It Had To Be You (8 page)

Emma was hoeing the vegetable patch when she heard the squeak of the postman’s bicycle brakes and then footsteps approaching the front of the house. She dropped the hoe and raced up the garden and into the house, wondering whether it was another response to the second advertisement she had placed in the
Clitheroe Advertiser and Times
or if it was a reply to her letter from her half-sister.

On the mat lay a single envelope. She snatched it up, noticed the postmark and wasted no time in opening the envelope. Inside was a lined sheet of paper that looked like it had been torn from an exercise book, with handwriting that slanted to the right in bright-blue ink. A lot of words had been crammed onto the single sheet. She recognised the address on the right-hand side and her gaze went swiftly to the signature at the bottom. It was from Betty!

The postscript made Emma smile and convinced her that her sister really did want to make certain that she arrived at the appointed spot on the right day. A week gave her plenty of time to prepare and it was good that Betty was making allowances for her not knowing Liverpool that well. It was obvious that she hadn’t told her aunt about Emma writing to her.

The question now was whether she would have the time to meet Dougie as well as Betty. She decided to write and let him know that her half-sister had been in touch and tell him the time and the place where they were meeting. If he was not on duty, then perhaps he would suggest a rendezvous later in the day? It would be lovely if they could spend time together. Her heart that had been racing after her dash up the garden now seemed to bounce inside her chest just at the thought of seeing Dougie again. She was going to have to keep her fingers crossed that it would happen. Life had taken on a whole new and exciting direction from that which she would have envisaged a year ago. She could not wait to see both of them.

‘Where are you off to?’

Betty almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of Teddy’s voice. She had not realised he was in the house. Did she dare pretend she had not heard him and wrench open the door and go out?

‘Are you deaf, girl?’

He seized her by the shoulder and Betty stiffened. ‘Let me go! I’ve an appointment that I must keep,’ she blurted out.

He spun her around and she saw that he was wearing a towelling dressing gown but his short bowed legs were bare and hairy. He was only the same size as her but of stocky build and there was an expression in his muddy grey-brown eyes that made her feel uneasy.

‘That isn’t an answer. Meeting a boy, are you?’

‘No!’ she said indignantly. ‘But even if I was, it’s no business of yours. You’re not my real uncle. Uncle Owen was that!’

‘Don’t you give me bloody cheek. You’re just like your mother, the way you speak to me.’ He ran his hands down her back and pulled her against him.

‘Y-you know nothing about my mother,’ she stammered, her knees beginning to tremble even as she struggled.

‘That’s right, fight me,’ he said against her ear. ‘Lizzie thought herself above me and went off with that bloody artist. A lot of good it did her. Both of them are dead now.’

‘Don’t talk about my parents like that,’ cried Betty. ‘Let me go!’

‘Not bloody likely. We don’t often have the house to ourselves like this, do we, girl?’ His voice had sunk to a hiss, reminding her of a snake.

She couldn’t speak, terrified of what he might do to her. Then there came the sound of voices outside on the step and he released her abruptly, causing her to fall against the wall. ‘One word, girl,’ he whispered, slapping both her cheeks lightly, ‘and you’ll regret it. I’m the man of the house and my word goes.’

He made for the stairs and scurried up them in no time.

Instead of waiting for the front door to open and facing her aunt and cousin, Betty turned and ran through the house and out into the garden. Her heart was hammering against her ribs as she made her way along the side of the house. She peered around the corner to see if Elsie and Maggie had gone inside. There was no sign of them, so she wasted no time running towards the bus stop on the main road. She prayed that if she was late at the meeting place, her sister would wait for her.

Emma had read the poster advertising the film
Reluctant Heroes
, showing at the
Forum
, several times. She had arrived too early, hoping that Betty might be early, too, as Emma had arranged to meet Dougie early evening.

‘Emma?’ A hand touched her arm, startling her.

She whirled round and saw a freckle-faced girl. She was wearing a navy blue gabardine mackintosh that was unbuttoned to reveal a blue and white gingham frock. She looked older than Emma expected, despite the ginger hair tied in bunches and the navy blue beret.

A warm feeling welled up inside Emma. ‘Aye, I’m Emma Booth. I take it you’re Betty?’

Betty smiled. ‘That’s me. I know I’m late and I was worried you mightn’t wait.’

‘After coming all this way, I’d have waited quite a while, luv,’ said Emma. ‘Ever since I found out about you I’ve been wanting to meet you.’

‘As soon as I read your letter I felt the same. I’ve always wanted a sister. We don’t look like each other, though, do we?’ said Betty. ‘I take after my mother’s side of the family.’

‘I think I must get my looks from our father,’ said Emma. ‘My mother was blonde and more fragile-looking than I am.’

‘Do you have a photo of our father?’ asked Betty eagerly.

Emma shook her head. ‘I hoped you might have one.’

Betty frowned in thought. ‘I’m sure there’s one of him with Mum somewhere. I remember seeing it when I was younger. Maybe Aunt Elsie has it in the box where she keeps the insurance policies, old birthday cards and things.’

‘I’d be really pleased if you could find it. I do have a birthday card Dad made for me when I was three,’ said Emma. ‘I thought you might like to see it, so I brought it with me. Maybe we can go somewhere, so we can sit and talk?’

‘What about Lyons café across the road?’ suggested Betty. ‘My cousin Maggie goes there with my Auntie Elsie when they come into town. I do have a couple of bob, so I can pay my way.’

Emma smiled. ‘That’s all right. I think I can afford to treat my little sister.’

Betty’s eyes lit up. ‘Thanks! I appreciate that because I don’t get much in the way of pocket money since Aunt Elsie married again. But I do have a little job.’

They crossed Lime Street and went inside the café and sat down at a table and picked up a menu. A waitress came over to the table with a notepad and pencil and gazed at Emma expectantly.

‘A pot of tea for two,’ she said.

‘Anything to eat?’

Emma looked at Betty. ‘What would you like?’

‘Seeing as you’re paying you choose.’

‘What’s your favourite cake?’ asked Emma.

‘Chocolate, but I don’t expect you to buy that because it’s dear. A scone will do me. After all, you’ve had the cost of the journey,’ said Betty seriously, leaning across the table towards her.

‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ said Emma,
smiling. ‘But if you ever come to visit me, I’ll make you a chocolate cake as good as my grandmother used to make before the war.’

‘You like baking?’ said Betty, interested.

‘I’m good at it and I know I’m the one who shouldn’t be saying that. The proof is in the tasting,’ said Emma. ‘Right now I would like to taste what the scones are like here and see if they match up to mine.’

She gave the order and watched as the waitress moved away before taking Lizzie Booth’s letter and her father’s birthday card from her bag. She slid them across the table towards her half-sister.

Betty picked up the card first and inspected it. ‘It’s good! I like art, you know, but my aunt wants me to have what she calls a
proper
job. I don’t know why she thinks money can’t be made from studying art.’

‘You must take after our father.’

Betty blushed. ‘I like to think so. What do you like to do?’

‘I earn money from bookkeeping. I also enjoy knitting and crochet work, as well as cooking, of course.’

‘That’s creative. Mum was a good cook,’ she added, gazing down at the letter open on the table. She felt a catch at her heart as she recognised her mother’s handwriting and for several moments could only see the words through a blur of tears.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Emma in a gentle voice, placing a hand over her half-sister’s on the table.

‘It’s just seeing Mum’s handwriting suddenly like that,’ said Betty, her voice unsteady.

‘I still get upset about Granddad. It’s so hard when you lose someone you’ve known and lived with all your life. I got the impression that your mother Lizzie was a kind and thoughtful person. I would have liked to have met her.’

Betty lifted brimming eyes to Emma. ‘You do understand. She was the best person I ever knew and very different from her sister, my Aunt Elsie. She gets all wound up if I mention Mum, so I don’t get to talk about her often. I sometimes feel that if I could talk about her more she wouldn’t seem so dead.’

‘Do you dream about her?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘Was your mother pretty?’

‘Oh yes!’ Betty took a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped her eyes. ‘She didn’t have freckles like me and her hair was a much nicer shade of red. I sometimes wonder whether Aunt Elsie was jealous of Mum and that’s why she doesn’t like to talk about her.’

‘It’s possible that your aunt just might find it too painful to talk about her. After all, they were sisters and must have been fond of each other, if
your mother decided the pair of you should move in with her family.’

Betty stilled. ‘I never thought of that.’

‘Is your aunt unkind to you?’

‘Not really. We just don’t always see eye to eye. Although she’s been more difficult since she remarried.’ She fell silent, toying with her handkerchief.

Emma waited for her to go on, but when Betty did not continue, she said, ‘Would you like to see a photograph of my grandparents? I’ve one of my mother, too.’

Betty nodded.

Emma took the photos out of her bag and slid them across the table. Betty picked them up and scrutinised them. ‘I think your granddad has an interesting face. I’d like to draw him.’

Emma’s eyes lit up with pleasure. ‘That would be really nice. Keep the photograph. I’ve others of him at home. He had a lot of sadness in his life but he never let it get him down. He had a good sense of humour. The last time we had a night out, we saw a Fred Astaire musical. Granddad loved singing and dancing.’

Betty smiled. ‘I like musicals. Gene Kelly’s on in
An American in Paris
at the Majestic cinema and there’s a matinee this afternoon.’

Before Emma could comment, the waitress appeared with their order. The letter, the card and
the photographs were set aside whilst they drank their tea and ate their scones. Emma could not help comparing them to her own feather-light ones. These scones were fine, and if people were prepared to pay for them, then perhaps she
should
put a couple of chairs and a table out front when the weather was good. She looked forward to seeing Dougie later and discussing the subject with him.

When they had finished eating and drinking, Betty said, ‘My elder cousin Dorothy said that
Picturegoer
gave
An American in Paris
a really good write-up.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you fancy going to the pictures? The cinema is only about a twenty-minute walk away.’

Emma hesitated. ‘I did plan on seeing someone else whilst I was in Liverpool.’

‘Oh!’ Betty’s face fell. ‘Best forget about it, then.’

Emma thought, who was the more important, Dougie or Betty? She would never have met him if she hadn’t been desperate to get to know her half-sister. ‘No, if you say it’s not too much of a walk, then we could go and see what time the film finishes. I’m not meeting my friend until quarter to five.’

Betty said, ‘I didn’t realise that you had friends in Liverpool.’

‘He’s the policeman who helped me to find you.’

‘So you became friends because of me,’ said Betty, grinning. ‘Is he tall, dark and handsome?’

Emma laughed. ‘He’s certainly tall, but he’s fair
and blue-eyed. I’ll pay the bill and we’ll go.’

As they took a short cut through Lime Street station and then up the back of the Empire Theatre into London Road, Emma asked how Betty’s cousins had felt about their mother marrying again.

‘Jared had already left to do his national service when the wedding took place. I’m sure my aunt wouldn’t have married Uncle Teddy if Jared had still been at home. Trouble was that he couldn’t put it off any longer as he had finished his apprenticeship.’ Betty sighed. ‘The day your letter came, one for my aunt also arrived from him. His regiment is being sent to Korea,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It was news that his mother, his sisters and I have been dreading.’

‘When will he be leaving England?’

‘Next month.’

‘What is he like? Does he have your red hair?’ asked Emma.

Betty shook her head. ‘He’s tallish, has dark-brown hair and is attractive to look at more than conventionally handsome. I’ll bring some photographs next time we meet. He’s clever, too, and can make me laugh. He followed his dad into the building trade. My uncle had his own little business until he took ill, and then there was just no money and Jared had to go and work for someone else so he could finish his apprenticeship. He served his time as a plasterer but he can do
other jobs to do with building.’