Memories Are Made of This (30 page)

‘The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown,' sang Jeanette, wiping a table top.

‘It's not Christmas yet, you know,' said Mrs Cross, slamming the till drawer shut.

‘It's only a week to go,' said Jeanette, straightening up and easing her back. ‘And on Tuesday it's my eighteenth birthday.'

‘My, you're getting old,' said Mrs Cross in a droll voice. ‘I wish I was eighteen again.' She sighed. ‘You make the most of being young, girl.'

‘I aim to,' said Jeanette, glancing around the milk bar. ‘I've finished here now. Is it OK if I go ten minutes early? I've got to get home, change, cook a meal, and my boyfriend is coming to pick me up.' Her heart seemed to lurch sideways, thinking that this evening would be the first time David would meet the family. Last night had been a no-no because her father and Sam had been working, so it had to be this evening. She prayed that all would go well.

‘All right, but don't think I'll allow it every Saturday,' said Mrs Cross. ‘I'll see you in a fortnight on New Year's Day.' She sighed. ‘Nineteen fifty-five! Where do all the years go?'

Jeanette made no comment, but threw the cloth in the washing basket and then rinsed and dried her hands before reaching for her coat. ‘Thanks, Mrs Cross. I hope you have a good Christmas – and thanks for the bonus.' She wasted no time leaving the milk bar and walked swiftly in the direction of Renshaw Street.

She was passing Quiggins when a voice hailed her. She turned and saw Marty standing in the doorway, smoking a cigarette. ‘You off home?' he said.

‘Yes, I can't stop.' She made to walk on by but he grabbed her arm.

‘Hang on a mo! Our Peggy was telling me that fella that got hit in the face is back and you're going out with him?'

‘That's right,' said Jeanette. ‘Have you heard anything on the grapevine about Billy?'

‘No,' said Marty, dropping the butt of his cigarette and grinding it out with his heel. ‘If I had the faintest idea where he was, I'd grass on him like a shot.'

A shiver went through her. ‘Do you think he's lying low in Liverpool somewhere or that he's scuttled off to Ireland?'

‘I can't say for certain, but I am keeping my eyes peeled and my ears to the ground,' said Marty. ‘If I do discover anything, you'll soon know.'

Jeanette thanked him, reckoning that he would tell Peggy and she'd pass it on to her. She continued on her way, thinking about the meal she was to cook that evening before going out, and wondering how Hester was getting on at the conference.

Hester felt a strange calm come over her as she stepped off the train at Whalley station. The heaviness of her spirit caused by the horror of last night lifted, and as she handed over her ticket and walked through the barrier and down the main street she experienced a sense of homecoming. Why had she left it so long before returning? She should have put what Aunt Ethel said about Myra Jones to the test and visited Whalley on a summer's day, making a visit to the ruined abbey an excuse and called in on her. She took a deep breath. Well, she was here now and, pray God, she would soon be seeing her.

The house was not far from the Co-op. She still remembered Myra's divvy number that she used to repeat every time she went shopping there. She came to the house and noticed that there were still net curtains at the windows and the door was painted green. She sighed and banged the knocker but no one came. She wielded the knocker again but there were no footsteps hurrying to answer the door. Her mood of calm began to evaporate. Myra had to be in!

She thumped on the door with her fist and called her name but there was still no response and she slumped down and sat on the step. Suddenly she thought of Ally and wished he was here right now to comfort her. But he was in Germany and she doubted there could be a future for them. What with him wanting to emigrate, and besides . . . Suddenly words were tumbling into her head: he wouldn't want her now. She was spoilt, besmirched, used goods because of what had happened last night. A sob burst in her throat and she bent over and burst into tears.

‘Hester?'

Her head jerked up and she saw Emma standing a few feet away. ‘What is it, love? You can't be breaking your heart crying just because Myra's gone to visit her nephew. She'll be back tomorrow.'

Hester stared at her dumbly, the tears trickling down her cheeks. Emma covered the distance between them in no time and crouched beside her, putting an arm around her. ‘There now, tell me what's wrong and we'll see if we can sort it out.' Her voice was so sympathetic that all that had happened last night and what was worrying Hester now came out in fits and bursts between sobs.

‘Oh, poor Hester!' murmured Emma, rocking her as if she was a baby.

‘What am I going to do?' asked Hester when she gained some measure of composure, relieved that there was no one else around. ‘How can I tell Dad and Sam?' she whispered.

‘You must! You can't let him get away with it. Let your menfolk deal with him.'

‘They'll want to kill him. I don't want them getting into trouble,' said Hester, mopping her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘Besides, I feel too ashamed . . . and anyway, I'm forever saying women are equal to men. I should deal with him. I got myself into this, I should get myself out of it.'

Emma looked at her in dismay. ‘Hester, there are just some things that men are best left to deal with. What can you do?'

‘I don't know yet. I need to think some more when I'm in less of a state.'

‘But what if . . .' Emma paused.

Hester stared at her. ‘If I'm already pregnant, you mean? I'll worry about that if and when I know for sure. One thing is for certain – I won't be able to stay in the police force if I am.' Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Dad will be so upset.'

Emma was silent for several moments, and then she said, ‘Well, you know where to come if you need a refuge. You can stay at my cottage. You're not the first person this has happened to.'

Hester blinked at her. ‘You mean it happened to you?'

‘No! It happened to Betty,' she said in a low voice.

‘Your half-sister?'

‘Aye, although she's not really my half-sister, but that's another story.'

‘I don't understand. I thought—'

‘So did I, but apparently her mother was already pregnant when she married my father. Her sister, who was Jared's mother, told him shortly before she died and he thought I should know the truth. But I couldn't bring myself to tell Betty.'

‘What do you know about her real father?'

‘He was an actor with a travelling company and apparently he died of blood poisoning and never knew Betty's mother was pregnant. They were in love.'

‘How sad!'

‘Aye.' Emma sighed. ‘But it's the past and right now we have to think what to do about you.'

‘I came to see Myra. She was like a mother to me and will expect me to visit her tomorrow afternoon.' Hester's tears spilled over again.

‘You can still see her. You can stay with Jared and me tonight.' Emma stood up and helped Hester to her feet. ‘Now let's go and have a cup of tea. I've made some scones. We'll have them and then we'll make something hot for supper. Jared is busy planning a bathroom. He thinks it will be an asset whether we keep the cottage and rent it out or sell it.'

‘Thank you. You're so kind,' said Hester, and freed a deep sigh of relief.

‘I'm sure you'd do the same for me,' said Emma, leading the way.

Hester picked up her overnight bag and followed her, thinking over all that Emma had said and questioning whether she should take her advice about letting her menfolk deal with Cedric. She wondered what exactly had happened to Betty that was similar to her own situation. Presumably she had been raped, but had it resulted in a pregnancy, and if so had Betty had the baby adopted or had an illegal abortion? She supposed it was really none of her business, but it was possible that she might have to make such a choice. She felt sympathy and admiration for the girl without having even met her. To suffer such abuse left its mark. She thought of Ally and felt a different kind of ache about her heart and wished she could turn back the clock.

‘What's this?' asked Ethel, poking the food on her plate with a fork.

‘It's cottage pie,' said Jeanette.

Ethel tasted a mouthful. ‘It's got baked beans in it! Hester wouldn't put baked beans in cottage pie.'

‘Hester isn't here,' said Sam shortly. ‘Besides, what's wrong with baked beans? It tastes fine to me.'

Her father glanced across at Jeanette. ‘So what time is this David Bryn Jones coming?'

She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘He should be here any minute now.'

As if on cue, the door knocker rat-a-tat-tatted. She jumped to her feet and hurried out of the room, switching on the lobby light as she did so for it was pitch black outside. As she opened the door and smiled at David, she thought no doubt there would be some of the neighbours taking note of the stranger calling at their house.

David smiled down at her. ‘You OK?'

‘I'm great.' She thought of this time yesterday when they had met in town and he had kissed her, there outside the Forum cinema, not caring who might be watching them.

‘Your dad and brother in this time?'

She nodded, thinking that he had taken the news that her father and brother wanted to meet him surprisingly well. ‘Come in!'

He stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. His lips brushed hers and she felt a warm glow. She helped him off with his navy-blue reefer coat and hung it up. All was quiet and she guessed that the family had their ears pricked. She glanced at him and he winked.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and said in a voice that quivered slightly, ‘Dad, Sam, Aunt Ethel, meet David Bryn Jones.'

George rose to his feet. ‘We're just having our meal, lad. Perhaps you'd like to sit down and have a cup of tea with us?' He glanced at his daughter. ‘Jeannie, fetch the lad a cup!'

David removed his cap to reveal curling black hair, and squared his shoulders. ‘Thanks, Mr Walker. A cup of tea's always welcome and it's a chilly evening.'

‘Perhaps he'd like to sit by the fire,' said Ethel, surprising her relatives. ‘We can all move round.'

‘Thanks, Miss Walker, but I'm used to the cold. You stay where you are,' said David.

‘Please yourself,' she said, ‘but the name's not Walker, it's Ramsbottom.'

‘That's a good Lancashire name,' said David.

Jeanette flashed him a smile as she poured his tea.

‘Aye, it is,' said Ethel, blinking at him. ‘So how's that face of yours? You should stay out of fights.'

‘I have every intention of doing so, Miss Ramsbottom,' he said politely.

‘It's Missus, actually,' she said, glancing slyly at her family. ‘I married a distant cousin.'

‘You never did!' said George, staring at her. ‘What kind of joke is this?'

Her mouth quivered. ‘It's no joke. I've never seen the point of mentioning it before, but after talking to that young film woman, I changed my mind. My husband died within two days of us tying the knot.'

‘You've talked to Sam's Dorothy?' said Jeanette.

Ethel said smugly, ‘She came knocking at the door this morning while you were all out. My young man was like this one here, with dark curly hair and nice manners.'

‘Good God, Aunt Ethel, I wish you hadn't chosen now to drop such a bombshell,' said George, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘And what's this about our Sam and a film woman called Dorothy?'

‘She's determined to make a film about women of Liverpool,' said Jeanette.

‘Shall we set this aside?' said Sam sharply. ‘Mr Jones has come here to meet Dad. Bearing in mind how you two first met, we're naturally concerned that he stays out of trouble. After all, sailors are famed for getting into fights when they come ashore.'

David gave him a straight look. ‘I don't go looking for trouble, Mr Walker, but I could no sooner ignore Jeanette's cry for help that evening in the chippy, than I could a kitten thrown in a bucket of water to drown. I'm a third marine engineer, hoping to work my way up to first, and it pays me to keep my nose clean.'

‘What if you were to meet the youth who did that to your face again?' asked Sam.

‘That would depend on the circumstances. If Jeanette was present, I'd send her to ring for the police.'

‘Good answer,' said Jeanette, handing David his cup of tea. ‘We'll have to go soon if we're to make the start of the film.'

‘Hang on,' said Sam. ‘We need to know more about him before you go off with him.'

‘Let it go, son,' said George quietly. ‘There'll be other evenings. Best drink that tea quickly, lad,' he added, turning to David.

David wasted no time in downing the tea, guessing that the old aunt's bombshell had given him an easier ride than he might have had if she had kept quiet. For now he was accepted by George Walker as fit to go out with his daughter, although it was obvious that her half-brother did not feel the same way.

‘Ready?' asked Jeanette.

David nodded, and with a swift tarrah they left the house.

‘I can hardly believe we escaped so easily,' she said, as arm in arm they hurried up the street.

‘You know why,' said David. ‘Your old aunt saying what she did.'

‘I can't believe she's telling the truth,' said Jeanette. ‘What's the point of keeping the fact that you were once married a secret?'

‘You heard her. She didn't think it was worth it because she was only married for two days.'

‘It seems a daft reason to me. I wonder what Sam will do now? He must be mad as a hatter with Dorothy coming to the house and speaking to Aunt Ethel. They've fallen out over her wanting to produce and direct this film about Liverpool women. She's putting her own money into it and he thinks she's crazy. He's having trouble accepting that times are changing and women can make their own decisions and aren't going to be content to be tied to the kitchen sink.'