Laceys of Liverpool (21 page)

‘I wouldn’t mind a little bit. You’re not going to get blind drunk tonight, are you?’ Alice asked anxiously.

‘No.’ He stretched his arms, put them behind his neck and grinned. Suddenly he looked his old self again. Alice felt relieved. ‘I’m over getting plastered. I’m over Babs, if
the truth be known. But I shall never get over the sense of betrayal. How could she
do
such a thing? I still ask myself that from time to time.’

‘What made you become a teacher?’

‘I’m not sure.’ He considered the question. ‘After I finished Cambridge, I felt the urge to escape from the world I’d always known, do something entirely different. I took up teaching, much to my folks’ horror. They thought it a terribly middle-class thing to do. They regard themselves as very much upper-class, you see.’ He looked at Alice, his eyes sparkling with merriment. ‘I’ve never told you this, but my father is Sir Archibald Nelson Middleton-Greene.’

Alice burst out laughing. ‘That’s a mouthful. Am I supposed to have heard of him?’

‘No. I’m pleased you’re amused rather than impressed.’

‘Oh, I’m impressed all right.’

‘Are you feeling better?’

‘Loads better.’

‘Me too. I’ve never told anyone all that before.’ He refilled her glass for the third time. ‘Now it’s your turn to bare your soul.’

‘It doesn’t feel so bad now. I mean, it’s still awful, it just doesn’t feel as bad inside.’ She told him the story right from the beginning, about how happy she and John had been with their four lovely children, then when John had burnt his face and everything had changed. She told him the awful things he’d called her. ‘Then suddenly he changed again.’ He’d started staying out a lot. They hardly saw him.

‘Today I went round to the yard to tell him about Orla. He’d always discouraged us from going before. You’ll never believe what I found.’ She described knocking on the door and it being opened by the very
pregnant young woman with fair hair and a toddler attached to her knee. ‘She smiled at me ever so nicely.’ Then the little boy came and shouted upstairs for his daddy. ‘By then, I knew it must be John, but it still knocked me for six when he appeared. And his eyes! They were dead horrible. I felt about
this
big.’ Alice held up her thumb and forefinger about quarter of an inch apart. ‘But do you know what gets me more than anything?’

‘What, Alice?’

‘It sounds daft, but she had a fitted carpet. John knew I’d always wanted a fitted carpet for the parlour. It made me realise how much he put this other family before his real one. It’s as if we don’t matter any more.’ She sniffed. ‘Oh, Lord, Neil. I think I’m going to cry again and I haven’t got a hankie.’

‘I’ll get you one.’ Neil leapt to his feet and returned with a clean, but unironed, white handkerchief. To her total astonishment he knelt beside her and began to dry her eyes, which she thought a trifle unnecessary. There didn’t seem any real need to kiss them either, so that she felt her lashes flutter against his lips. It was years since John had touched her and it made her feel uncomfortable, even though it was undeniably very pleasant.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ she mumbled.

‘I’m doing it because I want to, not because I have to.’ Neil slid his arms around her waist. ‘I’ve been lusting after you, Mrs Lacey, since the day I first set foot in the salon.’

‘But I’m thirty-eight,’ Alice gasped.

‘I don’t care if you’re eighty-eight, you’re utterly adorable.’ He pulled her towards him and hugged her very tight.

‘Neil.’ She tried to struggle out of his arms. ‘You’ve had too much to drink.’

‘No, it’s you who hasn’t had enough. Stay still, Alice. I promise I won’t touch you anywhere that’s out of bounds.’

Alice sat stock still, knowing she should leave, but curiously reluctant to move an inch, while Neil traced her eyebrows with his finger, then her ears, her cheeks, her nose. The world had gone very quiet and, apart from the ticking of a clock somewhere, there wasn’t a sound to be heard. Neil’s firm finger traced her jaw and she could smell soap on his hand. John had always been a tender lover, but he’d never done anything like this. The finger moved to her lips and Alice felt as if her bones had melted inside her body. Then Neil bent forward and kissed her gently, ever so gently, on her forehead and she couldn’t resist another minute. She flung her arms round his neck, feeling like a wanton woman, but not caring a bit.

Maeve Lacey got engaged on her twenty-first birthday. Her fiancé, Martin Adams, was a colourless, fussy young man who was a radiographer at Bootle hospital. They had been courting two years, but weren’t planning to get married until Maeve was a State Registered Nurse and they had saved up a deposit for a house.

Alice was pleased that it all sounded so very sensible when compared with Orla’s shotgun wedding. She remarked as much to her friend, Bernadette, who was helping prepare the food for what would be the party to end all parties that night.

‘Me and Bob were sensible, and look where it got us?’ Bernadette said darkly. ‘Absolutely bloody nowhere.’

‘Yes, but you’re all right now.’ Alice giggled. ‘Mam!’

‘Oh, shurrup.’ Bernadette nudged her friend’s ribs. ‘Stop being so cheeky, else you might get your bottom smacked.’

Three years ago, when Alice had held a similar party on the occasion of her father’s, Danny’s, sixtieth birthday, Bernie had taken her courage in both hands and proposed.

‘Neither of us is getting any younger,’ she said to the astonished birthday boy. ‘I can’t stand you, Danny Mitchell. If the truth be known, you drive me wild, but at the same time I think we’d be good together. I fancy
you something rotten and I know you fancy me, so don’t look so outraged.’

Danny had spluttered something incomprehensible in reply.

‘If you’re agreeable,’ Bernadette went on, ‘I think we should get wed as soon as possible while we’ve both got a bit of life left in us. And before you accept, I should tell you I’d very much like a baby. I’m thirty-nine, so if we go at it hammer and tongs, there’s still time for you to put me in the club.’

Danny had spluttered something incomprehensible again.

‘Think about it,’ Bernadette said kindly, patting his arm. ‘Take your time, but try and let me know before the party’s over, so we can announce it, like, while everyone’s here.’

Four weeks later Bernadette became Mrs Danny Mitchell and stepmother to her best friend. Within a year Alice was presented with a brother, Ian, and a sister, Ruth, the year after.

Danny was rarely seen in the pub these days, only on Sundays after Mass. He was content to stay indoors with his pretty wife and two young children, and watch the new telly at night, much to the chagrin of the numerous women who’d had their eye on him.

‘You’ve made me dad very happy,’ Alice said as she rolled sausage meat into a length of puff pastry. ‘And he thinks the sun shines out Ian’s and Ruth’s little bottoms. I never thought I’d see the day when he’d take two kids in a pushchair for a walk in North Park.’

‘Well, he didn’t have much alternative, did he?’ Bernadette sniffed. ‘I’d promised to give you a hand.’ She removed a baking tray from the oven. ‘How many jam tarts do you want? There’s a dozen here and another dozen just on finishing.’

‘Well, there’s thirty coming,’ Alice said thoughtfully, ‘but not everyone will want a tart. I reckon that’s enough.’

‘What shall I do now?’

‘Pipe some cream on those little jellies, then sprinkle them with hundreds and thousands. Oh, by the way, could you bring some teaspoons when you come tonight? I haven’t enough to go round. And some glasses too, if you’ve got any.’

‘Of course we’ve got glasses. What do you think we drink the sherry out of at Christmas – mugs?’

The two women worked in contented silence for a while, each preoccupied with her own thoughts, while the smell from the kitchen became more and more mouthwatering. Two cats sat on the backyard wall, enjoying the crisp November sunshine and hoping they might be thrown the odd sausage roll.

‘Who’s looking after the salon today?’ Bernadette enquired. ‘Sat’days are your busiest day.’

‘Our Fion. She’s going to manage the new branch in Marsh Lane when it opens after Christmas, did I tell you?’

‘Yes.’ Bernadette rolled her eyes. ‘New branch! Get you, Alice Lacey.’

‘To think I used to look up to you when you had that good job with the Gas Board.’ Alice wrinkled her nose and looked superior. ‘Now you’re just a housewife and I’m about to have me own chain of hairdressers.’

‘I’d hardly call two a chain.’

‘It’s a
little
chain.’ She laughed happily. ‘It seemed a shame not to take on Gloria’s when I discovered it was closing down – we were overstaffed once Fion got her certificate and I couldn’t possibly have got rid of Doreen to make way for her. Doreen’s going to Marsh Lane with
Fion and I’m taking on another qualified assistant for meself. Patsy’ll stay with me, naturally.’

‘Their Daisy never got on the stage, did she?’

‘No, she’s married now, with two kids. Her husband’s a chimney sweep if you’d believe it.’

‘Well, I suppose chimney sweeps need wives the same as other men.’

‘I think’, Neil said, ‘that I could become quite a fan of Elvis Presley.’

‘He’s OK,’ Alice conceded. ‘Our Fion’s mad about him. She’s got all his records. I prefer Frankie Laine meself.’

‘This is a great party.’ Neil put his hands on her hips and squeezed.

‘Don’t!’ Alice said in a scandalised voice. ‘Someone might come in.’ They were in the kitchen in Amber Street and the party was going full swing. Elvis Presley was singing something about his blue suede shoes. ‘Get out the way, Neil, while I make a pot of tea.’

‘Don’t you think people will have guessed by now how things are? It’s been five years.’

‘There’s no reason for people to have guessed anything,’ Alice said primly, ‘and I’ve no intention of providing them with proof. I’ve got me reputation to consider and you’ve got your job. You’d be out on your ear if you were found having an affair with a married woman.’ Like her, Neil was usually very discreet about their relationship and she wondered if he’d had too much to drink. ‘Anyroad, me daughter’s twenty-one today and I’ve got things to do,’ she said brusquely. ‘
And
she’s got engaged. Oh, hello, Cormac, luv. What can I do for you?’

‘Are there any more jam tarts, Mam?’

‘Sorry, luv. I thought two dozen’d be enough. There’s
plenty of jellies, though, some iced fairy cakes and loads of chocolate biccies. You’ll find them on the sideboard in the parlour.’

‘Ta, Mam.’ Cormac vanished.

‘He’s not going to grow very tall,’ Alice said. ‘Not like his dad.’

‘He’s only sixteen, time to grow taller,’ Neil said comfortably.

Maeve came in, her face flushed with happiness. ‘Are there any clean glasses, Mam?’

‘There will be if you fetch some dirty ones for me to wash.’

‘I’ll get some. Oh, by the way, Neil. Thanks for the scent. It’s lovely.’

‘I didn’t know whether to buy a present for your birthday, or the engagement. Perhaps I should have bought one for each.’

‘The scent’s perfect. I haven’t begun a bottom drawer yet.’

‘She seems so certain of everything,’ Alice said when her daughter had gone. ‘It hasn’t crossed her mind that things might change, not always for the better. Mind you, I was just as certain at her age.’

‘So was I.’ Neil sighed. ‘But it’s only natural that we expect our lives to pass smoothly along without a hiccup. If we were waiting for everything to fall around our ears, as it did with you and me, we’d all go bonkers.’

Alice opened her mouth to speak, but a girl she had never seen before came in and asked for the lavatory, Maeve brought the dirty glasses, someone asked if there were any more jam tarts and a lad rushed into the yard to be sick. Alice had the worrying feeling it had been Maurice Lacey, who wasn’t old enough to be drinking.

Before he disappeared Neil blew her a kiss, which she affected to ignore in case anyone was watching. She
poured a glass of sherry and decided to circulate, make sure the guests were enjoying themselves.

In the living room, Fion was conversing with Horace Flynn, whom she had insisted on inviting. Apparently it was all part of the war she had declared on Cora. Alice would have preferred her daughter in the parlour where everyone was dancing. She despaired of Fion ever finding a friend, let alone a man friend – other than their revolting landlord.

Cormac was doing card tricks for an admiring audience, Micky Lavin and Bernadette among them.

She found her dad sitting on the stairs with Orla. ‘The ancient and the pregnant are having a bit of peace and quiet,’ Danny quipped.

Orla was in the club again with her fourth child. The girl was sorely in need of advice on birth control, but had bitten her mother’s head off when she had broached the subject. Still, the family now had a nice little house in Pearl Street since Micky had finished his apprenticeship and was earning a proper wage.

‘How are you feeling, luv?’ Alice asked sympathetically. It must be galling for someone only twenty-two and heavily pregnant to be surrounded by people mostly the same age who were all single, childless and obviously having a good time.

‘How do you think I feel?’ Orla snapped. She sometimes wondered if all she had to do was be in the same room as Micky to conceive. She’d heard it was unlikely to happen if you did it standing up. Well,
they’d
done it standing up and Lulu had arrived nine months later. The rhythm system had produced Maisie, the withdrawal system Gary. After Gary, Micky had worn a French letter, but here she was, once again looking like a bloody elephant. Micky must have bought the only French letter ever made that leaked. Every time a baby
was born, they forced themselves to hold fire for at least six months, otherwise there’d be children popping out twice a year. When the six months was up, they’d leap upon each other the way people dying of thirst would leap upon a glass of water, draining the glass and wanting more. It wasn’t a bit fair and she was fed up with Mr Lavin joking it was about time Micky tied a knot in it.