Two Penn'orth of Sky (39 page)

To Carl’s surprise, the man grinned, holding out a huge hand. ‘I’m Wally Fisher of No. 4 Nightingale Court, and your young lady lives wi’ me and my wife,’ he said, shaking Carl’s hand vigorously, his grip so hard that Carl almost winced. ‘And you’re Carl Johansson, First Officer on the
Cleo
, right?’

Carl returned the grin. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Fisher. I didn’t recognise you,’ he said politely. ‘How can I
help you? Only I really do have to get aboard fairly quickly . . . I take it Emmy’s all right? You are not the bearer of bad news . . . oh, my God, she was spending some time in Llandudno, having tests at the sanatorium . . . don’t tell me they think she’s worse?’

It was the right thing to say. He had said it instinctively because he loved Emmy and would have been horrified to hear that her illness had returned, but it was still a fortunate remark, because the last traces of Wally’s antagonism immediately disappeared. ‘Don’t worry, she’s fine, just fine,’ he said hastily. ‘It ain’t that. The fact is, Mr Johansson, that I feel kind o’ responsible for young Emmy, ’cos she’s under me roof and me wife treats her like a younger sister, and . . . and . . .’

‘And you want to know if my intentions are honourable?’ Carl said, annoyance and amusement fighting for first place in his voice. ‘I assure you, Mr Fisher, that I mean to marry Emmy just as soon as she gives the word, and when she is my wife, she will have everything her heart could desire. A nice house, proper schooling for the child, a place in society, if that is what she wishes . . .’

‘No, it ain’t that, either,’ Wally Fisher said, and Carl saw the other man’s cheeks redden. ‘And yet it is, in a manner o’ speakin’. If you’re so keen on our Em, what was you doin’ four days ago, walkin’ along the Scottie wi’ your arm round some blonde who looked to be a bit of a goer?’

Carl felt his own face grow hot. What a bloody awful fool he had been! But he had known that Emmy had gone to the sanatorium in Llandudno and had thought himself safe to spend time with Cissie Malone. Long before he had met Emmy, he had often
visited Cissie, because she was great fun, sweet as honey and – to him, at any rate – generous with her favours. She knew he was no longer interested in her as a companion when he was in port, for he had played fair by her, had told her that he had met the girl he meant to marry. She had taken it in good part, wishing him luck, though he had known there were tears in her large blue eyes, had heard the slightest of trembles in her voice.

He had felt bad about it, of course, but Cissie had always known that theirs was not a serious relationship. He had stayed in her snug little room, knowing that when he went back to sea someone else would take his place. But there had been genuine affection there, though never love; they were both far too sensible for that.

Then, on the first day of his leave, he had met up with Cissie by chance and because he knew he would not be able to see Emmy on this occasion it had seemed harmless enough to pick Cissie up in his arms, give her a smacking kiss, explain the situation and offer to take her out for a meal and then on to the theatre. They had both enjoyed their evening together, talking a little wistfully over old times, but he had refused her invitation to go back to her room and by midnight he had been in the small hotel he favoured and she, he imagined, had gone straight home, for he had given her a very nice present of money to make up for having taken up her evening and prevented her from selling her wares to anyone else – if such had been her intention, of course.

But right now, Wally was staring at him enquiringly, so Carl took a deep breath and decided that truth, in this particular instance, would probably serve him better than a mishmash of lies or
protestations. The fellow had seen him with Cissie, had probably witnessed their fond embrace, and was clearly not to be fobbed off with a story of mistaken identity, or a long lost twin brother who resembled him exactly. Instead, he looked hard at Wally. ‘Were you ever a seaman, Mr Fisher?’ he asked bluntly. ‘If so, you must know that one meets many women in many different ports as one’s ship sails the world. I met Cissie Malone ten years ago, when I was green as – as the sea, and hungry for a woman – any woman. I didn’t earn much money in those days and I was afraid of going with a dockside whore because of . . . how do you say it, catching a disease. But Cissie was young, younger even than myself, and very sweet. Also, she was very poor . . . and kind to a young sailor, far from home. I swear to you, Mr Fisher, that I stopped seeing her when I started courting Emmy. I told Cissie I was in love with someone else and we agreed not to meet again. That was almost five years ago and until the other night I’d not set eyes on Cissie, not even thought about her. Then I walked into her on the Scottie and the years rolled back. And she was my little friend once more. Oh, not in the way she had been; this time, I mean she was literally my friend. We went out for a meal, and we saw the show at the Empire, then we went our separate ways. It never occurred to me that I was doing wrong, but I see now that what I did was unwise, though not, I promise you, in any way sinful.’

He gazed anxiously at his companion and was infinitely relieved when Wally nodded slowly, then clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I believe you,’ the other man said simply. ‘But if I were you, Mr Johansson, I’d make a clean breast of it to Emmy. I don’t mean to open me gob ’cos I ain’t one to tale-clat, but if you
were seen by someone else . . . well, you know how gossip gets around.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ Carl said humbly. As soon as the other man had said the words, he had realised he would have to tell Emmy. After all, he and Cissie had walked openly along the Scotland Road, at one of the busiest times of the day. A great many people must have seen them and he had no wish for Emmy to be hurt by some old shawly giving her the wrong impression. ‘Thanks, Mr Fisher. You have been a good friend to me as you are to my Emmy. And I wish you would call me Carl, because I hope we shall be friends when Emmy and I tie – tie the knot.’ He grinned deprecatingly. ‘Have I got it right? Is that what you would say?’

Wally chuckled. ‘Aye, only she’s not agreed to tie any knot yet,’ he observed. ‘And now I’ll walk back with you to the
Cleopatra
and then gerron me way. And I wish you luck; our Emmy’s a grand lass and Diana’s a nice kid.’

The two men shook hands and Carl climbed the gangway, vastly relieved that his new friend had been so honest and understanding. He decided he would tell Emmy all about Cissie – well, not all – the next time he was in port and then dismissed the matter from his mind as he hurried across the deck to report that he was aboard.

‘Mam, it’s wonderful! It’s the most wonderful view I’ve ever seen! Oh, how I wish Charlie were here. He’d be bowled over.’

It was a beautiful August day, and Diana and Emmy were standing at the very top of the Great Orme, looking out over the Conway sands and the glinting Irish Sea to the dim blue bulk of the mountains beyond.
When Johnny had suggested that Diana might like to accompany Emmy and enjoy a weekend at the seaside, Diana had jumped at the chance. Truth to tell, she had only jumped at it because it had been in her mind to try to put her mother off the thought of marrying Johnny. She loved living with the Fishers, being one of a big family, and having Emmy in the house as well had proved to be a real bonus, but it just happened that this particular weekend Charlie and Lenny were both off to the Wirral, camping with the Boys’ Brigade, and had she remained at home Diana knew she would have been expected to take care of the younger ones. She did not mind this in the usual way, but thought it would be rather fun to see the Frosts’ guest house, particularly when her mother assured her that she would not be expected to help in any way. ‘Johnny’s Aunt Carrie – that’s Mrs Frost to you – is a grand person; I’m most awfully fond of her and I know she’ll see you have a good time,’ Emmy had said. ‘She never asks me to help when I’m staying there, only I rather enjoy it. Anyway, just you come along and you’ll see why I like going to Llandudno so much.’

And standing on the sweet turf at the very top of the Great Orme, Diana thought how right her mother had been. Aunt Carrie had fussed over Diana as though they had been old friends, giving her money for ice creams and donkey rides, and coming down to the beach one afternoon with a wonderful picnic, so that when Diana had emerged from the sea she had been rubbed briskly dry and presented with a positive feast of tiny sandwiches and cakes, followed by strawberry jelly and a large, whipped ice cream. There had been delicious cherryade to drink and little iced biscuits to nibble. In fact, Aunt Carrie had
made sure that Diana had a wonderful time and would want to return again and again.

And Johnny, too, had surpassed himself. He had accompanied them to the beach, had donned his own swimsuit and had gone into the water with her two or three times a day during her stay. He had told her that anyone living near water should be able to swim and had patiently instructed her in the art until she was able to stay afloat, and even move forward, in a thoroughly satisfactory manner. He had also helped in the construction of sandcastles and had spent an afternoon with her playing the penny machines on the pier, whilst Emmy watched indulgently.

But now, holding Emmy’s hand tightly as she exclaimed over the view, it occurred to Diana that if her mother married Johnny, she, Diana, could live in this beautiful seaside town for ever, if she wanted to. After all, she liked Johnny a good deal better than Mr Johansson, and though Llandudno was a far cry from Liverpool, she was sure that Aunty Beryl would bring the kids down to visit as often as she could. Why, Charlie could actually come and stay! Why should he not? The guest house was huge by Nightingale Court standards, and though it was full to bursting in the summer, Aunt Carrie had told her that they were never full in winter, which was when she and Johnny did any redecorating or repairing that was necessary.

‘Well, darling? Have you seen enough? The trams go up and down pretty frequently at this time of year but I’d like to be back in time to help Aunt Carrie get the tables set up for the evening meal . . . if you’re ready to go, that is.’

Emmy’s voice broke across Diana’s thoughts. She smiled at her mother, then they both turned away
from the breathtaking view and began to retrace their steps. ‘You really like helping Aunt Carrie with the waitressing bit, don’t you?’ Diana said, as they approached the tram stop. ‘I believe you miss being a waitress at Mac’s, though you quite like being on the cash desk, don’t you? If – if you did decide to marry Johnny, would you want to be the waitress at the guest house?’

Emmy laughed and squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘If I married Johnny – and I’m not sure I want to marry anyone – then I certainly wouldn’t be a waitress! I suppose I’d be the proprietress . . . and you wouldn’t like it if I did Bronwen or Sian out of a job, would you?’

Diana was fond of both the elderly waitresses at Mountain View, who let her help them with small tasks and rewarded her with titbits from the kitchen, so she agreed that she would hate to see them lose their jobs. She frowned at the thought of her mother as proprietress, however, pointing out that this was Aunt Carrie’s position. ‘And you wouldn’t want to do her out of a job either, would you, Mam?’ she asked. ‘Besides, she works awful hard and knows just how to manage things and who should do what. I don’t think you could take over her job, even though you’re clever as clever.’

Emmy laughed again but Diana, looking up into her mother’s face, saw that Emmy was not really amused, but quite worried by what her daughter had said. However, she said lightly: ‘No, no, I wouldn’t do Aunt Carrie out of her job for the world. Only – only one day, I suppose she’ll want to retire, and then Johnny’s wife – whoever that may be – will have to take over. Oh look, here comes the tram! Let’s see if we can bag a front seat.’

All the way down in the tram, with its navy blue and gold livery, Diana thought hard. It occurred to her that if she backed Johnny as a prospective suitor, at least she might put Mr Johansson out of the running. It was clear that Emmy liked the thought of living in Llandudno and being the boss of the guest house – Diana thought that proprietress was really just another name for boss – but was not so keen on the work and responsibility involved. And though Llandudno is lovely, and the guest house a beautiful place to live, I don’t believe it would be nearly so nice without Aunt Carrie, Diana told herself. But Johnny would be all right as a stepfather because he never tells anyone to do anything. I’d get my own way all the time; I bet he wouldn’t even make me go to school if I didn’t want to. Yes, if Mam really
must
marry again, then I’d sooner she took easy-going Johnny rather than Mr Johansson, because I’ve got a feeling he would be a good deal more difficult to handle. I remember my own daddy; he used to tell everyone what they could and couldn’t do. Mammy said it was because it was his job on board ship to order the sailors about, and though it was all right from Daddy, I don’t want Mr Johansson bossing me.

‘You’re very quiet, love,’ Emmy said, as the two of them descended from the tram and began to walk along Happy Valley Road and into North Parade. ‘A penny for your thoughts.’

‘Oh, I was just thinking that this would be a beautiful place to live,’ Diana said dreamily. ‘And I was thinking how nice Johnny and Aunt Carrie are. You do
like
Johnny, don’t you, Mam? I bet you like him more than you like Mr Johansson, don’t you?’

But on this point, it seemed that Emmy was not to be drawn. She laughed and said that both gentlemen
were good company and good friends, and then firmly changed the subject. Diana wondered whether to reopen it, then decided to let sleeping dogs lie. She felt she had planted a seed and intended to nurture it, constantly making small remarks about liking Johnny and disliking Mr Johansson, because, obviously, life would be a good deal easier for Emmy if she married a man her daughter got along with. But I won’t overdo it, Diana told herself, as they re-entered the Mountain View guest house. I know what it’s like myself when someone keeps telling you to do one thing; you end up wanting to do the opposite. I remember when Mammy nagged me to play shop with Becky; I went off to play kick-the-can with Lenny, and got meself a bruised knee and a cut shin, when really I’d much rather have played shop.