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

by Pam Howes

  Dora smiled at his enthusiasm. ‘They’re absolutely perfect. Everything is. My designs are upstairs for you to look at, just rough ideas at the moment, but I can already see in my mind’s eye that they’ll look fabulous in these fabrics. Oh, I can’t wait to get started.’ The phone rang and Esther went to answer it.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about how we can make the window look really special,’ Sammy said, his eyes twinkling. ‘Two dresses, one either side in each colour on the mannequins, and what about if I bring my new-fangled gramophone from home and maybe your brother could lend us a few records to go in the display and then we could have a few red hearts and maybe some black musical notes dotted around. The youngsters would see that we’re moving with the times.’

  Dora nodded, her creative mind working overtime. ‘Yes, that sounds great.’ She stopped as Esther came back into the shop, a worried expression on her face.

  Sammy frowned and put his arm around Esther’s shoulders. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘That was Sonny,’ she began. ‘He’s having marriage problems and wants to come home for a few months. He said he’s getting a transfer from his bank up to Liverpool while he sorts himself out.’

  Sammy rolled his eyes. ‘I hope you let him know he can only stay on a temporary basis,’ he said.

  Esther started to cough uncontrollably. Sammy sat her down on a chair behind the counter and Dora got her a glass of water. ‘If he’s going to come back and start causing trouble he can bugger off home,’ Sammy growled. Esther looked like she was going to cry.

  ‘Would you like me to leave you alone while you discuss this?’ Dora asked, moving towards the stairs. She’d been aware there was a problem between them and their son, although they spoke little of him and in all the time she’d known them he’d never been to see them or they him, which had seemed a bit odd. She wondered briefly what had caused the rift between them. But with everything that had been going on in her own life, she didn’t like to pry into theirs.

  ‘No, sweetheart, you might as well as hear the truth about our wastrel of a son,’ Sammy said. ‘If he’s going to be around for a while, the more you know the better.’ Sammy went on to explain that Sonny had disgraced their family by getting involved with the wife of one of their, at the time, best friends. ‘He’d always had the best of everything, nice home, private schooling, we spoiled him rotten and he was always an ungrateful little sod. He treated me and his mother like shit on his shoe, if you’ll pardon my French, Dora. He was clever and passed all his exams and we had high hopes he’d go to university but he decided he wanted to go to London and try and get a job in banking. We said we’d support him and threw him a going-away party, and it was during that party that our friend accused him of seducing his wife. Not that the woman would take much seducing, mind, but that’s by the by. This all happened in front of family and friends from our synagogue where we are – or were – highly respected. Sonny told everyone that it was he who’d been seduced, that she was old enough to be his mother, and all hell broke loose. The couple involved are now divorced and our name is mud in certain Jewish circles.’ Sammy took a deep breath.

  ‘He swanned off to London, got a decent job and eventually met a nice girl, Marylyn, through work. We were invited to the wedding. He told us they wanted to buy a house and asked if we could lend them a deposit. We agreed to help them get a good start and lent him several hundred pounds; a deposit for a modest home, as we were led to believe, furniture and a car so that they could visit us. The money was to be paid back as both had good jobs in the bank and could afford it. Esther and I had planned to retire early and to travel abroad to spend time with family that we still have left in Israel and the USA with that money. We haven’t seen a penny back yet as the house they bought is practically a mansion compared to ours, and that’s not small, as you know.

  ‘They say they have no spare money each month, even with the discounted mortgage they got from the bank. And to be honest that is the first time he’s phoned in I don’t know how long – months, near enough a year. He only ever rings when he wants something. So now he’s having marriage problems, which could well mean we’ll never see our bloody money ever again. I bet it’s his fault. He’s got a wandering eye; think he’s a ladies’ man. Marylyn’s probably had enough and chucked him out.’

  Esther patted his arm. ‘We don’t know that yet, Sammy. It might be her fault.’

  Sammy raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you dare go soft on him. You know what he’s like. When’s he coming?’

  ‘He’s driving up on Saturday,’ Esther said. ‘He can start work on Monday.’

  ‘Good. I don’t want him swanning around the house doing nothing while we’re working our backsides off.’

  Dora shook her head. She’d never seen Sammy angry before. It was beyond her to understand how anyone, least of all their own flesh and blood, could treat this lovely couple in such a thoughtless way. They didn’t deserve it. They worked so hard and had been so very kind to Dora and her daughters. She wanted to help them as much as she could. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered. ‘That’s just awful.’

  Sammy puffed out his cheeks. ‘Let’s put him out of our minds for now while we get on with sorting out our window display. Come on, Dora. Let’s go up and see your new designs then.’

  31

  Ivy pulled the pillow over her head and ignored the door-knocker. No doubt it would be Dolly again, making sure she was up. Nosy cow, she was. Pretending to see if she was okay when all she really wanted to do was pry. She’d get up when she felt like it and not when Dolly thought she should. She’d only invited her in a handful of times and then she’d felt as though Dolly was quizzing her about the miscarriage, trying to trip her up almost. Better to keep her out of the way. Once Joe was out at work she had all day to do her chores and prepare him a nice meal for when he came home. She held her left hand in the air and admired her rings. She still couldn’t believe she was married to the man of her dreams. Even though she got the impression that he didn’t seem to think he was married to the woman of his dreams.

  She could count on one hand the times he’d made love to her since their wedding night. Not that it really bothered her. He’d at least consummated the marriage and it wasn’t as if they were trying for a baby. She could take it or leave it, all that messy palaver. All she’d wanted was Joe on her arm officially and the rest she wasn’t that bothered about really. Carol had told her yesterday that Aunty Dolly had asked if Ivy was poorly as she never came out of the house. She told Carol to tell Aunty Dolly to mind her own business next time she said anything. Those kids of Joe’s were driving her mad. The weekends were becoming a nightmare. They were so bloody noisy. That little one never stopped singing and dancing. If she heard the Christmas alphabet song one more time she’d swing for the little madam. She and Joe never had a minute to themselves. She hadn’t bargained on spending all this time with his kids when she’d accepted his proposal.

  She stuck a foot out of bed to test the air. It still felt cold, although Joe had told her he’d lit a fire before he left for work. If she didn’t get up and shove some coal on it now it would go out, and she really hated all that messing about with cinders and ash and what have you. That was man’s work. She might give Flo a call later at the ROF after the dinnertime rush. It was time she invited her over for her tea one night. She hadn’t seen her since their wedding day when Flo had been her witness and a random bloke from the factory floor had been Joe’s. It wasn’t the wedding she’d anticipated, but it was better than nothing and the outcome was the same as Dora’s fancy white wedding; she’d got her man and that was what mattered. And, unlike Dora, she wasn’t letting him go. She lived in dread of the day he might find out her secrets and the damage they’d done to him and Dora, but all being well he never would and she could take them to the grave with her.

  She swung her legs out of bed and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. There was a note on the tabl
e. A curt note in Joe’s handwriting. We are out of margarine and bread. I’m working overtime. You will need to go to the shops. Joe. No ‘love Joe’ or kisses. Damn it. She’d need to hurry up and get dressed then before Dolly went shopping later and collared her. Joe was narked with her again for complaining about the kids. She wished he’d find another job now he didn’t have Carol living with them. He’d had long enough. He’d talked of a car company over in Crewe, but said it was too far if there was an emergency with the girls and he was needed to pick them up from school, that he’d wait until the car trade took off in Liverpool as there were rumours it would do.

  Then again, if they did move she’d need to find a job as this house was subsidised by the ROF and anywhere else would be more expensive. That was the trouble with him having to keep Dora and the brats in the style to which they’d become accustomed. And Ivy was buggered if she was getting up at the crack of dawn to help support them on any measly wage she could earn in a job that required no skills. She wasn’t going back to factory cooking again; it was too much like hard work. She’d married Joe for an easier life.

  ‘Dora,’ Esther called as she came back into the shop with the girls after school. ‘Your friend Agnes called while you were out. Would you ring her when you’ve got a minute, please?’

  Dora nodded. ‘I’ll just sort these two out with a snack and put the fire on for them upstairs. And then I’ll give her a ring.’ She ushered Carol and Jackie up the stairs and, on the landing, nearly fell over Topsy, who was weaving in and out of the six legs she loved best. ‘Silly puss, move out of the way. You’ll have one of us breaking our neck on the stairs if you’re not careful.’ She switched on the electric fire to take the chill off the room, poured the girls some orange juice and made a stack of jam butties. She put the tray on the coffee table and told them not to go near the fire. ‘I’m just going down to phone Aunty Agnes and when you’ve finished your snack you can both go and help Esther with a very important job.’

  ‘Oooh, what job is it?’ Carol asked, her hazel eyes wide with anticipation.

  ‘Wait and see. Take your school clothes off and put them neatly on your bed. Put your play clothes on and then come downstairs.’

  She hurried down the two flights of stairs and dialled Agnes’s number, wondering why her friend had called her at school picking up time. She was usually out picking Patsy up. Her friend answered after a few rings, sounding anxious. ‘Hiya, Agnes, what’s up?’

  ‘Oh, Dora, didn’t Joe give you my message on Sunday when he dropped the girls off? Obviously he didn’t, or you would have called me. He was actually in the bathroom when I rang and Ivy said she’d pass on a message to him to ask you to call me.’

  ‘No message, I’m sorry, but you know that one and messages,’ Dora replied. ‘What’s wrong, anyway?’

  ‘It’s my mam; she’s fallen down the stairs and fractured her hip. She’s in Fazakerley hospital and it looks like she’ll be in for a good few weeks. What me and Alan were wondering is, would you recommend the home your mam is in? We’ll need to do something – those stairs are so steep, she won’t be able to manage them again.’

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Agnes. Joe can give that bloody woman an earful when I see him. And yes, I would recommend Mam’s home, but your mam’s not losing her marbles yet and it’s mainly for people who are. I can ask when we go next weekend, if you like.’

  ‘Oh, would you? Thank you, that would be a big help. I’ve phoned the council and asked what the waiting lists are like for ground-floor flats and they said there’s quite a wait, but they’ve listed her anyway. And they also said they were building some little bungalows on various estates as well for elderly people, so he’s put her on the list for one of those, but it will have to be somewhere close enough for me to see to her. That’s why I thought a home would be best; she’s got someone there with her all the time then. It’s peace of mind, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is, and that’s worth its weight in gold, Agnes. I’ll call in and see you after we’ve been to visit Mam next week.’

  ‘Thank you, I look forward to seeing you again,’ Agnes said.

  Dora put the phone down as her daughters appeared behind her. ‘Go and see Esther while I finish the work I’m doing.’

  Esther sat the girls at the table and gave them a handful of cardboard hearts she’d cut out and some musical notes, with instructions to colour the hearts red and the notes black. ‘These have to be coloured very neatly because they are going in the window, so everyone in Liverpool who walks past the shop will see them.’ She smiled as they ooh-ed with importance.

  Jackie knew immediately what the notes were, while Carol looked puzzled. Jackie explained and danced the notes up and down the table. ‘They make tunes, Carol. I think these ones make my new favourite song, “Que Sera Sera.’

  Dora stopped halfway up the stairs to listen to Esther and her girls singing the Doris Day song. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought what valuable times these were for her daughters and their surrogate grandmother, and hoped that her girls would remember them always as they grew up and had their own children. Just like the girl in the song.

  Sammy was wiping his eyes as she walked into the workroom. He’d been listening at the top of the stairs. She gave him a gentle hug. There was no need for words.

  After school on Friday, Carol and Jackie excitedly arranged the hearts on the floor near the front of the window and Dora and Sammy stood the two mannequins either side. Dora fluffed out the skirts of the hastily sewn dresses and fastened the belts around the waist of each one. Sammy set his gramophone in the centre and fanned out several records on the floor around it. He’d already stuck some of the musical notes on the glass, but the condensation would eventually peel those off so the rest had been glued to white card and arranged around the side walls of the window. They all stepped outside to take a look. The display lights were on and the evening dusk was gathering along with a thick Mersey mist.

  ‘That looks wonderful,’ Dora said, clapping her hands over her mouth.

  ‘Those dresses look the business,’ Sammy said. ‘They look expensive. Well done, Dora, and thanks for sitting up at night to get them finished. I know we can’t get any made in time for Valentine’s Day as such, but if it brings people in to place orders, then that’s good enough for me.’ He turned as a horn tooted behind him and Frank pulled up on his motorbike. He clambered off and nodded his head with approval.

  ‘Rock ’n’ Roll, eh? That looks great, Sis. Well done, all of you.’

  ‘Uncle Frank,’ his nieces said in unison and started to pull him inside. ‘Come and see what we did for the window.’

  ‘I’m staying tonight, Sis,’ Frank called over his shoulder. ‘Mersey mist is rolling in thick and fast and I don’t fancy riding back to my mate’s in Woolton on that.’ He nodded at his bike. ‘Wish I’d come down in the car now. But hopefully it’ll clear by the morning and I’ll go home and get the car ready for madam’s dancing class and our visit to Mam. Is that okay, by the way?’

  Dora laughed. ‘You know it is. You can have my bed settee and I’ll top and tail with these two and the mad cat.’

  ‘Right, we’ll get off,’ Sammy said. ‘Will you lock up, Dora? Frank will need to take his bike around to the backyard and he can come in that way.’

  ‘Of course. See you both on Monday. Try and get some rest, Esther, see if you can shake that cough off. Oh, and good luck tomorrow.’

  Sammy rolled his eyes. ‘Thank you, we’ll need it.’ He and Esther gave Dora hugs and waved to the girls and Frank.

  ‘Right, I’ll take the bike around the back. Shall I grab fish and chips from up the road for tea?’

  ‘Oh, yes, that would be wonderful. Don’t waste your money on a full fish for those two though, they won’t eat it. Just get them one portion of chips and a fishcake each. I’ll go and put the kettle on and butter some bread.’

  She locked the door behind Frank and turned off the big shop lights. The win
dow display looked so fashionable and she felt really proud of herself for the part she’d played. Working here was the best thing to happen to her in a long time. She just hoped that the arrival of Sammy and Esther’s son wouldn’t hurt his lovely parents in any way.

  32

  FEBRUARY 1957

  Esther slammed the phone down and laced her fingers together to stop her hands from shaking. Sammy was on a theatre run and Dora was upstairs with a customer taking measurements. Sonny’s wife, Marylyn, had just called to ask that a message be passed on to him as he wouldn’t accept a call from her at work. The message – that their London home was about to be repossessed – needed to be passed on as soon as possible. Sonny had apparently emptied the joint bank account, leaving her with nothing, and the mortgage hadn’t been paid for several months.

  Well, there was bugger all she or Sammy could do to help. He was getting nothing more from them. She put her hand to her chest as she felt a faint fluttering near her heart. That boy would be the death of her and Sammy. He’d only been home a week and already he’d argued with them both, causing Sammy to tell him he had to be out by the end of the month. There’d be fat chance of that now – he’d have no home to go back to. But that wasn’t her or Sammy’s problem. Sonny was old enough and daft enough to sort things out for himself.

  She’d wait until they got home before she told Sammy of the phone call. Dora was seeing their customer out and would be picking up the children from school soon. And she didn’t want Sammy going round to the bank and causing a scene and getting all worked up about it in a public place either.