Lights Out Liverpool (29 page)

‘Are you ready for this tea?’ Thankfully, Miss Thomas appeared to have abandoned the interrogation.

‘Yes, ta.’

‘As soon as you feel up to it, I’ll drive you home.’

‘There’s no need,’ Eileen protested. ‘I’ll get back to work after dinner.’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Miss Thomas said firmly. ‘In fact, I don’t want to see you here again until next Monday.’

‘But…’

‘No buts. You’ll get sick pay, so you won’t be out of pocket.’

Eileen, thinking of Tony on holiday all week, protested no more. Miss Thomas left, promising to come back in half an hour to take her home. Sister Kean brought Eileen’s coat from the locker.

‘D’you mind fetching Alfie?’ Eileen asked the nurse. ‘I’d like a word with him before I go.’

‘Miss Thomas will tell Alfie all he needs to know,’
Sister
Kean said abruptly.

‘No, she won’t. This is personal.’

‘As you wish. I’ll go and fetch him.’

The little black car chugged through the countryside, with Miss Thomas bent anxiously over the steering wheel, which was clutched tightly in her leather-gloved hands. She wore a mouldy fur coat that had seen many better days, and a battered felt hat, equally old.

‘I hate driving in this weather,’ she said.

The ditches each side of the narrow roads were piled high with snow. They passed Aintree Racecourse, an expanse of smooth, untrodden white.

‘This is where they run the Grand National, isn’t it?’ Miss Thomas remarked. ‘Have you ever been?’

Eileen shook her head. ‘It’s too cruel. Every year they shoot a couple of horses, but the horses didn’t ask to run. They should shoot the jockeys, instead. That might make them realise how cruel it is.’

Miss Thomas looked at her in surprise. ‘That’s a very astute remark, Eileen.’

Eileen felt a sense of irritation. You’d think she was a child who’d said something unexpectedly intelligent. ‘Why look so amazed? D’you think the working classes aren’t capable of making astute remarks?’ She didn’t care if it sounded rude.

‘I’m sorry. I was being patronising.’ Miss Thomas looked flustered as she braked on a curve and the car skidded on the icy road. There was silence for a while. Then she said, ‘You don’t like me much, do you, Eileen? I could tell, right from the start.’

Eileen didn’t answer straight away. ‘It’s not so much
you
I don’t like,’ she said eventually. ‘It’s your attitude. I
can’t
understand why you think, because you’re middle class, you can solve all the problems of us working classes. For all I know, you’ve problems of your own, but we never hear about them. Instead, we’re made to feel we’re the only ones who can’t manage our money, or our men, or take care of our children.’

‘It’s the job I was employed to do,’ Miss Thomas said defensively. She looked rather shaken by Eileen’s attack. ‘I’m there to look after the women’s welfare.’

‘Well, it’s about time they trained working-class women to look after their own welfare.’ Eileen hadn’t dreamt she could be so vocal. ‘All the charities, the Public Assistance boards, everywhere you turn for help, it’s run by posh people who don’t know what it’s like to be dead poor and bring up half a dozen kids on thirty bob a week, at the same time as being beaten silly by your husband.’

‘Is that what happened to you, Eileen?’ Miss Thomas asked quickly.

Eileen could have bitten off her tongue. ‘That’s got nothing to do with it,’ she said coldly.

‘Because if so, violent husbands belong right across the social strata, from the very top to the very bottom.’

‘Meaning I’m at the bottom, I suppose.’

‘Oh, dear! I keep saying the wrong thing,’ said Miss Thomas, flustered again. ‘It’s just that I knew a woman once whose husband was a highly respected lawyer with a title, a King’s Counsel, well liked and popular with his friends. But with his wife, he was brutal beyond belief. He treated her like an animal. I won’t go into all the things he did, you might not believe them, but he would make her sleep on the floor beside his bed or lock her in a cupboard for hours at a time. The servants pretended not to notice. When one little kitchen maid plucked up the
courage
to tell the police, they laughed in her face. “What? Sir Edward Matthews! Be off with you, girl, or we’ll have you in for slander.”’

‘Why didn’t she leave?’ asked Eileen incredulously.

They’d come to the corner of a busy road where there was little snow to be seen, except on the roofs of the shops and in little dirty mounds in the gutter. Miss Thomas muttered, ‘Isn’t this filthy,’ as she turned into the traffic, and the windscreen was immediately sprayed with dirt from a lorry in front.

‘Why didn’t she leave?’ she repeated thoughtfully, almost to herself. ‘She didn’t leave because she had three daughters. She knew there was no way she would be allowed to have her girls.’

‘Is she still there?’ Eileen asked.

Miss Thomas shook her head. ‘Five years ago, she realised she had the choice of leaving or losing her sanity. She left.’

‘Without the children?’

‘Without the children. They never realised what was going on and always preferred jovial daddy to their cowed, browbeaten mother. They’re all in their teens now. She writes to them, but they don’t reply. They think she just walked out on them, you see.’ Miss Thomas gave a little nervous laugh. ‘In the meantime, our heroine reverted to her maiden name, trained to be a social worker and went to work in London’s East End to help other women who were being brutalised by their husbands. Then, when the war began, she got a job as the Women’s Overseer in Dunnings.’

Eileen had already begun to suspect the truth. ‘I think it’s my turn to be sorry,’ she said humbly.

‘Just don’t think we all do it to make ourselves feel virtuous, Eileen,’ Miss Thomas said softly. ‘Some of us
genuinely
want to help.’ Suddenly, she smiled briskly and patted Eileen’s knee. ‘Now, I must confess I have no idea where I am. You’d better direct me from now on if you want to get home to Bootle.’

‘What do I look like?’ Eileen demanded.

‘You look dead nice, Mam, honest,’ Tony assured her.

‘Are you positive you don’t mind me going out on New Year’s Eve, like? I mean, I’ll stay home if you prefer.’

‘No, Mam,’ Tony said for the tenth time. ‘Mr Singerman’s going to teach me and Dominic and Niall how to play Monopoly. Auntie Sheila’s lit the fire in the parlour, and Grandad’s promised to bring lemonade when he comes.’ He was very much looking forward to the evening ahead. He was being allowed to stay up as late as he liked – till midnight, if he could remain awake that long.

‘Your Grandad won’t approve of Monopoly. He’ll say it’s just learning you to be a capitalist.’

Tony had no idea what a capitalist was and didn’t care. His mam had yet another look at her face in the mirror. She’d done her hair differently. It was pinned in a cushiony bump on top of her head. The posh lady, Mrs Fleming, from over the road, had loaned her a cream lace blouse with a high neck, the sort of blouse, he gathered from their conversation, that Queen Mary wore, and a brown velvet skirt. Mam looked a bit like a queen herself tonight, he thought proudly, though he couldn’t help but wish she’d get a move on.

‘If only I had a different coloured coat,’ she said worriedly. ‘Navy doesn’t go with brown at all.’

Tony couldn’t understand why she should care. Surely she’d take her coat off to dance?’

‘Well, I’ll be off now,’ she said, wrapping a thick scarf around her head, under her chin, and tying it at the back of her neck. She glanced in the mirror again. ‘I look as if I’m going to see to the cows, or something, not to a dance that cost five bob a ticket. Where’s me shoes?’ She panicked for a moment, until Tony found the shoes in a paper bag on the chair and she tucked them under her arm. ‘Come on, luv,’ she said impatiently, ushering Tony towards the door, as if, he thought irritably, it was
him
that had been holding
her
up. ‘I’ll pop you over to your Auntie Sheila’s on the way. I’m meeting one of the girls in the front carriage of the half past seven train, so I’d better get me skates on.’

On Wednesday last, Pauline, who lived in neighbouring Seaforth, had got off the Dunnings bus in Bootle to see how Eileen was, bringing with her a large box of chocolates from the women.

Eileen, touched, vowed to keep the round flowered box forever once the chocolates were eaten. ‘It’ll do for hankies or me jewellery.’

‘Are you feeling better?’ Pauline enquired.

‘I feel fine,’ she lied. Her neck still hurt and her body throbbed where the towel had struck her, but the pain was gradually fading.

‘We all reckoned you were in the pudding club,’ Pauline said with a sly smile.

Eileen laughed. ‘Well, y’reckoned wrong. I’m not.’

‘Doris got the message off Alfie saying you wanted to come on New Year’s Eve. She’s buying the tickets tomorrow, else we mightn’t get in on the door. There’s five of us going, including you. Even Winnie Li’s dad’s let her off for the night.’

‘In that case, I’ll give you my five bob now.’

‘Us two can go together, Eileen. I’ll meet you on the train.’

The girls gathered in Lyons restaurant, looking more like Eskimos, in their boots and scarves and fur gloves, than five women off to a ball at St George’s Hall. After a coffee, they trudged along Lime Street through the slush and the blackout. In the weak light of a watery moon, Eileen could see the streets were full of people heavily wrapped up against the bitterly cold wind which came sweeping in from the River Mersey. Trams rolled noisily by, eerie blue sparks exploding from the overhead electric lines, and cars beeped their horns as they stopped and started along the busy road.

‘I hope I meet someone with a car tonight,’ said Doris. ‘In fact, if some feller wants to dance, I’ll ask if he’s got a car first.’

‘In that case, you’ll be sitting out all night.’

‘Have we reached St George’s Hall yet? I’m sure we’ve passed it.’

After some argument, they managed to locate the entrance and made straight for the crowded Ladies to do their hair, adjust their make-up and change their shoes.

‘Phew!’ Eileen unwrapped her scarf and stuffed her gloves in her pocket.

‘What’d’ya think of me frock?’ Doris took off her coat and gave a little whirl to show off a black georgette creation, the bodice lavishly decorated with red and blue sequins. ‘I got it dead cheap,’ she boasted. ‘’Cos there’s some sequins missing, though you’d never notice.’

‘I noticed straight away,’ said Pauline. ‘There’s no middle to that flower.’

‘Oh, shurrup, spoilsport!’

‘That’s a lovely blouse, Eileen. It must have cost the
earth
,’ Theresa said admiringly.

‘It’s me neighbour’s.’ Jess had shown her a whole array of beautiful frocks, but Eileen’s choice had been limited by the need to hide her neck, which still remained red and slightly sore.

She ducked under a woman’s arm to examine herself in the mirror, powder her nose and apply another coat of lipstick. The earrings Annie had given her went well with the high-necked blouse and she had to concede she suited her hair smoothed back in a bun. In fact, she felt quite pleased with her appearance. You’d never guess the glowing woman in the mirror had been nearly strangled to death by her husband only a few short days ago. She shuddered, thinking about it. If it hadn’t been for Sheila coming over when she did …

‘Is everyone ready?’

They went out into the foyer and joined the queue for the cloakroom to leave their things. Eileen noticed a lot of people wearing evening dress and several men and a few women in uniform. There was a sparkle of excitement in the air, as if everyone had thrown off their immediate cares, forgotten the war, and were intent only on having a good time. Music could be heard, the orchestra was playing
Dancing in the Dark
.

Doris’s eyes were everywhere, sizing up the men. ‘I fancy that one over there! He’s dead handsome. I wouldn’t say no if he asked me to dance, car or no car.’

Eileen followed Doris’s admiring gaze and saw Nick smiling at her across the foyer. She felt her heart skip a beat. So Alfie had passed on the second message!

Nick began to push through the crowds towards her. He wore an evening suit, which made him look sophisticated and less boyish than usual. His unruly curls had been brushed flat against his head.

‘Christ! He’s coming over!’ Doris gasped. ‘I think I’m going to wet me keks!’

‘May I have the next dance?’ Nick stopped in front of Eileen and gave a little bow.

‘I think you’re supposed to wait till you’re inside,’ Eileen muttered, embarrassed.

Doris’s eyes narrowed jealously for a moment, then she gave a hoot of laughter. ‘Go on, Eileen. We’ll put your things in for you. That’s a record, that is. It’s the first time I’ve ever known anyone asked to dance before they got inside.’

Eileen’s heart was pounding as Nick led her onto the dance floor. Although convinced he’d come, nevertheless she was slightly dazed to see him in the flesh.

‘I can’t dance,’ she confessed as he drew her into his arms.

‘Now she tells me!’ he groaned, then, with his cheek against hers, he whispered, ‘Neither can I. I was hoping you’d show me.’

‘Me friend, Annie, has been trying to teach me all week.’ Each lesson had ended with them doubled up in laughter. ‘I think I’ve got the hang of the waltz and the foxtrot, but the quickstep’s beyond me.’

‘In that case,’ said Nick, ‘we’ll sit the quicksteps out.’

Eileen let herself relax against him, little caring that the girls would be bound to notice her dancing cheek to cheek with a man who, as far as they were concerned, she’d only just met.

Neither spoke as they shuffled slowly around the ballroom, unsure what they were dancing. A few enthusiastic couples, anxious to show off their expertise before the floor became too crowded, bumped into them from time to time.

‘I think that was Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers,’ Nick laughed, as another couple flashed by, missing them by inches.

The music finished and Nick led her to a corner where they sat down. ‘Something’s happened, hasn’t it?’ he said quietly. ‘I knew that, as soon as I got your message.’