Memories Are Made of This (12 page)

‘Obviously not.' Jeanette wondered why Peggy should think she would have given it to him when Peggy had made it clear that she thought going out with him was a waste of time. Besides, she was determined not to get involved in Peggy's love life again. Her friend's father had wanted to know everything that had happened the night of the Grafton incident. She had backed up what Peggy had told him, but he had looked at her as if he doubted her word. She had also been aware of Peggy's brother Marty's eyes on her. Maybe he didn't believe her either.

‘Perhaps I'll see one of them next week,' said Jeanette.

‘Your great-aunt hasn't discovered you're working part time at the milk bar yet?' asked Peggy.

‘Surprisingly, no. I can only believe she really is getting senile.'

‘Well, I'm hoping to be back at work on Monday,' said Peggy. ‘I'm real fed up being stuck at home.'

The following morning, no sooner had Jeanette walked into the office than Elsie, the other typist, greeted her with the words, ‘Have you seen this?'

‘Seen what?' asked Jeanette, removing her headscarf and fluffing out her light brown hair.

‘The dockers are on strike – which means if they're all out, there'll be no ships getting loaded or unloaded today!'

A dismayed Jeanette remembered Norm and Jimmy mentioning a strike. ‘That could mean we might be laid off and have money docked from our wages!' she cried.

‘I know, although I've still got some work to do,' said Elsie. ‘Bills to type and a couple of letters from yesterday.'

Jeanette pulled a face. ‘I haven't! I just hope to God that there'll be some ships arriving in the Mersey today despite the strike. Perhaps some will get unloaded. Are today's expected arrivals listed on the board?'

Elsie nodded. ‘But it's reckoned that there are already forty-four ships idle on both sides of the river. If any ships do dock today, they could be here for some time. Fruit could rot in the holds. I'm not sure what will happen with the frozen meat from Australia and New Zealand.'

‘Surely they'll just keep the freezers going, and where the fruit's concerned it shouldn't be too bad because it's not as if it's high summer. I wonder if the boss will decide to send us home early?'

‘I wonder. Do you have something you can be doing at home?' asked Elsie.

Jeanette removed the cover from her typewriter. ‘I guarantee that, if I were home, my great-aunt would find me something to do that I don't want to do. It's not that I'm averse to a bit of housework or cooking, but I'd rather be earning my living.'

At that moment the door to the manager's office opened and both girls turned to give him their attention.

There was not much for them to do that day after all, but they weren't sent home. At twelve fifteen Jeanette found Peggy making tea in the room where they ate their lunch. They discussed the strike and Jeanette mused aloud as to whether it would affect Pete as he also worked in a shipping office. ‘I wish I had thought to ask which company he worked for,' she murmured.

‘Is he the spitting image of Norm?' asked Peggy, her expression brightening.

Jeanette nodded.

Peggy asked no more questions, but sat looking thoughtful.

At the end of the afternoon the manager told Jeanette and Elsie to come in the following morning as not all the dockers were on strike, adding the proviso, weather permitting. A blanket of fog had descended over the course of the afternoon, so that by going home time, the Pierhead was invisible and the mournful sound of a ship's foghorn could be heard from the Mersey.

As Jeanette and Peggy left the building there was hardly a tram or bus to be seen, so they decided to start walking home. As they made their way up Water Street, Jeanette could hear footsteps behind them.

‘D'you hear that?' she whispered, quickening her pace.

‘Hear what?' Peggy's voice was muffled through the scarf covering her mouth and nose.

‘It sounds like someone dragging their foot.'

In the silence that followed they heard a quickening footstep followed by that dragging sound again.

‘It reminds me of a Sherlock Holmes film,' said Peggy.

‘Maybe someone has fallen and hurt their foot just like you did,' suggested Jeanette.

They both turned and a moment later a limping figure materialized out of the fog. He lowered the football scarf swathed about his neck and mouth and said, ‘It is Jeanette, isn't it?'

She nodded.

‘He does look the spitting image of Norm,' said Peggy, a hint of wonder in her voice.

Pete stared at her. ‘I'm his twin. You must be Peggy, and I take it your foot's OK now from the speed the pair of you were walking?'

‘It still gives me some gyp now and again,' said Peggy. ‘I take it your Norm mentioned me?' She sounded gratified.

‘That's right. He asked me to try and look out for you.'

‘You chose a good night,' said Jeanette, deciding to get a word in, and remembering the way he had winked at her in the milk bar.

He grinned. ‘Luck of the draw.'

‘So where do you work?'

‘King's Dock.'

Peggy looked from one to the other. ‘Can we get a move on?'

‘Sure! Sorry to keep you,' said Pete, an edge to his voice.

Peggy said hastily, ‘It's just that it's freezing standing here and it's my first day back at work. I'm wishing I was indoors by a lovely roaring fire. Don't you?'

‘Sure.'

‘Me too,' said Jeanette. ‘Shall we get going?'

‘I must admit I'm hoping there's some buses or trams running,' said Pete, limping between the pair of them. ‘I don't fancy walking all the way to Bootle in this damn fog. Where d'you live, Jeanette?'

‘Not your way. Besides, I thought I'd drop in on my brother and sister at police headquarters. I just might be able to get a lift in a shiny black police car. Sam is a detective sergeant,' she said with a hint of pride.

‘Now there's a coincidence,' said Pete. ‘My older brother's in the Bootle division.'

‘You mean your brother is a policeman?' said Peggy, sounding dismayed.

‘Yeah, and you don't have to sound like that,' said Pete grimly. ‘I don't like it either. Since our Dougie joined, me and our Norm have been expected to toe the line and not make a wrong move. If he hadn't wanted us to be saints, I wouldn't be a cripple now.'

‘I have my dad always going on at me, wanting to know what I'm up to,' said Peggy. ‘It's not just policemen who are like that.'

‘I have the same worry,' said Jeanette. ‘Except it's my great-aunt I have breathing down my neck. My dad's lovely and our Hester and Sam aren't bad, but Aunt Ethel is an old witch. She was a prison wardress!'

‘Bloody hell!' exclaimed Pete. ‘Doesn't it drive you crazy? I'd be leaving home.'

‘That's what I want to do but I can't afford it just yet,' said Jeanette.

The three of them walked on in silence until they came to a bus stop. There Peggy halted. ‘My foot's hurting and maybe if we wait here for five minutes, a bus might come along.'

‘That's a good idea,' said Jeanette. ‘You're both going the same way. I'll say
tarrah
now. If you can pass on a message to Betty and Jimmy, Pete, tell them I did enjoy their company.' She hurried away, calling over her shoulder, ‘See you in the morning, Peggy!'

She arrived outside police headquarters to the rear of the fire station in no time at all, although she had no intention of going inside. It had just been an excuse in case Pete offered to see her home after asking where she lived. She hadn't wanted to put him to any trouble. She carried on walking, wondering what he and Peggy would talk about on their way home.

By morning the fog had evaporated and after listening to the news on the wireless, Jeanette was ready to leave the house when the post arrived. She picked it up before Ethel had a chance to get her hands on it and rifled through the envelopes and found one for Hester. She had not long left and had gone on foot. It was possible that Jeanette might catch her up if she hurried herself.

She reached the main road and spotted Hester a few yards ahead of her. Despite being out of breath, Jeanette shouted her name. At first Hester appeared not to have heard her, and then she turned her head. At the same time, Jeanette heard the sound of a bus and she ran for all she was worth. Fit to collapse with running so hard, Jeanette was heaved aboard by her half-sister. There were no seats available so they had to strap hang.

When Jeanette got her breath back she handed the envelope to Hester. ‘This just came for you.'

Hester's face lit up. ‘It's from Myra Jones. I recognize her handwriting.'

‘You mean the woman you stayed with when you were evacuated?'

‘Yes!' said Hester. ‘Oh, I'm glad she's still alive. Neither of them were young and I was worried in case they'd died. Myra had a nephew, David Jones.'

‘You're kidding! Is that why you wrote to her?' asked Jeanette.

‘Partly. But I was very fond of her and I really liked the area where I stayed.'

‘I can't see how it can be the same person as my David Jones,' murmured Jeanette. ‘Wrong direction.'

‘He didn't live in Whalley. Anyway, I've been thinking about the past and wondered if they'd be able to help me find someone as well,' she added casually.

‘Who?' asked Jeanette, taking a couple of coins out of her pocket ready to pay her fare.

Hester did not answer but murmured, ‘Memory is a strange thing.'

Jeanette slanted her a startled look. ‘What d'you mean?'

Hester folded the envelope and placed it in her pocket. ‘I met a lad whilst I was staying with Myra. I never did get his name or give him mine, but I think he must have been an evacuee too because he mentioned living in the city. He made me laugh.'

‘Was he lodging in the same house?' asked Jeanette.

‘No. I met him when I tripped over some wire across a hole in a hedge and landed in a patch of mud. He'd done the same thing a few minutes earlier and he helped me up. The wire had cut into my shin and he said I needed to put some iodine on it.' She paused and added in a surprised voice. ‘I've never told anyone else that before.'

‘Well, now you have, tell me more about him.'

‘OK! I said that I would put iodine on the cut and then I straightened up. We looked at each other and burst out laughing because we were covered in mud.' Hester's face was soft with remembrance.

‘So what happened next?' asked Jeanette, nudging her to continue.

Hester sighed. ‘The farmer came along, cuffed him over the head and hauled him away.'

‘So did you meet again?'

‘Oh yes, but only briefly.' A small smile played about her mouth. ‘I was ten when I'd left Liverpool almost two years earlier, and I was just sprouting a bust and starting to find boys not so much of a nuisance. There was this . . . this feeling there between us. I felt excited and scared at the same time in his company. Anyway, he suddenly grabbed me and kissed me.'

‘Was he a good kisser?' Jeanette was remembering how David Jones had kissed her so unexpectedly.

Hester's smile deepened. ‘It didn't last long enough for me to tell, even if I'd had any experience to judge it by. It was my very first kiss, so I've never forgotten it. Anyway, that was the last time I saw him because Aunt Ethel came and took me back to Liverpool shortly after.'

‘And you never heard from him again. What a shame!'

‘I know the city was in the north, so maybe he came from Bolton or Blackburn.'

‘And you thought Mrs Jones might have been able to help you trace him?'

Hester shrugged.

Jeanette was fascinated by this glimpse into her half-sister's past. ‘The farm could still be there, you know. You really should go and see if you can find him.'

‘Don't be daft! He'll have forgotten about me.'

‘You haven't forgotten about him.'

‘No, but men and women are different. Besides, I mightn't be able to find the farm. I remember blackberrying and gathering hazelnuts along the hedgerows nearby, but there are plenty of lanes like that around Whalley.'

‘Whalley? I've heard that name somewhere else recently.' Jeanette frowned in thought but could not remember, adding, ‘You shouldn't give up, you know.'

Hester looked amused. ‘It's not a matter of giving up. I never got started searching for him.'

‘But he could have been the one fated for you,' whispered Jeanette, suddenly aware that people were listening to their conversation.

‘I don't believe that there is one man in the world destined for one person,' said Hester.

‘But you read Mills & Boon,' protested Jeanette. ‘Isn't that what they're all about?'

Hester did not answer.

The conductor came for their fares and after they had paid they were silent, wrapped up in their own thoughts as the vehicle made its way into town.

Suddenly there was a loud bang, startling them so much that the sisters clung to each other. Through the window they saw a car hurtling across the road and onto the pavement where it shuddered to a stop.

Their bus came to a halt and, without a second thought, Hester forced her way past the people standing in her way. Determined not to be left behind and wanting to be of help too, Jeanette followed her, guessing that, as a policewoman, Hester saw it as her job to see if she could be of assistance. They soon realized that another bus had skidded to a halt near Erskine Street and was blocking the way. A couple of men, one wearing a soldier's uniform, were already making their way towards the car.

Jeanette clutched Hester's arm as she caught sight of an unconscious woman hanging out of the passenger side. Her legs were pinned by the door so that she could not move.