Lights Out Liverpool (35 page)

Paddy wished Helen would let him go. He knew he could never bring himself to tell her. She was sensitive and easily hurt. He remembered the agonised sobbing coming through the thin walls, and couldn’t have stood being the cause of similar distress.

He sighed. A woman in Opal Street had a litter of puppies to dispose of, a touch spaniel, so he understood, with a hint of sheepdog, though it might have been alsatian, the woman wasn’t sure. There were three male puppies and Paddy would have liked one, but it didn’t seem fair. He was scarcely in his room nowadays and hadn’t the time to spare to train a dog.

Although Paddy’s world remained as dark as ever, he understood the nights were getting lighter, which meant, he thought hopefully, that Helen’s knock would come later and later. Like him, she wanted the affair kept a secret, but lately she’d been dropping hints and Paddy had a feeling she was hinting they should get married, which frightened him. He hadn’t realised until now how much he treasured his freedom; freedom to get up when he liked, wander the streets with Spot at his heels, go for a drink.

There was a tap on the wall. Paddy sighed and went next door to do his duty.

Before going to work on the hated afternoon shift, Eileen Costello popped over to Jessica’s to return a book she’d borrowed. Since Christmas, the two women had become friendly. Jessica opened the door in her dressing gown, looking wan and drawn.

‘I’m not so well again this morning,’ she explained.

‘It’s about time you went to see the doctor.’ It was the third day in a row she’d been off colour.

‘I will if I don’t feel better soon. Would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to make one. For some reason, I’ve gone off coffee completely.’ Jessica stood aside to let Eileen in.

‘I wouldn’t say no, though I’m in a rush as usual. I can’t stop more than a few minutes, like.’

There was a fire burning in the new fireplace which Eileen’s dad had helped Arthur Fleming instal.

‘I like the colour of your tiles much better than mine, Jess,’ Eileen remarked. The tiles were a sort of oyster colour, much more cheerful than her own dark green, but then it was Francis who’d chosen the fireplace, not her. She went into the kitchen and surveyed the electric stove with its peculiar solid metal rings, and watched with fascination as the electric kettle was plugged in. Suddenly, Jessica clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘I think I’m going to be sick again.’ She disappeared down the yard to the lavatory.

Eileen made the tea when the kettle boiled and was getting the cups ready when Jessica came back, her face grey, looking worse than ever.

‘Come and sit down.’ Eileen helped her to a chair. ‘Perhaps you’ve got the flu or something.’

‘It’s something, all right. I’ve never felt so ill in all my life.’

‘Perhaps you should go back to bed?’ Eileen suggested.

Jessica shook her head. ‘No, it’ll pass. It usually does. By midday, I’ll feel my old self. Anyway, Jacob and I have got a concert tonight.’

‘Eileen smiled. ‘If I didn’t know any different, Jess, I’d say it was morning sickness.’ Jessica had confided she couldn’t have children.

‘Morning sickness? What’s that?’ Jessica asked limply. She’d never heard of it before.

‘I had it when I was expecting Tony. Quite a few women are sick in the morning when they first become pregnant.’

Pregnant!

After Eileen had let herself out, Jessica Fleming sat thunderstruck in the chair.

Pregnant!

Of course she was! As Eileen explained her own symptoms, Jessica realised hers were exactly the same. Even as the single word, ‘pregnant’ was spoken, Jessica knew with utter certainty it was the case. She’d missed two periods and had actually thought it the onset of the change of life. But now! She pulled up her nightdress and laid her hands flat on her stomach. There was a child curled up inside her, growing. It meant that all those years she’d thought she was barren, it had been Arthur’s fault. There’d been just that one time with Jack Doyle and here she was, at forty-three, expecting a child. Since that night of ecstatic madness when all inhibitions had gone out of the window, they’d both acted as if nothing had happened; Jack churlish as ever, Jessica scrupulously polite. He was too honourable a man to conduct an affair, and she loved Arthur too much to be consistently unfaithful.

Jessica, still nauseous, was as yet unbothered as to how she would explain her condition to her husband. All that concerned her was the breathtaking, wondrous realisation that she was pregnant. A year ago, if she’d been offered the choice of giving up her house in Calderstones, her Aga, the car, her lovely clothes, in exchange for a child, Jessica wouldn’t have hesitated.
She
would have chosen the child.

And, in a way, that’s how things had turned out. If she hadn’t moved to Bootle, the miracle would never have occurred. All the upheaval, losing the business and the house, had been worth it, more than worth it, in the end.

Later on, when she felt better, she’d get dressed up to the nines and go into town and buy something from Henderson’s or George Henry Lee’s – a matinée jacket or a lacy bonnet. She didn’t care if she met any of her old neighbours. Nothing mattered except that, at an age when most women became grandmothers, Jessica Fleming was expecting a baby of her own.

Nick’s face was heavy and unsmiling when Eileen met him outside the factory at six o’clock. Since the weather had improved, they’d begun to meet during the afternoon dinner break.

‘What’s the matter’?’ she asked warily.

‘Nothing,’ he said shortly. He didn’t touch her and began to walk along the path beside the stream.

Eileen knew there was something seriously wrong as she followed a few feet behind. It was going to be a beautiful night, and she wished he was in a better mood so they could enjoy it together. Across the darkening green fields, the sun was slowly disappearing into the horizon, like a jelly melting, she thought to herself, and the sky was a rippling mass of vivid green and scarlet. The stream rippled busily along, washing the white stones even whiter as it frothed over them. She wondered where the stream ended up? Perhaps, one day, she and Nick might follow it.

‘I’ve applied to join the Royal Air Force!’ Nick stopped and began to kick at the grass like a sulky schoolboy. Pebbles landed in the water with a faint plopping sound.

‘Oh, Nick!’ Eileen cried, clutching his arm. Then, in a relieved voice, she said, ‘They’ll never take you.’

He looked down at her and said incredulously, ‘So that’s what you think! I’m not a fit person to fight for his country.’

‘You know that’s not what I meant,’ she protested. ‘You’re doing too important a job already.’

‘
You
might think it’s important.
They
might think it’s important. But I don’t. It’s a despicable job. It’s sneaky and underhand and I hate it.’

‘But, Nick …’ she began.

He ignored the interruption. ‘I loathe the very idea of war, but it’s happening, and while it’s happening I want to play a proper part, not stand around in a white coat fiddling with wires, but in a uniform like every other young man in the country.’

Eileen didn’t bother to argue. It was no use telling him there were thousands of other young men who hadn’t been called up because their trade or expertise was needed at home.

‘What about us?’ she asked in a small voice.

Nick laughed bitterly. ‘What about us, Eileen?’

He was always doing that, turning her own question back on her.

‘I would have thought you’d want to stay – for me,’ she said hesitantly.

‘Oh, you would, would you?’ The sarcasm in his voice made Eileen flinch. ‘Why? So we can walk along this blasted stream together for an hour every day? Have a drink in the pub? Go to the pictures once a week and say goodbye at your front door? Why should I want to stay for that?’

‘I’m a married woman …’

Before she could finish, Nick broke in with a snort.
‘I’m
sick to death of hearing that. “I’m a married woman, Nick.” So bloody what? You’re not a
happily
married woman, at least I don’t think so. I’m not trusted with your confidences. On New Year’s Eve, you seemed different. You actually introduced me to your family, and I thought things were going to change, but they haven’t. I’ve never seen your family since, and you’re as hesitant and weak-willed as you ever were.’

‘I’m not weak-willed,’ she said indignantly.

‘You’re too weak-willed to make any sort of commitment.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, puzzled.

To her astonishment, he took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. ‘Eileen. I’m in love with you. I want us to be married sometime in the future.’

‘Married!’ she said faintly.

He let her go, almost contemptuously, and turned away. He stood looking in the direction of the sun. At that moment, it vanished from the sky altogether. ‘Has the thought of marriage never crossed your mind before?’ he asked.

Eileen shoved her hands in her pockets. ‘No. Well, yes. I’m not sure,’ she stammered.

‘You’re making yourself very clear.’

‘Don’t be so sarcastic, Nick. You’ve no idea of my situation …’

He broke in again. ‘Only because you won’t tell me what your situation is. Every time I try to talk about your husband, you change the subject. You don’t love him, but you won’t tell me why. What sort of man is he, good or bad? Do you intend leaving him? If not, what are you doing here?’ He kicked viciously at the grass. ‘I feel as if we’ve had this conversation a dozen times before. You’ve no right to keep me in the dark, Eileen.’

‘No, I haven’t,’ she conceded. She knew she was being unfair. For too long, she’d been stringing him along because it was nice, more than nice, to have someone like Nick in love with her whilst she held him at an appropriate distance. She bit her lip, suddenly nervous. It was time for a decision.

‘You fell in love with the wrong person, Nick,’ she began quietly.

But tonight Nick seemed determined never to let her finish a sentence. He caught her in his arms, murmuring hoarsely, ‘No, no, no!’ before pressing his lips against hers. She felt his tongue, hard and hungry, and opened her mouth to allow him to explore her own. They stood, so close, it was as if they were one person, on the banks of the little stream outside Dunnings, oblivious to everything except their own mounting passion.

‘I love you! Dear God, Eileen, if you only knew how much I love you!’ he groaned eventually. He clasped her face in both hands and she felt his thumbs heavy on her cheeks.

‘And I love you.’ She’d never said those words to anyone before. She said them again in a clear ringing voice. ‘I love you, Nick.’

Eileen returned to work, exhilarated, convinced she would get little done for the remainder of the shift. The first person she saw was Miss Thomas going into her office. On impulse, Eileen followed, suddenly struck with an idea.

She knocked on the open glass door – it was never closed unless someone else was there – just as Miss Thomas sat down at her desk.

‘Can I have a word with you?’

Miss Thomas gave her usual friendly smile. ‘Of
course
, Eileen. Come in and close the door.’ She gestured towards the chair in front of the desk. ‘How can I help?’

Eileen decided there was no point in beating about the bush. She plunged right in. ‘I want to divorce me husband,’ she said bluntly, ‘and I’ve no idea how to go about it. I know you see a solicitor, but what happens then?’

For a moment, Miss Thomas looked stunned. ‘Divorce?’ Then she smiled, somewhat grimly. ‘You’re starting from the worst possible position.’

‘In what way?’

‘You’re a woman! The odds are stacked against women when it comes to divorce. I don’t know much about it, my husband specialised in criminal law, but I know men have everything on their side.’

‘Oh!’ Eileen felt suddenly deflated.

Miss Thomas didn’t appear to notice her forlorn expression. She began to list further difficulties. Property and other possessions were always deemed to be the man’s, even if the woman had contributed towards their purchase. And Eileen would need money. Solicitors didn’t come cheap.

‘I take it,’ Miss Thomas said, ‘that the grounds would be cruelty?’ When Eileen nodded, she went on, ‘In which case, I would be happy to appear as a witness. I can vouch for the injuries I saw.’

‘Thank you,’ Eileen whispered.

It was only then the woman behind the desk noticed Eileen’s downcast face. ‘I’m sorry, Eileen, to be such a Jeremiah, but from the woman’s point of view, divorce is fraught with difficulties – I know only too well from my own experience. When I left, my husband told me not to bother trying. Cruelty is very difficult to prove. Judges are not only exclusively male, but very old-fashioned. They disapprove of women disposing of their husbands,
no
matter what the blighter has been up to. Some judges regard a wife as merely the property of the man, with him having the right to do whatsoever he pleases with her.’

As the total injustice of the situation sank in, Eileen began to boil with indignation. ‘It’s not bloody right!’ she exclaimed.

‘Women have always been second-class citizens,’ Miss Thomas commented dryly. ‘You never know, the war might go some way towards remedying the situation, we’ll just have to see. But in the meantime, we’ve got a long fight on our hands, Eileen, if we are ever to expect equality with men.’

‘Are you suggesting it’s not worth trying – for a divorce, I mean?’ Eileen asked.

‘Oh, no!’ Miss Thomas looked shocked. ‘I was preparing you for the difficulties that lie ahead. We’ll never win the fight, will we, if we give up before we’ve even started?’

‘Well, thank you very much for the advice,’ Eileen was about to leave when Miss Thomas said hesitantly, ‘I don’t wish to pry, but I’ve seen you outside with a young man. Is there a third party involved?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘To put it another way, are you having an affair? No!’ she raised her hand, ‘don’t answer that, it’s none of my business. It’s just that if you could persuade your husband to divorce
you
on the grounds of your adultery, it might be the best option. It would be easier and cheaper, so long as you don’t mind the damage to your reputation.’