by Joan Jonker
‘Well, I’m off to see me old mates.’ Eileen waddled into the hall where Jean Simpson was waiting. ‘Ta-ra, Mam!’
Eileen banged the door behind her and fell into step beside Jean. ‘Where are we meetin’ them?’
‘In the St George Hotel on Lime Street.’ Jean slipped her arm through Eileen’s. ‘It’s a pity Mary couldn’t come.’
‘She meets the children comin’ out of school so she wouldn’t ’ave been back in time.’ They reached the corner of the road and Eileen spotted a bus coming. ‘Run on, kid, an’ ask the conductor to wait for me.’
Eileen took the seat by the window, leaving about six inches for Jean to balance her bottom on. And when the bus lurched to one side as it went round the dangerous bend by Orrell Park Station, Jean had to hang on like grim death to the seat in front.
‘The Americans have no idea what we went through during the war.’ Jean had forgotten how much damage had been inflicted when the May blitz was at its height, and as the bus made its way into the city she surveyed with sadness the open spaces where houses and shops had once stood. ‘I know they lost a lot of men and we probably wouldn’t have made it without their help, but they didn’t have the bombing to worry about.’
‘My Bill says it’ll take twenty years to build the city up again,’ Eileen said. ‘We’re givin’ money to the countries we were fightin’ so they can rebuild their countries when we’re skint ourselves.’
‘Ah, look at the poor old Rotunda,’ Jean said, pointing a finger. ‘I can’t see them doing much with that.’
The bus drew to a stop in Lime Street where the two friends alighted. They waited for a lull in the traffic before darting across the busiest street in Liverpool city centre. Eileen paused for a second outside the hotel to smooth the lapels of her coat before following Jean through the doors. Her gaze swept over the people sitting at tables, seeking out her old friends.
‘They’re not ’ere yet.’
‘Yes, there they are.’ Jean pointed to a table near the back of the room and started to make her way towards it when Eileen’s arm stopped her in her tracks.
‘It’s not them.’
‘Yes it is. Look, they’re waving.’
Eileen studied the two grey-haired women sitting at the table and shook her head. ‘My God, they ’aven’t ’alf changed.’
Jean pulled Eileen forward. ‘They’re probably thinking the same about us.’
‘I wouldn’t ’ave known yez!’ Eileen dropped into the seat, her eyes on Maisie Phillips. The bleached blonde hair was now a silver grey, and instead of the heavy make-up Eileen used to say she put on with a trowel, Maisie’s face was just lightly dusted with powder. And her old trade mark, the bright orange Tangee lipstick, had been replaced with a soft rose pink. No one had ever known Maisie’s true age, she’d been thirty-nine all the years Eileen had worked with her. But looking at her now, Eileen guessed she mustn’t be far off sixty.
‘Oh, it’s lovely to see you again.’ Ethel Hignet’s ill-fitting false teeth left her gums for a second, then clicked back into place. ‘You look very well, Jean, proper posh. And Eileen hasn’t changed at all.’
‘Yer mean I’m just as fat an’ untidy as ever?’ Eileen grinned. Ethel was still as thin as a beanpole, and her face as pale as ever. The only difference Eileen could see was the hair. It used to be black and frizzy, now it was almost white and dead straight.
‘How’s life treatin’ yer both?’ Eileen asked. ‘Are yer still women of leisure, like meself?’
‘Worse luck,’ Maisie said. ‘I couldn’t wait to get out of that blasted factory when the war was over, but I’d give anything to be back. Not that I wish the war was still on, but I miss the company.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Ethel said. ‘Me an’ Maisie are always talkin’ about the old times, aren’t we, Maisie?’
Ethel hasn’t changed, Eileen thought. She still hangs on to every word Maisie says. Probably still follows her round like a lap dog. ‘See each other often do yez?’
‘Every day,’ Maisie answered with a laugh. ‘We live in the same road now. I got a transfer to Huyton not long after the war finished.’
‘D’yez ever hear of Willy Turnbull?’ Eileen asked. ‘I often wonder what became of ’im.’
‘He got married, yer know,’ Maisie told her. ‘Married a woman whose husband was killed in the war.’
‘Go way!’ Eileen sat back in surprise. ‘I never thought that poor bugger would ever get ’imself a wife, although, God knows, he tried hard enough.’
‘Got a ready-made family he has,’ Ethel said. ‘Took on a woman with three kids.’
‘Let’s go downstairs to the restaurant.’ Jean stood up. ‘We can talk while we’re eating.’ She saw the anxious glances exchanged between Maisie and Ethel and quickly added, ‘It’s my treat.’
When they’d chosen from the menu, Jean called the waiter over and added two bottles of wine to the order. Then she answered the questions that came thick and fast about life in America. She was full of praise for the country and its people, but as Eileen listened she had a gut feeling that everything in Jean’s garden wasn’t as rosy as she made out. You don’t work with a person for four years without getting to know them inside out, she told herself, and unless I’m much mistaken, there’s a bit of sadness behind Jean’s laughter.
As the wine flowed, so did the conversation and laughter. Memories of the tricks Eileen had played on them all, especially Willy Turnbull, were talked about with hilarity, causing Ethel’s clicking teeth to work overtime. ‘Yer gave us many a laugh,’ she said. ‘Yer were as mad as a flippin’ hatter.’
‘It was her table manners I remember most,’ Maisie laughed. ‘The dockers’ sandwiches she used to make with the chips in the canteen.’
‘Eileen lives in a nice house now,’ Jean told them. ‘She’s gone up in the world.’
‘Don’t kid yerself,’ Eileen huffed. ‘If goin’ up in the world means bein’ miserable, then I’d rather be a ruddy tramp.’
Maisie looked surprised. ‘Don’t yer like yer new house?’
‘Oh, the house is all right,’ Eileen said. ‘It’s the miserable flamin’ people in the road.’ Then she adopted her posh voice and proceeded to imitate some of her neighbours. With her hand in the air, her little finger crooked, she had them off to a T. Her three friends roared with laughter, causing heads to turn in their direction. Those sitting at nearby tables did their best to look as though they weren’t listening, but their smiling faces betrayed them. When Eileen was in full flow, on top form, it was impossible not to laugh.
Jean wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Just like old times. I haven’t laughed so much since the war finished.’
‘It’s done me a power of good, too,’ Eileen said. ‘It’s not often I get a chance these days to show off me talents.’ She squinted at the watch Bill had bought her the first Christmas he was home after the war. She only wore it on high days and holidays. ‘I’d better be makin’ tracks or me mam’ll ’ave her knickers in a twist thinkin’ I’m not goin’ to be home in time to put the dinner out.’
‘Can we meet again before yer go back, Jean?’ Maisie asked. ‘I’d be made up if we could.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ Jean said. ‘I’ll drop you a line and make a date.’
Eileen was grinning as she stepped from the bus. It had been lovely seeing her old mates again. She’d have to ask for Maisie’s address next time they met, then she could invite her and Ethel down one day. The laugh they’d had today had cheered her up no end, it was as good as a tonic. She looked at her watch as she turned the corner of her road and quickened her pace. The family would be in by now and wanting their dinner. Still, it didn’t happen often so they couldn’t moan. A mischievous smile crossed her face. They could moan all they liked, it wouldn’t spoil the pleasure she’d had.
Eileen took the key from the lock and opened the door. ‘I’m home!’ Her brow furrowed as she walked down the hall. It was as quiet as a graveyard; where was every
body?
Eileen pushed the living room door open and froze. Edna was sitting at the table with her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as quiet sobs racked her body. Bill, young Billy and Maggie were standing like statues by the fireplace, their faces grim.
‘What’s up?’ Eileen croaked, her heart doing somersaults. Then she noticed Joan was missing. ‘Where’s our Joan?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to figure out,’ Bill said. ‘She went into the shop to see Edna this afternoon and said she wasn’t coming home. Told her she was going to live with a friend.’
‘Oh, she’s pullin’ her leg.’ Eileen let out a sigh of relief. ‘She’s probably gone to the pictures straight from work.’
Edna lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed. ‘She wasn’t pulling me leg, Mam, she meant it. I asked where her friend lived, but she wouldn’t tell me.’
‘No, I don’t believe it,’ Eileen said. ‘What would she leave ’ome for? All her clothes an’ things are ’ere.’
‘There’s a lot of her things gone, lass,’ Maggie said quietly. ‘The first thing I did when Edna told us, was to look in her room. There’s only some old things left in the wardrobe and drawers, all her good clothes have gone. She must have been taking them out on the quiet over the last few weeks.’
‘I can’t make head nor tail of it.’ Bill looked anxious. ‘You haven’t had a row with her, have you, chick?’
‘Not a wrong word,’ Eileen said, ‘I just don’t understand it.’
‘Well, there’s not much I can do tonight, but I’ll take an hour off tomorrow and go down to Vernons. I’ll see the personnel officer and find out what’s going on.’
‘She doesn’t work there any more.’ Edna held an already sodden handkerchief to her screwed-up eyes as a fresh burst of sobbing threatened. ‘She said she left there weeks ago and has got another job, but wouldn’t tell me where.’
Her face drained of colour, Eileen appealed to Bill. ‘Why would she do that to us? She’s got a good ’ome here.’
Maggie, unable to bear the look of distress on Eileen’s face, turned to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make you a cup of sweet tea.’
‘Bill!’ Eileen was becoming hysterical. ‘We’ve got to do somethin’! She can’t leave ’ome, she’s not old enough.’
‘There’s not much we can do, chick, if that’s what she wants.’ Bill sat beside Eileen and took her hand. ‘She’s nearly nineteen now and we can’t stop her doing anything she wants. We’ve no say in the matter.’
Edna’s cries grew louder and Billy went to put an arm across her shoulders. ‘Don’t cry, Sis, it’s not your fault.’
‘But she’s me sister! Why didn’t she tell me what she was going to do an’ I could have stopped her?’
Eileen closed her eyes and took two deep breaths before asking, ‘Tell me exactly what happened, sunshine?’
Edna wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘She came up to me in the shop an’ said she wouldn’t be coming home any more ’cos she’s gone to live with a girl she works with. I thought she was having me on at first, but when I saw she meant it, I said you’d find out where she’d gone by asking at Vernons. She just laughed at me and said you’d have a job because she’d left there.’
‘The hard-faced little madam.’ Despite being worried to death, Eileen felt angry that her daughter would cause them such anguish. ‘And that’s all she said?’
‘Told me to tell you not to worry, that she’d be all right. And she said she’d come and see me again in the shop.’ Tears ran down Edna’s cheeks and her voice was choked with emotion. ‘I asked her to come an’ see you, Mam, but she said you’d try and stop her and she’d made up her mind.’
‘Didn’t she give you a reason?’ Bill asked.
Edna shook her head. ‘Just said she was old enough now to do what she wants.’
‘She deserves a damn good hiding.’ Young Billy was beside himself with anger. How dare she upset his mam and dad like this! The trouble was, their Joan had never appreciated how lucky she was. ‘She’ll be back, never fear. When she realises what side her bread’s buttered, she’ll be home like a shot.’
Bill could feel Eileen’s hand shaking and he squeezed it gently. ‘Billy’s right, chick. If she’s sharing a house or a flat, then she’ll have to do half the housework and cough up enough money to pay half the rent and all the bills. And knowing our Joan, she won’t like that one little bit.’
‘I don’t want ’er to come back for those reasons, Bill! She’s left ’ome because she obviously doesn’t like it ’ere, so let her stay away. If she ’asn’t got the decency to face her own family, doesn’t care about ’ow much she hurts us, then she needn’t bother comin’ back.’ Even as she spoke, Eileen knew she didn’t mean a word of it. But she hurt so much inside she needed to relieve the pain, and the only way she knew how was to get angry. ‘Next time yer sister comes in the shop, tell ’er what I said.’
Billy watched his mother walk through to the kitchen and her grief-stricken face filled him with sadness. For all her brave words, he knew she was devastated. ‘If I had our Joan here, I’d strangle her with me bare hands,’ Billy whispered across the room to his father. ‘How could she do this to me mam?’
‘Sshh!’ Bill put a finger to his lips. ‘Don’t say too much, son, least said, soonest mended.’
Bill stopped at the kitchen door and with a heavy heart watched as Eileen sobbed on Maggie’s shoulder, ‘Why, Mam? Why ’as she done this? I ’aven’t been such a bad mother, ’ave I?’
‘Of course not!’ Maggie motioned with her head for Bill to leave them be. To let her daughter cry away some of the sadness and hurt she felt. Maggie stroked Eileen’s hair. ‘One of her friends has probably talked her into it and Joan’s been easily led. But it won’t last long, the novelty will soon wear off, lass, and she’ll come running home.’
Joan walked out of George Henry Lees biting on her bottom lip to keep the tears back. It had been much harder than she’d thought it would be. The look of distress on Edna’s face had almost made her change her mind. But it wasn’t the end of the world, she told herself. She could keep in touch with her sister and in a few weeks she’d go and see her mam and dad.
As Joan made her way towards C and A, where she was meeting Valerie, for once she was truthful with herself. It was her own fault she’d had to leave home. If she hadn’t lied to Augie it need never have happened. But she’d never had the courage to tell him she’d lied. And every time he’d asked to meet her family, instead of being honest with him, she’d told him she didn’t get on with her parents. It was Augie who’d suggested she went to live with his friend’s girlfriend, Valerie, and it had seemed a marvellous idea at the time. She’d be able to see him every night without worrying what time she got home or making excuses about where she was going.
Joan saw Valerie and waved. She fixed a smile on her face and banished her misgivings from her mind. Everything was going to be all right. She got on well with Valerie and had been to her three-bedroomed semi in Woolton several times with Augie.
‘Well, how did it go?’ Valerie asked. She was four or five years older than Joan and much more experienced in every aspect of life. She wasn’t pretty in the usual sense, her mouth and nose were too wide, but she was very attractive and sophisticated. Dark haired, slim, always well dressed and very sure of herself – Joan thought she was the bees’ knees. ‘Was your sister surprised?’
‘That’s putting it mildly,’ Joan laughed nervously. ‘She was speechless.’
‘You can tell me about it later.’ Valerie waved a bag in the air. ‘I’ve bought the food, so let’s get home and start on the dinner. I want to make a really special meal for Richie and Augie tonight and you can help.’
Valerie glanced sideways at Joan and was about to say something when she changed her mind. She wasn’t very happy about the arrangements but it wasn’t up to her to interfere. The kid, and she was only a kid, would find out for herself soon enough.
When sleep w
ouldn’t come the first night at Valerie’s, Joan put it down to being in a strange bed. And all the other nights when she tossed and turned, she wouldn’t let herself waver from that excuse. Whenever a doubt crept into her mind she banished it, telling herself how much better off she was now. Wasn’t she able to see Augie every night when he could get away from the Burtonwood base? And didn’t he treat her like someone special, taking her to places she’d never been to before because she couldn’t afford it?
But the night came when Joan lay awake, staring at the bedroom ceiling and letting her thoughts run their true course. She dropped the cloak of pretence and admitted to herself she was homesick. She missed her own bed and her nightly chats with Edna. She even missed their rows, because she realised now it was all part of being sisters. And she missed their Billy’s smiling face and his cheery disposition. She’d never appreciated how lucky she was to have a brother like him until now, when it was too late. And her Nan. Dear, sweet Nan, with her infinite patience and willingness to help. In her own quiet way, it was Nan who was always there to placate and keep the peace.
For the first time since she’d left home, Joan allowed her thoughts to run free. Images of her mam and dad flickered across her mind like a silent movie. She could see, as clear as a picture, her dad smiling as he watched her mam perform one of her funny antics, his devotion to his wife written on his face for the whole world to see. Then her mam appeared, standing in the middle of the room with her hands on her wide hips and her head thrown back as she roared with laughter.
Joan turned her head on the pillow and allowed her tears to run unchecked. She missed them all so much, it hurt. If only she was back with them to share the warmth and love they wrapped around each other, to hear her dad’s gentle voice and her mam’s throaty chuckle, to be the butt of one of Billy’s jokes and fight like cat and dog with their Edna.
Joan pulled the sheet over her head to muffle the sound of her sobs.
Valerie slept in the next room and if she heard Joan crying she’d be in like a shot, thinking she was the cause of it. But what had happened that day wasn’t the reason Joan had allowed her fears and unhappiness to surface. It had been festering since the day she’d walked out on her family. Today’s incident had just been the straw that broke the camel’s back.