It's Now or Never (16 page)

‘You must come to the wedding,' said Hester, taking Lynne by surprise. ‘You don't have to worry about buying a wedding present. Your work on this dress is enough and I don't expect a reduction either. I can afford it.'

Lynne felt a rush of pleasure. ‘That's kind of you. Are you sure you want me there?'

‘I wouldn't ask if I didn't. Do come! I bet you don't get out much to have fun, what with a teenage daughter and an old granny. Will Bobby be OK looking after your grandmother?'

‘Oh yes, they get on well together. I'd like to see you married.'

‘Then come! Unless you feel it would be wrong, what with you just hearing about your mother's death?'

‘That wouldn't stop me going,' said Lynne. ‘I grieved for the loss of my mother years ago. I suppose the famous actress will be there?'

Detecting the note in her voice, Hester darted her a look. ‘Don't you like her?'

Lynne flushed as she rolled up her tape measure. ‘I don't really know her.'

‘Sam said that she was rude to you.'

Lynne felt a quiver go through her. ‘Really! Well, she did kind of ignore me but maybe that was because she had to go back upstairs for her outdoor clothes.'

Hester looked thoughtful and only said, ‘Anyway, you must come to the wedding. I'll send you a proper invitation. Now can I see my material?'

‘Of course!'

Lynne fetched the parcel and unwrapped it on the table. She watched as Hester fingered the ivory brocade satin with a rapt expression on her face. ‘I really like it,' she said.

‘You'll look lovely. You won't know yourself when you see yourself in the finished gown,' said Lynne, thinking of those brides whose bridal finery she had created in the past. It always gave her a thrill when brides saw their reflections in the mirror.

‘I hope you're right,' said Hester, touching her cheek with the fabric.

‘Of course I'm right,' retorted Lynne, smiling. ‘Now how about a cup of tea?'

‘I don't mind if I do,' said Hester, wrapping the material in its brown paper again.

Hester was just on her way out when Roberta arrived home. They exchanged greetings and then said goodnight and parted.

‘So is she happy with the material for her wedding dress?' asked Roberta.

‘She chose it, so of course she is,' said Lynne, feeling suddenly overwhelmingly weary.

‘Cocoa?' asked her daughter.

‘Thanks!' said Lynne, flopping into an armchair. ‘I've something to tell you both. I had another visitor today.'

Nan and Roberta stared at her. ‘Well, tell us?' asked her daughter.

‘Stuart Anderson!'

Roberta gaped. ‘What did he have to say?'

‘His father was married to my mother.'

‘Was!' exclaimed Roberta.

‘She's dead.' Lynne told them all about her meeting with Stuart. They showed suitable astonishment and amazement.

‘I wish I'd been here,' sighed Roberta. ‘Do you think he'll send us a postcard from Italy?'

‘Of course,' said Lynne, smiling. ‘He said he'd send us several postcards and I wouldn't be surprised if he sent Betty Booth one too. He seemed interested in her.'

‘It's a pity they won't be in Italy at the same time,' said Roberta.

Lynne smiled. ‘Now d'you want to see the jewellery?'

Nan and Roberta watched as Lynne emptied the necklace and earrings on to her lap. ‘They don't look much,' said Roberta, disappointed. ‘Like shiny bits of coal.'

‘Looks can be deceptive,' said Nan. ‘Made in Whitby and it wouldn't surprise me if that's where some of your ancestors came from. Thousands and thousands of people flooded into Liverpool during Victorian times by sea or rail. It was the place to find work with ships coming and going, bringing tobacco and sugar and cotton and exporting goods across the Atlantic and to all parts of the Empire. Houses were being built at a rate of knots but there were also the emigration ships carrying people out of Liverpool, too.'

‘All right, Nan! We get the message that you were a girl in Liverpool's latter Victorian heyday,' said Roberta, reaching for the necklace on Lynne's lap. ‘So this is your inheritance, Mam. Pity it's not gold.'

‘Jet's rare and valuable,' said Nan.

Roberta said, ‘Perhaps you should sell it, Mam. I like the idea of going to California. I could sing that song “California, here I come”.' She left the room to make the cocoa.

Nan and Lynne winked at each other.

‘So you've an invitation to go to America,' wheezed Nan.

Lynne was silent a moment. ‘I'd like Bobby to go. But I don't like the idea of my stepfather paying for us to travel all the way to California. If I sold the jewellery then she could still go but she'd need a whole new wardrobe.' She paused. ‘I've had another invitation too – from Hester Walker. She's invited me to her wedding.'

‘That's great! You don't get out enough,' said Roberta, catching the tail end of what Lynne was saying as she came in from the back kitchen with a steaming jug of cocoa. ‘You're going to need a new dress.'

‘You think?' said Lynne.

Roberta and Nan stared at Lynne. ‘You want to knock them all dead, girl,' said the old woman firmly.

As she was drinking her cocoa, Lynne had an idea. ‘Bobby, I want you to go into Central Library and look for a particular book for me some time soon.'

‘What's it called?' she asked.

‘I can't remember off the top of my head but it'll come to me,' said Lynne, her eyes gleaming. She only hoped that what she had in mind was not beyond her capabilities.

The following Saturday Roberta left the bus in Lime Street and headed for the Central Library. She wondered if she would see those youths from the Boys' Institute again and, sure enough, the fair-haired one was there. She remembered his friend calling him Nick. He was consulting a book and making notes. As she searched the section on books of costume and fashion, she could not help glancing at him and wondering if his friend would be joining him.

She took two books from the shelf and went over to a table and sat down. Able to borrow only one of the books, she delved into her knapsack and removed a sketch pad and a couple of pencils. She opened the book on fashion through the ages and began to sketch several drawings of women's undergarments from the beginning of the century. The other book was the one her mother had wanted and she would take that home because it contained Edwardian fashion plates of some really eye-catching gowns.

Engrossed in what she was doing, it took her ten minutes or so to become aware that she was being watched by Nick. As she looked his way, he swiftly lowered his head and carried on writing, so that all she could see now was his profile, but she had seen enough to cause her fingers to itch.
I like the shape of his skull
,
she thought, turning over a page of her drawing pad and, in a few swift strokes, she had a recognizable sketch of his head.

She heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and glanced up and saw that it was him making the noise.
Was he going or just exchanging the book for another one?

He did not return to the table so she presumed he had left the library. She grimaced, thinking that she would have liked to have more time to make a better drawing of him. Hopefully she might spot him again here at the Central. She did a sketch of a bust bodice and decided to call it a day, as she wanted to drop in at the coffee bar. She had the library book stamped and left the building, heading across town to Hope Street, having arranged to meet a classmate there but she was also hoping to see Betty.

Every table appeared to be taken and most of the customers seemed to be talking at the top of their voices whilst Tennessee Ernie's ‘Give Me Your Word' came from the jukebox. She spotted Betty and waved to her. After a minute or two the older girl came over to her.

‘I know what's brought you here,' Betty smiled. ‘Jeanette told me that your mother had a visit from the American. Apparently he's your mum's stepbrother.'

‘Yes, I'm really chuffed about it for Mam's sake. They had a really good talk and his father would like us to visit. He sent her some of my grandmother's jewellery. Apparently it's real jet and was very popular in Victorian times.'

‘He sounds a nice man.'

‘Mam certainly liked his son. I wonder with
him
being her stepbrother, whether I should call him Uncle Stuart,' murmured Roberta. ‘Anyway, he's going to send us postcards from Europe and we'll be seeing him when he gets back here.'

‘Well, I'm glad he turned out to be a respectable person,' said Betty, her eyes twinkling. ‘Anyway, I'd best get on with my work.'

‘You haven't seen my school friend, Thelma, have you? I'm supposed to be meeting her here,' said Roberta.

Betty nodded. ‘She came in, looked around and went out again.'

‘Damn,' muttered Roberta. ‘Trust her to be early and not wait.'

‘She might come back,' said Betty.

‘But there's nowhere to sit!'

Betty glanced around. ‘Those two girls over there by the mother-in-law's tongue look like they'll be going soon. It's a table for four, so you might have to share. But go over there now and hover.'

Roberta did as Betty suggested but someone else had the same idea and they both arrived at the table as the girls stood up. Roberta stared at him, recognizing the fair-haired Nick from the library. She placed a hand on the back of a chair as the girls moved away and he did the same. They both watched the other as if waiting for them to speak. Then he nodded at her and pulled out a chair and sat down; she placed the knapsack containing the library book and her drawing pad and pencils on one of the unoccupied chairs and he put his knapsack on the remaining empty chair.

He picked up a menu card and began to study it. She read the reverse and then leaned back. She had only enough pocket money to buy a hot chocolate and so decided to wait and see if Thelma returned before ordering.

Several minutes passed and still he appeared absorbed in the contents of the menu. She decided that he was either avoiding looking at her or, like her, was delaying the moment when he would need to order because he was also meeting someone here. Maybe the friend she had seen him with last time in the library? Which reminded her of the book she had taken out for her mother. She removed it from her bag and placed it in front of her.

He lowered the menu a couple of inches and their eyes met and then he brought the menu up to his face again. She had an urge to giggle but managed to control herself by opening the book of Edwardian fashion plates. She intended picking out the outfit that she considered would suit her mother best.

She turned over a page, only to start when a voice from across the table said, ‘Aren't you the girl from the library?'

Roberta glanced across into eyes the colour of treacle. ‘Shouldn't you have blue eyes?' she blurted out.

‘You're not the first to say that,' he muttered.

‘It's usual with fair hair.'

He shrugged. ‘So what? Well, are you or aren't you?'

‘You know I am, unless there's something wrong with your eyes. That's twice we've seen each other. I didn't know you came here.'

‘Well, I do. What's your name?'

‘Roberta Donegan, although I get called Bobby by my friends and Mam and Nan.' She smiled. ‘I know yours is Nick because I heard your friend speak to you the time I saw you both in the library.'

He nodded. ‘Where d'you live?'

‘D'you know West Derby Road?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, off there. Where do you live?'

‘Prescot Road. My dad has a hardware shop. What about your dad?'

‘He was a sailor and was killed in the war. My mum's a dressmaker.'

‘My mum's dead.' Nick glanced down at the menu.

There was a silence and Roberta was tempted to ask if his mother had died recently but she decided it might upset him.

‘Are you ordering anything?' he asked abruptly.

‘I'm waiting for a friend, then I'll order,' said Roberta.

‘So am I. How long d'you plan on waiting?'

‘Probably half an hour.'

‘That's two of us then.'

She looked down at the fashion book and turned a page.

He cleared his throat. ‘D'you often come here?'

‘When I can, I come straight from school in Grove Street early evening. I like to look at the paintings on the wall. You do know Betty the waitress painted them?'

‘No, I didn't.'

‘They're of Italy.'

‘I thought so.' He rested his arms on the table. ‘I noticed you seemed to be drawing something in the library.'

She flushed but then decided he couldn't possibly have seen the sketch she had done of him. ‘I was copying some pen and ink drawings from another book for Mam. She's going to a wedding and she wants to make an outfit that'll knock people's socks off.' She paused. ‘What were you writing?'

‘I was making notes for an essay on ancient Rome.'

‘Are you doing Latin for O level?'

‘I want to. I enjoy it. You?'

She grimaced. ‘I'll probably drop it. I'm not that brilliant at languages and we have to make choices for GCEs soon. I have to choose between History and Geography. I prefer History, so I hope to do that. I also want to do Art, of course, as well as English, Maths, Chemistry, Biology and French.'

He smiled. ‘I'll probably do technical drawing as well as the other subjects we have to do. I also like music and Dad has a fiddle but he never plays now.'

She thought he had a really nice smile. ‘I like music, too. How d'you feel about Frank Sinatra singing “Three Coins in the Fountain”?'

‘Prefer Frankie Laine as a singer. He has a really powerful voice.'