Queen of the Mersey (31 page)

The college was situated by Kirkby railway station, a large assortment of buildings that had, until recently, been a hostel for workers in a nearby ammunitions factory.

It had started to drizzle and she got lost immediately, which she felt was a very poor start to her training. She was glad to come across another lost soul, a jolly woman about ten years older than she was who introduced herself as Isobel Cartwright and said she’d been a map reader in the WAAF.

‘So if anyone should feel ashamed at getting lost, it’s me,’ she lamented. ‘I wouldn’t mind, but I’m actually living in the damn place. I’m sure I’ll never remember which is my block.’

‘We’re meeting in the theatre. Maybe it’s that building over there. It’s taller than the rest.’

‘Good thinking, Laura. Let’s make our way towards it through this maze of huts.’

When they arrived, a trifle damp, a hundred or more prospective teachers, predominantly male, were gathered in the theatre being addressed by the principal, Mr Worrage. They crept in, sat at the back, and discovered that the morning would be spent listening to various speakers, the afternoon collecting timetables and other important bits of paper, and being shown around the various classrooms and other facilities. Mr Worrage said he wanted to encourage extramural activities – a debating society perhaps, or any hobby group that people wished to start – he himself was a keen aero-modeller and took part in amateur dramatics. ‘After all, we have our very own theatre.’

He spoke for more than an hour, and was followed by a woman who made a stirring speech, telling them that in two years’ time they would be trusted with the nation’s most treasured possession; its children. ‘Their future, our country’s future, will be in your hands. It is up to you to ensure the future works.’

They broke for tea and biscuits, and were then delivered a stern lecture by the Domestic Supervisor, Mrs Roberts, aimed at the resident students, and concerned with ration books, bedding, not stubbing out cigarettes on furniture, cleaning baths after use, and always having a reserve of their own lavatory paper in case the college ran out.

After a lunch of lamb chops and roast potatoes, followed by treacle pudding and custard, the rest of the day passed in a blur. Laura went home with her bag crammed with papers, reports and books, and her head in a whirl. Vera had boiled the kettle in readiness for her return, and made a resuscitating cup of tea.

‘Are you a teacher now, Mum?’ enquired Gus.

‘Lord, no, sweetheart. It’s going to take two whole years.’

‘Less a day,’ Vera grinned.

Laura grinned back. ‘Less a day.’

Within a fortnight, things had settled down. She knew what was happening next without looking at the timetable; that Thursday afternoon they did PT for half an hour, not only to keep fit but it was something they might be called upon to take at school if there was an emergency. The same went for music on Tuesday morning. Anyone who could play an instrument was encouraged to do so, the rest just formed a choir and sang. ‘My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean’, ‘Bobby Shaftoe’s Gone To Sea’, and ‘Greensleeves’ were all songs Laura remembered from her own years at school.

Twice a week they had lectures on child psychology; problem children, damaged children, backward children, bright children. So far, they hadn’t been taught anything about teaching children, but Laura supposed that would come eventually.

By December, she was loving every day. Her brain seemed to have blossomed, like a flower, and she was soaking up information the way a flower soaks up water and thrives. Even so, she was looking forward to the Christmas break. She, and her brain, needed a rest.

They broke up at lunchtime and Laura and Isobel went with a big crowd to the pub by the railway for a celebratory drink. Close friendships were beginning to develop between the students on the course. They were the first to take part in a great experiment and had felt the pressure during their first term. Now it had come to an end and there was a feeling of relief that they had coped.

The atmosphere in the pub was rowdy from the start. Men, nearly all of whom had been in the forces, and who until now had seemed so stiffly formal, lost all inhibitions after a single drink, offering tearful renditions of ‘Lili Marlene’

and ‘Keep The Home Fires Burning’. Laura drank only half a pint of cider and couldn’t stop laughing for some reason.

After about an hour, she left, rather reluctantly because she was having such a good time, but Vera and Gus were expecting her and would be worried if she was late. She wished everyone Merry Christmas, and found herself inundated with kisses in return, which only made her laugh even more.

‘Don’t forget,’ she said to Isobel, ‘if you feel lonely, you’re always welcome at our house. You have my address.’

She felt dizzy and lightheaded and was still giggling when she got to Glover Street. At Vera’s, she pulled the key through the letter box, unlocked the door, and shouted, ‘It’s only me.’

Gus came into the hall, his face unusually serious. He looked so adorable in his brown jersey and little grey shorts, that Laura couldn’t resist giving him an enormous hug. ‘Have I ever told you how much I love you?’ she cried.

‘Yes, Mum. Loads of times.’ He frowned and looked even more adorable. Laura was about to hug him again, when he said, ‘Mum. A man’s come to see Vera and he ses he’s my dad. Come and look.’

But there was no need to look. The man had come to the door; tall, fair-haired and as handsome as ever, though much older than she remembered.

‘Hello, Laura,’ said Roddy.

‘I knew he was mine straight away,’ he said a few minutes later when the three of them went home. ‘There’s a photograph of me at the same age and he looks exactly the same. Don’t you, Gus?’ He ruffled Gus’s hair, only a shade lighter than his own. The little boy was leaning on the arm of his father’s chair, staring at him intently.

‘I don’t know,’ he said solemnly.

‘How can he know without seeing the photograph?’ Laura said tartly. The dizziness and lightheadedness had gone in a flash the minute she’d set eyes on him, and she no longer felt like laughing. Instead, she was shaking with a mixture of shock and anger. How dare he descend upon her without warning? What did he want? Was it just a social visit because it was Christmas? How could he just turn up, disturbing the calm rhythm of her life, distracting her thoughts, upsetting her, making her heart race so fast she could hardly breathe, but only because she was surprised to see him, not glad. She’d managed to live quite well without Roddy for the last five years and had got used to the idea of living the rest of her life without setting eyes on him again.

‘What time will Hester be home?’ he asked.

‘About four o’clock. She’s at senior school now.’

‘Hester’s my sister.’

‘I know that, Gus. She’s also my daughter, and you’re my son.’ He looked at Laura. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about him?’

‘I didn’t think, under the circumstances, that it was any of your business.

Look, could we have this conversation some other time?’ She nodded at Gus, who was listening avidly. ‘Now hardly seems appropriate. Would you like some tea?’

‘Vera nearly drowned me in tea, but I wouldn’t mind more.’

They sat making stilted conversation for about half an hour. He seemed fascinated by the fact she was training to be a teacher. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather when Vera told me you were at college.’

‘Why, didn’t you think I was capable enough?’

‘Laura, I think I know what you’re capable of. We had some pretty tough times over the years, but you never let the worst of them throw you.’

She didn’t say the toughest time of all was when he left her for another woman and she resented being reminded of the life he’d turned his back on.

There was a knock on the door. Laura answered and found Vera outside, looking rather furtive. ‘I didn’t like to let meself in, luv, because – well, you know,’

she hissed. ‘I’m about to collect our Sammy from school and wondered if Gus’d like to come with me? We could buy some sweeties on the way home.’

‘Yes, please,’ said Gus. No one was allowed to knock on the door without him coming to see who it was.

‘Go and fetch your coat, there’s a luv.’ Gus trotted away. ‘It’ll give you and Roddy a chance to have a chat in private before Hester comes home.’ The hiss became a whisper. ‘You might like to know he’s left a load of luggage in our front parlour. Came in a taxi, would you believe! Must have money to burn.’

‘Where’s Gus?’ Roddy asked when Laura went back.

‘He’s gone with Vera to meet Sammy from school.’

He looked hurt. ‘I thought he’d prefer to stay with me. We’ve only just met.’

‘For goodness’ sake, Roddy. He’s only four. You can’t expect him to accept you as his father within five minutes.’

‘I suppose not.’ He sighed. ‘He’s a great kid. I wish I’d known about him.’

‘What would you have done, left Katherine and come home? You’ve never seemed in much of a hurry to see Hester. Oh!’ She flung herself into a chair. ‘This is childish. What are you doing here, Roddy?’ She thought about the luggage in Vera’s parlour. ‘Is this just a passing visit and you’re on your way somewhere else? I hope you don’t want to stay the night, because there’s nowhere to sleep.

Gus has his bed in our – in my room.’

He looked at her for a long time without speaking. She regarded him steadily back. He was twenty-eight and there was nothing remotely boyish left about him.

Although he looked fit and healthy, his skin had lost its youthful bloom and become coarser, his neck thicker. His hands weren’t quite so slender as before.

But his eyes were just as blue, his mouth still as firm, and his smile when he smiled just as sweet. All these things she noted quite dispassionately. This man was her husband and he’d betrayed her. She felt nothing for him any more.

‘I want to come back,’ he said.

‘I don’t want you back.’

He winced at the certainty in her voice. ‘I still love you.’

‘I find that hard to believe. The last time we spoke, you told me you were in love with someone else.’

‘Will you listen while I try to explain what happened? You might feel different then.’

She folded her hands together on her knee, interested even though her mind was quite made up. She wouldn’t feel the slightest bit different, no matter what he said.

‘I’ve told you before about Jack Muir who rescued me from Dunkirk and took me back to his home in Dover,’ he began. ‘Jack’s house was similar to the one where I’d grown up, except it was smaller. When I arrived, the French windows were open and the scent of roses drifted in. A piano was being played in another room – it turned out to be Katherine playing. There were carpets on the floors, paintings on the walls, expensive cars in the drive. They had a cook, a maid.

After the horror of Dunkirk, it was like heaven, exactly what I needed. I had nothing to worry about and was waited on hand and foot. I stayed a few days and felt very much at home. On the second night, when I’d more or less recovered, a dinner party was held in my honour. I was the only person not wearing evening dress.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I remember the occasion perfectly; the sheen on the women’s frocks, the way their jewellery sparkled, their perfume. Katherine wore cream lace and smoked cigarettes in a silver holder. The chap on her other side would light them for her and I noticed the way her earrings swung to and fro like little lanterns whenever she bent forward. It grew dark, and the only illumination was the candles on the table. Everyone quietly got rather drunk. It was like a scene from a film, a sophisticated gathering of wealthy people. Quite out of the blue, I felt that this was where I belonged.’

‘I never thought of you as sophisticated,’ Laura murmured.

‘I’m not surprised,’ he said, smiling wryly. ‘I didn’t think it myself when I was working on building sites or for Colm Flaherty – what happened to Colm, by the way?’

‘He went back to Ireland when the bombing started and never came back.’

‘Sensible chap. Anyway, back to Dover …’

‘Where you belonged.’

‘So I thought. I returned to my unit and was immediately granted a week’s leave, so I came home, here, to Glover Street, except it didn’t feel like home.’ He glanced around the shabby, homely room. ‘I was like a stranger in a strange land. By then, I had convinced myself I was in love with Katherine and she said she felt the same about me. She had a part-time job in Whitehall and went to work dressed like a model, while you looked rather like a navvy in your overalls and boots and you smelt of something terribly unpleasant.’

‘It was the Swarfega, to take the oil off my hands.’

‘Whatever it was, it was horrid. I managed to stick it out for the week, then discovered I’d been posted to Colchester, no distance from London. I was able to see Katherine every weekend. One of her friends was usually throwing a party. If not, we’d go to the theatre or eat out. Sunday, we’d drive down to Dover in her car. It was the life I would have been leading if I hadn’t met you.’

‘My own life would have been rather different if I hadn’t met you,’ she reminded him. ‘Though not quite so glitzy,’ she added caustically.

‘Darling,’ he said plaintively, ‘I’m trying to explain things. I’ve been the biggest fool the world has ever known and I want you to know why. It was the excitement, the danger – North Africa was pretty hairy. My brain felt as if it had been ratcheted up several gears. Our life together seemed very dull.’

‘It was very dull,’ she agreed. ‘For me as well as you, but when people marry, have children, it’s usually the way life is.’

‘Except it wasn’t enough for me, not then. The idea of returning to Glover Street appalled me. I needed something else, something extra, particularly when I joined the Special Operations Executive, by which time Katherine and I had set up home together in London. I took my life in my hands every time I went to France, then I’d come home to a round of parties, which was exactly what I needed.’

‘Did you introduce Katherine to your family?’ she asked curiously.

‘Yes, they loved her. She was exactly the sort of girl my parents had wanted me to marry.’