Liverpool Annie (18 page)

'You make yourself very cheap, Sylvia,' Annie said haughtily.

'You're just jealous, that's all. I'm going to make myself a cup of tea,' She slammed the door.

'You'll have a job,' Annie shouted. 'I've got the teapot here.'

The door flew open, Sylvia strode in and picked up the tray. Her face was expressionless.

'Was it the first time?' asked Annie.

'Yes,' Sylvia said briefly. On the way out, she tripped over Annie's slippers and nearly fell headlong.

Annie got up for the second time that morning. 'What was it like?' she asked from the kitchen door.

'Okay.'

'Okay! Is that all? I thought it was supposed to be glorious, y'know, mind-boggling and world-shattering and all that sort of thing.'

'I read in a book once, women don't always like it straight away. The more you do it, the more likely you are to have an organism.'

'An orgasm, not an organism. An organism is a structure.'

'How on earth did you know that?'

'You're not the only one to read books,' sniffed Annie. 'Would you like bacon and eggs for breakfast?' She took it for granted Sylvia wasn't going to Holy Communion after spending the night with Ted Deakin, and it was entirely Sylvia's fault that she herself had unwittingly drunk a whole pot of tea, which meant Holy Communion was out for her as well.

'Only if you do the egg both sides,' Sylvia said as if she was granting a great favour.

Annie saluted. 'Yes, ma'am.'

Sylvia slammed into the bedroom. She emerged shortly in her black trousers and long sweater, just in time for breakfast. They ate in silence. Both seemed to find the view from the arched window of tremendous interest.

When they'd finished, Annie began to clear the table. 'Do you feel different?' she enquired.

Sylvia thought hard. 'Not terribly.'

'I'd feel incredibly different. Just the thought of a

man seeing me with nothing on makes me go all funny.' Annie disappeared into her room to get dressed. 'Did it hurt?' she shouted.

'A little bit,' came the reply.

'A girl at school did it with a sailor. She said it hurt a lot.'

'Well, it only hurt a little bit with me,' Sylvia said crossly. 'I wish you'd stop going on about it, Annie.'

'It's just that I can't get over the fact that one of us has slept with a man.' Annie paused whilst fastening a suspender. 'I feel we should have done it at the same time - not that I feel the urge, mind.'

'Perhaps if you'd come into the bedroom, Ted might have managed the operation slightly better. He quite liked you, Annie.'

'What do you mean?' Annie hopped to the door with a stocking half on, and just managed to dodge out of the way as Sylvia came hurtling into the room and threw herself onto the bed. She burst into tears.

'He couldn't manage it. He said he was important or something.'

'Impotent. Do you mean to tell me you're still a virgin, after all?' She felt slightly let down.

'I'm not sure.' Sylvia's voice was muffled in the pillow. 'He did it with his finger. He called it finger pie.'

'Jaysus!' muttered Annie, shuddering and giggling at the same time.

'He tried to put a French letter on, but it just fell off.'

Annie turned away to hide her face as she finished fastening her suspenders. She felt her cheeks grow red as she tried to stifle the hilarity she felt at the idea of a French letter dropping off a tiny penis. She slapped her hand over her mouth, so hard it hurt. Her shoulders heaved. Eventually, the laughter bubbling up from her stomach refused to be contained another second, and

she collapsed in a heap on the floor, shrieking hysterically.

'Annie!' Sylvia twisted round until she was leaning over the edge of the bed, watching her friend's contortions. Her long hair hung down like curtains. 'It's not the least bit amusing,' she said in a hurt voice. 'In fact, it's tragic. I had a terrible night. He kept wanting to try again and again. We had to watch it, like waiting for bread to rise.'

Which only sent Annie into shrieks of laughter all over again.

'You're terribly cruel, Annie Harrison.' Even as Sylvia spoke, her lips began to twitch. 'I suppose it does have its funny side.'

With an effort, Annie managed to bring her hilarity under control. 'What made you do it, Syl?'

'I'm not sure.' Sylvia rested her face in her hands. 'Lots of girls at college have been with guys. I thought it was time I did. Ted Deakin seemed perfect to start with. He's old, he's experienced. Trouble is, he's too experienced. He's never been able to do it since his wife divorced him. He thought I'd get him started again. Trust me to pick someone who's past it,' she added moodily.

Ted being divorced only added further piquancy to the night's events. It was as if Sylvia had stepped into the adult world.

'Poor Ted,' Annie said soberly. He'd seemed quite nice. She recalled his rather engaging grin. 'Are you going to try again?'

Sylvia grimaced. 'Not bloody likely! Last night did my ego no good at all. Mind you, I'm glad I'm a woman. We don't have to put on an act. If we're not in the mood, we can just lie back and think of England.'

After lunch on Christmas Eve, Stickley & Plumm held

their customary office party. It was a formal affair, with everyone gathering in Mr Grayson's office for a glass of sherry and one of Miss Hunt's mince pies. The conversation was forced, the atmosphere drier than the sherry. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when, at half past three, Mr Grayson said jovially, 'Happy Christmas to one and all,' which meant it was time to leave. They could go home or do last-minute Christmas shopping.

Annie scurried upstairs. She was buttoning her coat when the rotund figure of Mr Rupert appeared in the doorway. 'Going, Annie.?' he said with mock incredulity. 'I haven't wished you Merry Christmas.'

'You wished it me downstairs,' she stammered.

'That was just a handshake.' Before she knew what was happening, he had pressed his plump face against hers and was kissing her wetly on the lips. 'Merry Christmas, Annie.' He tried to kiss her again, but she managed to duck underneath his arm. As she ran downstairs, she rubbed her mouth on her sleeve. She felt dirty. If he didn't keep his hands to himself, she'd leave, even if it did mean getting less money elsewhere.

'But why should you leave?' Marie said angrily. 'He's the one who should leave. Why don't you tell this crabby Miss Hunt what's going on?'

'I'll see what happens after Christmas.'

'Where are you going tonight?' Marie was getting ready for the Grand. She put her white apron in a bag, along with a pair of flat shoes. Her face was beautifully made up. She still wore plenty of make-up, but drama school had shown her how to use it with skill.

'There's a crowd of us going to the Cavern.'

'Think of me whilst you're enjoying yourselves. There's a big dinner tonight as well as a party in the Snug.' Marie smiled happily. 'We seem to have swopped places. It used to be me out on the town

every night, and you were left to look after our parents.' Elocution lessons had ironed out Marie's Liverpool accent, and she no longer said mam and dad.

'I'm ever so proud of you, Marie,' Annie said quietly. Her sister was so busy worl^ng that she'd never been to the Cavern.

'I'm proud of you, sis.' Marie looked through the window at the dark streets, a far-away expression on her face. 'Remember the day Bruno took us to the nursing home in Southport? As you were leaving, you said, "Don't worry, Marie. We'll come through. One of these days, everything will be all right, you'll see." They were your exact words. I kept thinking about them after they'd taken the baby from me. At the time, I didn't believe them, but they've come true. We're okay, aren't we, sis?'

'Apart from the loathsome Jeremy Rupert, we're fine.'

It was bedlam at the Gallaghers' on New Year's Day. There were far too many decorations, for one thing, and they kept falling down. The parlour was out of bounds, being occupied by Alan and his fiancee, Norma. Tommy's girls, Marilyn and Debbie, had been left with Grandma whilst their mam and dad went to the pictures. The girls were playing with their dolls on the floor. Upstairs, Mike was listening to Elvis Presley's 'Blue Suede Shoes' on his new record player, whilst the three younger lads mooched about picking at food and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Uncle Bert had wisely taken himself to the pub.

Annie watched Pete help himself to Christmas cake. It seemed only yesterday that his mam had brought him round to Orlando Street, shortly after the Harrisons moved in. She remembered him sitting on her knee, a few weeks old, whilst she examined his tiny fingers and

little pink ears. Now Pete was fourteen and his voice was already beginning to break. She was taken aback by how quickly time flew, and said as much to Auntie Dot.

'I know, luv,' Dot agreed, 'and the older you get, the quicker it flies. I'll be fifty this year, not that I feel it, but it seems like only yesterday I was twenty-one.'

She didn't look fifty, either. Although her ginger hair was streaked with silver, the skin on the sharp bones of her face was shiny and unlined. A few years ago she'd started wearing glasses and her latest pair had fancy blue and silver frames which Annie thought grotesque.

Uncle Bert walked in that very minute, accompanied by a man Annie had never seen before who was introduced as Lauri Menin.

'Lauri with no "e" at the end,' said Bert. 'He's a comrade from the Labour Party. This is me niece, Annie Harrison.'

'She's a secretary at one of those big posh solicitors in town,' bragged Dot.

'How do you do.' Annie shook hands amidst the chaos. Lauri Menin's grip was firm and hard. He was a tall man, well built, with broad shoulders and twinkling brown eyes. She rather liked his moustache, which suited him perfectly, being just the right size: not small enough to look like Hitler, not big enough to look ridiculous. After taking this much in, she never gave him another thought. He was really ancient, at least forty, and probably already had a wife and several children.

Bert said, wincing at the noise, 'I'll take Lauri into the parlour, luv. We want to talk politics for a while.'

'Unless you want to talk with our Alan and Norma canoodling on the sofa, I wouldn't if I were you,' Dot said tartly.

'Is there anywhere in this house I can get some privacy?' Bert demanded exasperatedly.

Tommy and a very pregnant Dawn arrived to take their daughters home, and the house quietened down a Uttle. Annie helped Dot make a pile of brawn sarnies, and Mike took his upstairs to eat with Elvis Presley. Alan and Norma were allowed theirs in the parlour on the strict condition it was vacated as soon as they'd finished. 'Your dad's got political matters to discuss,' Dot said importantly.

'Did you say you worked for a solicitor?' Lauri Menin asked Annie.

'Well, Dot did. It's Stickley & Plumm in North John Street.'

'I'm thinking of buying a house. Do they do conveyancing.^'

'Oh, yes. The conveyancing department is the biggest.'

His brown eyes twinkled. 'I've never done this sort of thing before, and I'm rather nervous. Are they a reputable company?'

'One of the most reputable in Liverpool - and one of the oldest.'

Not much escaped Dot's sharp ears. 'We'd never let our Annie work in a place that wasn't completely above board,' she said firmly, as though she'd personally inspected the office and interviewed the staff.

Annie gave him the telephone number, and enquired where the house was he was thinking of buying. She wasn't sure whether to call him Lauri or Mr Menin.

'It's not built yet,' he replied. 'It's on a small estate of just fourteen houses in Waterloo, very ordinary, but there will be a view of the Mersey from the upstairs window. I was born within sight of a river, so it will remind me of my childhood in Finland.'

'Finland!' exclaimed Annie. She'd never dreamt he was a foreigner. His English was perfect.

'He came over to fight in the war when he was only

nineteen,' explained Dot. 'And he couldn't bring himself to go back after the Finns ended up on the side of the Germans.'

Bert was beginning to get impatient. The younger lads had disappeared, Alan and Norma had gone out, and the parlour was vacant. He wanted to get down to politics. 'C'mon, Lauri. See you later, Annie.'

'No you won't. Uncle Bert. As soon as I've helped Auntie Dot with the dishes, I'll be off.' She'd only come to wish everyone a Happy New Year. 'Sylvia and I are going to the pictures tonight to see Marjorie Morning-star with Gene Kelly.'

'Hang on a minute,' Dot waved her arms. 'We can't let our Annie go without making a toast.' She produced a bottle of sherry and quickly poured some into four glasses and handed them round. 'To i960,' she cried merrily.

'To the sixties,' Lauri Menin murmured. 'Let's hope they bring happiness and good fortune to us all.'

The sixties! All the way back to the flat, Annie wondered what the sixties would bring for her.

In February, without telling a soul, Annie decided to look for another job. Jeremy Rupert's attentions were beginning to wear her down.

She searched the Vacancies in the Liverpool Echo, but the secretarial jobs invariably called for someone aged 'twenty-one plus', and the wages for ordinary shorthand typists were so low, she'd have to give up the flat. Of course, she could always return to the Grand - Cecy would welcome her with open arms - but that seemed a retrograde step to take.

If only she'd been more careful with the money from Orlando Street! Her share had nearly all gone. Apart from the fees for Machin & Harpers and three months advance rent, she had recklessly bought a refrigerator,

because food in the unventilated kitchen went bad within a day. The rest of the money had disappeared in dribs and drabs, whilst Marie had carefully held onto hers, adding to it over the years.

In the end, she decided her only option was to put up with Jeremy Rupert a while longer until a suitable job came up, though it seemed degrading. 'I'm letting him maul me 'cos I won't give up the money,' Annie thought to herself, 'In a way, I'm a bit like one of them prostitutes Auntie Dot's always on about,'