Lime Street Blues (13 page)

‘But Dad,’ Jeannie argued desperately, ‘all the girls who go are only young. Max went when he was my age.’

‘That’s got nothing to do with it. What time would you be home? There’s school next morning and you’d be half asleep instead of concentrating on your lessons.’

‘It’s not fair. Elaine’s going and Benny’s mum is bound to let her.’ Jeannie was near to tears. She had felt certain he would refuse, but now that he had, there was a finality about it. It was no use pleading. A week on Wednesday, her friends would be at the Cavern and she would have to stay at home and imagine the wonderful time they would be having. She’d always wanted to see the place her brother and Lachlan went on and on about, saying how lucky they were, that people from all over
the country came to visit the Cavern, yet they had it on their very own doorstep.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she said sullenly.

Rose looked at her daughter with concern. ‘But, love, it’s only half past seven.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘What about your homework?’ Tom enquired.

‘I’ve done it.’

Jeannie ran upstairs, leaving Tom with the satisfaction of knowing at least one of his children was prepared to do as she was told. ‘Would you like the wireless on, love?’ he asked his wife. She looked exceptionally pretty tonight, his Rose. Having caught the sun throughout the long, hot summer, her slim arms and bare legs were tanned and, although she wore only a simple white blouse and a cotton skirt, she couldn’t possibly have looked more lovely. The sun had added streaks of gold to her brown curly hair, which needed cutting – he’d prefer it didn’t hide her slender neck. Tomorrow, he’d tell her to get it trimmed.

‘No, thank you, Tom.’ Rose clasped her hands together on her lap. ‘You know what you said the other week, about girls’ education not mattering?’

‘Yes, love.’

‘Then it won’t matter, will it, if Jeannie can’t concentrate at school? It’d only be for one morning, and as she’s only a girl, what difference would it make?’

Tom stared into his wife’s innocent blue eyes, unable to fault her simple logic.

‘Poor Jeannie,’ Rose continued with a sigh. ‘She’s such a good girl, never makes a fuss, not like Max. That’s the first time I’ve known her to go to bed in a huff.’ Her hands were clasped so tight that the knuckles showed white as she struggled to contain her anger. ‘On second
thoughts, you can turn the wireless on. There’s a concert on the Third Programme.’

‘As you wish, love.’

Rose sat back in the chair and closed her eyes as the strains of Rimsky-Korsakov’s
Scheherazade
crept gently into the parlour, filled with the big, gloomy furniture that she hated, but which Tom refused to get rid of because it had belonged to his mother.

He was a bully! The way he’d spoken to Jeannie had made her stomach turn. For a moment, she’d wanted to leap up and scratch his eyes out. It wasn’t that Jeannie was weak, she just didn’t like to cause trouble. She was a kind, thoughtful girl and Tom took advantage. With Max, he’d given in, the way bullies did once they realised bullying would no longer work. Max had just forged ahead, got on with his life, hang the consequences. There was nothing his father could do to stop him.

Rose’s resentment had taken a long time building up. She was used to doing as she was told. For a long time after they were married, it had seemed quite natural to do exactly what Tom wanted,
be
what he wanted; a willing, docile wife, who agreed with everything he said, never argued because she couldn’t bear to hear his raised voice in reply, or see his face crumple into a scowl. In the orphanage, children who’d wanted a quiet life kept their heads down, never caused trouble. Rose had continued this way, blissfully content in her nice house at the end of Disraeli Terrace with her adoring husband and three beautiful children.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on when things had started to change – when
she
had started to change. It might have been when Max began to badger his father for a television and she’d begun to wonder why only Tom’s opinion mattered. She would have loved a
television, but didn’t dare say, just as she didn’t say how much she’d like a fridge and a washing machine when she knew Tom was dead against them. Not for any real reason, it was just the way he felt. Nor did it seem proper when he came down so hard on his children – he seemed to forget that they were hers too – because they wanted to spread their wings. There was no real reason for that, either, only that he enjoyed having power over people who were younger, smaller, and weaker than himself.

‘Where are you off to?’ Tom asked when she stood up.

‘I thought I’d take our Jeannie up a cup of cocoa.’

‘You’re not to bother. It was her decision to go to bed without any supper.’

Rose nearly sat down again, like a trained dog, she thought. ‘I’ll make us some tea then,’ she said.

‘Don’t forget, no cocoa,’ Tom called as she left the room.

She made the cocoa and took it upstairs, her heart throbbing painfully in her breast. She’d disobeyed him! It was her first act of defiance. She’d been meaning to do it for ages, opening her mouth to say something that refused to be said because she felt frightened. Everything would change; the atmosphere in the house, their relationship with each other. Everything. He would look upon her differently. She would no longer be his dear little Rose.

‘Are you awake, love?’

Jeannie’s head was hidden under the clothes. The curtains were drawn, although it was still light outside. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘I’ve brought you some cocoa. You’d better sit up.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

In the dim light, Rose saw that Jeannie’s eyes were swollen with crying. Everything’s a battle, she thought. Every move forward they want to make ends up a battle. She sat on the edge of the bed and gave her daughter a little pat. ‘Tomorrow, love, tell Elaine you can go to the Cavern.’

Jeannie gasped incredulously. ‘Did you talk Dad into letting me go?’

‘Not yet, but I will. In the meantime, it’d be best if you didn’t bring the subject up while he’s around.’

‘Are you sure, Mum?’

‘Absolutely sure, Jeannie. Now, drink your cocoa, and you’d better have a little read before you go asleep, otherwise you’ll wake up in the early hours and find you can’t drop off again.’

‘You sound funny, Mum.’

‘I can’t think why, Jeannie. I’m exactly the same as I’ve always been.’

She checked Gerald was asleep. His new clothes were laid on a chair, ready for school tomorrow. Max was out, the van having called for him at midday. It would be hours before he came back.

Downstairs again, Rose made the tea and tried to prepare herself for the accusation that would meet her when she took it into the parlour.

Did you make cocoa for our Jeannie when I specifically told you not to?

Such a petty, stupid thing to say. What sort of man would make an issue out of something so trivial?

She tiptoed in – as if less noise would make Tom less angry. But Tom was fast asleep, snoring slightly, and hadn’t heard her go upstairs. Rose put his tea on the hearth and returned to the chair with her own. She watched her husband as he slept. With his chin tucked in
his neck, his mouth slightly open, he looked very old, older than sixty.

That was another thing. Rose placed her own tea on the hearth and put her hands to her cheeks. She was thirty-six and Tom was the only man she’d known intimately. Lately, she’d wondered what it would be like to be made love to by a younger man, a man who didn’t fall asleep in the chair every night and wanted to go to bed earlier and earlier so he could fall asleep again, always insisting she went with him, when she would prefer to stay and listen to a concert or a Book at Bedtime, a man who would take her dancing or to the pictures, buy her jewellery and scent, not things for the house, as Tom did, expecting her to be pleased, which she had been, once.

In the afternoons, after she’d done the housework and was waiting for the children to come home, Rose would sit in her meticulously clean kitchen and, in her mind, she would lie with this mysterious, faceless man, let him touch her, kiss her, do the things that until now only Tom had done.

Then Gerald would come in, and she would come to her senses, ashamed, though it didn’t stop her from doing the same thing the next day, and the next.

Tom gave an extra-loud snore that turned into a grunt and woke him. For a second, he looked at her vacantly, then noticed the tea. ‘You should’ve given us a nudge, love,’ he said, stretching his arms. ‘You know, I wouldn’t mind us getting to bed early tonight.’

‘It’s only just gone eight o’clock, Tom.’

‘It wouldn’t hurt to have a few extra hours.’

‘I’m listening to this concert. It doesn’t finish for another hour.’

He looked slightly surprised. Reaching over, he
turned the wireless off. ‘It’s finished now, my love,’ he said, eyes twinkling, as if it were a joke.

Rose wanted to kill him. He wasn’t being nasty, just assumed she would automatically do as he wished. She considered turning the wireless on again, but hadn’t the stomach for the inevitable row, their first. He would be hurt, deeply hurt, and in a way, she supposed she still cared for him. After all, he adored her, but the woman he adored no longer existed. She’d become someone he might not even like. She’d leave hurting him until it became unavoidable, until a week on Wednesday when Jeannie went to the Cavern.

The girls wore slacks for the first time. Jeannie and Benny’s were black, Elaine’s dark green. On top, they had on loose fitting blouses with short sleeves. Benny had tied a chiffon scarf around her head and it hung over her shoulder like a tail. Elaine’s dark hair had been released from its sensible plait and flowed down her back like a cloak. They felt very grown up and sophisticated.

Going down the Cavern steps for the first time was probably more momentous than entering Tutankhamun’s tomb, Elaine remarked in an awed voice. They paid the entry fee, signed in, and were met by a bombardment of noise and a curious smell, a mixture of cigarettes, soot, damp, and perspiration. The bare brick walls glistened with moisture.

They entered what appeared to be a dimly lit railway tunnel, long and narrow with a curved ceiling. Smoke drifted in layers underneath, like a gently moving canopy. They explored, and discovered two more tunnels connected by a series of arches. The first was furnished with rows of seats, mostly occupied, for those who’d come for the music. Another had been set aside
for dancing, and the third was packed with people who just appeared to be talking very loudly in an effort to be heard above the tremendous, pounding music.

‘Let’s dance,’ Jeannie suggested, unable to keep still another minute – her body seemed to be twitching in rhythm with the beat. The boys, who seemed to know everyone, had disappeared.

They danced self-consciously at first, hopping from one foot to the other, though quickly got used to the liberated feeling of being able to twist their bodies and wave their arms about without people thinking they were mad. They did this till exhausted, then went to look for a cold drink.

Lachlan was by the bar talking to a couple of girls. Jeannie was too exhilarated to care. This was turning into the best night of her life. It wasn’t just the Cavern, but the people there. They seemed far more alive and animated than other young people she’d known. Elaine and Benny looked unusually vivacious and she supposed she must do herself. Even the drink, Coca Cola, was different to anything she’d had before; it tasted peppery and tickled her nose.

Elaine came up with the bright idea of buying a lipstick between them before they came again. ‘We’re the only girls here who aren’t wearing make-up. We’d all suit pink. We’ll come again, won’t we?’ she said anxiously.

‘Deffo,’ Benny concurred. ‘This place is the gear. But I couldn’t afford to come more than once a week. I can’t ask Mam for more pocket money. What about you, Jeannie?’

‘I dunno.’ Jeannie chewed her lip. ‘I’m not even sure if I’ll be allowed to come again. My mum acted very strangely this morning. She insisted I take these clothes
with me to school and get changed at Elaine’s. She said it’d be best if I didn’t come home for tea. I’ve got a feeling Dad doesn’t know I was coming. He doesn’t even know I’ve got slacks. Mum bought them the other day and said I wasn’t to mention it.’

Elaine said she hoped there wouldn’t be hell to pay when Jeannie got home.

‘I hope so too.’ Jeannie would prefer not to think about it. It would only spoil things. ‘Let’s sit and listen to the music for a while.’

They sat behind Max who had his eyes glued to the small stage where Vince McLoughlin and his Vulcans, three guitarists and a drummer about the same age as himself, were performing ‘Shakin’ All Over’ with wild, intimidating exuberance. The small space was entirely filled with the raw sound and the hoarse voices of the four scruffily dressed young men. Jeannie caught her breath and grabbed the sides of her chair with both hands. The urgent, thumping beat was doing something to her head and her heart. Her lungs were threatening to burst, her feet unable to keep still. She noticed a small, unused piano on the stage, and wished she could play it. At least it would give her fingers something to do.

The music stopped suddenly and she relaxed and let out a long, slow breath. Leaning forward, she tapped Max on the shoulder. He looked surprised to see her when he turned round. ‘The guitars sound different to yours,’ she said.

‘They’re electric, that’s why.’

The rest of the unreal, never to be forgotten night passed far too quickly. Benny was the first to leave. ‘Mam won’t go to bed till I’m home and she has to be up at five for work in the morning. Next time, perhaps we can come at the weekend and stay as late as we like.’

Elaine agreed. ‘I’ll be half dead in the morning and we’ve got double science.’

Jeannie laughed and said she was quite likely to fall asleep during double science, but didn’t care.

Her mother must have been listening for the van. She was standing in the doorway when, at almost midnight, Ronnie Connors drew up in front of Disraeli Terrace. His three remaining passengers got out. Sean McDowd, who had hardly exchanged a word with any of them all night, didn’t speak, just shrugged his shoulders as he trudged away, which she supposed was his way of saying goodnight.