A Liverpool Legacy

by Anne Baker

  His stomach was heaving and he knew he was going to be sick. He bent over the gutter to retch and retch, but little came up, his stomach was empty. He wiped his face on his handkerchief and looked at his watch. It was eleven o’clock and the streets were empty. He was angry now, really angry. Why wouldn’t Elvira talk to him, tell him truthfully what she intended to do?

  He tried all the car doors but they were locked. Frustration rose in him, the car was his and he wanted it. He’d believed Elvira only intended to keep it for a few days, and she’d more than had her share of driving it now. He had a spare set of keys but they were at home. He’d fetch them. He was trying to do two jobs at once and he’d never needed the car more.

  Marcus walked up to the main entrance of the block of flats and wrote down the name Blackwood Court that he saw written in gold script on a plaque near the front door. Then he slowly drove the car he was delivering to the end of the road and wrote down the name, Bridlington Rise, that he saw there. Just to be sure, he marked the place on his street map. He meant to come back and get his car.

  He went home as he’d planned, and before getting into bed he found his set of spare car keys and put them into his jacket pocket so as to be ready. He was desperately afraid Elvira had left him for good and hardly slept a wink that night, but he was up early and delivered the car to the garage just as it was opening, and asked the proprietor if he could give him a lift to Gateacre.

  One of the garage hands got into the car he’d just delivered and drove him there. Marcus fingered the keys in his pocket feeling full of anticipation, he’d soon be sitting in his own car again and this job would be easier.

  The place looked a little different in the cold light of morning and he couldn’t at first see his car, but here he was in Bridlington Rise and there was Blackwood Court. He got out and gave the lad a tip for his trouble. Now where exactly was his car?

  It took him a few moments to realise it had gone. He felt a huge void in his stomach as he walked past the block of flats, then to the end of the road and back. People were getting up to go to work. His car was definitely not here.

  It was very bad news in one sense but did it mean Elvira had just been visiting? Maybe she’d spent the evening here; it had felt like the middle of the night to him but it had been before midnight. Marcus walked on until he came to a bus stop and shortly afterwards he caught a bus to the Pier Head and from there walked to the office. He rang Greg Livingstone to tell him he’d completed his tasks without incident and asked if he’d seen Elvira. ‘No,’ he said, ‘not for some time.’

  Marcus didn’t believe him. ‘She took my car and I can’t manage without one. If you see her, tell her I really need to speak to her.’

  There was a slight pause before Greg said, ‘I can get you a car. There’s a Morris Twelve coming up.’

  Marcus sighed, knowing that would be a re-sprayed military vehicle bought cheaply at auction or one that had been stolen. Pa would have a fit if he thought he was parking a stolen car outside his front door. ‘I suppose that’ll have to do if I can’t get another Jag.’

  ‘OK,’ Greg said easily. ‘Let me know,’ and went on to offer him several short trips around Lancashire and Cheshire.

  The Jaguar that Elvira had taken had been bought new, and he’d had to pay well over the advertised price to get it, as most cars being made had to be exported. At the end of the war, all British car manufacturers had rushed back into production with their old pre-war models but Marcus knew Jaguar had been working on a brand new design that was said to be an absolute corker. He’d put his name down on the list to buy one as soon as it became available.

  Now, he picked up his phone again and asked when it might be available and was surprised and delighted to hear it could be as soon as the end of the month. He confirmed he was ready to take delivery, having read in the press that due to scarcity, new models of the Jaguar XK120 were being resold on the open market at a big mark-up in price, though he meant to keep his.

  ‘What colour do you want? There’s a choice between oyster white or ice blue with a metallic finish.’

  Marcus had never seen a metallic finish but it sounded exotic and very desirable. ‘Ice blue,’ he decided.

  That lifted his mood. He needed a car and had the money to pay for it. Why worry that he’d have to work for Greg a little longer before he could buy a house? He deserved a treat after the trials of the last weeks.

  Millie felt little had changed between her and her in-laws. Nigel was avoiding her, he’d settled into the grand boardroom office and she hoped he was taking over some of the duties of management. Marcus scowled at her if he met her about the corridors, though she saw very little of him. He’d caused no more fights but he’d become the centre of attention again because he’d come to work in a fantastic new car.

  It was the sort of car that most people could only dream about, and nothing like it had been seen on the roads before. Its shape was pleasing and very different, and its engine was said to outclass everything else. It was capturing the export market in both Europe and America.

  As soon as Marcus left it in the car park a crowd gathered round it to take a closer look. It caught the eye of sailors and workmen as they were walking along the road and they stood for a moment to admire it through the fence. A few even came inside. Tom Bedford and Albert Lancaster drooled with envy.

  Millie wondered how he could suddenly afford it when Nigel had said he was unable to afford a house of his own. Was he earning money from somewhere else? He was so frequently absent from his desk in the office here that it seemed more than likely. Her curiosity was growing.

  She thought Sylvie was much brighter than she used to be. She came in one Sunday evening and said, ‘Denis has been asking me for ages if I’ll go home with him. His mother thinks he should take me to be introduced. I’ve been invited to have a meal there on Wednesday evening and I said I would.’

  That seemed to Millie an indication that the relationship was progressing favourably and that Denis was attaching importance to it. ‘He was a bit worried about whether he should ask you too, but I told him no. You wouldn’t think it wrong for me to go on my own.’

  ‘No, but you mustn’t be too late coming home because you’ll both have to get up for work the next day.’

  ‘I won’t. Denis said to tell you that he’ll see me safely home.’

  Wednesday turned out to be a dark miserable morning, too cold to hang about at the bus stop, and as Millie had a few petrol coupons in hand she decided to drive to work. Today, Marcus was pulling into the car park just ahead of her, so for once he’d arrived on time.

  She met Albert Lancaster on the front steps and he said, ‘Come and see the talcum powder we made yesterday. It’s as good as pre-war, a lovely soft slippery feel to it. You’ll like it.’

  She knew Billy Sankey had set up a new supplier of white magnesium silicate for them, as well as regular deliveries of powdered soapstone. She followed him into the factory to see it.

  ‘A big improvement, we have to be pleased with that,’ she said.

  They were currently selling talc in stiff cardboard sprinkler cartons but Albert was hopeful that soon they’d be able to package it in tins as they had before the war.

  ‘Billy Sankey assures me that he’s found a firm who’ll be able to make and supply the tins, so we need to decide on the shape and colour we want so he can negotiate a price.’ Albert took her upstairs to his office and opened some of their old design books on his desk. ‘What d’you reckon?’

  Millie thought that perhaps they should go back to their old design, it sold well, but she took Albert and his pattern book along the corridor to Dan Quentin’s office to hear what he thought would best help it to sell in the present market.

  It was so cold that she leaned against the lukewarm radiator under the window that overlooked the car park while they decided to
keep the old shape and the flower picture but have it against a pale cream background. Dan and Albert had got as far as discussing the wording for the logo they’d have printed on the tins when a movement outside caught Millie’s attention.

  It was less than an hour since she’d seen Marcus arrive but now he was heading back to his car. He got in and started the engine. Hastily she excused herself and ran down to the car park, meaning to follow him to see where he was going. She jumped in her car and as she drove out on to the road she could see he’d been held up at the traffic lights some hundred yards further along.

  She blessed the fact that he’d acquired such a fancy car. He was easy to follow because traffic was light and most of the cars were black and of pre-war shape, as was her own. That allowed her to stay some distance behind him as she didn’t want Marcus to see her. He was heading into the centre of Liverpool. She decided he must definitely be working for someone else and he didn’t want her to know.

  She found he’d parked his car near Exchange Station and was heading inside. He had no luggage so was he meeting somebody off a train? Hurriedly she parked her car well away from his and made her way into the station.

  There were a lot of people about so it wasn’t as easy to pick him out now, and she didn’t want him to see her before she saw him. Yes, there he was buying a ticket, so where was he going? She hung back watching him from a distance. He bought a newpaper and then headed towards one of the platforms. She saw him get on the train that was waiting there. It would take him to Southport or any of the many stations on the way.

  She went back to her car feeling she’d learned precious little. She couldn’t imagine what he intended to do in Southport. It was definitely not the weather for a trip to the beach.

  All morning it grew darker and the heavy cloud developed a yellowish tinge. Millie kept a watch on the car park but Marcus’s car did not return. Immediately after lunch it began to snow, and as it was settling on the ground and building up on the roofs, Millie saw it as yet another problem. She rang the bus depot to see if the buses were continuing to run, because that was what Pete had done in the past. When she heard that they were still running but there was some doubt as to how long they could continue, she went to see Nigel and suggested they close the factory and office early and let the staff get off home.

  ‘I agree,’ he said, locking up his desk. ‘It looks quite nasty. Better if we get off home while we can.’ He made all haste to do that, leaving her to tell everybody else. Millie did so, going slowly along the corridor of offices occupied by their senior staff.

  When she reached Andrew Worthington’s office, she found Sylvie there taking dictation. He said, ‘You go, Sylvie, there’s nothing urgent amongst those letters.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Worthington.’ She closed her notebook.

  Millie said, ‘You haven’t chosen a good day to go home with Denis, the buses will stop running if this carries on.’

  ‘Mum! Please don’t stop me now.’ Sylvie was keen to go. ‘I’ll be all right.’

  Millie went to the window, it was snowing heavily and the sky was now pewter grey and leaden. ‘It’s not much after three o’clock and look at this. What will it be like by nightfall? What if you can’t get home?’ She glanced up to find Andrew’s dark green eyes watching her sympathetically.

  ‘I’ll walk if I have to. What does Denis say?’

  ‘Nothing to me, why would he?’ Millie didn’t want to discuss Sylvie with Denis. She felt what they did was their business and preferred to wait until she was told.

  ‘I’ll go and talk to him now. Goodnight, Mr Worthington.’ Sylvie sped towards the lab while Millie followed at a more leisurely pace.

  When she caught them up, Denis said, ‘Please let her come, Mrs Maynard. My mother . . . Well, she was going to bake.’

  Millie hesitated. ‘She’ll have gone to a lot of trouble, won’t she?’

  ‘I’ll see her to your door, I promise.’ He looked so intense, so full of hope that she knew she couldn’t say no. ‘I’ll make sure she gets home safely.’

  ‘All right, but early please. This isn’t a night to be out late.’

  ‘Thank you, thank you.’ Both were all smiles now and went off together.

  Millie slumped on to her desk chair. Moments later she heard footsteps coming up the lab.

  ‘I take it you agreed?’ It was Andrew. ‘I saw them rushing off together in great excitement.’

  ‘I hope I’ve done the right thing.’

  ‘I’m sure you have. They’re old enough to be responsible for what they do. You can’t look after Sylvie for the rest of your life.’

  ‘No, I hope I don’t have to.’

  ‘You’ll be on your own at home tonight.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s what I thought, I’m glad I’ve caught you. Why don’t you spend the evening with me? We’ll have a drink and then a meal.’

  Millie was taken aback. She hadn’t been out with a man for years, not on a prearranged evening date. She was a grieving widow.

  He said, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you for ages, and if you’re to be alone tonight this seems a good time to do it. After all, I enjoyed your hospitality on bonfire night; you must allow me to ask you out in return.’

  She smiled. ‘Thank you, I’d like to go out with you.’ For once she felt a bit shy of him but reminded herself that Andrew was a colleague, so it wasn’t like a real date. ‘It’s not much fun waiting alone for a teenage daughter to return home.’

  ‘Well, I’ve already arranged to have a drink with Jeff Willis at the Sailor’s Return, across the road, so I’ll need to take you there first. But you know him.’

  ‘Yes, I like him, talking to him is always interesting.’

  ‘Then you and I will go on for a meal afterwards.’

  Millie went to the window. The snow was still swirling down. She could see the Sailor’s Return on the other side of the shabby street, though she’d rarely been inside. At street level it had the usual rather noisy bar but upstairs was a large lounge where in cold weather an open fire roared up the chimney. Pete had occasionally had a drink there with one or other of the managers and said he thought the premises had been arranged to attract the local workforce. They certainly patronised it in large numbers.

  ‘I need ten minutes to clear my desk and lock up for the night,’ he said.

  ‘So do I, but I won’t be ready then, I told Tom Bedford I’d make sure the whole place was secured for the night.’

  ‘OK. Give me ten minutes and I’ll come back and walk round with you,’ Andrew said. ‘I ought to know how to lock the place up.’

  For the first time, Millie really thought about Andrew. She’d been accepting his support and advice for some time and counted him a friend, but she knew virtually nothing about him. Pete had been impressed with his war service but she’d not asked, and he’d volunteered little. She should have shown more interest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Andrew had been spending a lot of time thinking about Millie and felt he’d taken a great step forward in persuading her to spend the evening with him. By the time they were crossing the road, it was really dark and the snow was four inches deep. He took her arm as it was rutted and slippery. ‘I hope this isn’t going to stick on the streets for days,’ he said.

  The pub lounge was a warm and cheery place and he recognised some of the customers as Maynard’s staff, despite being released to go home early on account of the weather. Andrew saw his friend waiting for him in front of the fire.

  ‘Good, you’ve brought Millie with you.’ Jeff beamed at her. ‘Come and get a warm, Millie. How are you?’ He settled her in the chair nearest the blaze and Andrew went to get their drinks.

  It pleased him that they seemed to have plenty to say to each other but when he returned and put the glas
s of lemonade she’d asked for in her hand, it brought the flow to a halt.

  Andrew said, ‘I believe I owe my life to Jeff,’ and that started Jeff telling her how they’d escaped from Singapore together when it fell to the Japanese. Andrew had not enjoyed the experience but Jeff had relished it and was happy to sit back and talk.

  His huge bulk overhung the chair. Millie smiled at him. ‘Pete told me about your wartime experiences, he was very impressed. I gather you had an exciting time.’

  ‘I wouldn’t describe it as exciting,’ Jeff said drily. ‘We were on the run from the Japanese for ten months. We had to go native and live on the beach.’

  ‘I was terrified most of the time,’ Andrew told her. ‘I wouldn’t have survived on my own.’

  Jeff was beginning to hold forth. ‘When the British surrendered, we decided we’d rather make a run for it than be rounded up and sent to Changi prison for the duration.’

  ‘Yes, I and my friend Graham had made all sorts of preparations, drew out money from the bank, and packed a few clothes. We’d seen the European civilians scrambling to get out but we left it too late.’

  ‘His friend Graham was killed.’ Jeff’s voice was matter-of-fact.

  Millie looked appalled. ‘That’s terrible, how did it happen?’

  ‘To start with we tried to get passages to a British port but the liners had all left by then, so had all the freighters, filled to capacity. We met up on our first night when we all hid in the same warehouse on the quay. Jeff speaks a little Malay and negotiated with several hundred cigarettes and treble the standard fare to get all three of us as deck passengers on a local junk bound for Jakarta.’

  Jeff took up the tale. ‘We cast off in a hail of shells and small-arms fire, but the master was determined that nothing would stop his vessel leaving. A bullet caught Graham in the back of his head and he collapsed at our feet, there was nothing we could do for him. He wasn’t the only one, two other passengers and a sailor were also killed, and several were injured. Once out to sea the master ordered his crew to throw the bodies overboard.’