Liverpool Annie (12 page)

Sylvia gasped. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes. No. Not really.' Annie grimaced. 'I only saw her for a second, but it looked just like her.'

'What was she wearing?'

'All I noticed was her scarf. It had a swirly pattern, like that new blouse of Cecy's.'

'Paisley?'

'That's right. Paisley.'

'Why not go home and see if she's there? Who cares if we're late?'

'But say she isn't?' Annie stared at her friend in horror.

Sylvia rolled her eyes dramatically. 'Gosh, Annie, I don't know.'

'I don't know, either.' Perhaps some things were best left undiscovered, she thought dazedly, otherwise the entire world would be turned upside down. 'Oh, come on,' she said with an attempt at indifference. 'If we run, we might get back to school in time.'

'If that's what you want.'

'It's what I want,' Annie said firmly, though she couldn't get the incident out of her mind all afternoon. Perhaps she should have gone home - and if Mam hadn't been there . . . ?

Although Annie racked her brains and puzzled over the matter at the expense of the History and French lessons, she couldn't for the life of her visualise what would have happened then.

The dress rehearsal was a complete disaster. Everyone forgot their Hues, the prompt couldn't be heard without shouting, and Cinderella fell headlong down the steps on top of Dandini and burst into tears.

Mr Andrews remained serene throughout, 'A lousy dress rehearsal is a sign of a good show,' he assured the petrified cast. 'Thank goodness you didn't do well. I would have been really worried.'

Annie arrived home, pleased to find Dot in the back kitchen where she'd already started on the tea. 'Have you been here long?' she asked.

'Since about four o'clock, luv. Why?'

'I just wondered.'

'It's no use coming before you two get here, is it? I'd only end up talking to meself.' Dot jerked her head angrily in the direction of the living room, where Annie's mother was in exactly the same position she'd been in when the girls left for school that morning.

'Oh, Dot!' Annie laid her cheek on her aunt's bony shoulder. If only she could tell Dot what she'd seen, or thought she'd seen, but it would only cause ructions. She smiled, imagining Dot pinning Mam down on the floor the way wrestlers did on television, and twisting her arm until she conceded she'd been to see The King and I.

'What's the matter, luv?' Dot laid down the sausages she was unwrapping and took Annie in her arms.

'Nothing.'

'Feel like a cuddle, eh?' Dot said tenderly. 'Pity you're not little any more, or you could sit on me knee the way you used to.'

Annie was now as tall as Dot, perhaps slightly taller. 'I wish we could have stayed with you and Uncle Bert in Bootle,' she sighed.

'So do I, luv! Oh, so do I!' Dot patted her niece's back. 'It was all Father Whotsit's fault, walking in when I was in the middle of the dinner. If only I hadn't burnt the custard and got in such a temper!'

'You threw a cup at the wall, remember?'

'I remember. It was out me next-to-best tea service, too. I said things I didn't mean to say, and it got your dad all stubborn.'

'Still, the house wasn't big enough - and you've had three more boys since.' Annie moved out of her auntie's arms to put the kettle on.

'We could have asked the landlord for a bigger house. In fact, that's what Bert and me intended,' Dot said surprisingly. 'I was going to approach our Ken as tactfully as I could and suggest he found somewhere for him and Rose and we'd keep you and Marie. I think he might have agreed.' Her mouth curled in an expression of disgust. ' 'Stead, I go and lose me flaming rag, don't I?' she finished bitterly.

Such a little thing, a few unguarded words, and the whole course of their lives had changed, Annie thought.

'Never mind!' Dot patted her arm. 'Deep down at heart, our Ken thinks the world of his lovely girls. Christ knows what you'd have turned out like if you'd stayed with Bert and me.' She cut a sliver of lard for the frying pan and lit the gas underneath. 'I'll leave these sausages for you to finish, Annie. I'd better be off. And oh, there's a Blackledge's cream sandwich in the larder.'

'Ta, Auntie Dot.'

Marie came in, saw the sausages sizzling in the pan, and said, 'Dad hardly ever eats his tea lately. He puts it in the dustbin.'

Annie glanced at her in surprise. 'I hadn't noticed!'

'You're never here, are you?' Marie said, with a hint of accusation in her voice. 'You just plonk his dinner down, then you're out the door like a shot.'

'Has he seen the doctor yet?' Dot demanded.

'I don't know,' Annie said guiltily.

Dot flushed angrily. 'It's not your job to mind your dad, Annie.' Her voice rose so it could have been heard out in the street, let alone the living room it was intended to reach. 'But we know whose job it is. Our Ken could die on his feet, but some people couldn't give a damn.'

'I'm going to the lavatory,' Annie said abruptly. It was too much; what with Dad ill, Marie moping

around looking dead miserable, and Mam, or someone who looked very much like Mam, going to the pictures.

'Tara, Annie!' Dot shrieked after a while. 'I've left the spuds and sausages on a low light.'

When Annie emerged, she found Marie sitting on her bed, looking sulky. 'Did Dot tell you?' she said.

'Tell me what?'

'We can't go to their house for Christmas dinner this year, they're going to their Tommy's, What are we going to do all day, Annie?'

Annie's heart sank. The highlight of the festive season had always been the cheerful, chaotic meal at Dot's. Once Sylvia knew, she would be invited to the Grand, but she couldn't desert Marie on Christmas Day.

'What can we do,' she said patiently, 'except make our own Christmas dinner? We've got decorations - in fact, it's time we put them up.'

'That sounds fun!' Marie said scornfully. 'Like the most miserable Sunday you can think of with knobs on. I'd sooner stay in bed.'

'What do you expect?' Annie demanded. 'I can't pluck another auntie out of the air for us to have Christmas dinner with. Anyroad, unless you go to Midnight Mass, you've got to get up for church.'

'Sod church,' Marie pouted.

'Marie!'

Marie squirmed uncomfortably. 'I've felt really peculiar in church since . . . you know! I keep expecting the priest to point at me during his sermon and denounce me as a murderer.'

'Don't be silly,' Annie chided gently.

'I'm not being silly. Me baby would have been born in January if I hadn't had him murdered. It was a boy, they told me.'

'You must stop brooding.' Annie felt very inadequate. 'Why don't you go out with some of the girls

from school?' she said cautiously, half expecting to have her head bitten off. It was.

'Because they're stupid!' Marie snapped. 'They watch Muffin the Mule on television, and some still play with dolls.'

'I'd better get the tea,' Annie paused in the doorway. 'By the way, have you ever seen our mam with a Paisley scarf?'

'No,' Marie said abruptly. She seemed too preoccupied to ask why Annie had asked such a funny question, and Annie was left wondering if she'd ever have the courage to look for the scarf herself.

According to Dot and Bert, the pantomime went down a treat. 'It was better than the ones you see at the Empire,' Dot claimed. She gave a sarcastic laugh. 'I see your mam and dad didn't come.'

'I didn't ask them,' said Annie.

'Our poor Mike nearly fainted when Sylvia walked on stage,' Bert said, smiling broadly. 'He only came to see her in tights. Now he's in love all over again. Not that I blame him. She's a real Bobby Dazzler, that Sylvia. If I wasn't already married to the best-looking woman in the world I could fancy her meself.' Dot dug him sharply in the ribs with her elbow, but at the same time looked girlishly pleased.

Mike had Sylvia, in white spangled tights and red frock coat, pinned against the wall, where he was talking to her earnestly. Later, she said to Annie. 'Your Mike wants to take me out. What should I do?'

'He's dead nice, but he'll never be able to keep you in the manner to which you're accustomed. He's only an apprentice toolmaker.'

'He asked me to the pictures, not for a lifelong commitment. I know, I'll suggest he brings a friend so we can make a foursome!'

'No!' cried Annie, but Sylvia departed, grinning, just as Mr Andrews came up holding a cardboard folder, looking strangely sheepish. To the chagrin of the girls, he'd brought his fiancee, a pretty girl with China-blue eyes and long straight hair who looked like Alice in Wonderland, and seemed entirely unaware she'd ruined several Christmases.

'This is a play I wrote at university,' he mumbled. 'I thought we'd do it next term. I wonder if you'd mind reading it over the holiday? I'd like to know what you think.'

Annie took the folder, flattered that he was interested in her opinion. 'Goldilocks!' She looked at him, puzzled. 'Another pantomime?'

'It's a play.' He shuffled his feet awkwardly. 'Goldilocks is the nickname of the main character.'

'Do you want me to be wardrobe mistress again?'

'No, I want you to play Goldilocks.'

'Me!' Annie looked at him askance.

'You'd be perfect, Annie.' Suddenly, he was the old Mr Andrews again. His eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm which was catching. 'You've got the right air of authority - and the red hair! I didn't know it at the time, but the part could have been written specially for you!'

Goldilocks was an orphan. Having lost both parents in a car crash, she arrives at an orphanage where she sets about altering the strict, oppressive regime. By the end, it is the orphans who are in charge, ordering the staff around with the same unfeeling cruelty used on them.

'What's that you're reading?' Marie enquired. She was brushing her hair in front of the dressing-table mirror.

Annie threw the folder onto the bed. 'A play. Mr Andrews wrote it.'

'Honest! What's it like?'

'Dead good.' It was incredible that a play could be so sad and so funny at the same time.

'Can I read it?'

'If you like. Mr Andrews wants me to play the main part.'

'Are you going to?'

'I'm not sure.' She felt admiration for Goldilocks, who despite all her adversities, was able to take control of her own life. Unlike me, she thought wryly, who just bumps along from day to day.

'We're going to see The Ten Commandments at the Forum on Saturday,' Sylvia announced gaily the next day. 'Mike's bringing his best friend, Cyril Quigley, for you.'

'Cyril! There's no way I'm going out with anyone called Cyril,' Annie said in a horrified voice.

'He's called Cy for short. That's not so bad, is it? In fact, it sounds a bit American.'

Annie looked grudging. 'I suppose so.'

Cy Quigley - Annie refused even to think of him as Cyril - had short, very black curly hair, and dark eyes which seemed to be laughing all the time. To her intense relief, she quite liked him. It was difficult not to. He had her in stitches in the cinema, making fun of Moses, particularly when he received the Ten Commandments from God.

'Not another one!' he groaned when number six was reached.

The people nearby kept demanding they be quiet, and even Sylvia got annoyed. 'Don't be sacrilegious,' she hissed.

'Fancy doing this again next Saturday, Annie?' Cy asked when they were in Lyons having coffee and he was rolling a cigarette. He'd already smoked twice as many ciggies as there were commandments.

lOI

'I don't mind,' Annie said casually. Inwardly, she was thrilled.

He held her hand on the way to Exchange Station. Annie stiffened when they arrived, hoping he wouldn't kiss her. She wasn't ready for her first kiss just yet. To her relief, he shook hands politely.

'See you next week, then.'

'Have a nice Christmas,' Annie said.

He grinned. 'Same to you.'

Annie watched him cross the road. He stopped and bent his head, cupping his hands around a cigarette as he lit it. She sighed happily.

'Where's Mike.-"' she asked in surprise when she turned to find Sylvia alone and looking rather glum. They walked onto the platform where the Southport train was waiting, doors open.

'Gone!' Sylvia said abruptly. 'Let's get in the last compartment so as to avoid him.'

The girls sat facing each other. The doors closed and the train started. 'I know he's your cousin, Annie,' Sylvia continued in a complaining voice, 'but he bores me silly. He asked me out again, but I refused. I think he's taken umbrage.'

'But I'm seeing Cy next week!' Annie said in consternation.

'I know, I heard,' Sylvia said stiffly.

'I thought we'd be going in a foursome again.'

'You'll just have to go in a twosome, won't you!'

Annie felt terrible. 'We always go out together on Saturdays.'

'Well, next Saturday I'll just have to stay in alone.' Sylvia turned to look out of the window, her face cold.

'Why didn't you say you didn't want to see Mike again?' Annie said reasonably. 'I wouldn't have made another date with Cy.'

'Why didn't you discuss it with me beforehand?'

'In the middle of Lyons! Don't be silly, Sylvia. It would look as if I was asking for your permission or something.'

Sylvia tossed her head and didn't answer. 'Anyroad,' Annie went on, 'the whole thing was your idea. I didn't want any part of it, did I?'

Neither girl spoke for several stations. The train reached Marsh Lane and Annie saw her cousin get off further down the platform. He looked as miserable as she felt as he went through the exit without a backward glance.

She'd never had a row with Sylvia before, and felt all shaky inside, particularly as she couldn't quite understand what she'd done that was so wrong. 'It was you who said we'd both meet a man one day who'd be more important to us than each other,' she said accusingly.

'I meant when we were really old, eighteen or nineteen,' Sylvia said accusingly back.

'I'm getting off in a minute, we're nearly at Seaforth.'

'So?'

'So, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, shall I.-*'

Sylvia shrugged carelessly. 'If you like.'