It Had To Be You (11 page)

She knew that she must not be forever thinking of Dougie. After all, she’d had a life here in the village before she met him. Not only was there her bookkeeping but there was a lot to be done in the garden. She must water her tomato plants that evening without fail. When the time came for her to make her special chutney she wanted there to be plenty of green tomatoes left on the plants, never mind luscious, ripe red ones. She had to get everything done if she wanted Wednesday to be clear for her trip to Liverpool.

‘Who are you getting all dolled up for?’ asked Maggie. ‘You’re not going to the Prince’s Landing Stage to wave our Jared off.’

‘No, I’m not, and neither are you,’ said Betty, fastening a green, bow-shaped plastic slide into her hair just above her ear.

Maggie elbowed Betty in the ribs. ‘Move over! I can’t see the whole of my head in the mirror with you in the way.’

‘Don’t do that!’ exclaimed Betty, frowning. ‘I’ll move in a minute. Where’s your Uncle Teddy? I know he hasn’t gone with your mum and Dorothy.’

‘He’s actually got some work,’ said Maggie. ‘So who are you meeting and why did you take
photographs out of Mum’s box upstairs yesterday?’

Betty paused in the act of putting on her
dark-green
jacket. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said casually.

‘Oh yes you do!’ cried Maggie, facing her. ‘I saw you taking them because you left the door open slightly. You’ve no right to be nosing in that box. It’s Mum’s private stuff.’

Betty’s expression was instantly stormy. ‘Some of those photographs belonged to my mum! By rights they’re mine! Anyway, Aunt Elsie is not going to miss them unless you go blabbing.’

‘I won’t tell her if you let me come with you,’ said Maggie, reaching for her cardigan.

Betty groaned. ‘Isn’t it enough that we live under the same roof without you having to come everywhere with me? I want a few hours to myself.’

‘I hardly ever go anywhere with you,’ protested Maggie. ‘So who are you meeting that you don’t want my company? I thought we could go into town and watch the King’s march by.’

Betty stilled. ‘Why don’t you go with one of your mates?’ When her cousin didn’t answer, she added, ‘I’m going. See you later.’ Betty opened the door and would have slammed it behind her if Maggie hadn’t caught hold of it. ‘Don’t be a meanie! If you don’t let me come, I’ll believe you’re seeing a boy, and you know what Mum will say about that.’

‘I’m not seeing a boy,’ said Betty, remembering
Uncle Teddy accusing her of the very same thing last time she had been in a rush to meet Emma. She thought of his unwelcome behaviour and wondered if she should have mentioned it to her aunt. She was only too thankful that she had not been alone in his company since. At least he wasn’t here now, otherwise she would have thought twice about leaving Maggie alone with him in the house. She stared at her younger cousin. ‘Now go and do whatever you were going to do before you decided you wanted to come with me,’ she said softly.

Maggie folded her arms across her narrow chest and said belligerently, ‘Go out on your own and leave me behind. See if I care.’

‘Don’t try and make me feel guilty. I’m going and I don’t want you following me,’ said Betty firmly.

Maggie stuck out her tongue and then marched out of the room and up the stairs. A relieved Betty opened the front door and went out and hurried to the main road to catch the bus. There was a queue and she was conscious of several more people tagging on behind her. When the bus came, she went upstairs and managed to get a seat at the front, so she could gaze down on people. This was an enjoyable pastime despite the air upstairs being fuggy with cigarette smoke.

As the bus headed into town along Stanley Road, she thought of Emma and hoped she wouldn’t mind spending several hours on St George’s Plateau,
waiting for the King’s to march past. They needed to be there early if they were to get a good speck. If there was time, they should make it to the Pier Head before the regiment arrived there and be able to watch the ship sail. The lord mayor would be giving an address from the balcony of the town hall in Dale Street, so that would delay the regiment.

Betty could not wait to see Emma but to her dismay, as she stepped down onto the pavement in Lime Street, she saw Maggie staring at her through the downstairs window of the bus. Her cousin smiled sweetly at her, but to Betty’s relief there was a queue of people behind her, waiting to get off the bus. She wasted no time diving into the crowds that lined the pavement, hoping that her cousin wouldn’t see which way she went, and made for the station.

Emma’s train must have got in early because she was waiting beneath the clock. Her face lit up as she saw Betty coming towards her. She looked smart, thought the younger girl. Her half-sister was wearing a matching skirt and blouse in pale turquoise with a green bolero. ‘I know I’m early again,’ said Emma, ‘but I didn’t want to be late.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Betty, smiling. ‘I’ve something to tell you. I hope you don’t mind but Jared’s regiment is marching through Liverpool centre today and I want to see if I can spot him. I had thought we could go to St George’s Plateau and watch from there, but—’

‘I know about it,’ said Emma, tucking her arm in Betty’s. ‘My policeman turned up on Monday and told me. He suggested that we go to the Plateau.’

‘I was just going to say that there’s already crowds there,’ said Betty. ‘Apparently the regiment will be taking a salute opposite the Plateau. We could go window shopping along Church Street and Lord Street because they’ll be coming along there on their way to St George’s Hall. I’d rather avoid Lime Street if I can. It’s where I got off the bus and my cousin was on it. I’m sure she intends following me but I managed to give her the slip. Trouble is,’ added Betty, ‘she might still be hanging around there. We could go out the other side of the station and across the road to Clayton Square. She knows nothing about you and I want it to remain like that because she’d go and blab to Aunt Elsie if she discovered who you were.’

‘OK! I’ve brought some food and a thermos flask,’ said Emma. ‘We can always have a picnic on the pavement whilst we’re waiting.’

As they made their way to Church Street, Emma gazed about her with interest, thinking she had never seen so many people. There were women selling flowers that Betty called ‘Mary Ellens’ opposite a large departmental store called Owen Owen and the food emporium, Reece’s.

‘They sell delicious cakes in there,’ said Betty, gazing in the window. ‘Mum took me once. It has
a dance hall on the first floor and it used to be a favourite place to meet those in the armed services during the war. I believe they still have dances. Do you dance, Emma?’

‘Aye. Country dancing mostly,’ she said. ‘My granddad used to enjoy prancing about.’

‘We learnt some of that in school. It’s fun but you can tie yourself into knots trying to follow the steps,’ said Betty with a smile. ‘By the way, I managed to get some photos of my mum and our dad.’

Emma was delighted. ‘Have you one of them on their wedding day?’

‘No, but I have one of Mum on her own, one with me as a baby and a couple of her and our dad together on a day out at New Brighton.’

‘New Brighton?’

‘It’s a seaside resort the other side of the Mersey. I remember us going there as a family when Uncle Owen was alive. We haven’t been since.’

Betty fumbled in her pocket for the photographs and her elbow caught a woman loaded down with shopping bags as they passed the corner into Church Street. The woman dropped one of her bags. ‘Watch where you’re going, girl,’ she said crossly.

‘Sorry,’ said Betty, bending down to pick up the bag and its spilt contents. As she straightened up and handed it to the woman, she caught sight of Maggie a few yards behind her. ‘Damn!’ she exclaimed.

‘Language,’ said the woman.

Betty ignored her and seized hold of Emma’s arm. ‘Would you believe it! Our Maggie is just behind us. She’s a real pain in the neck,’ she added savagely.

‘Is she really that bad?’ asked Emma, allowing herself to be hustled along the pavement.

‘She could be worse,’ said Betty, her heart-shaped face flushed and irritable. ‘But she’s close to her mother and a terrible chatterbox. She just wouldn’t be able to keep this quiet and then Aunt Elsie would probably be determined to prevent me from meeting you.’

‘Perhaps we’ll lose her in the crowd,’ said Emma.

Betty could only hope so as they continued along Church Street into Lord Street where the devastation caused by the bombs of the Luftwaffe was more obvious. Betty paused at the Victoria Monument and faced the way they had come, searching for any sign of her cousin.

‘Gosh, this must have looked a real mess during the war,’ said Emma.

Betty nodded absently. ‘And after. Mum brought me into town not long before she was killed. We stood on this spot. Wherever you looked it was just brick fields. She pointed out to me where different buildings had once stood. The Customs House was destroyed and the Head Post Office; the William Brown Library was almost
totally obliterated, the same with the museum. Fortunately all the books and exhibits had been removed, mostly to Wales, as were the paintings from the Walker Art Gallery, but that pretty well escaped damage. Two big departmental stores, Blackler’s and Lewis’s, were completely gutted and, of course, the docks and warehouses and hundreds of homes were destroyed.’

‘Terrible, such loss,’ murmured Emma. ‘My policeman friend, Dougie, said there’s the remains of a church called St Luke’s that’s a memorial to those who died during the war. I’d like to visit that as a sign of respect to our dad.’

‘If you’d mentioned that earlier we could have gone there.’

‘I also want to visit Liverpool’s registry office,’ said Emma.

‘There’s one not far away from St Luke’s in Gambier Terrace. It’s up near the Anglican cathedral. Now that is worth a visit, although some of the stained glass windows were damaged during the war.’

‘I’d like to do that another time,’ said Emma. ‘Right now I’m looking forward to seeing the famous Liver birds.’

‘At least the Luftwaffe didn’t get them,’ said Betty, a lilt of satisfaction in her youthful voice. ‘We’ll have a look at them eventually, but right now, I think we might as well stay where we are. It’s a
good perch here on the monument to watch out for our Jared.’

Emma was quite content to do as Betty suggested, so they settled themselves. Emma decided that now was as good a time as any to have their lunch and unpacked egg-and-lettuce sandwiches she had brought and poured tea from a flask.

‘It’s ages since I’ve had a picnic,’ said Betty, her eyes alight with interest as she gazed about her.

They both consumed the sandwiches. Suddenly Emma spotted a face that was only familiar to her because she had seen it just a couple of days ago. ‘Goodness, there’s Dougie’s brother! I wonder where he’s going.’

‘Where should I be looking?’ asked Betty, turning her head this way and that.

Emma did not reply because she realised that she had also been seen. To her surprise, Norm began to make his way over to her. He was not alone but accompanied by a middle-aged, plump woman with fluffy greying hair beneath a brown felt hat. ‘Ciao, Emma,’ he said, raising a hand. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here. This is my mam. We’re just off to visit my twin. He’s in hozzie in Heswall across the water.’

‘Hello, Mrs Marshall,’ said Emma, wiping a hand on a handkerchief and getting to her feet. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’

They shook hands and Mrs Marshall beamed at
Emma. ‘And you, luv. Our Dougie and Norm have told me about you. Praised your cooking to the skies. I’ve always struggled in the kitchen. My fella was a better cook than me.’

Emma did not know what to say to that, so asked how Norm’s twin was doing. Mrs Marshall sighed. ‘Our Pete! It’s going to be some time yet before he can come home. He broke several bones and one in more than one place, so it’s going to be a long job. That’ll teach him not to go climbing walls.’ She paused to catch her breath before continuing. ‘He’s in a nice place, though, not far from the River Dee. It’s a bit of a trek but on a day like today, it’s a treat. Still, Norm is company for me on the trip and he misses his twin.’ She paused again before saying, ‘So what are you doing here? Was your father in the King’s?’

‘I suppose it’s possible,’ said Emma, who had not thought of that. ‘I’m here with my half-sister. This is Betty.’

Betty had already risen to her feet and Mrs Marshall stared at her keenly before saying, ‘I feel I’ve seen you before, luv.’

‘Really?’ asked Betty, surprised.

Mrs Marshall nudged her son who was looking to where two lads were jostling each other. ‘Here, our Norm, d’you recognise her?’ she asked.

Norm shifted his gaze and stared at Betty. ‘You do look familiar. Could be the Millers’ house that I
saw you,’ he said. ‘Pete and I were there with Jimmy Miller not so long ago. It was ages since we had seen him but his mam remembered Ma and invited her to visit her next time we went.’

Betty smiled. ‘That is probably it. I’m a friend of his sister, Irene.’

Norm grinned. ‘So where do you live?’

‘Over the canal bridge about half an hour’s walk from the Millers. My mother was killed in a road accident and I live with my aunt and cousins.’

‘Tough luck.’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry to hear about your mother, girl,’ said Mrs Marshall sincerely. ‘But we’ll have to go now, Norm. I hope to see you again sometime, girls,’ she added.

‘You’ll give my regards to Dougie?’ said Emma.

Mrs Marshall nodded. ‘Ta-ra, luv.’ She hustled Norm away.

Betty stared after them. ‘What were the chances of that happening?’ she murmured.

‘I only met Norm a couple of days ago,’ marvelled Emma. ‘Some coincidence seeing him and his mother here. I wonder what Dougie will make of it when they tell him.’

‘I can’t remember ever seeing this Dougie with his brothers,’ said Betty, sitting down and finishing her sandwich.

Emma sat beside her. ‘Now what about these photos?’ she asked.

Betty produced the pictures and Emma was able to see for the first time what her father looked like. There was a lump in her throat as she gazed at his narrow-cheekboned face and smiling eyes. He was of slender build and wore what appeared to be baggy corduroy trousers. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and between his fingers he held a paintbrush. The photo of Lizzie was another happy snap, as she was smiling too. Dressed in a wide floral skirt and a blouse with a scooped neckline, she was sitting in a field of buttercups.

‘Your mother was pretty,’ said Emma, returning the photos to Betty. ‘And our father’s not bad-looking either. I wish I could get a copy done. Do you have the negatives?’