Lights Out Liverpool (26 page)

Eileen sighed and Tony looked up. ‘What’s the matter, Mam?’

‘Nothing, luv. I was just worried the ’taters wouldn’t be ready in time, that’s all.’

The house had never felt so quiet and so empty. You could almost touch the silence and although it seemed silly, you could almost
hear
it, ticking away in the background.

Helen Brazier had got used to spending Christmas on her own since her mother died. It was just another lonely
day
among hundreds of other lonely days. But this year, without Lou, she felt her isolation even more keenly. She tried not to think about him, but once again, for the umpteenth time, she let herself live through that Saturday dinnertime when she’d seen him with his wife and children.

At first she’d assumed the woman was his sister, that the three children were his niece and nephews, though she couldn’t help but feel surprised when she saw the harassed looking woman was heavily pregnant. Hadn’t Lou said she was a widow? They were in Woolworths, which was packed to the gills with Christmas shoppers, struggling past the sweet counter and through the crowds towards her. Helen stopped and waited for them to reach her, intending only to catch Lou’s eye and give a secret smile. She wouldn’t introduce herself, he might not have mentioned her to his sister. Perhaps she could even manage to whisper a little message, ‘I’ve got you another Christmas present.’ A black enamelled cigarette lighter, which she intended having engraved with his initials, L.M. She’d ordered a bird from the Co-op butchery and there were two bottles of wine, one red, one white, in the larder ready for their Christmas dinner. And she’d bought clothes; frocks, silk stockings and lots of pretty, lace-trimmed underwear, and made an appointment for a Carmel wave on half day closing.

They were almost touching, yet he still hadn’t noticed her. He had a shabbily dressed child on either side, holding his hands. Children could easily get lost in the crush. The woman shoved past dragging a crying child behind her, almost knocking Helen over. She looked almost slatternly, with uncombed hair and her coat buttoned at the top, the rest hanging open over her swollen belly revealing a flowered pinny underneath. Despite the
icy
weather, she had neither gloves nor scarf. A different type from Lou altogether, decided Helen. He was dressed smartly, as always, in his mackintosh with the turned-up collar and his hat tipped over his right eye.

‘Eh, Dad, can I have a lolly?’ The little boy was actually standing on Helen’s foot. He tugged at the sleeve of Lou’s mack. ‘Can I have a lolly, Dad?’

‘For Christ Almighty’s sake, shurrup,’ Lou snapped. ‘How many times …’ His eyes met Helen’s. She may as well not have been there. His expression didn’t alter as he continued, ‘… must I tell you to stop pestering me?’

They were gone. Swallowed up by the crowd, and Helen was left, being jostled to and fro, feeling as if she had been hit by a thunderbolt.

He was married! His sister was not his sister, but his wife. The children belonged to him.

Helen and Lou. Lou and Helen. The words chased each other around her brain. He’d been playing her for a fool all this time. And that wasn’t all. There was the money she’d given him, nearly twenty pounds in all, for coats and shoes and Christmas presents for the children, for a new kettle, because his ‘sister’ had burned the bottom out of the old one, for all sorts of things.

Sitting in her house on Christmas Day with her freshly waved hair and in one of the new frocks which she’d worn mostly as a gesture of defiance, because she didn’t expect to see anyone, Helen Brazier wondered where the money had gone. Not on the children, by the look of them. He’d probably spent it at the dog track he frequented. She wondered if he’d waited for her last Monday. She could actually imagine him having the brazen cheek to carry on as before, to pretend they’d never seen each other in Woolworths. Since then, she’d gone home the long way round in order to avoid him.

She could hear the cries of children outside in the street and went into the parlour to peep through the lace curtain, hungry for signs of life, an indication that she was not the only person alive in the world that day. The children were playing with their new toys, skipping ropes, whips and tops, one or two scooters, on the narrow strip of pavement cleared to make a pathway. It was strange to see lights on in most parlours. Probably people were getting the tables ready for their Christmas dinner. A woman ran across the street and knocked on a door. The door was opened and Helen heard the sound of laughter as the woman entered. She saw the old man opposite, Mr Singerman, spruced up in his best suit, shuffle along to the neighbouring house and be let in by a lovely tall red-haired woman wearing a royal blue dress. Two cats emerged out of the back entry and chased each other down the street. Listening hard, Helen could hear singing from the King’s Arms. ‘
Bless em all, bless em all, The long and the short and the tall
.’ Helen shivered in the cold parlour and returned to sit by the fire in the living room.

‘Oh, Lou!’ she whispered. ‘Oh, someone!’

At first, she thought she’d imagined the knock on the door. When it sounded again, she began to tremble. Lou! Who else could it be? She didn’t move. Despite the fact she ached for company, Lou Murphy would never set foot in her house again. Yet …

Against her will, she felt herself being drawn into the hallway. Answering would make all the difference to the day. She was standing behind the door, wrestling with her emotions, when the letter box rattled and someone called, ‘Are you all right, Miss Brazier?’

She wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved when she realised it wasn’t Lou, but the blind man from
next
door, Paddy O’Hara. She wondered why he should care? Why he should think she was
not
all right? For a moment, she considered merely shouting back that she was fine, but he was a nice man, gentle and courteous and, after all, it was Christmas Day.

She opened the door and he touched his cap politely. It was the first time she’d seen him without his little white dog.

‘Yes?’ she asked. Oh, why did it have to come out sounding so abrupt, almost rude?

‘I’m just on me way to the King’s Arms. I thought I’d stop by and wish you a Merry Christmas, like.’ There was a guarded look on his face. Helen realised he was expecting to be snubbed.

‘And a Merry Christmas to you.’ She swallowed. ‘Thanks for asking.’ She made to close the door as a signal the conversation was over, expecting him to tip his cap again and go away. But, of course, she’d forgotten, he couldn’t see!

‘Are you all right, luv?’ He actually looked worried.

Helen tried to laugh. ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

He made a funny little movement with his mouth. ‘Well, the walls of these houses are terrible thin.’

He’d heard her crying! She felt as if she could die on the spot with shame. ‘I had a bit of upsetting news. I’m all right now.’

‘Mind you, it’s a wonder I could hear. I’ve shed a tear or two meself the last few days. There’s nowt wrong with a good cry when you need it. I had to have Spot, me best friend, put down. He had cancer of the stomach, according to the vet.’

She felt a sudden pang of compassion. A blind man losing his dog was a terrible thing. ‘I’m awful sorry. I bet you miss him.’

‘More than words can say,’ he replied sadly.

She swallowed again. ‘Look, would you like to come in for a drink? I’ve got some wine.’

‘Wine! I wouldn’t say no. Sounds more inviting, like, than a pint of brown ale.’

He began to tap the snow with his stick, feeling for the doorstep.

‘Here,’ she said, ‘Let me give you a hand.’ She reached out and helped him into the hall. Once inside, he removed his cap and tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. He towered above her. She’d never noticed before, but he was a fine-looking man, though rather gaunt, his face weathered ruddy by being outdoors so much, and with neatly cut fair hair. You would never have guessed he was blind, except his pale blue eyes never met yours, but were fixed on your mouth or chin, on where the voice came from.

‘What d’you fancy?’ she asked. ‘Red or white?’

‘Whew! Thank God that’s over!’

Eileen flung herself into a chair. The table had been cleared and set again for tea, the dishes washed and dried and all the debris off Christmas crackers and presents tied in a neat parcel, as they’d been urged by the Government to save paper. Mary and Ryan were having their afternoon nap upstairs on Eileen’s bed, whilst Caitlin and Siobhan argued over a hair slide out of a cracker. Tony and the older boys, fed up with being tripped over and moved from place to place, had gone over to the Reillys’ house to play with their new toys in peace.

‘I wonder what happened to Paddy?’ Sheila mused.

‘Well, Dad said he weren’t in the King’s Arms when he left, and I sent Tony along to the house, and he weren’t there, either,’ Eileen said worriedly. ‘I hope he’s all right.
What
d’you think, Dad?’

Jack Doyle had fallen asleep in front of the fire. The sisters smiled at each other.

‘Oh, well,’ Eileen shrugged. ‘There’s nowt we can do about it, is there? D’you fancy a glass of sherry, Sheil? If you do, you’ll have to get it yourself. I’m fair worn out. I’ve been on the go since half past seven this morning.’

‘D’you want one?’

‘Please!’ As she took the drink, Eileen said, ‘I wonder what we’ll be doing next Christmas? They say rationing’s likely to come in any minute. That’s why everyone went mad and spent like there was no tomorrow if they had the cash to do it. Maybe we won’t be able to buy chickens and puddings and presents next year. On the other hand, maybe the war’ll be over …’

‘I can’t think that far ahead,’ Sheila confessed. ‘All I can think of is our Cal and when he’s likely to be home.’

Winston Churchill had ordered the Navy to ‘scrub and search’ the South Atlantic for the
Altmark
. It was suspected that the ship was sailing under different names and different flags.

The two little girls were having a tug of war with the hair slide. It snapped in two and Siobhan fell back against her grandad.

Jack Doyle woke up. ‘Has our gracious majesty been on yet?’ he demanded. When told no, he groaned. ‘I’d been hoping to sleep right through it.’

‘Dad! You’ve got a gob on you like a bee’s bum. You must be the most unpatriotic man who ever lived,’ his eldest daughter said.

‘You can be a republican and a patriot,’ he answered tartly. ‘Where’s our Sean?’

‘Gone. He’s having tea at his girlfriend’s.’

‘The flighty bugger! There can’t be a girl in Bootle he
hasn’t
been out with. Still, it won’t do him no harm to sow his wild oats early.’

‘Let’s hope the girls’ dads agree,’ said Eileen. She got to her feet. ‘I’m just popping along to Annie’s for a minute to look at her feller.’

‘Annie’s got a feller?’ Sheila looked surprised.

‘Well, she’s considering it.’

When Eileen went outside, Dilys and Myfanwy Evans were standing on their doorstep looking scared.

‘What’s the matter?’ she shouted.

‘It’s our Dad. He hasn’t been home for his dinner.’

Suddenly, Ellis and Dai Evans came crashing out of the King’s Arms, locked in combat, followed by Mack and several customers trying to separate them.

‘I’ll kill you, man. May the good lord forgive me, but I’ll kill you,’ screamed Ellis.

The pair fell into the snow and began to wrestle as Eileen knocked on Annie’s door.

Annie answered, all decked out in a silver filigree necklace and earrings, with a blue and red striped scarf draped around her neck.

‘Just look, Eil! The boys brought me these from France. Feel the scarf? It’s pure silk!’

‘You lucky devil!’ Eileen said, impressed. ‘See what’s going on out here! Ellis and Dai are having a grand ould fight.’

The Evanses had begun to drag each other home. Eileen and Annie watched until they went inside and slammed the door.

‘They’ll make it up in bed tonight. Ellis and Dai have what’s called a stormy relationship.’ Annie winked. ‘Come and say hallo to Barney. The lads have gone to see some of their old mates, and Rosie and Charlie went home a while ago.’

Barney wasn’t at all what Eileen had expected. She’d anticipated someone looking like Franchot Tone or Cary Grant. Instead, he was a little teddy bear of a man with a thatch of slightly receding brown hair and humorous tobacco-coloured eyes.

‘Pleased to meet any friend of Annie’s,’ he said, when they were introduced.

‘I’ll get you a drop of sherry, Eil.’ Annie left for the kitchen.

As soon as she’d gone, Barney clutched Eileen’s arm. ‘Does she talk about me much? D’you think she likes me?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Eileen replied. When his face fell, she went on, determined to support Annie in her campaign of playing hard to get. ‘In fact, your name only came up for the first time this morning.’

‘Oh, no!’ He looked distraught. ‘I’ve never liked a woman before as much as I like Annie. I could tell, the minute I saw her standing there with that riveting gun, that she was the only one for me.’

‘Really!’ Eileen tried hard not to sound sarcastic. She was worried her best friend might fall for some worthless man who’d end up making her unhappy. She wasn’t sure if she liked Barney Clegg or not.

‘
Really!
’ Barney said with all the sincerity he could muster.

Eileen could hear Annie on her way in with the sherry. She said quickly, ‘Just make sure y’don’t hurt her.’

She didn’t stay long. ‘I’m expecting a few folk round any minute to listen to the wireless.’

Mr Singerman was already making his way across the road when Eileen left Annie’s, followed, much to her amazement, by the Flemings. Mrs Fleming looked like a film star, in a royal blue dress and a black fluffy mohair
coat
. Eileen would have given her eye teeth for a pair of those ankle-length, high-heeled boots.

Mr Singerman raised his bushy grey eyebrows. ‘You don’t mind, do you, Eileen? I told them they’d be welcome.’

‘Of course I don’t,’ she said.

‘We’ve got a wireless,’ Mrs Fleming put in quickly. ‘It’s all in one with the gramophone, but without electricity …’ She drew Eileen to one side. ‘I’m sorry I was so rude the day we moved in. I was upset, but that’s no excuse. I’ve brought a peace offering.’ She handed Eileen a tiny drawstring paper bag.