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

by Pam Howes

  Sadie patted her arm. ‘It might not come to that. Sammy may decide to carry on. But he’s past retiring age, so you should get yourself prepared, just in case. And look on the bright side, you’ve got Carol now, so you get extra points, and if you were homeless you’d be at the top of the list.’

  The thought of being homeless with two kids and a cat in tow hadn’t even entered her head, but now it filled Dora with dread. The kids would have to go to Joe and Ivy and maybe she’d have to camp out at Agnes’s for a week or two. But what if she lost Carol again? And both girls might be removed from her care this time around if she had nowhere to live. If Joe and Ivy could give them a stable home and she couldn’t, then there was every chance that they’d get custody. Life had been so good for a long time now and she’d got used to it. The idea of things spiralling out of her control again scared the life out of her. Then she thought of poor Sammy and how life was for him at the moment, and felt selfish. At least she still had those she loved around her and she’d get through it – she’d got through worse in the past.

  With Sadie’s words echoing through her mind, Dora went to collect the girls from school. She hurried them home and gave them a snack while she went downstairs to use the phone.

  The council worker who took her call explained that her previous application for rehousing had lapsed and she would need to fill in the forms again. He said he would put them in the post after she told him that her needs may prove to be urgent very soon, and told her to fill them in right away and to bring them to the town hall for processing so that there was no danger of them being lost in the postal system. Dora thanked him and hung up.

  She was tempted to ring Sammy to ask what his future plans were, but she didn’t feel it was her place to mither him. No matter how many times he and Esther had told her she was like a daughter to them, she wasn’t flesh and blood and his business decisions were nothing to do with her. She’d just have to wait and see. She’d discuss her thoughts with Frank once the girls were in bed. She didn’t want anything getting back to Joe and Ivy via Carol until she knew for certain what her position would be.

  She felt at a loose end with no sewing to do; all their orders were dealt with and there was nothing new recently. Back upstairs Jackie was on the floor in floods of tears. ‘What have you done to her?’ Dora asked Carol, who was slouched on the bed settee looking glum.

  ‘Nothing,’ Carol said, her bottom lip pouting. ‘Why do you always think it’s my fault when she’s upset? She’s crying because she misses Esther, and so do I,’ she finished as fat tears ran down her cheeks.

  Dora sighed and pulled her close. ‘Jackie, come up here, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I know you two are missing her as much as I am.’ Jackie clambered up beside her and snuggled close. ‘And it’s okay to cry. Tears are good for you. But we need to be brave in front of Sammy when we see him. He needs lots of love too.’

  As Dora walked slowly up Homer Street after taking the girls to school, the day before they broke up for the summer holidays, Sammy was pulling up outside the shop in his van. She waved and smiled as she drew level with him. She noted how pale he looked and the dark circles under his brown eyes. He unlocked the door and picked up some post from the doormat, and handed Dora a large buff envelope bearing the council’s stamp across the top. She blushed as he raised an eyebrow, and put the envelope down on the counter. He looked through his own post, throwing it down on the counter when he saw it was mainly advertisements from wholesale companies. He went to open the door to let in some fresh air. ‘Everything okay with you, Dora?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, not bad. How about you, Sammy? Come here, you look like you need a hug.’

  ‘Don’t show me any sympathy,’ he said, ‘you’ll have me blubbing. Make me a brew instead.’

  She nodded and went into the kitchen. Esther’s glasses were still there, on top of a magazine she must have been reading when she got up to go into the shop. Had she maybe felt a bit strange and gone to look for Sammy before she collapsed? They’d never know now and maybe it was best they didn’t. Dora filled the kettle, and moved the glasses to a shelf so they wouldn’t upset Sammy if he came through and saw them. He had enough reminders at home. It felt very empty without Esther chattering away in the background. The heart and soul had gone out of the place. Dora made two mugs of strong, sweet tea and carried them through to the shop. A woman had come in and was talking to Sammy, her head on one side in that sympathetic manner that people use for the newly bereaved. She meant well, but when she left Sammy rolled his eyes and shut the door after her and dropped the catch. Dora put the mugs down on the counter and caught his eye.

  ‘I can’t be doing with that all day,’ he muttered. ‘Maybe it was a mistake to come in, but I’ve done all I can do at home for now. And we need to have a talk about the shop and things, Dora.’

  Dora nodded, her stomach lurching as he blew out his cheeks and took a sip of tea. ‘Just what I needed, my own tea is not as nice.’

  Dora smiled and picked at the envelope from the council. Sammy pointed to it. ‘What’s that all about then?’

  ‘It’s an application form to be rehoused,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d better get my act together, in case I need to move out of the flat.’

  He nodded. ‘A wise move, my dear. I think we should take things a bit easier over the next few weeks. Maybe have a sale, get rid of some of the stock. We won’t take any further orders for now. I need to have a think about the future, the same as you’re doing.’

  ‘Has Sonny been in touch?’ she asked.

  ‘He responded to my letter. Thanked me for writing off his debt and said he’d do his best to pay back a little of what he owes me. Empty gestures, that’s all. I won’t be replying in a hurry. He’s back in London to sort out his mess, for the foreseeable future.’

  Dora breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully he wouldn’t show his face in Liverpool again for a long time, but deep down she had a feeling that wasn’t the last they would see of Sonny Jacobs.

  Over the next two weeks Dora worried about her future as she and Sammy halved the price of the stock and had a big sale. She looked around at the depleted shelves and sighed. Although he’d said nothing to her yet, Sammy had been preoccupied, wandering around in a daze. She’d made sure he’d eaten with her and the girls at night before he drove home. That way she knew he was getting at least one cooked meal a day.

  She’d had a letter of response from the council about her placement on the housing list, but it would seem that while she still had a roof over her head and had not been given notice by her landlord, she still wasn’t considered a priority. She felt in limbo. It was almost like being back at square one on Wright Street, but without the horrible neighbours and rats. The only alternative to staying on in the flat was to try to rent privately in the clearance areas, build up a list of private sewing clients again and hope for the best. But the slums would be her very last resort.

  Four weeks after Esther’s funeral Dora boxed up what little was left of the lace and trimmings and felt even more despondent. There was now hardly anything left to sell. The window display was almost empty and people had stopped looking in as they hurried by. Sammy was still paying her a wage, but she missed making garments and the fun side of the business with the theatre work. She placed the boxes on the floor behind the counter as the doorbell rang out and Sammy hurried into the shop.

  ‘Good morning,’ he called. ‘Is that kettle on?’

  ‘It will be in a minute,’ Dora said, pleased to see him smiling. She made two mugs of tea and carried them through to where Sammy had parked himself on a chair behind the counter.

  Sammy took a welcome sip of tea and sighed. ‘I need to talk to you about my plans for the next few months, Dora,’ he said. ‘Take a seat.’ He pointed to the other chair. Dora felt her stomach contract with nerves. This was it, end of an era, a time she’d been dreading.

  ‘I’ll start at the beginning,’ he said, a faraway look in his eyes. ‘I told you a whil
e ago that Esther and I had plans to travel and to visit family in Israel and the USA and we had to put everything on hold when we lent Sonny that money.’

  Dora nodded. ‘You did.’

  ‘Well, it’s still something I’d like to do in honour of her memory and before I get too old to enjoy it. We both lost family in the Holocaust; my two younger brothers died at Auschwitz, as did Esther’s dear mother and father and one of her sisters. Her other sister is in New York and there are nieces to meet that I’ve never seen before. I have two older brothers who are still alive and living in Israel and I also have nephews. This is my time to travel now. I feel she is urging me on to do it and I must obey that urge. I’ve put the house up for sale. It’s too big for me now she’s gone. I’m also retiring. I can’t run this business without her. My heart isn’t in it. I know it’s not what you want to hear, Dora, as you love working here and we’ve loved having you and the girls as part of our family, but it’s run its course. You’re a very talented young lady and you will find work. Places need good designers. I will give you the best of references and you’ll be snapped up. Or you can set up on your own again and work from home. I will pass on your details to our clients and I’m sure they will follow you.’

  Dora took a deep breath and nodded. It was what she’d prefer rather than working for someone else. ‘I’ll need to wait until I’ve got a new place to live and then maybe I’ll do that. Wherever I work it has to fit in with my girls and school, of course. So working from home would be better for me. But it will take ages for the council to rehouse us. The last time I think they forgot my family even existed. If it hadn’t been for the kindness shown by you and Esther I’d have gone crazy down on Wright Street. I’ll start looking for somewhere right away. If you could write a letter that I can forward to the council to tell them that you want me out of the flat, it will help my case.’

  Sammy nodded. ‘I will do that. But for now you can stay upstairs until I get an offer on the place. You might want to put your name on a few things so that you’ve got a head start for working from home again: a machine, a mannequin and what have you. By the way –’ He took a sip of tea. ‘Don’t think I’m nosy, but I couldn’t help overhearing what you were saying to Agnes when she called you recently. Something about her mother, wasn’t it? I do hope it’s not more bad news.’

  ‘Oh, no, not really, just that her mam was offered a bungalow from the council, so Agnes has persuaded her to accept it and is now busy sorting out the things she’s taking from the old rented house and putting them in the new place before she comes out of the care home. She’s all right for a while though because she gave a good month’s notice to the landlord—’ Dora stopped and a slow smile spread across her face – and then vanished just as quickly, because she just knew she couldn’t afford to pay the rent on anything as nice as that. It would be so much better than living on a big council estate though – and if only it were possible, she’d jump at the opportunity, save all the waiting and anxiety that being on the council list brought with it.

  ‘And is the empty house near Agnes, by any chance? In Fazakerley?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dora replied. ‘It’s on Fourth Avenue and Agnes’s is on Second Avenue, but she and Alan are buying theirs.’

  Sammy nodded and chewed his lip thoughtfully. ‘See if you can get Agnes on the phone right away,’ he said. ‘Tell her that if it’s still available, you will have the house. Go on, quickly before it’s offered to anyone else. And we’ll go over there now and have a look at it.’

  Dora shot off her seat and ran to the phone, her legs shaking and her hands trembling as she dialled Agnes’s number. ‘It’s Dora,’ she said. ‘Is your mam’s house still up for grabs? It is? I want it, Agnes. I’m coming over with Sammy now,’ she finished as Agnes squealed excitedly that she’d ring the landlord right away. Dora hung up as though in a trance. Sammy shook the van keys at her and they left the shop.

  ‘Sammy, stop,’ Dora cried as he sped off up Scotland Road. ‘I can’t do this; it’s just a pipedream. I can’t afford that house.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he said. ‘I will help you with the rent until you get on your feet work-wise, on two conditions.’

  She stared at him. ‘I can’t let you do that. And what conditions do you mean?’

  ‘Yes, you can, and the conditions are that, when I come home occasionally from my travels, I can beg the odd night’s bed and breakfast from you while I catch up with my beautiful surrogate granddaughters. And that you promise to keep Esther’s grave supplied with fresh flowers while I’m away. You’ll be so close to the cemetery, you’re practically neighbours.’ His eyes twinkled and he smiled at her.

  Dora laughed. He really was the most wonderful stand-in father. She was so lucky to have walked past his shop that day and spotted the card in the window. ‘Of course you can. And as regards looking after Esther’s grave, it goes without saying.’

  Sammy smiled, and although there was still a sadness in his eyes that Dora knew would take for ever to go away, he said softly, ‘New beginnings, eh, Dora?’

  She nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Joanie once said that to me,’ she said, remembering, and so had Joe, she thought, but she didn’t voice it; she didn’t want to drag up any painful memories on this happy day. ‘Take the next turn on your right,’ she said. He turned into Fourth Avenue and halfway down was Agnes, waving excitedly from the front step of a bay-windowed, mid-terrace house. Dora smiled at the thought that this was to be her and her daughters’ dream home for the foreseeable future.

  If you enjoyed The Forgotten Family of Liverpool, you’ll love The Lost Daughter of Liverpool by Pam Howes, the first book in The Mersey Trilogy - a heartbreaking and gripping story of love, loss and hope. Get it here.

  THE LOST DAUGHTER OF LIVERPOOL

  A HEARTBREAKING AND GRITTY FAMILY SAGA

  Can she save herself, her marriage – and her daughter?

  It’s 1946 and the war is over. In Liverpool, the blackout blinds may be coming down, but one family is about to face devastating misfortune…

  Dora Evans is finally marrying the love of her life, Joe Rodgers, and her dreams of opening a dressmaking business look as if they might come true. With twin daughters on the way, Dora has everything she’s ever wanted.

  But then tragedy strikes: one of Dora’s babies dies in infancy, and a catastrophic fire changes their lives forever. Dora is consumed with grief, struggling to get through each day and Joe is suddenly distant, finding solace in his colleague, Ivy.

  With Ivy watching and scheming, and Dora battling against her own demons, can she keep her family together?

  The Lost Daughter of Liverpool is a heartbreaking and gripping story of love, loss and hope. Perfect for fans of Nadine Dorries, Diney Costeloe and Kitty Neale. Discover Pam’s series, The Mersey Trilogy, today.

  Read what everyone’s saying about The Lost Daughter of Liverpool:

  "Absolute belter of a story!!" Chelle's Book Reviews

  “I loved this book! … have a supply of tissues ready … a beautifully written book that kept me reading until the early hours. I just didn’t want it to end.” 5* Stardust Book Reviews

  “A new favourite saga writer to add to my list.” 5* Bookworms & Shutterbugs

  AUTHOR LETTER

  To my loyal band of regular readers who bought and reviewed The Lost Daughter of Liverpool, thank you so much for waiting patiently for the sequel. You all know who you are and your support is so much appreciated. Thank you for all your daily contact on FB and the Notrights group. If you enjoyed The Forgotten Family of Liverpool, I’d be so grateful if you could write a review and let me know what you think.

  You can also sign up here to receive an email whenever I have a new book published. You can unsubscribe at any time, and your email address will never be shared.

  Pam’s email sign up

  I’d love to say a big thank you to the dedicated team at Bookouture who never fail to turn out a great book. Thanks especially to A
bi and Vicky, my fabulous editors, for guidance and for all their editorial support and encouragement. You’ve helped make my story something special.

  A big thank you to the wonderful Kim Nash for everything you do for the Bookouture authors. It is so appreciated. And thank you to the gang in the Bookouture Authors’ Lounge. The best bunch of authors on this planet. I feel honoured to be amongst you all.

  Much love to you all.

  Pam.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For my man, daughters and grandchildren. My own loyal support system. Love you all very much. xxx

  Thank you once more to my FB friends on our little group – 60’s Chicks Confidential – for their undying friendship and support. Thanks also to my lovely friends and Beta readers, Brenda Thomasson and Julie Simpson, who read an early draft of this story and gave me the thumbs-up. Thank you also to the awesome bloggers who shared my first novel in this trilogy with a blog tour. You all do such a fabulous job in spreading the word.

  Published by Bookouture in 2017

  An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.

  23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN

  United Kingdom

  www.bookouture.com

  Copyright © Pam Howes 2017

  Pam Howes has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.