That Liverpool Girl (24 page)

‘No. You’ve been very attentive, especially since Mrs Watson came to live here. I’m not quite as deaf as I appear to be. Thank you for all you have done, but leave us now. She and I will care for each other, and Dr Ryan can look after both of us. Goodbye, Dr Bingley. I shall get Dr Ryan to look at Mrs Kennedy when she wakes from her drug-induced sleep.’

This conversation drifted into Eileen’s ears as she neared consciousness. She opened one eye and looked at Tom. ‘Hey, you,’ she said.

‘Yes?’

‘Shut your mouth. There’s a tram coming.’

Frances Morrison turned to face the window. She wanted to laugh, but she mustn’t . . .

Nellie was complaining about musical beds. She had left her place of rest, and her daughter was now flat out on the same mattress because she hadn’t slept a wink. ‘Never mind,’ she said finally. ‘I’ll go downstairs and get to know Miss Morrison, then you can go and live at Willows. We should get you out of here and away from you-know-who.’

But Eileen was having none of that. ‘I’m not leaving Mel. We’ll take turns, like we said. And I have to think about stuff. When it starts, I’m going to be there, do my bit for my country.’

‘Eh?’

‘The bombs. There’s a war on in case you’ve forgotten. I know people are calling it a dummy war, but it won’t always be this quiet’

Nellie dropped onto the dressing stool. ‘And what good will you be to Mel dead? What good will you be to anyone?’

‘Mam, you can say that about any mother or father. I’m joining the WVS and I’ll do my knitting and stuff here. But when it all kicks off, I’ll be at my post on Scotland Road. It’s not just soldiers and sailors, you know. We all have to fight for our children. Don’t start. I am going to help in this bloody war no matter what you think or say. It’ll be for a couple of hours a week, and Mel can mind Miss Morrison. Go and look after that old lady. She sacked him.’

‘Sacked who?’

‘Dr Thomas Bingley. Tell Keith I want tea, toast, butter, marmalade and something to read. Probably.’

Nellie folded her arms. ‘So you got rid of one, and you’re ordering the other about as if he’s already wed to you? Our Mel’s the same. She changes when there’s men about. Like you, she knows her power, doesn’t she?’

‘Probably,’ Eileen repeated. The probably had to go. Keith had said last night that there couldn’t be any probably, because she had to love him and only him. He had made a takeover bid, and she was sorely tempted, but the war needed to be over first, didn’t it? Did it? At this rate, they wouldn’t get to kick off till about 1950, by which time there’d be no sugar, no petrol, no fruit . . . She couldn’t do without him for that long. Yes, she loved him. Probably. He made her tingle, anyway.

‘Are you listening to me, soft girl? Did what I found yesterday mean nothing? You’ll be as dead as Kitty if you start bloody WVS-ing.’

But Eileen had made up her mind. Everyone was in danger. The whole of society in several countries was being threatened by a jumped-up jackass with a toothbrush under his nose and eyes that seldom blinked. That, she had read somewhere, was a symptom of psychosis, so he was likely to be as mad as a frog in a bin. He was also unforgivably ugly, and she was going to help to save people from the craziness of a man who was rumoured to have lived for a while in Liverpool. ‘Upper Stanhope Street,’ she declared. ‘I bet you never knew about that, eh?’

‘You what?’

‘Hitler lived there until 1913 with his brother Alois and sister-in-law Bridget. She was Irish.’

Nellie made the sign of the cross. ‘God bless us and save us,’ she muttered. ‘We nursed the devil in our bosom, may the angels preserve our souls. That’s terrible.’

Mam was funny. Reared by an illiterate but wise Irish mother, she was full of little sayings and prayers that sounded as if they were issuing from someone born in County Mayo. She’d start singing ‘Faith of our Fathers’ in a minute. ‘Mam, I fainted. Food would be good.’

Nellie stalked out of the room and went downstairs. No sooner had she entered the kitchen than he started his mithering. How was Eileen, was she looking better, did Nellie think she’d be all right, should he take her to the hospital, did she need anything? He went on and on until Nellie told him to shut up, or she would remove his tongue by any means that came to hand. ‘Are you engaged to her or something?’ she asked, the tone trimmed with sarcasm.

‘Probably.’

‘What does probably mean, Keith?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Ask her.’

It had been a difficult time for poor Nellie. She remembered the Sunday on which war had been declared, remembered Kitty comforting her and telling her to bear up. But Kitty had been the one in true need of support. ‘I should have sent her first,’ she mumbled to herself.

‘Eh?’

‘Kitty,’ she snapped. ‘Look. I love the bones of that girl upstairs, but she’s not the centre of the bloody universe.’ She gave him a hard, penetrating look. ‘But she’s the centre of yours, isn’t she?’

He averted his gaze. ‘Yes.’

Nellie sat down. ‘Well, I can tell you this for no money, I would be made up. I would, lad. But let’s get on, shall we? You’ve to make her some toast and take it up. I’ve got to get sense out of that telephone thing and talk to Hilda. We may have to stay another couple of nights and sort out the funeral. In which case, you’ll need to go and buy underclothes. I can manage with our Eileen’s at a pinch, and it is a bloody pinch. So you do the queen’s breakfast while I sort things out with Miss Morrison. Oh, and Madam Butterfly says she’s joining the WVS and going into the bomb zone when it all kicks off.’ She marched off muttering that if it wasn’t one thing it was another, and some people should sleep at night instead of running after men and being too soft in the head to eat a decent breakfast.

When Keith finally got upstairs, Eileen was asleep. He placed the tray on a small table and sat with her. She had fainted due to lack of nourishment, yet he wasn’t happy about waking her. ‘Eileen? Come on, you have to eat.’

She opened one eye. ‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Getting a lecture from your mother.’

‘About what?’

‘Everything.’

‘Right.’ Having been a recipient of such diatribes for most of her life, she found his explanation acceptable. Between bites of toast, she delivered the opinion that Mam took some getting used to, and advised him to develop a degree of deafness. Miss Morrison found the affliction useful, and so would he when they got back to Willows. ‘Miss Morrison sacked Tom Bingley because he was getting on my nerves, not hers. So she’s heard him and me quarrelling, and that’s because she pretends she can’t hear. Just a suggestion.’

‘It won’t stop the doc chasing you,’ Keith said.

‘I know. I’ve had many a hopeful follower since Laz died, and I’ll manage, thanks. All you need is a giant flyswatter, because if you hit them in the fly it upsets them.’

She was better. She was feisty, slightly vulgar, and almost back to normal. ‘Come out with me,’ he begged. ‘Nellie’s getting to know Miss M, and I need to—’

‘I’m not leaving Mam. After what she went through yesterday, she needs me.’

The door swung inward. ‘Get some sleep, then go out with him. Me and Frances is getting along great, ta very much. Anyway, Dr Wotsit’s paid for the funeral, and they can all fit in with Charlie. But the bodies are down the hospital getting looked at. There have to be certificates before they get released. Me and Keith can’t stay here long, because Hilda’s stuck up Willows with them three.’ She looked Keith up and down. ‘If you’re going to marry this one, I hope you know what you’ll be taking on.’

‘Yes,’ he replied lamely.

The arms folded themselves yet again. ‘So? Are you starting courting, then?’

‘Probably,’ they chorused.

Nellie looked at the ceiling, her lips moving in silent prayer. Young people these days were rubbish when it came to decision-making. Eileen should grab this one, because he was house-trained, handsome and willing to have a go with the Terrible Trio. He could even cook, for goodness’ sake. ‘Go out with him,’ she snapped. ‘And thank your lucky stars for the man, because he’s a rare beast.’

‘That’s me told.’ Eileen drained her cup and lay back on the pillows. ‘Get lost, both of you. I’m having a day off.’

Nellie led her chosen son-in-law downstairs, where she delivered another lecture, this time on a subject entitled How to Win the Hand of Eileen Watson. There was a hefty sub-section pertaining to the boys, and a smaller essay on Mel, who liked clever people. ‘Can you play chess?’

He nodded. Getting a word in would have been difficult, so he decided not to try.

‘Cribbage and backgammon?’

Again, he inclined his head.

‘Good, so you’ll be in there with that one. The other three? Oh, bugger. But I think you’re on the right road with Bertie. Phil and Rob were older when their dad died, so they took it bad and started running wild. With me and our Eileen having to work, we couldn’t keep hold of them. She could do with marrying a prison guard, I suppose.’

‘I’ll manage. Don’t forget, I was a sergeant major, and that’s as good as any prison guard, Nellie. She’ll marry me if I have to break her legs.’

‘Don’t do that, love. She’s got great legs.’

‘I noticed.’

Nellie laughed. ‘And she’s a poser. Likes men looking at her, but she’s never looked at them, not till lately. As for our Mel, she’s got brains and street-wisdom, so she already knows how to get attention and how to manipulate idiots. She loves male company, but she’ll flirt with you.’

‘I’ve told you, I’ll cope.’

‘Make sure you do. Take madam to the pictures tonight. There’s that
Gone with the Wind
one, always makes me think about somebody what’s ate too many sprouts. Withering Heights, or whatever it is, Wizard of Oz, then Boris Wotsisface messing about in the Tower of London. Plenty to choose from. Take her in the back row for a cuddle, she likes a cuddle. And liquorice allsorts. See? Job done.’

Keith loved Nellie’s philosophy. She saw a gap in the market, sucked on her dentures for a second or two, then filled the space. Eileen was aware of her desirability, seemed interested in him, so liquorice allsorts, a good film, a cuddle in the back row, a chance. Mel, on the other hand, was aware and educated, so she would need watching. Whatever, he seemed to have passed the unscheduled interview, and Nellie had appointed him keeper of the keys to some dungeon in which he would be expected to store her grandsons. By default, he was now guardian of Mel’s chastity, and husband-in-waiting for Nellie’s daughter, because Nellie had decided. Scarcely addressed was the rest of the equation, because Nell and Eileen came as a pair, and mother-in-law would definitely be nearby or in the household. If they ever achieved marriage, that was.

Strangely, he didn’t mind any of it. His disposition was inclined towards the let-it-be school of thought, and matriarchy didn’t frighten him. Nellie was a sensible woman underneath the aprons and behind the pot teeth. There was no harm in her, and he adored her daughter. It would all work out, he reassured himself.

They didn’t go to the cinema. Instead, the pair sat in the rear seat of Hilda Pickavance’s car, ate fish and chips, found a rug and cuddled up together under a full moon whose mirror shone in the Mersey behind a row of railings. Their thoughts were shared, though largely unexpressed at first. This angry stretch of water, governed by the Irish Sea and the silver body that currently hung in the sky, was peaceful tonight; scarcely a ripple, no sound, no need to be afraid, not yet. ‘It will happen,’ Keith said at last. ‘Once the Krauts have airstrips in France . . .’

‘Yes. Yes, it will.’

‘Are you frightened, love?’

Eileen nodded. ‘Only a fool could fail to be afraid. It’s too quiet, too eerie. But you can feel it, can’t you? Like when there’s going to be a thunderstorm and you get a headache. Oh yes, they will come here. And they’ll bomb us and burn us, so we’ll bomb and burn them. Even if you leave the people out of it, look at all the wonderful buildings that’ll be lost. Such a waste. War is stupid.’

‘It is. I remember the last lot, and I wish I didn’t.’

The kissing and whispering started, and by half past ten they had begun to explore one another in the exquisite discomfort of a confined space. Among chip papers, and surrounded by the heady perfumes of vinegar and cod, they became aware that the future was deciding for itself. ‘I didn’t need the liquorice allsorts,’ he said. ‘And what happened to probably?’

‘It died in its sleep. Come on, we have to get back. Mam will be wondering where I am.’ How on earth could she have imagined that she was attracted to Tom Bingley? This man had soul, kindness and a generosity of spirit that was rare in humankind. And he was a very desirable property.

‘She’ll think we’ve had sex.’

‘Well, we nearly did.’

He burst out laughing. ‘I’m old enough to be needing a bed for that sort of malarkey. Gone are my days for jumping off wardrobes wearing only a big smile.’

‘Have you really done that?’

‘No, but a man can dream. When we eventually do the deed, I’ll probably have to recuperate for days in a darkened room with a wet cloth over my eyes, because I’ve never done it with a woman I love.’