Liverpool Annie (21 page)

'You mean move out?' Sylvia said in astonishment. 'But what will Bruno do without you.^'

'Bruno already does quite well without me.'

'You know what I mean, Cecy. I meant the food, that sort of thing.'

Cecy turned away with a sour twist of her lips. Eve had worked in the Grand. She could easily take over Cecy's role in the kitchen.

Mr Rupert had recovered slightly by next morning. His manner was bland, as was his voice. He asked Annie to come in with her notebook, but stumbled badly over the dictation, as if his mind was unable to grasp the intricacies of the work involved.

'That will do for now,' he said after a short while.

Annie remained in her chair, wondering if she should say something, perhaps express some regret. She was searching for the appropriate words when Mr Rupert said again, 'That will do. Miss Harrison.'

Pauline Bunting from Accounts came round with the wages at the usual time, directly after lunch. Annie's brown envelope was unusually thick.

'Hey! It feels like I've got a bonus!' she chortled.

Pauline gave her a strange look. She didn't stay for a

chat as she often did, but mumbled she was in a hurry and quickly left.

The envelope contained twice the usual number of notes. Bemused, Annie searched for her wage slip. It was still in the envelope, along with a folded letter. She felt a flicker of alarm, followed by a sensation of dread. She knew exactly what the letter would say. Signed by Mr Grayson, it was short and to the point; he would be obliged if she would leave the offices of Stickley & Plumm when they closed for business that afternoon. A week's wages were enclosed in lieu of notice.

She'd been sacked!

Angry tears pricked her eyes, and she was simmering at the cruel injustice of it all when Miss Hunt came in. Her initials were beside those of Mr Grayson on the letter, AFG/DH, so she must have typed it.

'I'm sorry. Miss Harrison,' she said stiffly, her long, thin body poised clumsily, like that of a gauche young girl.

'Why on earth should I be dismissed when I've done nothing wrong?' Annie cried. She felt like throwing her typewriter through the window. Either that or bursting into tears.

'I'm afraid it's the way of the world, dear. Us little people are no more than pawns on a chessboard. When the powerful want us out of the way, we just get shoved aside.'

Annie blinked at this rather emotive response. 'If you hadn't made me tell Mr Grayson, this wouldn't have happened.'

Miss Hunt's yellow face grew bleak. She nodded. 'I know. The fact is. Miss Chase is emigrating to Australia at the end of the month and I felt sure Mr Grayson would allow you to take over as secretary to Mr Atkins. Unfortunately, he feels it would be better all round for the firm if you weren't here. Of course,' she went on

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caustically, 'the firm is all that matters where Arnolc Grayson is concerned.'

Annie laughed contemptuously. She nodded to wards Mr Rupert's empty room. 'What's happening to him?'

'Mr Rupert has been given a severe dressing-down. Ii would be difficult to get rid of a partner. Nevertheless his behaviour falls far short of what is considerec acceptable.'

'In other words, he's got off scot free!'

'He has been warned it must never happen again.'

'Did you say anything to Mr Grayson when h( dictated the letter?' Annie asked curiously.

Miss Hunt averted her eyes. 'It would have been i waste of time.'

'I'd like to leave right now. I'm up to date with m( work.' She couldn't stand the thought of seeing Jerem] Rupert again.

The older woman frowned briefly, then her fact cleared. 'Perhaps that would be wise.' She went to th< door. 'Good luck. Miss Harrison. I hope your next jol turns out more happily than this one.'

She was about to go, when Annie called, 'Mis: Hunt?'

'Yes, Miss Harrison?'

'How do you stand it?'

'I don't know,' Miss Hunt said as she closed the door

Annie gathered together the belongings accumulatec over the years; spare make-up, emergency sanitar towel, paper hankies, aspirins, soap and towel, tooth brush, and all the other odds and ends she had acquired She had nothing to put them in, so helped herself to ; stout envelope with plackets in the sides - the first thinj she had ever stolen.

Throughout, her cheeks burned and her hands shool with anger. She glanced around the tiny office to maki

sure she'd got everything. It was important to get away quickly. Pauline Bunting might have passed on the news of her dismissal and the office would be agog. She didn't want to discuss why she'd been sacked with anyone, no matter how sympathetic they might be.

Feeling like an outcast, she slipped quietly downstairs with the envelope clutched to her chest, and was about to open the front door leading to North John Street when the enormin.- of what had happened sank in. For over three years, she had been coming in and out of this door regularly, without once being late. She had always given conscientiously of her best, yet where had it got her?

Annie sat on the bottom stair and sniffed hard several times. It had got her nowhere. She was brooding over the unfairness of it all when the door opened and the stairs flooded with sunlight. Annie cursed inwardly for not making herself scarce. If it was Jeremy Rupert . . . ! But the man who entered was a stranger, jacketless, with crumpled navy cotton trousers and a long-sleeved check shirt.

However, he turned out to be a stranger who knew her. 'Hello,' he said pleasantly. 'This is a coincidence. It's Annie, isn't it, Annie Harrison.^ I was going to come and see you today.'

Aimie stared at him for several seconds. There was something familiar about his affable features and bright brown eyes, but it was the moustache that finally did it; a moustache that was not too big and not too small, but just the right size for his face, though she had to search for his name.

'Mr Menin,' she said eventually. 'We met at Auntie Dot's on New Year's Day.' He was buying a house in Waterloo and she'd recommended Stickley & Plumm. She had forgotten all about the incident.

'Lauri, please!' he protested. 'Mr Menin makes me

feel very old. I have an appointment at three to sign the final contract for my house.'

'It's taken a long time!' she remarked.

'The building work has just finished. It'll be ready to move into soon.' He was still holding the door. 'Are you coming in or going out?'

'Going out,' Annie said brightly. She went past him into the street. 'Goodbye, Mr . . . Lauri.'

To her astonishment, he let the door go and began to walk along the pavement beside her.

'What about your appointment?' she stammered.

'That can wait,' he said gently. 'There are more important things at the moment, such as why does Miss Annie Harrison's face show so many different emotions? Her eyes say one thing, her lips another and her forehead is full of worried lines. None of the emotions are happy ones, and her voice tells the same story. What's wrong, Annie?'

'Oh!' She had rarely felt so moved. It was incredible that this virtual stranger was able to see through her so easily. She'd thought she'd put on a brave face when they just met. She stared up at him. Her head came to just above his shoulder and she didn't think she'd ever seen such a kind, concerned expression on a face before. His brown eyes smiled into hers. She noticed his eyebrows were like little thatches and his luxuriant brown hair curled onto his broad neck. Why hadn't she noticed how nice he was on New Year's Day?

'May I invite you for a coffee? Or would you prefer to tell me to get lost and mind my own business?' he twinkled.

'I'd love a coffee.'

The first place they came to was a long, narrow self-service snack bar which was virtually empty after the mid-day rush.

Lauri Menin brought two coffees over to the plastic table. 'The truth is,' Annie blurted as soon as he sat down, 'I've got the sack.'

'I thought as much. At least, I thought you were leaving.'

'How on earth could you possibly guess?'

He nodded towards the envelope. 'The contents told me the whole story. People don't usually walk round with stuff like that. Changing jobs is a bit like changing house, on a smaller scale.'

Annie felt glad the sanitary towel was hidden. To her astonishment, in a rush of scarcely stoppable words, she found herself explaining the reason she'd lost her job, yet she didn't feel a bit embarrassed. Lauri Menin listened to the whole sorry tale right up to the point where he'd found her on the stairs. He didn't interrupt once. When she finished, he said seriously. 'This Jeremy Rupert sounds a most disagreeable creature, but also rather tragic. How terrible to have to get your kicks out of forcing your attentions on a young girl. You must feel very sorry for him.'

Pity was the last thing Annie felt. 'I never looked at it that way.'

Lauri continued, 'Mr Grayson - who my appointment was with - is even more to be pitied. The man is totally unprincipled.'

'Why were you coming to see me?' she asked shyly.

He folded his broad arms on the table. 'To thank you,' he said. He had a soothing, slightly husky voice with only a trace of Liverpool accent. She couldn't imagine him sounding angry. 'For all their faults, Messrs Stickley & Plumm handled the purchase of my house efficiently.'

She murmured something about it being a highly reputable firm, and he said that under the circumstances, that was open to question and it was time to

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change the subject from Stickley & Plumm. 'What do you know about interior decoration?' he asked.

'Absolutely nothing!' Annie replied.

'According to your Uncle Bert, you're very artistic. The thing is, I'm in a quandary over what colours to have my house painted. The decorators are waiting on my instructions. If I don't let them know soon, they'll paint everywhere white, including the front door.'

'You must have the front door bright yellow,' Annie said quickly. She knew he was only being kind and trying to take her mind off things. 'Our front door used to be a horrible dark brown. I swore if I had a house of me own I'd have the front door yellow.'

Lauri Menin grinned. He had large, slightly crooked white teeth. 'Then yellow it shall be. It's lucky I spoke to you. I could well have chosen horrible dark brown. What about the lounge? My favourite colour is red, but I have a feeling that might not look so good.'

Annie cringed. 'Red would look dead awful. Pastel colours would be best, pale pink or lemon, with matching wallpaper on the breastwork. According to the women at work, that's the latest fashion.'

'No wallpaper, I'm afraid, until the building has settled. Pink or lemon sounds fine. I like the sound of it.'

'What about your wife? Isn't she allowed a say in the colours?'

He drained his cup, 'I haven't got a wife.'

'You don't look like a bachelor,' According to Sylvia, bachelors were either men of the world or mothers' boys. Lauri Menin appeared to be neither.

'I'm a widower,' he said lightly.

Annie clapped her hand to her mouth. 'Gosh, I'm awful sorry. I mean, I'm sorry about taking you for a bachelor and sorry about your wife.'

Lauri looked amused by her confusion. 'There's nothing to be sorry about. The bachelor thing I don't

mind, and Meg died more than half a lifetime ago. Our time together was short but sweet. We were only twenty. She was killed in the Blitz.' He returned to the subject of his house. 'I would like a young person's opinion on furniture. Having lived in rooms for more than twenty years, I possess nothing of my own except clothes and books. I need to furnish the place from top to bottom.'

Annie thought he was the most splendid person she'd ever met. How fortunate she'd sat on the stairs those extra few minutes, or they wouldn't have run into each other! He seemed genuinely interested in her views. She suggested he describe the new house and she would offer advice, though warned that up to now the only household item she'd bought was a refrigerator,

'I'll do better than describe it. My car is parked just round the corner. As you appear free for the rest of the day, if you fancy a trip to Waterloo, I'll show it you.'

The tiny estate was shaped like a light bulb. There were fourteen identical creamy brick semi-detached houses. Two pairs, which already had people living in them, lined the narrow opening. Infant climbing plants had begun their long journey up the front walls. There was a half-built rockery in one garden, freshly dug flower beds and borders in the others, a tiny hedge. A bright new road sign said, 'Heather Close', with 'Cul-de-Sac' underneath in smaller letters.

'Heather is the name of the main contractor's daughter,' Lauri said.

Once past the opening, the houses flared out into an oval, with two pairs on either side, some of which were already inhabited, and one pair directly ahead completing the oval. Annie thought the top pair were in the best position. It was where the king and queen would live, with their subjects spread out either side

and on guard at the entrance. She was pleased when Lauri drove his Ford Anglia car into the drive of one of the furthest houses, the left one, number seven.

'Oh, it's lovelyV she breathed when he unlocked the door and they went inside. The hallway was light and bright and airy, with bare pink plaster walls and glass panelled doors.

'This is nice.' She stroked a glossy wooden cupola-shaped knob on the bannisters.

'It's the only house to have that particular feature,' Lauri said.

'Why is that?'

'I was employed on the site as a carpenter. I took the opportunity to make a few additions to my own property.' They went into the lounge, which had a small curved bay at the front and French windows leading to the back garden. The long red-brick fireplace with little niches each side for ornaments and a rough slate hearth was a work of art. Lauri said it was something else unique to this house.

'It's super - and I love French windows!' Annie could scarcely contain herself. 'They're the sort of thing you see in films. I've never come across them in real life before. Can we go outside?'

'Of course, but I'm afraid it's a sea of mud and clay out there.'