Forgotten Dreams (14 page)
She would have continued, but at that moment someone threw his arms about her and gave her a smacking kiss on the cheek. It was Baz, beaming all over his face and then bending to pick up the heaviest of the suitcases. ‘Merle O’Mara, wharra little smasher you are!’ he said. ‘You were a pretty kid four or five years ago, but now you knock spots off every other gal in the company! Wait till me pals clap eyes on you; they’ll be green wi’ envy, I’m tellin’ you!’ He turned to Lottie. ‘There’s too much here for a tram, queen, so take that big blue bag and the brown holdall and we’ll make for the taxi rank.’
‘Right,’ Lottie said, seizing the articles at which he had pointed and thinking rather crossly that it left only one lightweight bag for the owner of all this luggage to carry. ‘Where did you go, Baz? I went up to the wrong person because you weren’t . . .’ She stopped. Baz and Merle had walked off, chattering animatedly. Baz seemed to find everything Merle said amusing, for he laughed a great deal and kept giving his cousin admiring glances.
Well, she
is
pretty, and they’re both older than me, quite grown up, Lottie told herself, trudging along in their wake. She’s right about bleached hair, too, and if she does tell Louella that it’s bad for my hair I’m sure I’ll be really grateful. But why was she so unfriendly when we first met? After all, if I’m just a kid – and I suppose I am – then why should she be nasty to me, she asked herself, crossing the pavement and going to the end of the taxi queue. But I expect she was disappointed that Baz hadn’t turned up and was taking it out on me. She’ll be fine once we get to know one another.
is
pretty, and they’re both older than me, quite grown up, Lottie told herself, trudging along in their wake. She’s right about bleached hair, too, and if she does tell Louella that it’s bad for my hair I’m sure I’ll be really grateful. But why was she so unfriendly when we first met? After all, if I’m just a kid – and I suppose I am – then why should she be nasty to me, she asked herself, crossing the pavement and going to the end of the taxi queue. But I expect she was disappointed that Baz hadn’t turned up and was taking it out on me. She’ll be fine once we get to know one another.
And sure enough, when the taxi came, Merle took the heavy bags from her and thanked her sweetly for carrying them. ‘It was too bad of Baz and meself, stridin’ ahead and leavin’ you behind,’ she said, smiling. ‘Only we’re such old friends that I’m afraid I forgot me manners. Now you hop into the taxi, love; you can sit on one of them little tip-up seats, and Baz and I and the luggage will squeeze up together.’
‘Oh, but Baz can’t come with us,’ Lottie said earnestly, climbing into the cab. ‘Didn’t you notice his uniform? He’s a porter; that’s why he had to help that old gentleman with his cabin trunk. It’s his job.’
‘Yes, of course . . . but I thought mebbe they’d give him time off to see me and me traps back to wotsit court,’ Merle said. ‘Oh, come on, Baz! Your little pal and meself can’t possibly manage all this stuff.’
Baz promptly went round to the driver’s window and Lottie saw money change hands. Then he returned to explain that he had paid the driver extra to help them to carry Merle’s luggage as far as the hallway of No. 2. ‘No need to carry it right up to your room – leave it downstairs and I’ll take it up when I get home,’ he said magnanimously. ‘Lottie will get you a drink and a meal before she goes off to the theatre. See you later, gals!’ He slammed the rear door and stepped back as the taxi began to move off.
Merle leaned back in her seat and gave Lottie a dazzling smile. ‘Phew! Sorry if I were a bit sharp wit’ you when I got off the train but it were a devilish journey – folk crammed in like sardines and most of ’em in a bad temper. A young feller gave me his seat but I was squashed between a fat woman whose shopping basket kept diggin’ me in the ribs and a dirty old man who smelt of fish. And that were only the last leg o’ the journey. I had to change twice, you know. Still an’ all, I got here in the end.’
‘Yes you did, and you’ll be able to rest up a bit once we get back to the court,’ Lottie said. ‘I have to be backstage by six because we’re the second act tonight following Jack’s warm-up routine, but you can stay at Number Two or come with me, whichever you like.’
‘I’ll see how I feel, love,’ Merle said amicably, as the taxi slowed to avoid a crowd of people crossing the road. ‘What time does Baz get home? He said he’d carry my luggage upstairs so mebbe I’ll wait for him.’ She glanced down at her dark coat. ‘I don’t want to make a bad impression at the theatre by turnin’ up in this old thing an’ still dusty from me journey, but I can’t change until I can unpack.’
‘I reckon he’ll be home between six and seven,’ Lottie said. She had just noticed that the glass panel which separated the driver from his passengers was pushed back and wondered if that was why Merle was being nice to her, then scolded herself. Merle had apologised very prettily for what she had said on the platform and if they were to be friends and colleagues, Lottie had best stop expecting the worst.
The car swerved into Burlington Street and drew up before the entrance to Victoria Court. ‘We’re here,’ she informed her companion unnecessarily. ‘The taxi can’t get into the court so you and I will take the lighter stuff and the driver will bring the two big cases.’
It took some time to get all the luggage to the foot of the stairs but then Lottie paid off the driver with the money Max had given her and ushered Merle into the kitchen. Here she produced the plate of sandwiches and pulled the kettle over the flame whilst Merle took off her coat and hat and hung them on the row of pegs by the kitchen door. Then she looked around the room before settling herself in a chair and reaching for a sandwich. ‘I’m bleedin’ famished and parched as any desert,’ she said, through a full mouth. ‘I’ve not had a bite to eat since breakfast and I could do wit’ a pee.’ She looked around her once again. ‘Where’s the back door? I take it you have one?’
Lottie felt her cheeks begin to burn. She had taken it for granted that Merle would know the houses in the court were back-to-backs, which meant that the only way in and out was through the front door. This in its turn meant that all the houses shared the privies at the end of the court as they shared the water from the big brass tap nearby. She explained, haltingly, to Merle, who stared at her, small eyes rounding. ‘Is that why there were a queue o’ kids waitin’ near them hut things?’ she demanded. ‘I see’d ’em when we were carryin’ the luggage in. But what happens if you’re in a hurry, like what I am? What happens at night time, come to that?’
‘There’s chamber pots under the bed if you’re desperate,’ Lottie said. ‘If you really want to go now, though, you might be lucky – there might not be a queue because it’s teatime. And it’s not cold or raining, so you won’t have to put your coat and hat back on.’
Merle got reluctantly to her feet, helped herself to another sandwich and took a quick swig of her tea. She disappeared but was back in a very short time. ‘I hope I don’t have to go there too often,’ she said in a grumbling tone. ‘Phew, what a pong! I bet it’s a flies’ paradise in the summer.’
Lottie vouchsafed no reply but sipped her own tea and thought bitter thoughts. She supposed that it had not occurred to Max to tell Merle what the house was like but wished that he had done so since she did not relish the task herself. For the first time it struck her that Merle might not realise the bedroom she would share with Lottie was an attic room up two flights of steep stairs, and she wondered what sort of digs Merle had occupied when she left her parents’ caravan. She was soon to find out. Underneath her navy coat, Merle was wearing an old grey skirt and a shabby pink cardigan, and now she tweaked these garments impatiently, finished her tea and stood up. ‘I feel better after a bite and a sup, so I reckon you’d best show me up to me room,’ she said. ‘I’ve a change of clothing in the holdall along wit’ me sponge bag, so I can spruce meself up an’ put on a clean jumper and skirt before Baz gets home.’
‘Yes, all right,’ Lottie said, crossing the kitchen and heading for the stairs. Neither girl said a word until Lottie threw open the door and they entered the bedroom. Then Lottie said, rather shyly: ‘Both beds have got clean sheets on so you can take whichever you like. The chest of drawers is for your underwear and that, and the rail nearest the door is for clothes that want hanging. We hadn’t realised how much luggage you’d have, though. Is it all clothes?’
‘A lot of it’s me stage stuff. Didn’t Uncle Max tell you? My act’s called “Dance Through the Ages”. I start off as an Elizabethan lady in an enormous farthingale – that’s a dress, you know – doing a stately pavane and end up with the Charleston, the Twinkle, the Black Bottom . . . oh, you know what I mean, all the modern stuff. So you see I have a great many costumes.’
‘But you aren’t doing your “Dance Through the Ages” when you’re with us, are you? Louella said it would just be modern dance and you’d join us for the singing and tap-dancing,’ Lottie said, alarmed. It seemed as though Merle had got hold of the wrong idea all round.
‘Is that so? Well, I couldn’t leave my costumes behind, could I, even if I won’t need them all,’ Merle said practically. ‘You wouldn’t catch Uncle Max leaving his disappearing cabinet behind, even if he weren’t going to use it for a few weeks, would you?’
Lottie agreed that this was so but pointed out that stage clothes would be left at the theatre. ‘My Columbine costume has layers and layers of net to make the skirt stick out; it would take up almost the whole of my clothes rack if I brought it home,’ she said. She pointed to the daffodils. ‘I bought them for you to make our room look pretty. Do you like them?’
‘Very nice, I’m sure. But did I hear aright? Did you say “our” room? There’s another door opposite this one on the landing. Why can’t you sleep there?’
‘That’s Baz’s room,’ Lottie explained. She was beginning to wonder whether Merle was a trifle wanting in the upper storey. In big families, the girls would have one room and the boys another. She knew Merle was an only child but she must have realised that Max could not just whistle up a fifth bedroom because his niece was coming to stay.
Apparently, however, Merle had not been told how things stood for she said impatiently: ‘Look, you little halfwit, there’s two bedrooms on the first floor, right, and two up here. That makes four. One for Max and Louella, one for Baz, one for you and one for me. So why do they expect me to share when I’m a young lady and need a place of me own?’
‘Uncle Max and Louella have a bedroom each. They share the house and the bills and that, but they each have their own room,’ Lottie said, feeling the heat rush up her neck and invade her face once more. ‘They aren’t married, you know, they just work together. And anyway, what’s wrong with you and me sharing? We’re both girls, aren’t we?’
‘I’m years older’n you, and I have – have women’s troubles. I bet you don’t even know what that means,’ Merle said crossly. Her small mouth had tightened until it looked more like a button than a rosebud.
‘Of course I know what it means,’ Lottie said quickly, though untruthfully. ‘But it’s a nice big room and the beds are comfy. Besides, there’s nowhere else, unless you want to share with Louella, of course.’
Merle shrugged, her expression sulky, and walked over to peer out of the window, then straightened up. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ she snapped abruptly. ‘I might as well have a wash before I change me clothes.’
Lottie could have slapped her. Merle must know full well that there was no bathroom; she was just being difficult. Lottie said as much, pointing to the washstand, with its ewer full of cold water and soap and a towel laid out neatly by the basin.
Merle approached it cautiously, as though she thought it might bite, tipped a tiny amount of water into the basin and washed her hands and face, then rubbed herself dry and turned once more to her companion. ‘It ain’t what I’m used to but I suppose I’ll have to make the best of it,’ she said coldly. ‘After all, we’re off to Great Yarmouth in a few weeks. But you can clear out when I’m havin’ a strip-down wash and I want your word that you won’t go interferin’ with me nice clothes, ’cos the thought of your dirty fingers pawin’ through ’em fair turns my stomach.’
Up to that point Lottie had been determined to remain cool and friendly, but this was too much. ‘I wouldn’t touch your bleedin’ clothes with a barge pole,’ she said angrily. ‘As for your strip-down wash, you can have a bath, same as other people; there’s nothin’ to stop you.’
Merle rounded on her at once, the small eyes narrowing venomously, her cheeks scarlet. ‘If you think I’m goin’ to slosh around in a tin bath by the kitchen range, you’re bleedin’ well wrong,’ she hissed. ‘Oh aye, I can just imagine it: me crouchin’ in the water while the whole world tramps in and out. It may be all right for you, but it ain’t all right for me.’
‘If you believe Louella and Max – and Baz for that matter – take their baths in the kitchen, then you’re a whole lot stupider than I thought,’ Lottie said. ‘There’s a public baths not two minutes away; that’s where grown-ups go. It costs a bob, but Louella says it’s worth every penny, ’cos you get all the water you want, a nice bar of Lifebuoy soap and a big fluffy towel to dry yourself on. But of course, if you prefer a strip-down wash . . .’ She turned away on the words, shot across the room and began to run down the stairs, too angry now to care what Merle thought.
Behind her, she heard Merle begin to descend, calling out as she came. ‘Lottie! Hang on a minute . . . wait, will you! I didn’t mean . . . shouldn’t have said . . .’
‘Can’t wait; gorra be at the theatre in fifteen minutes,’ Lottie shouted back. ‘I’ll just grab me coat . . .’
She entered the kitchen and took her coat from its peg, but was prevented from leaving the room again by Merle, who rushed into the kitchen, slammed the door shut and then leaned against it, panting heavily. ‘Look, it were the shock what made me so rude,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It’s just that it ain’t what I’m used to, bein’ in proper digs ’n’ all. You see me pa told me that Uncle Max had a big house, a real nice modern place, in the centre of Liverpool, quite near the theatre. When me and the girls split up I’d had several other offers, but . . .’
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