Memories Are Made of This (28 page)

‘You're kidding!' said Hester, and joined her at the window. ‘I hope it doesn't stick or I mightn't be able to get to the conference.'

‘I like the snow,' murmured Jeanette, her nose pressed against the pane. ‘It hides all the dirt and makes everything look magical.'

‘It's inconvenient,' said Hester, turning away from the window.

Jeanette remained where she was, gazing out at the falling snow whilst half listening to
Journey into Space
. She remembered when she was a kid and the snow had lain on the ground for what had seemed weeks. She had a sudden memory of sitting on a sledge with her mother. Somewhere there was a photograph of them. It used to be on the sideboard, but a couple of years ago it suddenly vanished. It was probably lying in one of the drawers, removed by Ethel no doubt. She thought of the photograph she had lent to Father Callaghan. Perhaps she should give him another visit soon to see if he had turned up any information about her mother. She had not heard anything in response to the notice she had put in the
Echo.

Journey into Space
came to an end on a cliffhanger and she heard Hester leave the room. Jeanette felt suddenly restless, thinking of David perhaps out at sea in this blizzard. She felt a need to stretch her legs, anything to get rid of the fidgets. Quietly, so as not to wake Ethel, she put on her outdoor clothes and left the house.

She found it exhilarating being blown along with the whirling snow towards Whitefield Road. She hoped the little sweet shop around the corner would still be open because she fancied some chocolate limes. The old woman who owned the shop stocked sweets of every different kind in tall glass jars with glass stoppers.

To her disappointment the shop was closed and so she turned back, only to collide with a bulky figure wearing a thick coat, trousers, a striped scarf and a woolly hat pulled right down so one could see little of the face.

‘Sorry,' said Jeanette. ‘I didn't see you there.'

‘That's all right, dear, easily done,' said a muffled voice.

‘We must be daft coming out on such a terrible evening,' said Jeanette, aware that she was being scrutinized by a pair of dark eyes.

‘Do I know you?' asked the muffled voice.

‘Well, I live around here. My name's Jeanette Walker. Goodnight!' said Jeanette, continuing on her way.

A faint, ‘Goodnight, Jeanette,' drifted on the wind towards her.

Jeanette glanced back and saw that the figure was still standing outside the sweet shop. She lifted a hand and waved before turning the corner and hurrying home.

That night she slept fitfully due to the sound of the wind in the chimney and the noise as it rattled the sash window. When she did sleep, she dreamt of that mysterious figure in the snow and woke convinced it was a woman, despite the trousers and the muffled voice. Who was she?

By morning the snow had stopped but the wind was still strong and tearing the clouds apart to reveal a clear blue sky. By the time she arrived at work, Jeanette had every hope that when she left that evening David would be able to meet her outside the cinema on Lime Street. But one look at the arrivals and departures board was enough to make her change her mind. A number of ships were either not sailing, or had not been in touch, or were fortunate enough to have been able to take shelter in the nearest port. She felt on edge, worried that after finding David, she might be about to lose him.

Unable to relax, she decided to go down to the landing stage in her lunch hour and see whether the
Mona's Isle
had docked. But she did not even get near the landing stage as the passengerway had been closed off because the Mersey ferries were not sailing that day. She wasted no time in retracing her steps and telephoning the Isle of Man Steam Packet Company. She was informed that the
Mona's Isle
had not left Douglas and would not depart until tomorrow. At least she could relax, knowing that David was safe in the Isle of Man.

As she left work that evening, she mentioned it to Peggy. ‘I'm supposed to be taking him home. At least I didn't say anything to Dad this morning as he was still in bed after being on a late shift last night.'

‘We could go to the flicks together if you want,' suggested Peggy.

‘OK, but we'll go and see a different film because I have a feeling that David was quite keen on seeing the Alfred Hitchcock one,' said Jeanette.

That evening when she and Peggy were in the cinema, Jeanette was making her way back from the toilets to her seat when she caught sight of Cedric. He was not in uniform and appeared to be talking to a woman in the seat next to him. She could not see her clearly but the feather in her hat kept bobbing about as if she was nodding. Jeanette wanted to go and have a closer look at the pair, but that would mean disturbing people just as the lights were dimming, ready for the main feature. It seemed that he had got over Hester quick enough.

For a while, as she watched the film, Jeanette forgot about Cedric, but as soon as it ended she looked towards where she had seen him. Her vision was obstructed by other cinema-goers standing up and making their way towards the exits, so she followed the crowd outside but there was no sign of him.

Jeanette parted from Peggy in Lime Street because she saw her bus coming and made a run for it, so it was only half past nine by the time she arrived home. Hester was there and so was Ethel. They were sitting in what at first felt like a companionable silence, one sewing whilst the other was reading the newspaper.

‘Cocoa anyone?' asked Jeanette, squeezing between the two armchairs and holding her hands out to the fire.

Hester looked up from the sock she was darning. ‘So where is he?' she murmured. ‘Cold feet?'

Jeanette shook her head. ‘No. He's stuck in the Isle of Man, so I went to the flicks with Peggy instead.'

‘Shame! Good film?' asked Hester.

‘It was OK.' She hesitated. ‘I saw Cedric there, not that I spoke to him. He was talking to a woman in the next seat to him.'

All that Hester felt was relief at such news. ‘It didn't take him long to find someone else.'

Before either of them could comment further, Ethel interrupted them.

‘Have you seen this in the
Echo
, Jeanette?' She slapped the open page with the back of her hand.

Distracted, Jeanette said, ‘No, Aunt Ethel, I've only just got in. Is it something exciting?'

‘You should know. It's got your name on it.' Ethel's eyes shone. ‘You are making an effort to find Grace after all.'

Jeanette sat on the arm of the chair and looked at the piece in the newspaper. ‘I wonder why they've put it in again.'

‘I can tell you why,' said Hester. ‘It's opposite an article about missing persons. With Christmas coming up it's an emotive subject.'

‘I see what you mean,' said Jeanette slowly. ‘It's when families get together and think of those far and near.'

‘Well, Grace has never been in touch,' said Ethel, ‘but maybe this time, so near Christmas, it will bring her out of the woodwork.' She folded the newspaper and shoved it down the side of the cushion.

Jeanette exchanged looks with Hester and rolled her eyes before asking again did anyone want cocoa. As she went into the kitchen, Sam and her father came in. They were discussing a couple of cases of arson and a spate of burglaries. Hester joined in their conversation and so Jeanette went to bed.

It was not until Friday that Jeanette heard from David. She arrived at work to find an envelope on her desk. There was no stamp on it but she had a feeling she knew who it was from and slit it open immediately. As she had suspected it was from David and he had popped it into the letterbox in the Cunard Building as soon as the
Mona's Isle
had docked. He explained what she already knew about the weather delaying the
ferryboat sailing and asked if she could meet him that evening at the same time and place.

Smiling, she replaced the letter in its envelope and, getting up from her desk, went and gazed out of the window towards the river. The snow had melted and the wind had dropped and all was right with her world. She thought of Hester who had left before dawn that morning to catch the coach that would take her to the conference. It was a shame that she had left so early because a letter had come for her by first post. Jeanette had placed it in a drawer in Hester's bedroom out of harm's way, convinced it was the one she had been waiting for from Ally because it was postmarked Germany. She just hoped Hester enjoyed her weekend away. At least she would be delighted to find the letter on her return.

Hester settled herself happily by the window and considered herself fortunate to have found an inside seat unoccupied. Most seats on the coach were now taken and it was due to leave in ten minutes. She reached for the book in her bag and had just flicked over the pages to where she had placed her bookmark when a familiar voice said, ‘Well, well, well, look who's here!'

Her heart sank and she did not immediately look up. It had occurred to her that Cedric might attend the conference, but she had hoped he wouldn't.

‘Aren't we speaking?' he continued. ‘I've no hard feelings, Hester.'

Was that true? Slowly she lifted her head and looked up at him. He was smiling down at her as if she was the best thing he had seen in a long time. She found it hard to believe that he could be so forgiving of the embarrassment she had caused him in the cinema by walking out on him the way she did.

‘I wasn't sure you'd be attending the conference,' she said, far more calmly than she felt.

‘I thought you weren't going either. Work commitments, wasn't it?' His smile did not quite reach his eyes this time.

‘I decided that you were right and the conference was an event I just had to attend, so I put in extra hours beforehand and stated my case to my inspector.'

‘Now that's what I call sensible,' said Cedric, reaching up and placing his overnight bag in the luggage rack overhead. ‘You don't mind if I have the seat next to you, do you? Most are taken.'

She had seen that question coming and sensed that it was a rhetorical one. Already he was lowering himself into the seat beside her and removing his trilby. She noticed a book in the pocket of his mackintosh. It looked like he had intended reading. Good. Without another word, she dropped her gaze to the open pages before her. Hopefully she was giving him the impression that she didn't care what he did and that her novel was far more interesting.

‘I'm not squashing you, am I?'

She did not look up. ‘As long as I can move my elbows to turn the pages.'

‘Doesn't reading on a coach make you sick? A girl I once knew always felt nauseous if she tried to read while travelling.'

‘No, not at all!' she said firmly. ‘Truthfully, I get bored if I don't have a book with me when I travel. I don't get enough time for light reading with the job.'

‘I don't suppose you'd like to talk.'

‘You suppose right.'

There was the sound of the coach engine starting up and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be on the way. She had been looking forward to the journey, but now she felt that the sooner it was over the better.

Shortly after they left the coach station she felt Cedric's elbow dig into her arm and her stomach muscles clenched. One more dig like that and she would have something to say to him. Fortunately he shifted slightly away from her and a few moments later she heard the rustle of pages being turned over. She waited several minutes before glancing at the cover of his book.

It was a dog-eared copy of
No Orchids for Miss Blandish
and caused her to raise her eyebrows. She had found the book disturbing. It was about ruthless gangsters in America during Prohibition with no heart when it came to dealing with people. She hadn't finished it because some of the descriptions were so unpleasant and she hadn't read any more books by that author. She gave her attention to her own library book that was much more pleasant.

‘So what do you think of the programme?' asked Cedric.

‘I know exactly which talks and discussions I want to be in on,' said Hester absently, without looking up.

‘I wish I did.'

She was surprised into glancing at him. Having read two of the main speaker's books, she was eager to hear what he had to say. She would have thought Cedric would have felt the same.

He smiled at her. ‘That got your attention.'

She took a deep breath and counted silently to ten, then lowered her gaze to her book again.

‘I see you're reading Helen MacInnes,' he said.

‘Hmmm.'

‘So what's she like?'

Hester decided she did not mind talking about books with him. ‘This one's more of a love story, but I have read her wartime spy stories and there's a thriller element in this, too,' she said.

‘I saw the film of
Above Suspicion
with Joan Crawford, but I've never read anything of hers,' said Cedric.

‘She's good. Different from the author we'll be listening to this weekend, but well worth a read.'

‘I'll get my skates on when I get home and borrow one of hers from the library. Mind you, I'm going to be busy when I get back. Won't have time for reading.'

She guessed he wanted her to ask what he would be doing. Maybe it would be useful to know. ‘What will you be doing?'

He grinned. ‘Have you heard about that new system for fingerprinting?'

She nodded. ‘My brother mentioned it. The Nynhydrin treatment.'

‘Smart girl!'

Irritated by his patronizing tone, Hester decided not to rise to it but continued, ‘It can be used when prints can't be seen by normal photography or the naked eye.'

‘Criminals beware!' he said, smirking. ‘When you think it's sixty years since fingerprints were first used in bringing criminals to justice, yet there's still those who don't have the sense not to leave any.'