Lights Out Liverpool (40 page)

‘I’d swop my new handbag for a cup of tea,’ Eileen said wearily. She refused Nick’s offer of a taxi home. ‘I think we might just catch the last train from Exchange Station. What about you?’ He’d left his motorbike in Melling.

‘I’ll get a bus as far as I can, then walk the rest. A good long walk in the dark will do me good. I’ll see you safely on the train.’

It seemed strange to walk through the near-deserted city centre after crowded, noisy London.

At Exchange Station, Nick gave Tony a hug, then kissed Eileen on the cheek. He said softly, ‘We’ll meet again?’

‘Tuesday morning, outside Dunnings,’ she confirmed.

She was unable to see the expression on his face in the dark station and was surprised when he pulled her against him and whispered in her ear, ‘You’re not going to push me to the fringes of your life again, are you, Eileen? Not after London?’

‘Of course not! How could I? We’ll work something out on Tuesday.’

‘Till then!’

He was gone.

On the way home, Eileen said to Tony, ‘I want you to keep a secret for me, luv.’

‘A war secret?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is, in a way. Don’t tell anyone about Nick, will you?’

‘Why should we have to keep Nick a secret?’ He
looked
surprised.

‘Well, some people won’t understand. The family know, and Jess and Annie, but I don’t want the rest of the street knowing me private business till it suits me to tell them.’

‘All right, Mam, but we won’t have to keep him a secret forever, will we?’

‘No, luv, not forever.’

Sheila was the first to call next morning.

‘Did you have a nice time?’ she asked, though the expression on her sister’s radiant face answered the question for her. Any lingering doubts Sheila had about divorce fled. Everyone was entitled to love and be loved. Surely God would think that more important than sticking to a few words uttered at a marriage ceremony?

‘It was the gear!’ breathed Eileen. ‘It seems awful funny to be back in Pearl Street after London. It was so noisy and full of life.’

‘Give me Pearl Street, any day,’ Sheila said contentedly. Apart from wanting Cal home, she had no wish to change her life one jot.

‘What’s been happening while I was gone?’

‘Nothing much. Oh, Paddy O’Hara’s got a puppy, Rover. He seems to have split up with Miss Brazier, though don’t start feeling sorry for him. He’s been grinning from ear to ear ever since.’

‘I brought you a little present back from London.’ Eileen presented her sister with the statue. ‘I’ll get your kids some Easter eggs later on. I should have got them before I went away, but it went out of me mind completely.’

‘I’ll put it on me mantelpiece straight away.’ Sheila went off, delighted.

As soon as she’d gone, Eileen roused Tony. ‘I’ll make
your
breakfast while you get dressed, but there’s no grilled mix today. It’s back to cornflakes, I’m afraid.’

‘I don’t mind. I’m dying to show Dominic me Spitfire.’

‘While you’re doing that, I’ll pop round to Grandad’s.’

She met Gladys Tutty on the way. Since Freda had returned from Southport, a new Gladys had begun to emerge from Number 14, with a scrubbed face and washed hair. She wore an old, but clean, black bouclé coat and proper shoes.

‘Happy Easter, Gladys,’ sang Eileen.

‘Our Freda only sent me out for a new exercise book,’ Gladys grumbled. ‘That’s all she ever does, bloody homework.’

‘Well, you should be proud, Gladys, I hope Tony is as keen on homework when he gets a bit older.’

The woman went off, mumbling to herself, and Eileen smiled.

There was no sign of her dad when she let herself into the house in Garnet Street. Sean was pottering around, looking useless.

‘Where is he?’

Her brother nodded towards the stairs. ‘He’s having a lie-in,’ he said indignantly. ‘He only made me get up and make a cup of tea.’

‘Right thing, too. It’s about time you took your turn.’

As she ran upstairs, Sean shouted, ‘Tell him I’ll leave home and get married if he makes me do it every morning like he said.’

Her dad was sitting smoking, propped against the pillows in the bed he’d shared with Mam, his striped winceyette pyjamas buttoned up to the neck. Several of yesterday’s newspapers were spread over the green eiderdown.

‘What’s up with you?’ she demanded.

‘Nowt!’ he growled. ‘I just felt like a lie-in, that’s all.’

‘But you never lie in!’

‘Well, I do now. I thought it’d do that lazy bugger downstairs good to wait on me for a change. Anyroad,’ he offered her a cigarette and she shook her head, ‘what have you been up to over the weekend?’

Eileen sat on the edge of the bed. ‘You know darn well what I’ve been up to. I’ve been to London. In fact, I’ve brought you a present.’ She handed him the tea caddy.

He gave it a cursory glance and said, ‘Ta,’ but didn’t touch it.

Eileen put the caddy on the dressing table. She wasn’t upset by his apparent rejection of the gift. He’d treasure it, as he treasured everything given him by his family.

‘Did you go with Nick?’ he asked gruffly.

‘You know that, too,’ she said. With Eileen’s approval, her sister kept Dad up to date on her affairs. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Why should I mind?’ he said, shrugging his massive shoulders. ‘It’s your life.’ He picked up a paper and began to read.

Ah, but you didn’t think so once, Eileen thought. Not when you persuaded me to marry Francis.

‘You like Nick, don’t you?’ she asked cautiously.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘I’ve only seen him the once. He seemed a reasonable enough feller. Bit poncey, but what more can you expect if he went to university like you said.’

‘Oh, Dad!’

‘Anyroad,’ he turned a page, pretending to read, ‘it don’t matter if I like him or not, does it? According to our Sheila, you plan on getting wed once you’re rid of Francis Costello.’

‘Would that bother you?’

He put the paper down and stared at her accusingly. ‘Why are you so keen on having my opinion? Course it wouldn’t bother me.’

‘Not even divorcing Francis?’

‘I don’t care if you shoot the bastard. Though again, according to Sheila, divorcing him won’t be an easy matter.’

‘No,’ she confessed. ‘The solicitor more or less told me to go and jump in the Mersey. Miss Thomas, a woman from work, is trying to find me another one.’

He lifted the paper and pretended to read again, his blue eyes moving to and fro over the print. ‘I might be able to help you there,’ he said casually.

‘You!’ she said astonished.

‘I could write to Francis and promise to go through with the nomination as planned, as long as he made no objection to a divorce.’

‘You’d do that! For me?’ she gasped, even more astonished.

Her dad flung the paper down impatiently. ‘For Chrissakes, girl,’ he said angrily. ‘You’re my daughter. I’d lay down me life for you.’

‘But,’ she said, flustered, ‘surely you wouldn’t want Francis Costello for an MP, not after what you know about him?’

He smiled. ‘He wouldn’t be much worse than most. Anyroad, there’s quite a few men want to fill Albert Findlay’s shoes when he retires. I’m only promising to nominate Francis. I’m not promising he’ll win.’ He tapped his nose with his finger and said slyly, ‘A few words in the right ears and Francis won’t be any the wiser when he loses!’

‘Oh, Dad!’ She hugged him. ‘Don’t write the letter
yet
, though. I’ll see what the solicitor has to say.’

‘Gerroff!’ he muttered, pushing her away. Eileen felt a moment of hurt, because he welcomed the slightest gesture of affection from Sheila. ‘Now leave me alone to read me papers in peace, and on your way out, tell our Sean I’d like another cup of tea.’

When Arthur Fleming got home from work one evening just after Easter, Jess was sitting at the table reading a magazine. There was no sign of a meal, not even a cup of tea.

He nodded politely and said, ‘Evening, Jess,’ which was as far as any demonstration of affection went nowadays.

‘Hallo, Arthur,’ she replied absently.

He sat down, opened
The Times
, and decided not to comment on the lack of food and drink. Jess had been in the strangest mood lately. It was as if he’d lived with several different women over the last year. There was the greedy, grasping Jess of old, then the martyr bravely going out to work. After she’d given up her job, she’d changed. There’d been elements of the girl he’d married, as she’d gone round singing at the top of her voice. Lately, though, she seemed to be in a dream world all of her own. He would find her gazing abstractedly into the fire, as if she could see things invisible to him. Whatever those things were, they must have been pleasant, because she was forever smiling, if only to herself, like the cat that had got the best of the cream.

She was smiling now, as she sat with her chin in her hand, looking like a Botticelli angel with her red hair loose and rippling down her back. Her face seemed rather plump, thought Arthur, and it made her appear more youthful, almost girlish.

‘How are you getting on in the ARP, Arthur?’

He jumped, the question was so unexpected. ‘All right. They’re a good crowd.’ He’d joined just after Christmas when Jess and Jacob Singerman had started to give concerts for the troops, conscious of the fact that he himself was doing absolutely nothing towards the war effort.

‘Are there any lady ARP wardens?’ she asked innocently.

Alarm bells began to ring inside his head. What the hell was she driving at? ‘A couple,’ he answered, just as innocently.

‘Then I expect the lipstick on your shirt belonged to one of them,’ she said in a matter of fact voice.

‘What shirt? What lipstick?’ he spluttered.

‘The red lipstick on the collar of your blue shirt. I scrubbed it off. It seemed silly to produce it, like evidence.’

‘Now, look here, Jess,’ he began heatedly, ‘you’re not to read things into this that don’t exist.’

‘Your blue shirt exists, Arthur,’ she said calmly. ‘The lipstick’s gone now, but that existed for a while. Someone’s been kissing you. Is that all you did, Arthur? Kiss?’

Oh, God! ‘That’s all, Jess, I swear,’ he said with all the conviction he could muster, but he was no good at lying, never had been. One of the reasons the business had gone bust was because he was too honest for his own good.

‘You’re not telling the truth, dear. I can tell by your face. You’re having an affair.’

There seemed little use denying it. ‘Not a proper affair, Jess …’

‘An improper one?’ she suggested, smiling.

Her attitude made him feel uneasy. She was up to something. It seemed unnatural, this apparently calm, serene acceptance of the fact he’d been with another woman. Why didn’t she scream and yell or throw him
out
of the house? Perhaps she was working up to a terrific rage and any minute now she’d chuck that vase of daffodils at his head. He almost hoped she would. It was no more than he deserved.

‘I was lonely,’ he said defensively. ‘Mavis was …’

‘Mavis? That’s a pretty name,’ she remarked.

‘Her husband’s been sent down to work at Plymouth Docks. She was lonely, too. And, and …’

‘Frustrated?’ suggested Jess.

‘Well, since you mention it, yes,’ he said bluntly.

‘I know how Mavis felt.’

‘Oh, do you now!’ What a joke? She’d not come near his bed, not once, since they moved to Bootle.

There was silence for a good five minutes. He kept expecting Jess to explode and was ready to duck if the daffodils came his way, but her next remark took him even more by surprise.

‘I’ve not been much of a wife to you, have I, Arthur?’ She folded her arms on the table and stared at him thoughtfully.

‘Well, I don’t know about that, Jess,’ he said uncomfortably, unsure whether the answer was yes or no.

She hardly seemed to notice he’d spoken. ‘I think the worst thing was not being aware of how miserable you were at work. It wasn’t until I worked for Veronica that I realised how important it was to be happy in your job. When I left, I felt as if I’d been liberated. Poor Arthur, you were in chains for nearly twenty years.’

‘That’s putting it a bit strong, Jess.’ He felt worried that she’d begun to lose her mind.

‘I’m sorry, Arthur, that I didn’t notice. We should have got someone in to manage the business.’

‘That’s all right, Jess,’ he muttered.

She seemed to forget he was there for a while, staring
dreamily
into the fire, and Arthur wondered, of all the various Jesses he’d experienced lately, which did he prefer most? A bit of each, he decided eventually. This one was definitely too odd for him. He was more than a bit miffed that she’d accepted his hasty, not very pleasant affair so easily. Why wasn’t she jealous? Surely, a husband was entitled to an angry reaction from his wife when he strayed off the straight and narrow? But she’d taken it all so calmly. Why?

‘Arthur,’ she said pleasantly, ‘I’m pregnant.’

He stared at her, thunderstruck. It had been ages since they’d … He counted the months. Eight. Her face was plump, but that was all. She was definitely not eight months pregnant.

‘Jess! You haven’t …’ He couldn’t go on.

She nodded smilingly. ‘I have, dear. I’ve had an affair, too.’

‘Who with?’

‘That, Arthur, I will never tell you. You can ask till your face is as blue as the shirt the lipstick was on, but I’ll never, never tell you.’

‘But how could you be unfaithful to me?’ he demanded wildly.

‘How could you be unfaithful to me, Arthur?’

‘I told you, I was lonely and … and frustrated.’

‘So was I.’

‘You never said.’

‘Neither did you.’

Arthur felt as if drums were beating a war chant in his head. Another man had touched his Jess! He wanted to kill him. ‘I need a drink!’

He slammed his way into the front room and the glasses and bottles clinked together furiously as he pulled down the door of the cocktail cabinet. He poured himself
a
large glass of whisky and swallowed it neat.

‘Arthur,’ Jess had followed, ‘don’t be angry.’

‘How can I not be angry when you’ve been with another man?’ He flung the glass at the wall, where it shattered into a thousand pieces which fell like silver sparks onto the carpet.