Memories Are Made of This (14 page)

‘You OK, Dad?' she asked, putting an arm about his shoulders, thinking he looked tired.

‘Don't like this weather. I see our Sam and Hester are both still out. What about you, Jeannie? How badly is the dockers' strike affecting you?'

She had been about to mention the crash that morning, but changed her mind and sat down opposite him. ‘I must admit the strike is a pain. I just hope to God it finishes soon. Were there many strikes when you were young, Dad?'

He put down his knife and fork. ‘There was the police strike in 1919.'

The police strike she already knew about. ‘Any strikes earlier than that?' she asked.

He looked thoughtful. ‘Could be that you're thinking of the transport strikes of 1911. I was only a kid then, but I remember the riots and the fighting between the strikers and the police here in Liverpool. It started with the seamen and then the railwaymen and dockers. The army was brought in and there was a naval ship in the river because the government was convinced anarchy would break out if they didn't put on a show of strength. A couple of civilians were killed and hundreds of people injured during the sectarian fighting that followed. Several bobbies ended up in hospital.' He picked up his fork and stuck it in a morsel of stewing steak. ‘That was bad. It's not that I blamed the workers. Wages were low and the conditions some of the poor lived in were terrible. The women in particular suffered, often going hungry themselves to feed their children. It was a good thing that their better off sisters decided to do something about it.'

‘You mean the suffragettes?'

‘Yes. Most were upper or middle class, with time on their hands, who wanted the vote for themselves. Although not all were concerned about their poorer sisters.' He chewed thoughtfully.

‘Do you think our Hester would have joined the suffragettes if she'd been around then?'

George swallowed. ‘She'd have been a suffragist. They didn't believe in using violence and were keener to help the poor. Mind you, the police in Liverpool have always tried to help poor families. Even then they had a special charity to provide clothing and shoes for the destitute.' He hesitated. ‘I remember your mum telling me she'd been a charity case.'

‘Did she?' Jeanette was shocked. ‘I know hardly anything about her, Dad. When did she tell you that? How did you meet her?'

‘During the thirties. Life was hard and Sam and Hester's mother had just died after a painful illness. She was a good woman but frail. Grace, on the other hand, was tough. She had to be after spending time with foster parents that really didn't love her and then running away and living rough. I found her defending herself against a drunk, so I decided to take her under my wing. She fought me all the way because the last thing she wanted was to be treated like a charity case.'

‘Did you love her?'

George turned brick red. ‘You young people today with your talk of love. I blame the cinema. What is love? She needed a settled home, regular meals, someone to care for her and to care for – and that's why I asked her to marry me. I can't tell you how upset I was when she went missing. I did my best to try and find her but the Luftwaffe weren't leaving us alone that week in May and I had a job to do. Afterwards, it just seemed as if she'd disappeared off the face of the earth.'

‘Aunt Ethel seems to think—'

‘I know what she thinks,' interrupted George, ‘and I wouldn't blame your mother if she'd upped and left because of the interfering old besom,' he muttered. ‘I'd just like to know for certain what happened to her.'

‘Me too,' said Jeanette, reaching across the table and placing her smaller hand on top of his large one. ‘She was only young when she had to fend for herself, and then to have me, well . . .'

He said gruffly, ‘I've sometimes wondered if she had a nervous breakdown and couldn't face coming home with Ethel there. I did visit several hospitals, but there were those that were hit by incendiaries and were on fire and you can have no idea how chaotic everything was. Records were destroyed and—'

‘I wish that we could see her again,' said Jeanette wistfully.

‘Me too, but wishing doesn't get you anywhere. We just have to get on with life and hope for the best.'

She was touched and surprised by all that he had told her. Slowly she removed her hand. ‘Hester and I were on the bus this morning and we saw an accident so we got off and helped. Our Hester was marvellous the way she handled things. Oddly enough, there was another policeman there who gave her a hand. They seemed to work well together.'

‘Hester's a good girl,' he said, flushed with pride. ‘Never been any trouble to me.'

‘Unlike me, hey,' said Jeanette, kissing his cheek.

‘Now don't you be saying that,' he said, patting her shoulder.

‘I'll leave you to get on with your supper, Dad.'

Without another word she went upstairs to think over what he had said and all that had happened that day.

‘So who's this policeman who was at the accident scene the other day?' asked Sam.

Hester felt the colour suffuse her cheeks. ‘Why are you asking?'

‘Because you haven't mentioned it. Jeanette told Dad that there was a policeman who gave you a hand. She admires you, thought you handled it brilliantly.'

‘She's easily impressed.' Despite her words, Hester was pleased by the compliment.

‘I wouldn't say that,' said Sam. ‘She gives credit where it's due. So . . . good looking, was he?'

‘He's all right,' she said casually.

‘Name?'

Hester frowned. ‘Why d'you need to know his name?'

‘Because I'm nosey and I reckon from the way you're blushing, he's asked you out on a date,' said Sam.

She hesitated.

‘I could look up the report,' he murmured, reaching for a file he needed to read.

‘He's with Bootle division and his name is Cedric Dobson. Happy now?' she said, and flounced out.

Sam guessed she did have a date with him. But why couldn't she have given his name immediately? Sam decided to check him out. He wondered what Jeanette had thought of him and decided it might be worth having a chat with her next time he saw her.

Jeanette was feeling restless that day and suggested to Peggy that they walk down to the Mersey at lunchtime and eat their sandwiches there.

‘You're crazy. The strike isn't settled yet and you could get caught up in a scuffle or anything. You do realize there are three hundred ships lying idle in the Mersey?'

‘Yes, I read the
Echo
too, and it says that over forty-three thousand men are involved,' said Jeanette. ‘If things look like getting nasty, I'll come straight back. I need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.'

‘OK, but you can go on your own,' said Peggy. ‘My foot's still giving me gyp and I'd rather rest it up.'

‘That's understandable,' said Jeanette warmly. ‘It's surprising how long these things can take to heal.'

‘You never asked me how I got on with the twin after you left,' said Peggy.

‘Sorry, I forgot! How did you get on?'

‘All right. I only wish he could move a bit faster. I can't see us going dancing. We're a pair of crocks.' Peggy pulled a face.

‘What about the flicks?'

‘It's a thought. I can see I'll have to put myself in his way,' said Peggy, smiling slightly.

Later, as Jeanette walked down to the Mersey, she felt depressed. She feared that Liverpool would go down the drain if these strikes continued. Some ships with perishable cargoes had already decided to unload at ports where there was no industrial action, and it worried Jeanette that their owners might choose never to dock in Liverpool again. She sighed as she forced her way through knots of men and women gathered at the Pierhead and managed to make her way down to the landing stage. At least the ferries were still sailing and there were plenty of police about to deal with matters if the situation was to get out of hand.

She watched the Seacombe boat approach the landing stage. The tide was in and water surged and foamed in a frothy mix of cream and khaki, as ropes, thick as saplings, were thrown. She watched a young ferryman dressed in navy-blue sweater, trousers and peaked cap, help tie up the ship. Suddenly she realized it was Jimmy and called out to him.

He glanced around. She waved and he stared and then lifted a hand in acknowledgement. As the gangplank was lowered, she stepped out of the way to allow passengers to stream past her. As the rush thinned to a trickle, she walked over to him. ‘Fancy meeting you here,' she said. ‘I didn't realize you worked on the ferry boats. Do you only ever work on the Seacombe one?'

‘No. Do Birkenhead sometimes. Are you coming aboard?' he asked, pushing back his cap and grinning at her.

She smiled. ‘I wasn't planning on doing so. I just came down for a walk and some fresh air.' She paused. ‘I wonder . . .'

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Wonder what?'

‘If you've seen a bloke with a nasty cut on his face on your travels backwards and forwards across the Mersey lately?'

‘Can't say I have. Who is this bloke?'

‘Oh, someone I met briefly. We got caught up in a fight in a chippy and he was hit in the face with a bicycle chain.'

Jimmy gave a low whistle. ‘Nasty. When did this happen?'

‘August. Hopefully it would be healed by now, so you'd be looking for a bloke with a scar. I just want to know if he's all right.'

‘I'll keep my eyes open for him. Does he have a name?'

‘Yes, according to Father Callaghan it's David Jones.'

‘Father Callaghan?'

She nodded. ‘D'you know him?'

‘Know him? He's the brother of Mrs Gianelli, who used to run the nursery Mam took me and our Irene to during the war. Although she was a Mrs Lachlan then and a widow, the same as Mam.'

‘Oh, was he living in Liverpool then?'

‘Yeah. I believe he used to help dig people out during the bombing and give the last rites to the dying.'

Jeanette was fascinated, but before she could ask a further question there was a sudden whistle.

Jimmy's head turned in the direction of the ferryboat. ‘I'm going to have to go. See you around.'

There came another whistle and Jeanette was left staring after him, a chill wind blowing in her face, thinking of her mother.

‘Hey, Jeannie, come here!'

Jeanette paused on her way upstairs a few days later and looked down at her half-brother. ‘Is it important? I was just going to get changed.'

‘Just a few words,' said Sam.

She retraced her steps. ‘What's it about?'

‘The policeman at the accident where our Hester helped out – what was your opinion of him?'

The question took Jeanette by surprise. ‘Why?'

‘Answer my question,' ordered Sam.

She sighed heavily. ‘You're not half bossy sometimes. I'm not a member of your squad, you know. He was good looking in a Tyrone Power kind of way, but I didn't really take that much notice of him.'

‘Do you think our Hester fancied him?'

Jeanette's brow knit in thought. ‘Maybe. She had talked on the bus about a lad she'd met when she was evacuated. He gave her her
very first kiss. I'm thinking she wants someone to go out with.'

Sam looked thoughtful. ‘Thanks, kid. You can go now.'

‘Ta very much,' she said flippantly, and ran upstairs, wondering where Hester was this evening. Perhaps she had a date with that policeman.

‘So you came,' said Cedric, taking Hester's hand and drawing it through his arm.

Hester felt a tremor go through her. ‘You came too,' she said lightly.

His dark eyes searched her face. ‘I hope you're glad I did.'

‘Well, I'd have felt a right ninny standing here waiting if you hadn't.' She could feel her cheeks getting hot because he was staring at her intently. ‘Shall we go in?'

‘That's what we're here for,' he said, pushing open the glass-panelled door that led into the foyer of the Locarno. ‘I hope you can dance.'

‘It's a bit late to be asking me that when you arranged to meet me outside a dance hall,' said Hester drily.

‘Just testing,' he said, his smile revealing Maclean-white teeth.

He proved to be a decent dancer. Showy, but she could forgive him that because not once did he tread on her toes, although there were several occasions when he held her too close for comfort. He also didn't bother making small talk whilst they danced, although when they sat out he commented on other people's dancing and also asked if she had worked on any exciting cases lately.

‘If I want excitement I read
Real Crime
magazines or Edgar Lustgarten books,' she said lightly, not wanting to talk about work.

She had obviously caught his interest because his handsome face creased into a smile. ‘You're a fan?'

She could not help returning his smile. ‘Yes, you?'

He nodded, and for the next quarter of an hour, instead of taking to the dance floor, they discussed crime writers. By the time the evening ended, Hester could honestly say that she had enjoyed the date and they arranged to meet again. She told him not to bother seeing her home, and as they were going in opposite directions, parted outside the dance hall.

When she arrived home she found Jeanette making cocoa in the kitchen.

‘Make us a cup too, please,' said Hester.

Jeanette did so, and when she placed it in front of her, asked, ‘Do you know how that woman is who was injured in the crash the other week?'

‘As far as I know, she's OK,' said Hester, reaching for the cocoa cup. ‘By the way, I had our Sam asking me about Cedric.'

‘Is Cedric the policeman?'

‘Yes.'

‘He asked me what I thought of him.' Jeanette took a sip of cocoa.