A Liverpool Legacy (18 page)

Red embers were appearing in the fire and Eric and Roger were inserting potatoes into them with long fire tongs. One of the guests had brought some sparklers and was handing them round, and the party was beginning to hum.

Sylvie knew Denis would have latched on to them if she’d given him the slightest encouragement, but just as Connie was going to do that anyway Millie called out to him to help her serve the hot drinks.

There was Oxo for the kids, though Millie called it beef tea, and hot toddy for the adults. Sylvie collared three glasses of hot toddy for herself and her friends but after one taste, Louise said, ‘I don’t like this, it’s all nutmeg and spices, and there’s not much kick in it.’ So they ditched it in the rhododendrons and went inside to get some Oxo.

Denis was carrying a tray of it from the kitchen to the table in the conservatory when Connie stopped him so they could take a mug each. As he turned to move on, his elbow caught Marcus’s arm, his tray tilted, the mugs slipped and beef tea splashed everywhere.

‘Look what you’re doing you idiot,’ Marcus barked in the same ferocious voice he used in the office. For once Sylvie felt sorry for Denis.

‘Sorry, sir.’ Denis’s cheeks flamed.

Millie and Valerie came rushing in with cloths to mop up. ‘Why do you have to overfill your house with this crowd?’ Marcus shouted at Millie. ‘Don’t we see enough of our employees in the office?’

Sylvie was glad to see that his smart camel overcoat had caught a goodly amount of the splash and so had the turn-ups of his trousers.

‘I think I’ll go,’ he said to Valerie. ‘This isn’t our sort of gathering. Come on, Nigel.’ He held the conservatory door open for him, letting in an icy November blast. ‘Are you and Clarissa coming?’

Nigel was talking to Tom Bedford and his wife. ‘You’ll need to call a taxi, Marcus,’ he said. ‘We’ll stay a little longer. The bonfire has hardly got going.’

Marcus’s face turned puce and without another word he went, slamming the conservatory door behind him with such force that a pane of glass fell out and splintered on the floor with a crash.

‘Oh heavens!’ Denis said. He apologised to Millie as Valerie rushed to get a dustpan and brush to sweep up the fragments.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Millie said. ‘It wasn’t your fault. Look after him, Connie. Get him a drink and go out and enjoy yourselves.’

‘Marcus acted like a pig,’ Valerie whispered. ‘I asked Nigel and his wife round for supper the other night and they were both a bit toffee-nosed. He’s changed too, no fun at all. I don’t know how much we have in common any more.’

Connie put a full mug into Denis’s hand and led him out to the garden. ‘What a lovely smell of wood smoke,’ she said.

The night was alive with the roar of flames and the crackle and spit of damp wood. Simon and Kenny were in charge of winding up the gramophone and putting on the records, but Millie was trying to choose the records they should play.

‘Don’t make the music too loud,’ she said, but Kenny turned the sound up as soon as she went back indoors.

Roger raked the potatoes out of the fire and Helen cut them and handed out table napkins to hold them. They were so hot they still needed their gloves on, but they were soft and succulent and smelled delicious on the frosty air.

They could hear sounds of fireworks going off nearby and glimpse occasional streaks of colour flash in the night sky. Helen, still the schoolteacher at heart, told them that they were commemorating the true story of Guy Fawkes trying to blow up the Houses of Parliament. Tom Bedford was getting ready to let his own fireworks off and made them all stand back.

The bangs were enormous, ‘Like heavy guns,’ Millie said, pulling a face, but there were Catherine wheels and rockets too.

When the display finished, the older guests crowded back into the conservatory for another hot drink because the cold was beginning to bite. Connie and Louise were taken home by a relative. In the frosty semi-dark, with the bonfire dying away, Sylvie found herself alone with Denis. He said, ‘Have I offended you? I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid me. I’d like us to be friends.’

Offended her? He’d riled her! ‘You told everybody about me,’ she told him. ‘You started the gossip about Dad not being my real father.’

He seemed horrified. ‘No, I didn’t!’

She hesitated. ‘How else would everybody know? You heard what Uncle James and Marcus screamed at Mum in the lab and passed it round the whole factory.’

‘No, Sylvie, I’ve said nothing about that to anyone.’ He seemed hurt that she should think he had.

‘But you overheard Marcus having a go at Mum, didn’t you?’

‘He was shouting, I couldn’t help but hear.’

‘Yes, and afterwards everybody was talking about us. Albert Lancaster sympathised with me about it.’

‘Sylvie, a fight between the bosses will always cause gossip. You’re getting some of the backwash, that’s all. It’s no secret that James and his sons resent your mother and therefore you too. I understand they’re showing it all the time by trying to talk her down at staff meetings. Of course there’s gossip about it but the staff are solidly on her side.’

‘But all that talk about me being illegitimate was cruel.’

‘It was Marcus who brought that up.’

‘And now everybody knows.’

‘Everybody has known for years,’ he told her, ‘that’s not news. There are dozens of people working in the office and the factory who’ve worked there since before your mother started. When the boss took up with her it was the romance of the century, and they gossiped about every detail of it. They liked Peter Maynard, he was fair to everybody; he forgave their mistakes and looked after those in difficulties. If he wanted to marry your mother, they were all for it too.’

‘But it was news to you?’

‘No it wasn’t. My mother was Arthur Knowles’s daughter. He ran the lab for years.’

‘My mother told me about him.’

‘Grandpa helped bring me up. My father was killed in a road accident when I was small and when my grandmother died a few years later, it made sense that we move into Grandpa’s house.’

‘Mum says he taught her most of what she knows.’

‘When I was still at school I remember my grandfather holding forth about it, about how happy their marriage turned out to be. Everybody talked about your mum and dad.’

‘Yes, but I didn’t know he wasn’t my real father.’

‘He treated you as though you were. Perhaps he wanted you to think he was.’

‘It came as a shock to me.’

‘I know it did, and it must be a shock to find out that the rest of us have always known.’

Sylvie felt somewhat comforted that he understood.

‘It’s all ancient history, nobody’s thought of it for years, but yes, we knew the full story. Had Peter not died so suddenly, he would have told you in his own time and his own way, and you’d have accepted it and felt fine about it.’

Sylvie was heartened. That’s exactly what Mum had said.

‘Come on, we’d better go in,’ Denis said. ‘I think the party is over.’

Sylvie was sorry to hear the guests thanking her mum and taking their leave. She didn’t want the party to end. Denis had been good company after all. ‘Don’t you go.’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘Mum will want you to stay and have supper with the family.’

The dining table had been extended to its limit and those remaining sat round to eat sausages and mushy peas with more baked potatoes. Sylvie was surprised to find Andrew Worthington was among those invited to stay.

When the party was finally over and the sleeping babies were being brought downstairs, Millie arranged a lift home for Denis with Helen and Eric as he lived in the same direction.

When Sylvie was seeing them off, Denis said to her, ‘Will you come out with me on Saturday night, to the pictures or something?’

‘Yes, I’d like to.’ Sylvie felt a warm glow. Mum was right about him. Denis wasn’t a bad sort.

It was late when the family went to bed that night and Sylvie couldn’t sleep. Denis had stirred up deep memories of the man she’d thought was her father. She’d loved Peter Maynard, but it seemed everybody who knew him had loved him too. Denis had said he’d forgiven his employees their mistakes, so he’d surely forgive her for persuading him to put to sea in that storm.

They had to get up for an early breakfast the next morning because Millie had to take the boys to school on the way to work. They were in a rush and she was irritable.

‘It was a good party,’ Simon told her. Kenny chorused his approval.

‘Marcus caused a bit of a scene,’ Sylvie pointed out. ‘There was a deathly silence for a few moments. All the chatter ceased.’

She could see her mother was frowning. ‘It was the first party I’ve given since your dad died,’ she said, clutching the steering wheel and staring straight ahead.

‘It was a success,’ Sylvie assured her. ‘Lots of people said they enjoyed it. Nigel was being nice to us all.’

She saw her mother pull a face and knew she was upset. ‘Nigel gave me a bit of a jolt too.’

‘Was he nasty?’

‘No, really he was trying rather too hard to be pleasant, but I went upstairs to the bathroom and found him and his wife in your bedroom, Kenny. He was showing her round the house and said, “I hope you don’t mind, Millie, Clarissa wanted to see where my forebears used to live.” Clarissa was all sweetness and light, and said, “His grandfather designed it and had it built, didn’t he? It’s part of Maynard history.”’

‘I hope he didn’t touch my things.’ Kenny was indignant.

‘It won’t be your toys they’re after. Clarissa was admiring our house and leaking envy through every pore. I think she fancies it.’

‘What a cheek they have,’ Kenny and Simon chorused.

‘What could be more normal than that Dad should will all his worldly goods to the family he loved?’ Sylvie demanded. ‘He’d want to know we had a house and enough to live on. It’s what everybody does, isn’t it?’

Chapter Eighteen

For Millie it was a quiet and restful morning and she was enjoying doing some of the routine work in the laboratory. But at eleven o’clock Billy Sankey, their buyer, came tearing angrily into the lab to see her.

‘Millie,’ he said, ‘I can’t be doing with James’s boys, they’ve gone too far.’

She straightened up from her workbench with a sinking heart. ‘What have they done now?’

‘Marcus is trying to elbow me out of my job.’

‘No, Billy, no. It’s not your job he wants.’

‘It is, Missus. He came to my office as bold as brass and said he’d be heading the buying team in future. That’s got to mean I’m reduced to being his assistant. I’m not having that.’

‘Billy, he can’t do your work.’ Millie was exasperated with Marcus.

‘I know. No doubt he’ll expect me to go on doing it all and he’ll take the kudos.’

‘Calm down. Come and sit down.’ Billy could do neither, he was breathing flames.

‘Denis, would you please make two cups of tea for us?’ Millie asked.

She forced Billy into a chair but he raved on. ‘He’s got an ego the size of a house. Just because his family own this business he thinks he can walk straight in and do any job better than we can.’

‘You do an excellent job.’

‘I know but he thinks he can do it better. He thinks he can run the whole outfit, make it earn more money. I’m not staying to be put upon by him. I’ll leave and get a job somewhere else. There’s lots of jobs to be had these days.’

‘Billy, we need you here. I don’t want you to go, we can’t manage without you. I’ll talk to Marcus, leave him to me.’

He was still snorting with rage. ‘He said I dressed like a scarecrow and was a disgrace to the firm.’

Millie giggled and failed to control it. She broke into a laugh and eventually Billy managed a wry smile. ‘Well, you have to admit you are not our smartest dresser.’ She laughed again.

He sighed. ‘Perhaps it’s time I ditched this suit.’ The cuffs and pockets were fraying and it looked as though it hadn’t ever been pressed during the years he’d worn it.

‘If it makes you feel any better,’ Millie said, ‘I thought Marcus was trying to take over my job, and there’s nothing else I can do.’

‘You’re good at it, Missus. He’d be hopeless.’

‘Marcus doesn’t know what he can do or where he fits in, that’s his problem. How old are you now, Billy?’

‘Fifty-nine and I’ve worked here since I was fourteen. Been round just about every department in that time, I have.’

‘You know more about how we function than Marcus does, and he doesn’t like that. You don’t really want to leave us, do you? After all, another six years and you’ll retire and draw your pension from us.’

‘I’d rather stay, Missus, and that’s the truth.’ He took out his handkerchief and mopped his brow.

‘Right, well, I’d better have a word with Marcus then.’

Millie got up with a sigh. She thought it better not to give Marcus any warning and went slowly up to the tower to see him. She felt full of dread, afraid he’d start another row. She hoped that James hadn’t come in today because that would mean she’d have to argue with two of them. She rapped on the door and walked straight in and was relieved to find Marcus alone.

‘Millie!’ He lowered his cup to its saucer and put down a half-eaten biscuit beside it. There was another waiting untouched. ‘To what do I owe this honour?’

‘It’s no honour,’ she said. ‘Marcus, I hate having to confront you like this, but you’re always causing trouble of one sort or another.’

‘Not again,’ he sighed. ‘What is it this time?’

‘You’ve upset Billy Sankey. I know we’ve been through all this before, but couldn’t you just take a quiet interest in what our buyer does? Ask him questions, look at his files and then when Billy retires in six years’ time you’ll understand what’s required and be able to control the buying? Instead you’re giving him the impression you know it all and that he knows nothing of value to us.’

‘And that isn’t right?’

‘No. He’s spent all his working life here, he knows what he’s doing and he’s got all the contacts. We wouldn’t survive without him. So stop badgering him. Billy stays.’

Marcus was going puce with rage but before he could speak Millie strode from the room and ran down to the lab. Moments later Denis slid a cup of tea in front of her and disappeared again behind the high racks in the lab.

An hour later when she’d calmed down she went to speak to Billy. He wasn’t his usual cheery self. ‘I’ve had a word with Marcus,’ she said, ‘and I’ve told him we need you on the job. I’ve asked him to leave you alone. Don’t worry about it. I won’t let him push you out.’

He had a hangdog look. ‘Thanks, Missus.’

‘You keep out of his way, Billy. Just get on with your job.’

Sylvie was cross with herself. She’d agreed to go to the pictures with Denis on Saturday, having forgotten that she’d arranged to spend that afternoon and evening with Helen. Valerie had bought her a dress length of gorgeous blue and grey striped taffeta to reward her for babysitting the twins and Sylvie was eager to make herself a party dress for the Christmas season. Helen was very good at sewing and had offered to help her cut it out and show her how to make it up. Sylvie was keen to learn the basics of dressmaking because it stretched both money and coupons and meant she could have more clothes.

Helen had suggested she come on Saturday because Eric’s company was holding a three monthly specialist sale of clocks and watches, and he generally didn’t get home until seven o’clock on those days. Helen liked a bit of company, and Sylvie had spent similar Saturday afternoons with her and usually stayed on to have supper with them.

As her mother was parking the car outside the office, Sylvie saw Denis heading through the door ahead of them. The glow she’d felt for Denis’s company had faded, and she’d made up her mind to call off her date with him as she wanted to get her party frock started. She said to her mother, ‘I’ll call in the lab on my way in,’ and told her why.

Her mother frowned. ‘You could get Helen to cut out your dress and then leave early and still go to the pictures with Denis.’

She was reluctant. ‘I suppose I could,’ she said.

‘You do that.’ Millie opened the lab door and Sylvie could see Denis fastening his white coat. ‘If you’ve agreed to go out with him, you shouldn’t back out. That wouldn’t be kind.’

On Saturday, Sylvie felt she’d had a rewarding afternoon. She’d watched Helen lay out her paper pattern on the dress length and cut it out with expert ease. She’d given her the job of tacking some of the pieces together, then got out her sewing machine and showed her how to run up two of the main seams. Sylvie was pleased with the progress they were making and thrilled when Helen said, ‘It’s going to look very smart when it’s finished.’

Eric rang up to say they were particularly busy and he’d be later getting home than he’d expected. Sylvie hadn’t told her sister she would be leaving early until she’d arrived, and Helen had made a sponge cake for tea which was her favourite and had planned to make egg and chips when Eric came home. Baby Jenny was very good all afternoon, billing and cooing at them and wanting to play, and she knew Helen wanted her to stay.

When the time came for Sylvie to leave, rain was bucketing down and she had to borrow Helen’s umbrella to run to the nearest bus stop. She was getting wet and cold and had to wait so long for a bus that she was afraid she’d be late for her meeting with Denis. She wished she hadn’t allowed her mother to stop her calling this date off.

When finally the bus drew up at the stop, there was standing room only and it was all fogged up and smelled of wet macintoshes. It took her some time to realise someone was trying to attract her attention. It pleased her when she realised it was Denis. He was beaming at her and pushing through the other passengers to reach her.

‘Sylvie, I’m so glad to see you, relieved really. What are you doing on this bus?’

‘I’ve spent the afternoon with Helen.’

‘I was afraid I was going to be late for our meeting. The last bus broke down and we had to wait for a replacement to come from the depot. Anyway, now we’ve met, I don’t have to worry about that.’

Sylvie felt cheered. Denis looked quite handsome though his hair was more than damp. When they got off in town, the rain had eased. He took her arm and threaded it through his.

‘What would you like to do?
The Jolson Story
is showing at the Odeon or there’s music hall at the Empire with George Formby topping the bill.’

‘Oh, I’d like to see George Formby. He cheers everybody up, doesn’t he? And Mum doesn’t approve of him for my brothers so she won’t take me there.’

‘Not approve, why not?’

‘It’s his humour. The double innuendo, we children are too young.’

‘It’s pretty harmless, isn’t it? A bit like Old Mother Riley.’

‘Yes, and Mum takes us to see her. We all think she’s great fun.’

Denis looked serious. ‘Should we see George Formby if your mother doesn’t approve?’

‘That’s exactly why we should.’ Sylvie smiled. ‘You don’t always have to think of pleasing her.’

‘I do because she’s my boss – well, mostly I do, anyway.’ He grinned at her. They went to the Empire and he bought chocolates for her.

‘Marvellous,’ she said, ‘thank you very much. It’s very generous of you to spend your sweet coupons on me.’

Sylvie loved the excitement of the theatre. The Sand Dancers were a supporting act and they laughed so much at their antics that Sylvie’s sides ached. She couldn’t help but notice that Denis spent almost as much time looking at her as he did watching the stage. He bought her an ice cream in the interval but Sylvie was getting hungry despite that, and her tummy was rumbling audibly. It was still only nine thirty when they came out but it was very dark. The rain had stopped, leaving a clean but cold blustery night.

‘Let’s walk down to the Pier Head,’ he suggested. ‘It’s too early to go home yet and there’s always plenty of life down there.’

‘And it’s the bus terminus, so it’s easy to get home when we want to.’

He put his arm round her waist and pulled her closer. Sylvie shivered as much from the thrill of that as from the cold. She decided her mother was right. Denis was a very nice person and it was great being escorted round by him.

The river seemed alive with lights glistening on the black water. A ferry boat was tying up ready to take passengers across the river. There were lights, too, on the fish and chip van parked on the front and the breeze was carrying the delicious scent to them.

‘Would you like fish and chips?’ he asked.

Sylvie laughed. ‘I’d love some,’ and she told him why she’d missed her supper. The fish had sold out but he bought them three pennyworth of chips each, and they leaned over the railings looking down on the landing stage to eat them. She’d never enjoyed chips more.

Sylvie was very aware of him standing closer to her than he ever had before. Suddenly, he pulled her even closer into a long, thrilling hug and bent to kiss her full on the lips. When he lifted his face from hers, he smiled and said, ‘I’ve been hoping for a long time that you’d let me kiss you. Will you come out with me again?’

‘Yes,’ she said breathlessly.

‘I’ve admired you from a distance for ages,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to be my girlfriend. Will you?’

Sylvie nodded, too overcome to speak.

‘I’m afraid I’m not much of a catch for a girl like you.’

‘Why not?’ Sylvie was enjoying this.

‘You’re the most beautiful girl in the office. In all Liverpool really and just look at your family. I’m aiming high aren’t I?’

To Sylvie it felt like balm. ‘Not too high,’ she said. ‘I think we’re well suited.’

He kissed her again and they spent the next half hour with their arms round each other battered by the blustery breeze. Denis began to worry that he was keeping her out too late and when her bus pulled into the terminus they both got on it.

‘This is going a good bit out of your way,’ she said. ‘There was a bus waiting there that would have taken you straight home.’

‘I’d like to see you safely home first,’ he said. When they got off the bus he walked her along the road to her front gate. The lights were full on downstairs and radiating out into the garden. ‘Your mother has waited up for you,’ he said.

‘It isn’t that late.’

‘I was told to deliver you home by ten thirty even though it is Saturday night.’

‘Mum said that?’ Sylvie wasn’t sure she liked it. ‘She must think I’m not old enough to look after myself.’

‘Perhaps it’s me she doesn’t trust.’ He kissed her again rather briskly, and pushed the gate open for her. ‘Better if you go in now. I’ll see you on Monday.’

Sylvie had expected another cuddle and more of a kiss than that after he’d come out of his way to see her home, but his hand was on her shoulder urging her through the gate. Mum was interfering and he was too much in her pocket. ‘Goodnight,’ she said, and used her key to let herself in.

Millie was crossing the hall, wearing her dressing gown. ‘Hello, love,’ she said. ‘Have you had a good time?’

‘It was all right. Mum, you’ve got to trust me to look after myself.’

‘I do. Would you like a cup of cocoa? I’m just going to make some for myself.’

‘No thank you,’ she said icily. ‘You’re pulling the strings where Denis is concerned. I don’t like you telling him to deliver me back to the door and at what time he has to do it.’

‘Oh dear,’ her mother said. ‘It doesn’t sound as though you’ve enjoyed yourself. You’re a bit grumpy. That’s a shame.’