A Daughter's Choice (22 page)

He screwed up his nose. ‘Perhaps –'

Aware of Mrs Evans again, she said politely, ‘Sorry, sir, no refunds.'

He blew her a kiss and walked out.

Katherine's smile lingered until the would-be purchaser of a puppy entered the shop and she had to draw on all her reserves of patience to explain why she didn't know yet whether the puppies they had heard were due were dogs or bitches. She reassured him, though, that she would let him know as soon as possible.

Celia moved her head tentatively as she stepped outside the hair-dresser's. Her scalp was still warm and a little sore but she told herself that was the price a woman had to pay if she wanted to make an impression at her age. She had scarcely been able to believe it was
her
, Celia Mcdonald, looking out from the mirror in the hairdressing salon. Not only was her hair beautifully set but she was blonde as well.

To go blonde had been a last-minute decision while gazing at photographs of perfectly coiffured heads on the walls of the salon. Gentlemen prefer blondes! she had thought, with a particular man in mind. She was thinking of taking dancing lessons, having seen classes advertised in the
Echo
. She tightened the belt of her red raincoat and walked swiftly along the road.

She came to the pet shop and automatically her hand went to her hair before she took a deep breath and stepped inside. Katherine had her back to her and appeared to be doing something with the cage where there was a new lot of hamsters. She was with Donny and his granddad. ‘They're from Abyssinia, that's what Mrs Evans told me,' the lad was saying.

‘I think she means the breed originally came from there,' said Katherine. ‘These ones have just come in. They were born over here so I don't know if that makes them British or Abyssinian. What do you think, Mr Jones?'

‘It's a tricky one,' said the man in a rumbling voice. ‘Like, I have a West Indian bloke living next door to me and his wife's a nurse, a nice woman. They were born in Jamaica, like, but their kids were born here. Does that make the kids Jamaican or Liverpudlian?'

‘I don't care about them,' said Donny disparagingly. ‘I wanna know about the hamsters, Granddad. Can I have one?'

‘You just wait, lad. Like, don't be interrupting yer elders. I'll think on it, and in the meantime we'd best get doing the messages.' Mr Jones turned, saw Celia and his mouth dropped open.

‘Mr Jones,' she said, with a little nod of her head.

Katherine's eyes widened. ‘What have you done to yourself? I thought you were going auburn?'

‘You don't like it?' Her mother's voice trembled.

Katherine hesitated and Celia said, ‘I look tarty, don't I? Is that what you're thinking?'

‘No!' she said swiftly. ‘You just look –'

‘Different,' piped up Donny. ‘Yer hair's like a film star's, all white and shiny.' He approached her slowly and peered at her. ‘How did yer get it like that? Can I touch it?'

‘It's a bleach. Peroxide,' said his granddad, smiling at Celia. ‘Yer look a fair treat, girl. Although yer could do with a bit of make-up on, like. Yer face looks kinda bare with yer hair like that. Me dead wife used to swear by a bit of rouge and lippy for finishing herself off.'

Celia smiled. ‘I just wanted a change.'

‘You've got that all right,' said Katherine, still staring at her. ‘Red's your colour now, being blonde. You look completely different. Do you feel different?'

A film star! thought Celia, and nodded. ‘I feel like I shouldn't be here but going somewhere.' There was a dazed look in her eyes. ‘I'm all dolled up with nowhere to go.'

‘You'll have to go somewhere then,' said Donny seriously. ‘Come to the pictures with us? We're going to the first house of the Gaumont later, aren't we, Granddad?'

‘That's right. But I should think Mrs Mcdonald's probably too posh for the Gaumont, lad.'

‘Posh! Me?' Celia laughed and went on laughing. It just seemed so incredible that a change of colour and hairstyle could make such a difference, but would she have the courage to go and take those dancing lessons on her own? Mick had been a lovely dancer and she had sometimes wished she could match up to him. She squared her shoulders and told herself she did not know why she had to think of him right now. There were plenty of other fish to fry for a woman who had the looks of a film star. She would take those lessons but would keep it a secret. In case Katherine or Mrs Evans laughed at her.

If only she had known it, Katherine would have been delighted because she had other fish to fry herself that she did not want her mother knowing about.

‘It's Lord Nelson's two hundredth birthday on the 27th,' said Patrick, as Katherine pulled the door shut behind her.

‘Are you going to send him a birthday card?' she said with an innocent look.

‘It mightn't get there.' He looked thoughtful as he fell into step beside her, on her way to work.

‘So why mention it?'

‘Newspapers and mags love anniversaries. There's going to be celebrations on the
Victory
on the day, but that's down South. I was wondering what I could do to link him up with Liverpool's great seafaring tradition.'

Katherine's eyes gleamed. ‘What about pictures of streets named after a couple of admirals, and their photos, and an article? You've Rodney Street for a start – he was a naval hero who fought the French and kept Jamaica for the British – and then there's Gambier Terrace. Admiral Gambier was another who fought in the Napoleonic wars. You could go further. You could start a series on ordinary street names if they didn't want your idea for Nelson's anniversary.'

Patrick stepped back and stared at her. ‘You amaze me. A girl who knows something about naval history and has an eye for what might catch the public interest!'

She giggled. ‘I don't! not much, anyway. Mick was in the Royal Navy and he'd tell me the odd thing, but it's the guests who started me off.'

‘What guests?'

She hesitated and then said with a shrug, ‘At the hotel in town where I used to live. There was the odd guest, as I said, who wanted to see places of historical interest so I started finding out things. The Yanks are real keen. Did you know the American wild-life artist John James Audubon came to Liverpool and held an exhibition at the Royal Institution in Colquitt Street? Liverpool still has some of his pictures.'

‘Well, blow me over with a feather! I never knew that, and if I didn't then there's probably loads of people who don't know either. I could become famous for this! It'll have to be a series of pictures for the
Daily Post
. But will you come with me?' said Patrick, eyes ardent as they rested on her face.

‘Where to?'

‘Rodney Street, of course! It's always good for a picture with all those Georgian houses, and Gambier Terrace is right close by. It could look marvellous if I can get the right angle just before sunset.'

She hesitated. ‘I don't know …'

‘Why not?' Some of the light died from his face. ‘I'm not going to ravish you in broad daylight.'

‘As if I was scared of that!' She rolled her eyes.

He sighed. ‘You're not taking me seriously. What is it then? Why don't you want to come?'

She knew she could not explain. Not yet. How did you tell a bloke you weren't ready to bump into the family you'd been brought up with but no longer belonged to because you were illegitimate! Better to go with him and chance it. ‘It's OK, I'll come,' she said, smiling. ‘But it'll have to be late afternoon.'

His face brightened again. ‘That suits me. I'll meet you outside Lewis's at half-three. See you tomorrow then. I'm frying tonight!' He blew her a kiss and ran for the bus that had just drawn up at the bus stop on the other side of the road. Something he always seemed to be doing these days, she thought, already looking forward to seeing him tomorrow.

Sarah was feeling the strain of being nice to people when she would much rather tell them exactly what she thought of their complaints. For one, she didn't have two pairs of hands that she could be in Reception, dish out food, fetch and carry and still be running up and downstairs checking things with Kitty, who spent more time in bed than getting on with the job of running the hotel.

Once the doctor had reassured John that all his wife needed was to rest and stop worrying, he had gone up to Scotland in search of Jack, having discovered that he was not at the O'Neills' farm. This left Sarah with more responsibility than she cared for, and if it had not been for the part-timers and one of Kitty's cousins turning up part of the day, and Mick and Ben helping in the evening, she would have found it impossible to cope. Eileen was still at her grandmother's, refusing to go home to Ireland, making the old lady's state of health her excuse.

Katherine's bedroom had been put at Sarah's disposal so she could sleep in if she wanted, which suited her fine, and at least her mornings and evenings were lightened by the occasional intimate encounter with a half-naked Ben or Mick coming out of bedroom or bathroom. Mick exchanged pleasantries but it seemed to her that his mind was elsewhere most of the time. As for Ben, there was nothing lover-like in his attitude; rather it seemed he could not get away from her quick enough, although he did say he appreciated her stepping into the breach and helping his mother. Sarah had had to be content with that but was starting to believe she was going to have to do something to get things moving again between them.

Sometimes she worried what would happen to her new position if they found Katherine, but so far there had been no news of her. Sarah harboured suspicions that Ben might be seeing the mysterious Rita whilst in Southport, and that did not make her feel good about herself. So to buck herself up she decided to go shopping and treat herself to a new frock.

Lewis's had been advertising the latest fashions and so whilst Kitty's cousin held the fort, Sarah went mooching round the women's department. She bought a new uplift bra and two dresses which were fitted snugly to the new high waist-line just beneath the bust (she had slimmed down with all the running around). Wide-skirted and with a multi-coloured screen border, they were made of brightly coloured needlecord cotton. She had noticed there was an Over Thirties Night advertised for next Wednesday at Wavertree Town Hall where the dancing would be strictly tempo and she hoped to persuade Ben to take her.

It was as she was coming through the first set of double doors on the corner of Lewis's facing Renshaw Street that she saw Katherine standing outside. For a moment Sarah froze. Since being at the Arcadia she had come to realise just how hard Katherine must have worked. Her returning now could really lighten Sarah's load yet still she stood there unmoving, thinking of Ben and how she and Katherine had wrangled over him. If the girl returned, would that result in more arguments and she herself needing to leave before she could sort things out between them?

Even as Sarah hesitated a young man in a leather jacket stopped in front of Katherine and spoke to her. Her face lit up and Sarah felt a softening of her heart as she watched the pair cross the road together. She had been young herself once. She came to a decision and hurried after them as best she could in high heels and with her parcels bumping against her legs. She thought perhaps they intended to go up Mount Pleasant to the Arcadia but instead they went along Renshaw Street past Pollard's, the babycare shop. A second time Sarah hesitated then followed them.

It was when she was toiling up the hill where the Anglican cathedral stood on St James's Mount that she began to ask herself why on earth she was bothering tailing them. If Katherine intended visiting the Arcadia whilst in the area, it would be much more sensible if she herself was there behind Reception, very much in control, when the girl arrived.

Ben had arrived home early that day and was whistling as he clattered down the area steps into the basement.

‘What are you doing home at this time?' said Kitty, as she swirled a lace-trimmed linen tablecloth over the gate-legged table which her mother had brought from the house where Kitty had been born in Crown Street.

‘You're up? Great, Ma!' He picked her up and swung her round.

‘Put me down, you daft lummock! This won't get the work done.' She cuffed him lightly across the head and he lowered her to the floor.

‘You feel like work? Good!'

‘No! But I've decided I've had enough lying in bed and eating off a tray. And besides, I might have to go out later.'

‘What's up?' His blue eyes were suddenly intent. ‘Is there news of Jack?'

‘No. Pops hasn't seen him. He hasn't been to his flat, the hospital or the house.' Kitty placed fine bone china cups and saucers on the table. ‘It's Eileen. She's had another fit and one of my cousins came round here demanding I do something.'

‘It's not your problem, Ma! She's
their
niece.'

‘That doesn't mean a thing to them. Annie put her in my care and they have their own families to see to. They're worried it'll all be too much for Aunt Jane and will see her off.'

‘So what are you going to do?'

‘I'm wondering if you would take Eileen to Ireland? I mean, you could call in on the O'Neills at the same time. Go for the weekend …'

‘Ma, Eileen lives the other side of Ireland from the O'Neills,' he said patiently.

‘I know. I was wondering if Jack could have gone there after John phoned.'

He put his arm round her. ‘You're still not thinking straight, are you, Ma? Why should he go there? It'd cost him and he has no money of his own.'

Kitty twiddled abstractedly with a knife. ‘Someone might have lent him the money. He might have written to Annie who always had a soft spot for him.'

‘He's not going to remember that! Besides, if Jack was desperate to return to Ireland, he only had to wait and ask me for the money.'