The Leaving Of Liverpool (52 page)

‘Liverpool isn’t far from here?’ she asked when he’d finished.

‘Hardly any distance at all.’

‘
I
sailed from Liverpool,’ she said, ‘but it was only twenty years ago.’

‘Are you English?’ She’d surprised him again.

‘Irish. My name then was Annemarie Kenny. Would it be possible for John to take me to Liverpool today?’

‘Of course. There’s plenty of time. He can borrow a jeep. Tonight’s concert doesn’t start until eight, you’re on last.’ He studied his watch. ‘It’s only four o’clock. There’s a party afterwards. All the top brass will be there. General Glazer is anxious to meet you; apparently he saw you dance on Broadway once when he visited New York.’

‘I won’t be dancing tonight, just singing,’ she warned him. ‘I’ve had two children and I’m not exactly in tip-top condition.’

‘You look in tip-top condition to me,’ he said, blushing slightly.

‘Well, I’m not,’ Anne said bluntly.

There was a knock on the door and a soldier in urgent need of a shave entered. ‘Lieutenant Zarian to see you, Major.’

‘Send him in, Petrov. Oh, and arrange for a jeep outside my office pronto, please.’

‘Yes, Major.’

Anne watched, smiling, as John marched in, looking incredibly smart in his khaki uniform, and saluted the Major, who said, ‘You’ve got a visitor, Zarian. I don’t suppose it’s a surprise.’

‘No, sir.’ He grinned. ‘Hiya, Mom.’

‘Hello, John.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘You’re going to drive me to Liverpool. Major Murphy has given us permission.’

‘Do you know which dock you sailed from, ma’am?’ the Major enquired.

‘I’ve no idea. I was seasick on the ferry from Ireland and the time I spent in Liverpool is a complete blur, as is the journey to New York.’

‘Take your mom to the Pier Head, son, let her see the River Mersey. It’s the next best thing.’

‘Yes, sir.’

There was a knock and Petrov came in to announce there was a jeep on its way.

‘Thank you. Have you shaved today, Petrov?’

‘Yes, Major, but I’ve told you before, I need to shave two or three times a day. I have a very heavy growth, sir.’

‘You have my permission to desert your post, return to your billet, and shave again. That’s a disgraceful way to present yourself in front of a lady.’

‘I’m deeply apologetic, Major.’ Petrov saluted.

‘I don’t mind a bit,’ Anne said when the door closed.

‘I didn’t think you would. It’s just a joke Petrov and I have between us. Ah, I think I hear a jeep outside.’

Minutes later, the Major watched through the window and saw Anne Murray laugh and fling her arms around her son. He picked her up and swung her around a few times, before setting her down and kissing her on both cheeks. Jeez! She sure was a looker. Those eyes! He’d never seen eyes like them before or such creamy skin and luscious hair. She wore a pale lemon frock that really showed off her neatly curvaceous figure. He tried to imagine having a mom like that, but found it was impossible.

 

‘Less of the “Mom”, if you don’t mind,’ Anne said when they set off.

‘I didn’t like calling you Anne in front of the Major.’

‘I didn’t like calling him Sean in front of you. Has peace broken out yet?’ she asked.

‘Not officially, but the guys have been celebrating all day. The Brits have what’s called a Ministry of Information, but it prefers to keep all the information to itself.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘I’ve missed you.’

‘And I’ve missed you - terribly, awfully, horribly.’ As if words weren’t enough, she put her hands over her heart to emphasize them.

‘How’s my baby brother and sister?’

‘Frankie and Eleanor are fine. Bobby and I think we’ll start calling her Ellie.’

‘Ellie’s swell,’ John said with a happy sigh. Anne could tell he was as pleased to see her as she was him.

‘Are you likely to get time off to come to London?’ she asked. ‘Bobby’s moved into the hotel with the children and Lizzie. Everyone’s aching to see you. Lizzie’s going to visit her relatives in Manchester at the weekend.’ She still looked upon Lizzie as her mother-in-law.

‘Ask the Major for me if I can have leave. If the soppy look on his face is anything to go by, I reckon you charmed his socks off and he’ll let me have a whole week.’

‘I’ll ask him tonight.’ Anne stared at the rather featureless countryside. ‘Where are we? Do you know the way to Liverpool?’

‘No, I’ll just follow the road signs,’ he said confidently.

‘I’ve been looking and there aren’t any.’

‘Damn!’ He slapped the steering wheel. ‘I’ve just remembered, the Brits took them down for some reason. I’ll just have to stop and ask people.’

They lapsed into a companionable silence. She’d been devastated, yet very proud, when, two years ago, he’d volunteered to join the Army-Air Force without waiting to be called up. It was a big relief when he was posted to Britain rather than the Far East where the war had yet to end and where thousands of young Americans had died at the hands of the Japanese, one of them her very dear friend, Zeke Penn, who’d returned to defend his country as soon as the war had started.

John stopped and asked a man wearing a flat cap and overalls the way to Liverpool. ‘It sounds quite straightforward, ’ he said when he got back in the jeep.

It seemed no time before they were entering the outskirts of the city where the houses were mainly new. They passed tramcars gliding along the middle of the road, which Anne found quite fascinating. ‘I’d love to go for a ride on one of those,’ she said excitedly.

‘There won’t be time, I’m afraid,’ John told her.

‘Spoil-sport,’ she said, sticking out her tongue, though she knew he was right. ‘What happened there?’ she cried. ‘Has there been an accident?’ They’d reached the old part of the city, where a row of houses was little more than a heap of rubble.

‘It must be where a bomb dropped. Liverpool was one of the most heavily bombed cities in the country.’

‘Look, there’s more. Oh, John, that’s terrible.’ She felt deeply distressed and suddenly wished she hadn’t come.

‘Would you like us to turn back?’

‘No, no, of course not.’ That would be cowardly. The people of Liverpool had had to put up with the bombs: all she had to do was witness the result.

In the centre of the city, there were whole tracts that were nothing but wasteland. It was a relief when they arrived at a wide open space where a vast expanse of water glittered at the far side.

John said, ‘This is the Pier Head and that’s the River Mersey behind it. I’ll find a place to park the jeep and we can go for a walk.’

‘Can I get out?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but don’t move from the spot,’ he said sternly. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’

She promised faithfully to stay put. John drove away and she stood on the pavement in front of a large, elegant building, looking around her, taking everything in. A group of young women walked by singing at the top of their voices, ‘When the lights go on again, all over the world.’ The celebrations in Liverpool had begun.

There were quite a few people about and they all looked so happy. She sang with the girls under her breath. A man came up smelling strongly of beer. ‘Congratulations, luv,’ he said, shaking her hand.

She smiled. ‘The same to you.’ She had no idea what they were congratulating each other about. Tramcars whizzed by. The driver of one had a garland of silver tinsel around his neck. He waved at her and grinned. Anne waved back.

The atmosphere was getting to her. She could feel herself glowing inside, just as she did when she was about to go on stage. She wanted to fling out her arms and dance up and down the pavement, and had actually taken a few steps when she noticed the woman sitting on a bench far away across the wide road. She was sitting very still facing the silvery river. Anne stopped dancing and stared at the back of the woman’s head. She had no idea who she was, but felt as if an invisible cord had been thrown around her, drawing her towards this strange woman.

She stepped off the pavement, regardless of the traffic and began to walk, began to run, between the tramcars and the cars that careered busily to and fro. Brakes screeched, people shouted, but Anne ignored them. She was being pulled by the invisible cord and felt perfectly safe.

Then she was on the other side of the road, where the river shone even more brightly. A large ship was sailing across the water and people on board were waving flags. The woman was only ten feet away, five feet, and now Anne was standing in front of her. She looked terribly sad, the woman, and Anne knew straight away why she’d felt so drawn to her.

‘Mollie,’ she said quietly, and the woman raised her eyes, stared at her blankly for a minute until recognition dawned, and her face was transformed by a smile so sweet and lovely that Anne burst into tears.

‘Annemarie! Oh, Annemarie, I thought I was seeing things. Is it you? Is it really you?’ And now Mollie was crying and holding her lost sister in her arms. ‘Did you just drop down from heaven or something?’

‘No, no. Were you here waiting for me?’ Annemarie sobbed.

‘I must have been, darlin’, mustn’t I?’ She broke away and gave Annemarie a little shake as if to reassure herself she was really there. ‘We were all so worried about you. I wanted to die when Aunt Maggie wrote and said you hadn’t turned up in New York. Our Finn actually went all the way there to search for you. Have you been all right, darlin’? What happened? I’ve never stopped wondering what happened when you arrived there all on your own.’

‘I didn’t know who I was, Moll,’ Annemarie explained. ‘Lev found me and took me to his heart.’ It was only now, twenty years later, that she wondered why Lev hadn’t tried to find out where she really belonged. Perhaps he’d loved her straight away and didn’t want them to be parted.

‘Lev?’

‘Levon Zarian. He’s dead now, but he was the dearest and most wonderful man who ever lived.’ Annemarie shed more tears for Lev. ‘
I had a daughter very like you
,’ he’d said when she got into his cab.

‘Yours till the stars lose their glory,’ the passengers on the boat sang as they waved their flags.

‘You’re so beautiful, darlin’.’ Mollie stroked her face. ‘More beautiful than ever.’

‘And so are you, Moll.’ Mollie’s beauty wasn’t showy like hers, but quiet and gentle. Goodness shone from her steady brown eyes.

‘We knew you were in England, the man on the wireless said so this morning. On Thursday, me and Finn were coming to see you at your hotel in London. Oh, but fancy finding you here, darlin’,’ Mollie cried joyfully. ‘If that’s not a miracle, I don’t know what is. Will you have the time to come back to Duneathly and meet everyone? Hazel and Finn have eight children and I have four, Thaddy and Aidan will be longing to see you.’

Annemarie felt the hairs go stiff on her neck. ‘But what about the Doctor?’

‘He passed away,’ Mollie said soberly, and a shadow fell over her eyes. ‘He died a long time ago.’

‘Then I’ll come back: we all will.’ She caught her breath at the idea of going back to Duneathly with Bobby and her children - and Lizzie, if she wanted to come. She couldn’t think of anything that would make her happier.

‘I thought I’d lost you,’ said a voice. They both turned and there was John, flushed and concerned. He managed to smile at them both. ‘Who’s this, Anne?’ he asked.

‘This is Mollie; she’s your aunt.’ She was also his sister, but this was neither the time nor place to reveal something like that. ‘Oh, Moll,’ she cried. ‘I’ve so much to tell you.’

Epilogue

On her thirty-fifth birthday, Olive had vowed that if she’d got nowhere by the time she was forty she’d give up show business, though would stay in Hollywood. She loved everything about the place: the heat, the outsize flowers, the unnaturally green grass and the fact that no matter what time of day or night it was there were always people about. She had another seventeen and a half months to go. In January 1947 she would reach the big four-O.

Hollywood hadn’t turned out to be a total failure. However, if the scales were weighted with the successes at one end and the failures at the other, the latter would outweigh the former with a loud clunk.

These thoughts passed through her head, as they so often did, while she waited in line for yet another audition.

‘Next!’ the secretary shouted from behind her desk at the far end of the room.

The spectacularly lovely blonde next to Olive rose to her feet and swayed out of the room into the studio beyond. Olive was old enough to be her mother - she was becoming obsessed with people’s ages. But what chance did she stand against a girl like that?

The secretary singled Olive out for a dazzling smile.
She
was old enough to be Olive’s mother. Was it a smile of pity? Did she realize Olive didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting the part and the smile was just her way of softening the blow?

She was auditioning for a film called
Smiles Apart
. Her agent had phoned early that morning. ‘RKO want someone who can do an English accent,’ Jonesy had said. ‘It’s a musical. You have to be able to sing and dance.’

Olive had called the restaurant where she worked and told the manager she wasn’t coming in. He didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to it. Virtually every waitress in Hollywood had ambitions to become a movie star. Trouble was, most were half Olive’s age, as were the girls she shared the house with in Burbank, all budding actresses. She’d lived there since coming from New York and had lost count of the women who’d come and gone since then. They’d left to get married, go back home, or do something different with their lives. Only three had got anywhere in the film industry and then not very far.

A few times a year Olive managed to get a small part in a movie. Twice she’d even had a few lines to speak. The longest time she’d spent on screen was just over two minutes. But nowhere in Hollywood had a producer or director spotted Rosalind Raines and shouted, ‘
I must have that girl for my next movie
!’