Queen of the Mersey (8 page)

‘You’re a lovely bride. Mr Theo said so himself. Someone showed him the menu with your husband’s message and he came down to take a peek at you both. Oh, and he said the meal’s on the house.’

‘All I asked was for the pianist to play something special,’ Roddy said later.

‘I wasn’t expecting wine and free food.’

To their surprise, Vera was in the living room when they got home, reading the Silver Star, a magazine containing tawdry tales that Laura found quite fascinating when she borrowed it.

‘Did you enjoy yourselves?’ she asked.

‘It was wonderful!’ Laura cried. ‘We went to see Jezebel with Bette Davis and had lunch in Frederick & Hughes. They gave us wine and the pianist played …’

She stopped just in time.

‘The pianist played what?’

‘“Happy Birthday”. It was someone’s birthday on the next table and they gave us a glass of wine. And Roddy bought me a ring. It was only two and elevenpence, but isn’t it pretty?’ She displayed her right hand so Vera could see the sparkling glass stone. ‘It’s not a real diamond.’

‘I wouldn’t have expected it to be, luv, not for two and eleven.’

‘After the pictures, we went for a drink,’ Laura continued, her face glowing. ‘I had a cherry brandy – I think I’m a little bit tipsy – then we strolled down to the Pier Head and watched the ferries sail in and out. We walked home along the Docky. It’s so foreign, and incredibly busy, even at this time of night.’ She collapsed on the sofa with a whoop of delight. ‘Oh, I love Liverpool! I want to stay here for the rest of my life.’

‘Was it you making a commotion outside the window a few minutes ago?’

Laura giggled. ‘We were playing hopscotch in the moonlight. Can you think of anything more romantic? I’ve been dying to have a go.’

Roddy had been watching his young wife with a mixture of amusement and total adoration while she spoke. ‘I think you could say, Vera, that today we enjoyed ourselves to the full.’

‘Has Hester been all right?’ Laura suddenly remembered they had a daughter.

‘No.’ Vera said grimly. ‘She’s been a little minx, our Mary too. They’ve been fighting for possession of Queenie the whole day long. The poor girl doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going. Don’t be surprised when you find Hester’s room empty, because she’s upstairs. All three of ’em are fast asleep in Aggie Tate’s bed.’

‘They’re a lovely couple,’ Vera said fondly to Albert when she got home. ‘They talk like books. “Today we enjoyed ourselves to the full,” Roddy said.’

‘In other words, they had a bloody good time,’ Albert remarked drily.

‘I think you could say that. You should’ve seen their faces! And the way they looked at each other! You’d think they had lighted candles behind their eyes.’

‘Who’s talking like a book now?’ Albert said, impressed. ‘You’ll be writing poetry next, girl.’

‘Did we ever look at each other like that, Albert?’ Vera asked wistfully.

‘I’m looking at you like that now, Vera. And there’s not candles behind me eyes, but two bloody bonfires. C’mon, girl. Let’s go to bed.’

Hester woke her parents early the following morning simply by bursting into their room and throwing herself on to the bed. She shook her mother awake.

‘Mummy, why should Mary have Queenie for a sister?’ she demanded. ‘It’s not fair. It was me who saw her first. She should be mine.’

‘What time is it?’ Laura mumbled.

‘I don’t know, Mummy. The big hand’s on nine and the little one has just passed six.’

‘I can’t work that out.’ Her brain was too fuggy. She’d been in the middle of a lovely sleep and felt completely relaxed. ‘Go away, Hester.’

Roddy pushed himself to a sitting position. ‘It’s quarter to seven, it’s Sunday, and we usually sleep in. What do you want?’ he enquired sternly. ‘And what’s all this about you being a minx yesterday?’ he added.

Laura sat up with a groan and they both stared at the normally quiet, uncomplaining little girl who was sitting crossed-legged between them, already dressed, her face a mask of haughty indignation.

‘It wasn’t me being a minx, it was Mary. She’s trying to steal Queenie off me.

She said she’s going to be her sister. It’s not fair.’

‘Queenie can’t be stolen, sweetheart. She’s not a toy,’ Roddy said reasonably.

‘Where is she, anyway?’

‘In the kitchen, making tea. We polished the whole of upstairs together, Queenie and me,’ Hester said importantly.

‘What about Mary?’

‘She’s gone home. I pushed her out of bed and she banged her head.’

Laura gasped. ‘That’s a horrid thing to do, Hester. Was she hurt?’

Hester had the grace to look ashamed. ‘She cried. I didn’t mean for her to cry.

I was sorry afterwards.’

‘I should think so too. Later, you must go over and tell Mary how sorry you are for being a very, very naughty girl. I shall also apologise to Vera on your behalf.’

‘All right, Mummy,’ Hester said meekly. ‘Would you like some tea? It’ll be ready by now.’

Roddy got out of bed. ‘I’ll fetch it. I don’t trust you not to throw it over us, the mood you’re in.’

An hour later, Laura still felt bleary-eyed, but was glad they’d got up early.

There were lots of things to do. Roddy had started to stick tape on to the windows. He was measuring them carefully with a ruler, making sure the crosses were perfectly symmetrical. The curtains were taken down, and she sewed the blackout material to them so it would only be seen on the outside, otherwise the place would look like a funeral parlour.

As she sewed, she thought about yesterday. Already, it was beginning to feel faintly unreal. It was the first time they’d had fun together, felt young and without a care in the world, the way young couples should. Now Roddy was going away, and it might be years before they would feel young and carefree again.

Queenie came in accompanied by an eager Hester waving a duster. ‘We’ve polished the bedrooms. Shall we do in here?’

‘If you don’t mind, Queenie.’ The girl seemed to have an obsession with polishing. ‘I’ll make a drink. It’s about time we had a break.’

Colm Flaherty arrived, just in time for a cup of tea, bearing a wireless he’d cadged off an elderly lady who was too deaf to listen to it any more. It was very big, in a walnut casing with a gold brocade front. ‘I thought you’d find it useful, Laura, me darlin’. It’ll be company while your feller’s away.’

‘But we haven’t got electricity, Colm!’

‘You don’t need electricity, darlin’. It’s a battery set. All you have to do is get the battery refilled every now ’n’ again. There’s a spare to keep you going while the other’s being charged. Where would you like it put?’

‘On the shelf beside the fireplace, I think. Thank you very much, Colm. I really appreciate it.’

Colm began to fiddle with the wireless and everyone sat, entranced, when the room was suddenly filled with music, something passionate and classical that Laura didn’t recognise. She was shown how to turn the set on and off and on what waveband to find the Home Service, then Colm said, if she didn’t mind, he’d like to take her feller away and buy him a pint of ale.

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ The taping of the windows was almost finished. The curtains merely had to be re-hung. There were a few jobs Roddy still wanted to do before he left for good, like fix the crooked shelf in the kitchen, do something about the lavatory seat that had become loose and the sideboard drawer that was too tight.

Before he left for good! Laura caught her breath. She was doing her best not to count down the hours. But, as she watched him pass the window with Colm, it was impossible not to think that by this time tomorrow he would have been gone for four long hours, and the hours would only get longer and longer until he came back.

She sighed and remembered it was about time she took Hester across the road to make the promised apology. There’d been no sign of Mary all morning, which was unusual.

It was very peaceful in number seventeen, apart from the sound of pans rattling on the stove. She was boiling a piece of ham and some taters, Vera said. Albert had gone to the pub with the lads, all eight of them, though half would have to stand outside and make do with lemonade and a packet of crisps, not being old enough to set foot on licensed premises.

‘It’s a farewell do for our Billy, though I don’t doubt there’ll be another tonight,’ Vera said. She sniffed. ‘I’m darning his socks. I’m trying to do them nice and neat, but I’ve ended up in a terrible ravel.’ She flung the sock on to the table, looking close to tears. ‘I’m useless at darning. The poor lad will march around the parade ground with a great lump of wool rubbing against his heel.’

‘Here, let me do it.’ Laura took the sock and began to unpick Vera’s attempts at a darn. ‘Where’s Mary?’ she asked.

‘Upstairs. She’s been very quiet this morning, I don’t know why.’

‘Hester!’ Laura jerked her head in the direction of the stairs. When her daughter had gone, she explained to Vera that she’d been very naughty and had pushed Mary out of bed. ‘She banged her head. Hester’s gone to say she’s sorry.

I’m sorry too. I’ve told her it must never happen again.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t mean it,’ Vera said charitably. ‘I’ve pushed Albert out of bed before now, but it was only by accident. Anyroad, luv, there’s no need to make a fuss, coming over and apologising, all formal like. Hester and Mary needle each other all the time, yet they can’t keep away from one another. Let’s leave ’em to sort things out for themselves.’

‘You’re awfully clever, Vera,’ Laura said, full of admiration for her friend’s philosophical attitude to life, though it didn’t prevent her getting upset over lumps in Billy’s socks.

‘I’m not clever, luv, just sensible. There’s enough horrible things happening in the world for people to worry about. It makes sense not to tear yourself apart over things that don’t matter a bit. My,’ she exclaimed, ‘that darn’s dead neat.

I couldn’t have done one like that in a million years. It’s you who’s the clever one, not me.’

‘I haven’t finished yet. I’ll do the other sock in a minute. The other day, I started knitting a pair for Roddy, but then Queenie arrived on the scene and I haven’t touched them since. Roddy said the Army will provide them with socks, but an extra pair wouldn’t go amiss.’ She intended making him lots of things; more socks, a scarf, gloves. It would help to keep in touch with him in a very personal way, knowing that one day his fingers would slide inside the fingers of the gloves and the scarf would keep his neck warm when it was cold. She was too embarrassed to tell Vera this, but was sure that she, more than anyone, would have understood.

The dreaded time had come, the time for Roddy to leave. It was another glorious morning, absolutely perfect, the sun a dazzling golden circle in the pale sky.

The air was already warm and it tingled in a way that, ordinarily, would have felt quite exhilarating.

His things were packed in two carrier bags; a few clothes, his two favourite John Buchan books, shaving gear, the writing pad and envelopes she’d bought him on Saturday, along with a cheap fountain pen and a bottle of ink that Laura had wrapped in several sheets of newspaper in case it leaked.

The minutes ticked away. Twenty minutes past seven, twenty-one, twenty-two …

He was leaving at exactly half past. They sat in the kitchen, around the table, not knowing what to say, Hester and Queenie too. Queenie looked as upset as everyone. She’d become very much attached to the Olivers over the last few days.

‘I wish I hadn’t done it, volunteered,’ Roddy said dully. ‘At least we would have another few weeks together.’

‘As you said, darling, you’re merely going sooner rather than later.’

‘I just wish it was later.’

‘Have you taken handkerchiefs?’

‘You put some in last night.’

‘Did I?’ She couldn’t remember. ‘What about nail scissors?’

‘I’ve got some.’

Twenty-five minutes past seven.

‘Write as soon as you can and let us know your address, won’t you, Roddy?’

‘At the very first opportunity.’

‘You can use your new pen, Daddy.’

‘That’s why Mummy bought it for me, sweetheart.’

‘Queenie’s going to learn me how to write, so I can send you letters too.’

‘Teach, sweetheart, Queenie’s going to teach you to write, not learn. And what about Queenie writing me a letter?’ he said warmly. ‘The more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned.’

Queenie nodded furiously and said she’d start one that very afternoon.

Twenty-nine minutes past seven. Roddy got to his feet and threw his gas mask over his shoulder. ‘Well, I’d better be off.’

The girls ran to the front door, opened it. Laura stood too, hardly able to speak. Roddy took her in his arms. ‘This is it, my darling Lo. You know I love you with all my heart and always will.’

‘I love you, Roddy.’ She clung to him, and he had to remove her arms from around his neck.

‘Bye, Laura.’

‘Bye.’ She followed him into the street. Billy Monaghan was coming out of number seventeen, accompanied by his entire family. Other doors opened, three other young men stepped out, and they formed a little straggly group. It probably wasn’t deliberate, more an automatic reaction, that they should fall into step and march out of Glover Street on their way to war, accompanied by a chorus of tearful ‘goodbyes’ and ‘taras’. Then the little company turned the corner and were gone.

Laura wasn’t allowed to feel upset. When she returned to the house, she found Hester in tears because her daddy had gone and Queenie trying to comfort her, while looking close to tears herself. She had just managed to quieten them, when there was a knock on the door. It was the rent man, a nice, fussy little person called Edgar Binns with whom she got on very well.

‘I came on Saturday, luv, but you weren’t in. As I was in the area, I thought I’d call. Frankly, it’s not you I’m after, I know you’d have paid the next week, but I was hoping to catch Aggie Tate from upstairs. It’s three weeks since she last paid.’

‘You’ll be lucky. I’m afraid she’s gone.’

Edgar looked understandably annoyed. ‘That’s a bloomin’ nerve. She didn’t tell us she was going.’