Liverpool Annie (25 page)

'But you decided to buy a house.'

'I was fed up with lodgings, that's why. You appeared quite fortuitously right after I had made the decision.'

Sylvia always found the baby most peculiar. 'She's so helpless. Horses can walk the minute they're bom. You've got to do everything for her.'

'Well, Cecy had to do everything for you. You didn't come leaping from her womb and go for a run.' Annie transferred two-month-old Sara to her other breast.

'I never thought the day would come when I'd see you breastfeed, Annie. Does it hurt when she sucks?'

'No. Actually, it's rather nice.'

'Ugh!' Sylvia shuddered. The Bohemian look had gone since she entered public relations, and she wore a short green shift dress with a thick gold chain slung around her slim hips. She looked incredibly elegant with her long blonde hair tied in a knot on top of her head and dangling jade earrings. Her white mini was parked on the drive outside. 'I'm only joking. I half envy you, having Sara. She's lovely.'

'Only half envy me?' Annie raised her eyebrows.

'Well, you're missing everything, aren't you? Liverpool's the most famous city on the planet. The atmosphere in the clubs is terrific. You should hear the way girls scream at the Beatles nowadays.'

'Do you scream?'

'Jaysus, no, I'm too old. But,' she added wistfully, 'sometimes I wish we were still teenagers. I wouldn't mind a good scream.'

It seemed very juvenile to Annie. She listened to the old groups on the radio, but they seemed to belong to a world she'd left behind.

'Hey, you'll never guess who I saw the other day in the New Court,' Sylvia said. 'Jeremy Rupert.'

'I hope you spat in his eye for me.'

'I was contemplating doing that very thing, except he was with this gorgeous guy. I said "Hello" in the hope he'd introduce me, which he did. The gorgeous guy's a solicitor called Eric Church.' Sylvia smacked her lips. 'He's a Catholic and I'm going out with him on Saturday.'

Annie felt she'd been rather traitorous. 'I hope that doesn't mean Jeremy Rupert's likely to come to the wedding if you end up marrying this gorgeous Eric,' she grumbled.

After Sylvia had gone, Annie put Sara in her Moses basket and went to fetch the washing in; the gusty November wind had blown everything dry. Valerie was bringing in her own washing at the same time. After the initial turmoil, Gary had turned out to be a lovely baby. His nature had become quite sunny and he rarely cried. The Cunninghams were trying for another baby and Valerie was already a week late with her period.

They waved to each other and Valerie looked inclined to stop for a chat, but Annie explained she had to get Lauri's dinner ready.

'I thought he was working in Manchester at the moment?'

'He is, but it doesn't take long to get home. I'm about to make a cottage pie.'

Lauri Menin belonged to a co-operative with four other carpenters, skilled tradesmen like himself. Sometimes, all five might work together on the one site if a large estate was being built, or else they took on jobs which required just one or two men, jobs that could last for as little as a single day. Fred Quillen, the oldest and longest-standing member of the co-op, handled the bookings with scrupulous fairness, and the Quillens' address and telephone number was on the sign over the yard in Bootle where the materials and vans were kept. The men were often fully booked for months ahead. At the end of the month, their earnings were pooled so each man earned the same as the others, barring overtime which went to the individual himself.

At the moment, Lauri was the only one to be employed on the building of a luxury house on the outskirts of Manchester. It was dark by the time he arrived home. 'And how's our daughter been today?' he asked, after he'd kissed his wife affectionately.

'Fine. She couldn't possibly be finer.'

'The food smells nice, my love, I'm starving.'

Annie bustled round, making fresh tea before sitting down to the cottage pie. When they'd finished, Lauri went into the lounge whilst she washed the dishes. She removed her apron and went to join him. He was on the settee reading the paper and looked up, smiling briefly when she came in. Next door, the Cunninghams were having their nightly row, but in number seven everything was quiet. Sara slept peacefully upstairs. Lauri didn't approve of having the television on unless there was something they specifically wanted to watch.

Out of the blue, Annie had the strangest vision. Instead of Lauri, she saw her dad sitting in front of the fireplace of the silent house in Orlando Street. For a moment, she felt quite dizzy. What on earth had triggered off such an awful memory? Then Lauri patted the settee and said, 'Come on, love', and the vision went, but later she found herself thinking about Sylvia and the Cavern, the groups they'd travelled the length and breadth of Liverpool to see, the dances, the tennis club.

'Do you think we could go out one night?' she asked. Dot had already offered to babysit.

'Of course, my love. Where to, the pictures?'

'The pictures would be fine.' She'd look in the Echo to see what was on. 'And you know I couldn't think of anything to have for me birthday? Well, if we can afford it, I'd like a record player.'

'Then a record player it will be,' said Lauri.

There were three very good reasons for throwing a party: it was their second wedding anniversary, it was Christmas, and Labour had recently won a General Election. Dot's new heart-throb, Harold Wilson, was Prime Minister.

Sylvia said to ask twice the number of guests they could accommodate because half were bound not to

come. The trouble was, everyone had come and there was scarcely room to stand. If it had been summer, they could have opened the French windows and let everyone spill out into the garden, but it was December and snowing outside and guests had spilled out into the hallway and the breakfast room instead. There were several people sitting on the stairs.

Still, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Valerie and Chris Andrews were dancing to 'Good Golly, Miss Molly'. Lauri, the perfect genial host, beamed at everyone in sight.

'This is the gear, sis.' Marie came into the kitchen and helped herself to a sausage roll.

Annie was frantically cutting sandwiches. She hadn't done nearly enough food. 'I thought you didn't say things like "the gear" any more.'

'Scouse has become really fashionable in London. People are always asking me to say something in a Liverpool accent. When I tell them my sister was at the Cavern the night it opened, they're really impressed.'

Marie had arrived that morning and would stay for the next few months. She had a small part in the pantomime at the Empire. Pantomime wasn't what Marie had in mind when she'd gone to London in search of stardom, but, as she said with a shrug, it was better than nothing. She'd brought an actor friend who was staying just for Christmas, Clive Hoskins, a sunburnt Adonis with perfect features and a halo of golden curls. Annie couldn't very well object when they took it for granted they would occupy the twin beds in the spare room. Her sister's morals were her own affair. When Annie asked if it was serious, Marie merely said, 'Clive is a dear friend. I'm very fond of him.'

Marie grimaced. 'What possessed you to wear that dress, sis? It looks frumpy, particularly with those flat

shoes. And why don't you do something with your hair? It's been like that since you were little.'

'Oh, do I look awful?' Annie put a distraught hand to her head. 'I intended putting me hair up, but people started arriving before I'd got me make-up on. I made the frock for me twenty-first. I thought it looked dead smart.'

'That length went out of fashion years ago.' Marie looked very smart indeed, in a black form-fitting tailored dress with a daring deep V neckline revealing an inch of black scalloped lace. The skirt finished just above her knees. Her dark hair was cut severely, the same length all round, level with her eyebrows and the tops of her ears. Dot remarked it looked Hke a plant pot.

'I'll ask Lauri if I can buy material for some new frocks.'

'Don't asky sis. Tell him you need more clothes.'

Sylvia came floating into the kitchen, in a dazzling pink dress styled like a toga, which left one gleaming shoulder bare. The hem was edged with silver braid, and she wore spiky-heeled silver sandals. Marie immediately made an excuse to leave, and Annie wondered if they could still remember why they disliked each other.

'More wine,' Sylvia sang. 'White for me and red for Eric, and for goodness' sake, Annie, get out of the kitchen and enjoy yourself. We're all having far too good a time to want food. You look harassed.'

'Oh, Marie said I looked frumpy, now I look harassed. I'm not exactly the perfect hostess.'

'No-one expects you to be perfect.' She took hold of Annie's arm. 'Come on.'

'Will you finish the sandwiches?'

'No I bloody won't. Hang the sandwiches and have a glass of wine.'

ZI2

'It'll only make me sick. Everything makes me sick at the moment.' She was not quite three months pregnant, but having this baby was already very different from the first time. She felt wretched every morning and almost everything she ate upset her stomach. If she'd known she would feel this bad, she wouldn't have suggested the party, but the invitations had gone out weeks ago.

Sylvia dragged her into the lounge, where Eric Church was leaning against the wall, smoking. Annie had taken an immediate dislike to Eric. Perhaps it was only natural not to like the man who was to marry your best friend; after all, Sylvia had been scathing about Lauri. So far, Annie had kept her thoughts to herself.

He reminded her of a Regency buck, and wasn't so much handsome as attractive, with a thin aquiline face and sleeked-back fair hair. Tall and rather dashing, she imagined him in a frock coat with a lacy cravat and a whip twitching in his long white hand.

The pair had been virtually living together in Upper Parliament Street since they met fifteen months ago, and were getting married at Easter, though how Sylvia had the nerve to wear white for virtue, Annie found hard to understand.

'Hi, Annie,' Eric looked bored. He took the glass off Sylvia and she draped herself over him and nuzzled his neck. Annie felt embarrassed. The pair could scarcely keep their hands off each other, even in public. Eric looked slightly less bored and licked his loved one's ear.

After a short conversation during which they had eyes for no-one but one another, Annie made her excuses, and was immediately captured by one of Lauri's colleagues from the co-op.

'Lauri told us about the baby, Annie,' Fred Quillen said in the high-pitched voice that always sounded odd coming from someone with the build of a heavyweight wrestler. 'Congratulations. When's it due.'*'

'The middle of July. Sara will be twenty-two months by then.'

'So, they'll be nicely spaced apart.'

'I would have liked them closer, but Lauri wanted to wait a while.'

It was difficult to hear above the din of the music and the buzz of animated conversation. Annie noticed Lauri, a wine bottle in each hand, had forgotten he was supposed to be refilling glasses, and was deep in discussion with Dot and Bert and the couple from the Labour Party whose names she couldn't remember. She excused herself for a second time, saying she'd like to take a peek at Sara in case she'd been awoken by the noise. She'd already taken several peeks, but an earthquake wouldn't have disturbed Sara once she was asleep.

'Smashing party, Annie.' Chris Andrews said as she pushed past. He was talking to her sister and Clive Hoskins and she briefly remembered his play, Goldilocks, had sparked off Marie's desire to be an actress.

Valerie came out of the bathroom as Annie went upstairs. She looked very glamorous in a sleek blue satin dress with a halter neck, her hair newly set that afternoon. Annie felt very drab, particularly as Valerie now had two small children, and she only had one. Kelly Cunningham had been born in June, and was now six months old.

'False alarm,' Valerie said.

'Sorry?'

'I told you I was a week late, didn't I? Well, I could have sworn I'd just started, but it was a false alarm. Looks like you and me will be going to the clinic together. By the way, have you seen Kevin?'

'No, but there could be a dozen Kevins down there and I wouldn't have noticed. I'm off to have a bit of peace and quiet with Sara.'

'Feeling rough, are you?' Valerie said sympathetically. 'I was like that with Gary. It makes you wonder why women keep on having babies, doesn't it?' With that, she ran downstairs.

Sara was in her own little room at the front of the house. The wallpaper was creamy yellow patterned with white lace. She was lying on her side, so still that Annie quickly checked she was still breathing, something she must have done a million times before. She stroked the pale curls which had just a touch of ginger. Sara didn't stir, despite the fact the floor throbbed in time to the music.

Annie felt her heart quicken. Did all mothers have this sense of overwhelming love, mixed with anxiety and all sorts of other emotions, when they looked at their small children? She wondered if it would stop when they grew older. Did Dot still feel the same about her lads? Tommy and Alan had families and mortgages and were anxious for their jobs. Mike had given up his perfectly good job at the English Electric to start a pop group which had failed, and now worked for an engineering firm that was little short of a sweatshop; the younger lads were only just starting out in the big wide world.

With a sigh, Annie went to the window and lifted the curtain to see if it was still snowing. It was, and the close looked like a Christmas card with its covering of white. Brightly decorated trees glittered in most windows. Some houses, including their own, had coach lamps outside.

She was about to drop the curtain, when two people came out of the Andrews' house and began to run towards her own. As they got closer, Annie felt herself grow cold. Kevin Cunningham and Lottie Andrews! Laughing, they hurried down the side path and went in the back way.

Perhaps there was an entirely innocent explanation. Annie hoped they could think of one if someone noticed the footprints going from one house to the other in the otherwise smooth snow. She let the curtain fall, took a final glance at Sara and opened the door to return to the party.