It Had To Be You (14 page)

Betty took up the tale. ‘Emma didn’t know I existed until the beginning of this year. Her granddad died and she found a letter from Mum addressed to her grandmother. It told her that Dad had been killed at Dunkirk but his dying wish was that he wanted his two girls to get to know each other.’

‘The letter was dated 1940,’ put in Emma helpfully. ‘So I wrote to your mother, but she didn’t answer my letters, so I then wrote directly to Betty.’

Dorothy shook her head. ‘I can’t believe that your grandmother never told you! That was a bit remiss of her.’

Emma sprang to her grandmother’s defence. ‘I was the only family my grandparents had left after my mother died. I think Gran was worried that I might prefer Liverpool and living with a young stepmother and half-sister instead of two elderly people.’

Dorothy glanced at Betty. ‘So how long have you been keeping quiet about this?’

Betty told her and why.

Dorothy looked surprised. ‘I can’t understand why Mum kept quiet about Emma writing to her.’

‘I think she must have disapproved of our dad because he was an artist,’ said Betty. ‘You know she doesn’t want me following in his footsteps.’

Dorothy frowned. ‘But why should she hold that against Emma?’

Emma said slowly, ‘Maybe she knew my mother and they didn’t like each other?’

‘I suppose that’s possible,’ said Dorothy. ‘I remember your dad, but only from visiting their house when we lived in Liverpool. I remember now that he painted a picture for me. I had it on my bedroom wall for ages. Then we moved house and I never saw it again. Mum told me that it must have got misplaced in the move, but I bet she threw it away.’ She frowned. ‘I loved that picture. I reckoned he was a good artist.’

‘I think so, too,’ smiled Emma. ‘So are you going to tell your mother about my meeting with Betty?’

‘I’d rather you didn’t, Dot,’ said Betty hastily. 
‘I’m convinced Uncle Teddy will put his spoke in and say she’s not to allow it. Remember how nasty he was over the Gianellis? If he knew Maggie and I were going around there for musical evenings he’d probably explode.’

‘You and Maggie are spending evenings at the Gianellis’!’ exclaimed Dorothy.

‘One evening a week, that’s all,’ said Betty hastily. ‘Instead of listening to records like I do at Irene’s house, we have live music. Mrs Gianelli plays the piano, as well as sings, and Mr Gianelli and his son Tonio play the mandolin and the guitar. They sing in Italian sometimes. Operatic stuff as well as ballads.’

Dorothy thought it sounded worth going along to and asked, ‘Who else goes?’

‘When he’s home, Jimmy, Irene’s brother, as well as Norman Marshall. Apparently Irene’s mum knew his mum during the war and Emma has met him and his brother, who’s a policeman. There’s a few other teenagers who come along, too,’ said Betty.

Dorothy’s eyes sparkled. ‘It sounds fun. I think I’d better go along with you both and cast my eye over the proceedings, so that if it ever comes out that you and Maggie have been going there, I can put in a good word for you both.’

A smile flooded Betty’s face. ‘I’m sure you’ll be made welcome. Now what about Emma?’

Dorothy glanced at Emma. ‘What do the pair of you do together?’

‘Go to the pictures like now or have a picnic,’ said Emma. ‘This is only the third time we’ve met but we keep in touch by letter. I send mine care of Irene Miller.’

‘I see,’ said Dorothy. ‘I must admit I can’t see any harm in your getting to know each other. But do remember Mum is responsible for you, Betty. If anything were to happen to you whilst you were out with Emma it would all have to come out.’

‘What could happen?’ said Betty, surprised.

‘I don’t know!’ said Dorothy.

Emma said, ‘I’ll leave it to you and Betty to decide whether you want to tell your mother. After today it’s unlikely I’ll see Betty for a while. What I’d like to do next time is take her to see a pantomime here in Liverpool the week after Christmas.’

Dorothy smiled. ‘That sounds a good idea. I enjoy a pantomime myself.’ She stood up and gathered her shopping together. ‘Well, you seem to have it all worked out and I don’t see what harm you’re doing by meeting up every now and again. I’m not going to say anything for the moment. It’s been interesting meeting you, Emma. See you again sometime.’ She walked away.

‘She’s nice,’ said Emma, gazing after her.

‘Yes, she’s OK is our Dorothy,’ murmured Betty, looking thoughtful. ‘So I won’t be seeing you until
Christmas is over after today?’ she added.

‘I’m afraid so,’ answered Emma regretfully. ‘Shall we go and meet Lila at Lyons now? I just hope she managed to buy something that she couldn’t get at home and is pleased with it.’

Betty said ruefully, ‘I don’t think she likes me.’

‘She doesn’t know you,’ responded Emma, linking her arm through her sister’s. ‘Not everybody hits it off right away.’

‘But we did, and you hit it off with our Dorothy just now,’ said Betty.

Emma could not argue with that. ‘It’s the way Lila is. She didn’t hit it off with Dougie either.’

‘Perhaps she’s jealous of you,’ said Betty.

‘I can’t think why,’ said Emma.

They left the cinema and headed off in the direction of Lime Street. Emma had expected to find Lila waiting for them outside but she wasn’t there. She peered through the window, thinking she might be inside but could see no sign of her.

‘What do we do?’ asked Betty, shivering in the rain and wind.

‘Go inside,’ decided Emma.

They were just about to do so when Emma heard her name being called. The next moment Lila came running towards them, her cheeks flushed and a bulging shopping bag swinging from her fingers.

‘So there you are,’ said Emma.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Lila. ‘I tell you what − tea
and cakes is on me,’ she said, smiling.

They went inside the café. Emma was relieved that her friend appeared to be in the best of moods. Whilst they were waiting for their order to arrive, Lila showed them what was in her shopping bag. Emma admired the jumper and skirt; the latter had plenty of fabric, unlike during the war and the years immediately after, when clothing coupons were needed due to a shortage of materials. Then she told her about meeting Dorothy.

Betty sat there, listening, wishing she could get as excited as Lila over what was really just an ordinary skirt and jumper. Her mind drifted and she thought about what Emma had said about taking her to the pantomime. Like Dorothy, Betty enjoyed a good panto and it would be special because she’d be going with Emma. It was something to look forward to after Christmas was over.

‘You’re lucky Christmas is coming, lass, I’ll give you five pound for it,’ said the man on the market stall in Clitheroe.

Emma was not prepared to haggle. She needed the money more than she needed her grandmother’s silver candelabra and saw little point in pawning it when she could not see herself having the means to redeem it.

‘I’ll take it,’ she said.

She would be seeing Betty, as well as Dorothy, in Liverpool on New Year’s Eve. It had come as a surprise to receive a letter from her sister’s cousin but she had welcomed the friendly gesture. They had exchanged letters several times since that first
one. It was Dorothy who had written to say that she would purchase the tickets for the pantomime to save Emma the worry of perhaps arriving in Liverpool and having to queue up, only to discover the seats were sold out. She would like to go, too, and bring Maggie, as well. Emma was pleased with the notion and indeed was beginning to feel almost part of the family.

She had enclosed a birthday card with a postal order in a letter to Betty for her birthday in November. She had also knitted a hat, scarf and gloves as well as several dolls that she had stuffed with cotton wool and then kitted out as witches, even providing them with twiggy broomsticks. She had got the idea from having seen some witch-like figures in a Clitheroe fancy gift shop during the summer. After Easter, she planned to sell her own version of the Pendle witches in her tea room. Hopefully the day trippers would like them and they would go like the proverbial hot cakes.

Like so many people in the area, she considered the Pendle witches to have been simply wise women, who had a knowledge of herbs and a gift for healing, although there had been those found guilty of extortion by threatening to put a spell on people and using so-called black magic. The trials had taken place seventy years or more after Henry the Eighth’s dissolution of the monasteries. The loss
of the local abbot had created a moral vacuum and the area had become a wild place once more. Ten of the so-called witches had included two men, and they had been hanged.

Emma felt a shiver go through her at the thought of meeting death in such a way. She placed the money from the sale of the candelabra in the pouch, attached to the cord around her neck, and buttoned up her coat. She was glad that those days were in the distant past. Yet even here, in this country market town of Clitheroe, there were bound to be thieves about. The other day she had read about a boy who’d dressed up as a girl and broken into a house. The owners had left the burglar alone in a locked room and he’d jumped out of the window. Some boys had given chase and discovered the ruse. She could not imagine that happening in her own village, but even so, one had to be careful. There were still people about who were cruel and dishonest.

Emma caught the bus to her village and hurried home through a drizzle. When she arrived at the cottage she put her shopping away, placed a log on the fire and switched on the wireless. It was Wilfred Pickles and she relaxed as she made herself a cup of a tea and a bite to eat. She really enjoyed the programme
Have a Go
which involved ordinary people talking about their lives and answering questions for prizes. One of his
catchphrases was ‘What’s on the table, Mabel?’ She was his wife. Another was ‘Give her the money, Barney.’

She wondered if her sister listened to the programme. At least she would soon be seeing her, as well as having a few days away from the cottage. Dot had suggested booking Emma into a bed & breakfast in Liverpool for New Year’s Eve, so she wouldn’t have to worry about getting the train back home late at night. Emma had agreed and was glad she had got a reasonable price for the silver candelabra. At least she had someone who cared about her, even if it wasn’t Dougie, whom she had still not heard from despite the letter she had sent him after her last trip to Liverpool.

‘Are you two ready?’ asked Dorothy impatiently, tapping her foot on the hall lino.

‘We’re coming now,’ said Betty. ‘Maggie couldn’t find her left shoe.’

‘What’s the rush?’ Elsie came out of the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. ‘Where are the three of you going?’

Betty froze and then glanced at Maggie. It had been Dorothy who had told her sister about Betty’s half-sister and that it was something she had to keep quiet about if she wanted to go to the pantomime with them.

‘If I’ve told you once, Mum, I’ve told you ten
times,’ said Dorothy, looking her mother squarely in the eyes and smoothing a glove. ‘I’m taking the girls to the pantomime as a treat.’

Elsie frowned. ‘I don’t remember you mentioning it.’

‘That’s because you never listen to me.’

‘That’s a lie! Anyway, why don’t I get treated?’

‘This is part of their Christmas present from me,’ said Dorothy, opening the front door. ‘Besides, you’ve always said that you hate the pantomime, think it’s stupid.’

‘Well, it is,’ said Elsie, resting her hip against the door jamb. ‘Men dressing up as women and women as men.’

‘Mum, I’m not going to argue with you now. We’ve got to go. I’ve seats booked. Come on, girls!’ ordered Dorothy, holding the door ajar.

‘But you’re leaving me in all on my own on New Year’s Eve,’ complained Elsie.

‘That’s not our fault. You should have insisted on going to the pub with Uncle Teddy, instead of letting him go off on his own,’ said Dorothy. ‘I saw you giving him money.’

‘It’s none of your business,’ snapped her mother. ‘Now, get out!’

‘I’m going. I just wish you’d never married him. He’s done us no good. He wheedled his way in here, making you feel sorry for him and—’

‘That’s enough!’ said Elsie harshly. ‘You don’t
know what it’s like to have been married to a man and then left bereft.’

‘He’s not a patch on Dad,’ said Dorothy.

‘Shut up, right now! I don’t want to be reminded of your dad and his sufferings.’ Her tone brooked no argument.

Dorothy hesitated. ‘We all miss him, Mum. I just wish—’

‘I know what you wish. Now go!’ ordered Elsie.

Maggie went over to her mother and hugged her about the waist. ‘I wish you were coming, Mum. See you later.’

Elsie stroked her hair with an unsteady hand and then pushed her away. ‘Go and enjoy yourself.’

‘I will,’ said Maggie. ‘But why don’t you go out and enjoy yourself?’

‘I might,’ said Elsie.

‘What’s going on here?’

Dorothy stared at her uncle and thought he looked two sheets to the wind already. ‘Here he is, Mum, back already,’ she said. ‘Your little hero. A lot of good he’ll be as company this evening. He’ll snore the hours away till midnight.’

Teddy glared at Dorothy and attempted to block her way. She forced her way past him, dragging the girls with her. It was a relief to be outside in the cold evening air.

‘I thought we weren’t going to get out then,’ said
Maggie, looking worried. ‘D’you think we did right leaving Mum with him?’

‘Don’t you be worrying,’ said Dorothy soothingly. ‘Mum can look after herself. Now, let’s run. We don’t want to be late.’

‘Let’s hope Emma makes it,’ said Betty. ‘What is it we’re seeing? I’ve forgotten.’

‘
Jack and the Beanstalk
and I’m sure it’ll be a laugh,’ said Dorothy, concerned about her mother, despite the reassurances she had given to her sister.

Emma was already at the meeting place and looking anxiously about her. It was the first time she had been in the city after dark. She was trembling with nervous excitement, clutching the bag containing the presents she had brought for her sister. She had a present for Dorothy, as well, for her going to all the trouble of booking the seats and the bed & breakfast place for her.

The neon lights advertising Guinness drew her fascinated eye as she waited outside Lime Street station. She thought how coincidental it would be if Dougie suddenly hovered into view. Then she spotted Betty, Dorothy and Maggie.

‘Emma, you made it!’ cried Betty, flinging her arms around her.

Emma hugged her half-sister, delighted by her welcome. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’

‘It was OK. What about you? Were you on your own? Were you lonely?’

Emma was touched by her concern. ‘I missed Granddad, of course, but I did spend part of Christmas Day with my friend, Lila, and her parents.’

‘Emma, I think you’ve met Maggie,’ interrupted Dorothy.

Emma nodded in the youngest girl’s direction. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello,’ replied Maggie.

‘Now, come on, all of you,’ said Dorothy. ‘You can chat on the way. We want to be in on our seats in plenty of time.’

‘I owe you some money,’ said Emma, as they began walking along Lime Street and past the Empire Theatre.

‘It can wait,’ said Dorothy. ‘This-a-way.’

They crossed London Road and hurried into Fraser Street where the Shakespeare theatre was situated. People were already entering the building and the four girls wasted no time going inside. They found their seats and settled down. Dorothy had brought a bag of sweets and passed it along. Emma decided to leave the
present-giving
until later.

‘I hope you can sing, Emma,’ said Dorothy, ‘because there’s bound to be a singalong and they like you to try and lift the roof off.’

‘Of course I can sing,’ replied Emma, crunching a pear drop. ‘I presume you three can sing if you’ve been going along to the musical evenings at the Gianellis’.’

‘I have been known to belt out a tune when asked to give a turn,’ said Dorothy, her green-blue eyes dancing. ‘It’s a pity that home entertainment will soon be on its way out.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Emma.

‘Have you got a telly, Emma?’ asked Maggie, who was straining to hear what the elder two were saying.

‘No,’ said Emma, flashing her a smile. ‘I’ve never even seen a telly.’

‘Never?’ chorused Maggie and Betty, looking shocked.

‘Never,’ affirmed Emma, her eyes amused by their reaction. ‘I listen to the wireless a lot.’

‘We’ve seen telly at a friend’s house and several others have said their parents are determined to buy one in time for the queen’s coronation,’ said Maggie. ‘I’m going to get to work on Mum for us to get one. You should get one too, Emma.’

Emma could not see herself being able to afford a television in the foreseeable future, so changed the subject. ‘Any news of your brother, Dorothy?’ she asked.

‘Not recently. But I’m praying that no news is good news.’ A shadow crossed Dorothy’s face.
‘There was a battle just before Christmas that the Lord Mayor of Liverpool called
Operation Scouse
. The King’s Regiment was in the forefront of the fighting to rescue prisoners from the Commies.’

‘That must have been worrying for you,’ said Emma, remembering her first sight of Jared Gregory and that Betty had promised to show her a photograph of him.

‘It was,’ said Dorothy. ‘It’s blinking awful, but I suppose it’ll all come to an end one day.’ She sat up straight in her seat. ‘Let’s not get ourselves miserable but look forward to the pantomime.’

No sooner had she finished speaking than the fire curtain rose and the lights dimmed. Conversation ceased as the curtains opened to reveal a scene that looked as if it had come out of a picture book.

For several hours they all enjoyed the colour, the costumes, the jokes, the singing and the dancing, and were completely taken out of themselves. As they left the theatre all agreed that it had been magic.

‘I wouldn’t mind a goose that laid golden eggs. I don’t suppose you have one in your village, Emma?’ teased Dorothy.

‘If only,’ she said, her eyes sparkling. ‘What I have got is a few little Christmas presents.’

‘What are they?’ asked Betty, looking pleased.

‘Nothing wildly exciting. Open them when you get home.’

With a flourish Betty produced from her bag an envelope. ‘And you’re not to look at what’s inside this until you’re alone.’

Emma thanked her and pocketed the envelope before turning to Dorothy. ‘Now, I owe you money for the pantomime ticket.’

‘No, you don’t,’ said Dorothy. ‘It’s my present to you.’

Emma frowned. ‘I can’t accept that.’

‘Yes, you can,’ said Dorothy firmly. ‘You’ve had enough expense getting here and you wouldn’t have had to stay overnight if I’d been able to get tickets for a matinee. Unfortunately I couldn’t.’

Emma decided to accept the gift with good grace. ‘Thanks, that’s very kind.’

There was a silence.

Then Betty asked, ‘When will I see you again?’

‘I wish I could say tomorrow, but I have to go back early as I’ve urgent bookkeeping work I must catch up on,’ said Emma. ‘I’ll write and arrange to meet up with you as soon as I can.’

‘OK,’ said Betty, kissing Emma’s cheek. ‘See you when I see you.’

Dorothy smiled at Emma. ‘I’ve enjoyed our outing.’

‘Me, too. Thanks again and happy New Year,’ said Emma, blinking back unexpected tears before hurrying away.

Dorothy was tempted to go after her and ask if
she’d like to walk around the town and see it coming even more alive as midnight approached. Yet she knew that she had to get the younger girls home. ‘So-oo, I wonder when we will next see Emma,’ she murmured.

‘I bet it’ll be months,’ sighed Betty.

It was not until they were on the bus that the cousins decided to open their presents. Betty tore off the wrapping to expose a long, colourful, knitted scarf, hat and gloves.

‘Sensible,’ said Dorothy.

‘They’ll be lovely and warm,’ said Betty, draping the scarf around her neck. ‘But there’s something else in here.’ She drew out a knitted doll.

‘What’s it supposed to be?’ asked Maggie, reaching for it.

Betty held the doll out of her reach. ‘It’s obvious that it’s a Pendle witch. I remember Emma telling me about them. Look she’s got gozzy eyes. I wonder if Emma did that deliberately to make me smile. Imagine this witch trying to cast a spell if she can’t see straight. I’m going to call her Winnie.’

‘How original,’ said Maggie sarcastically.

‘You must admit it’s not your usual kind of present,’ said Dorothy, chuckling. ‘What else is in there?’

Betty handed over two small bags tied up with tape. Dorothy sniffed. ‘I can smell cinnamon.’