pay.’

  He shook his head. ‘No rent. You being on the premises is a good thing for us. Call it caretaker’s perks, my dear.’

  Dora smiled, feeling tearful. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you two in my life,’ she said. ‘You’re like an extra set of parents to me. I love you both so much.’