Lights Out Liverpool (27 page)

Eileen opened the bag and drew out a bottle of Chanel scent. She gasped. ‘Oh, my goodness! This must have cost the earth. Thank you, Mrs Fleming, but there was no need.’

‘It’s not new. I mean,’ the woman said hastily, ‘I’ve had it some time, but it’s never been opened. And call me Jess, please.’

‘Thank you, Jess,’ Eileen said, feeling touched.

They went inside, where the wireless was already on and a boy’s choir was singing
The Holly and the Ivy
. Brenda Mahon and Aggie Donovan were there, and Tony and the boys had returned with two headless soldiers, tired of fighting and anxious for something to eat.

Eileen drew her son onto her lap. ‘In a minute,’ she whispered. ‘As soon as the King’s finished.’

It was strange, almost uncanny, to think that millions of people all over the country were doing the exact same thing at the same time, sitting round the wireless to hear their King. She wondered if Nick were listening, and tried to visualise him sitting in his friends’ house.

The National Anthem sounded particularly stirring.
For
the first time, Eileen felt a sense of real pride in her country. She forgot her previous impatience with Chamberlain and his government. It was a brave thing that had been done, taking on Hitler and the might of the German Army, declaring war on Fascism and all it represented. She glanced at Mr Singerman. His head was bent and he had one hand over his eyes and she knew he was thinking of Ruth.

The King was speaking. She could tell from the tone of his gentle, stammering voice that he knew how his people felt. He shared their concerns and sympathised. He finished his speech with a poem. ‘
I said to the man who stood at the Gate of the Year, “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.” And he replied, “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way
”.’

To her relief, Eileen was on the morning shift the week after Christmas, which meant she was home by early afternoon and could spend the rest of the day with Tony, who was on holiday from school.

On the first day back, the younger women were full of the wonderful time they’d had at their Christmas dances.

‘I went home with a different feller every night,’ Doris boasted. ‘One of ’em even wanted to marry me.’

‘Did’ya say “yes”?’ Carmel shouted across the workshop.

‘Not bloody likely! While the war’s on, I’m having far too good a time to stick to one feller. I’ll think about getting hitched once it’s over.’

Later on, Doris announced she was going straight into town from work to buy a frock for New Year’s Eve in the sales. ‘It’s gotta have sequins on. I’m dying for a frock with sequins.’

‘Where are you off to New Year’s Eve?’ Lil asked.

‘St George’s Hall. It’s not just a dance, it’s a ball. The tickets cost five bob each.’

‘I’m going, too,’ said Theresa. ‘Me mam made a dress for me Christmas present.’

‘Catch me paying five bleeding bob for a dance, even if it is a ball,’ someone remarked.

‘What are you doing on New Year’s Eve, Eileen?’ Pauline asked.

‘Nothing special. I suppose I’ll just go over to me sister’s.’

‘Why don’t you come with us?’

‘Oh, I’d want to see the New Year in with me family, particularly our Tony.’

‘Well, y’can always leave early,’ Doris put in. ‘Though you’d miss the best part. It’s lovely when everybody joins hands and sings
Auld Lang Syne
together.’

‘I haven’t got a dance frock,’ said Eileen, though the idea appealed to her. Sheila wouldn’t mind, and Dad would be over, anyroad, as soon as the King’s Arms closed. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised.

‘Is there any news yet about that ship your brother-in-law’s on?’ Pauline asked.

‘No. It seems to have disappeared off the high seas altogether.’

‘Don’t worry. The Navy’ll find it soon enough.’

‘Well if they don’t, our Sheila’s likely to hire a rowboat and go looking for it herself!’ said Eileen.

After a hurried meal she went outside, more anxious than she liked to admit, to meet Nick again. She hadn’t seen him for ten whole days.

She felt her whole body tingle as he came sliding along the frozen stream towards her, a tweed cap on his head and a red scarf wrapped twice around his neck, the ends floating out behind. ‘You look like a Christmas card,’ she exclaimed.

Nick drew to a halt and looked up at her unsmilingly. ‘I’ve missed you badly,’ he said. The message in his brown eyes made her heart turn over.

‘Oh!’ ‘And I’ve missed you too,’ she wanted to say. ‘In fact, I hardly stopped thinking about you over Christmas.’ But she could never say such things to him! Worried he might read an answering message in her
own
eyes, she glanced around at the white fields. ‘I can’t imagine it ever being green again.’

He gave a quirky little smile, as if he could read her mind. ‘It will be. As sure as night follows day, it will be.’

‘Did you have a nice Christmas?’ Eileen asked conversationally, glad the disturbing moment was over.

‘Somewhat lonesome, but okay,’ he replied lightly.

‘I thought you were going to stay with friends in London?’

‘I changed my mind in view of the arctic weather.’

Eileen was immediately concerned. ‘Y’don’t mean you spent it all by yourself? I didn’t realise.’

‘And would you have done anything about it if you
had
realised?’ He held out his hand and she helped him struggle up the snowy bank beside her. ‘I mean, would I have been invited to Christmas dinner at Pearl Street if you’d known I was eating sausage and mash all on my own?’

‘Sausage and mash! Oh, Nick!’

‘So? Would I? Have been invited, that is?’

They began to stroll along the bank together. At their approach, several birds came fluttering out of the white bushes, disturbing the snow, which fell with a dull plopping sound.

‘They’re starving, poor little things,’ Eileen said. ‘I’ll bring some breadcrumbs tomorrow.’

‘I take it you’ve no intention of answering my question.’ He took her arm and linked it in his.

‘How could I have invited you?’ she demanded. ‘I’m not footloose and fancy free like you. I’ve got a family to consider. You’re like a little child, the way you expect things to happen without any regard for the consequences. How d’you know me husband wasn’t there over Christmas, anyroad?’

‘Because last time we met, you said it was unlikely. Was he?’

‘No,’ she muttered.

He stopped and turned her towards him, holding her firmly by the arms. ‘You don’t love him, do you?’

She dropped her eyes. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because you wouldn’t be here if you did,’ he said reasonably. ‘If I’d sent you an entire flower shop, you wouldn’t have come if you loved him. Some women would, but not you, Eileen. You’re not a flirt. You came because you like me, perhaps as much as I like you. I might even love you, I’m not sure.’

Eileen wriggled out of his grasp. ‘Don’t say those sort of things!’

‘Why not, when they’re true? Admit it, Eileen, you don’t love your husband.’

‘So what if I don’t,’ she cried. ‘What difference does it make?’

‘For Chrissakes, woman,’ he exploded. ‘There’s a war on. By this time next year we might both be dead. You can’t deny there’s something between us, can you?’

She took a deep breath. ‘No.’

‘Then come out with me,’ he demanded. ‘Let me take you to dinner one night?’

Eileen shook her head vigorously. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because …’ she paused.

‘Because what?’

‘Because …’ She paused again, and struggled for the words. ‘It’s just not done. I’d have to lie to people.’

‘You never know, it might be worth it,’ he said with a sardonic laugh.

‘I could never lie to me family,’ she said adamantly.

‘Oh, well. I suppose that’s that, then. It’s a waste of
time
us seeing each other again.’ He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to walk swiftly ahead. Eileen ran to catch up.

‘Nick! You’re not being fair.’

To her utter relief, he turned on her, smiling. ‘No, I’m not, am I? I’m being unreasonable. It’s just that I missed you so much. Am I forgiven?’

She would have forgiven him anything. ‘Of course you are.’

Later on, he confessed he hadn’t had sausage and mash for Christmas dinner, but had gone to the hostel and enjoyed a magnificent spread with half a dozen workmates who’d remained behind. He hadn’t listened to the King’s speech, either. ‘We were as drunk as lords by then.’

‘You bloody liar,’ she said indignantly. ‘And here was me, feeling sorry for you.’

‘That’s why I said it. I love it when that concerned look comes into your eyes and you worry over me.’

Tony Costello was glad he was an only child. He’d hate to share his mam with five brothers and sisters like his cousin, Dominic. He also liked peace and quiet from time to time, something you never got at the Reillys’. After spending the whole morning in his auntie’s house, the noise began to get on his nerves. As soon as he’d eaten his dinner, he told his Auntie Sheila he was going home. Mam would be back from work soon, and in the meantime, he felt like doing a picture with the paints he’d got off his grandad for Christmas.

‘Have you got a key, luv?’ Auntie Sheila asked.

‘It’s in me pocket.’ For some reason, grandad had changed the locks and there was no longer a key hanging from the letterbox inside the door.

Once home, he filled an egg cup with water and set the paintbox on the table, along with his big drawing pad. He’d already done five paintings since Christmas. He pursed his mouth, adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, and glanced around the room, wondering what to paint this time. He decided on the vase of paper flowers on the sideboard. Mam said when he’d finished the book, she’d choose the best one and put it in a frame in the parlour.

The picture was almost finished when he heard a knock on the door and went to answer it, hoping it wasn’t Dominic wanting to come in and play.

He wasn’t quite sure what to think when he found his dad standing outside on the pavement.

‘It seems me key won’t fit the lock any more,’ his dad said curtly as he pushed past into the hall. Tony followed nervously. He never seemed able to do the right thing as far as his dad was concerned. Apparently he’d done the wrong thing straight away, because, after throwing his kit bag on the floor, Dad nodded at the painting and said contemptuously, ‘What the hell’s this?’

‘It’s for me mam,’ Tony explained in a small voice.

‘You should’ve spread a newspaper out. You’ve got paint on the cloth, see!’ His long, nicotine-stained finger seemed to quiver as he pointed to the spots.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘So you bloody should be. And it’s cissy, a lad painting flowers.’ He folded the sheet in two and stamped on it with his fist. Tony realised the wet picture would be ruined. ‘Can’t you paint something to do with the war, like a tank?’

Tony bit his lip. ‘Annie gave me a tank for Christmas. I’ll paint that, if you like.’

When his dad nodded, Tony ran upstairs to get the tank. Halfway down, dad shouted, ‘Fetch me the Johnnie
Walker
and a glass out the parlour.’

Tony had no idea what Johnnie Walker was, but felt too terrified to ask. But if he wanted a glass, it must be something to drink. He opened the best sideboard cupboard. There was only one bottle there and although he couldn’t read yet, he recognised the initials on the label.

‘Ta.’ His dad was removing his overcoat when Tony went in. ‘Does your mam usually leave you by yourself when she’s at work?’ he asked. He poured himself a drink, swallowed it quickly and poured another.

Tony shook his head. ‘Annie looks after me, or me Auntie Sheila. I came home to do some painting.’

‘Huh!’ Dad said contemptuously. He rubbed his hands together. ‘It’s cold in here. Why didn’t you pull the flue out on the fire?’

‘I’m not allowed to touch it.’

‘So, you could freeze to death, could you, and she doesn’t give a damn?’ He removed the fire guard and pulled out the flue, then turned impatiently on his son. ‘Come on, then, get on with it!’ When Tony gave him a puzzled look, he snapped, ‘The painting!’

With trembling fingers, Tony began to mix the paints to get a khaki colour. He desperately wished he’d stayed with Dominic and prayed his mam would come home soon. He’d only make a hash of things with his dad watching over his shoulder. At one point, Dad leaned across and squeezed his arm so hard that the little boy felt tears come to his eyes.

‘You’ve done that bit wrong!’

To his relief, after a while Dad seemed to lose interest and, taking off his jacket and shirt, went into the kitchen in his khaki vest and began to get washed.

At last, mam’s key sounded in the door. She was
laughing
as she spoke to someone outside.

‘Thanks, Jess. I’d love to read them,’ she called. Then, ‘Tony, I’m home.’

She took her coat off in the hall and hung it up. He looked up at her beseechingly as she entered the room. Her face seemed to freeze when she saw his dad standing in the kitchen doorway. She came across, kissed Tony’s cheek and said, ‘Go on over to your Auntie Sheila’s for a minute, luv.’

Tony leaped off the chair and was out of the house like a shot.

The slam of the front door seemed to reverberate through the house as Francis Costello stared at his wife. He couldn’t understand her. He’d never cared much for women and had felt no inclination to get married until the suggestion had been made that he might get into parliament, and he realised a wife and family was a necessary appendage for a man in the public eye. He’d chosen Eileen Doyle, who was presentable and came from a good family. As far as he was concerned, she now belonged to him. He owned her, just as he owned his child, and the furniture in the house. That she should refuse to do his bidding was as incomprehensible as if one of his chairs refused to let him sit in it. At the same time, he felt confused. What was she complaining about? What had he done wrong? He didn’t quite know how to deal with the situation.