Memories Are Made of This (34 page)

Jeanette coughed. ‘You seem to have gone off into a trance. I said, How would I know her? I haven't met her yet. It's time our Sam brought her home to meet the rest of us.'

‘Agreed.'

‘What about the Christmas tree?' said Jeanette, fixing her with a stare. ‘Are you getting it as usual?'

‘I haven't given it a thought.'

Jeanette nodded. ‘Do you want me to get it? You really don't look well this morning.'

Hester sighed. ‘You always used to like choosing it with me.' She tossed some money on the table. ‘Take that and see what you can buy on the way home. The shops will be open late tonight and tomorrow.'

Then I'll leave it until tomorrow, thought Jeanette. She had Christmas presents to buy yet and would do that this evening as she was not seeing David.

Jeanette had never felt so nervous as she did that Christmas Eve. She had been told by Elsie that they were always allowed out early that day, but that meant two o'clock, much too late for Jeanette's purpose, so she explained the situation to her boss. Her request was granted and Jeanette wasted no time, heading for James Street railway station as soon as she could. As she sat on the train, she was on pins, praying that she was not on a wild goose chase.

After being underground for a while, she blinked as the train emerged into the daylight. She gazed through the window with interest, thinking that the last time she had crossed the Mersey it had been for a day out in Chester. She had travelled there by bus, passing the model village of Port Sunlight built by Lord Leverhulme, which was situated cheek by jowl to Bebington.

She wondered what Ethel would have had to say if she had told her that she was meeting a woman who knew Grace's whereabouts. Her stomach was churning and she felt slightly sick, thinking about her mother, wondering what they would have to say to each other if they were to meet. She folded her ticket around her finger repeatedly. At last she rose to her feet as the train neared Bebington and began to draw to a halt. Her heart was racing as she climbed down onto the platform and made her way to the ticket barrier, glancing about her as she did so, but there was no one who appeared to be waiting for her on the platform.

It was not until she had shown her return ticket that she noticed a woman in a wheelchair the other side of the barrier staring at her. Her legs were covered by a blanket and her upper body was clad in a tweed jacket. Wrapped around her neck was a brown scarf and on her head she wore a brown pull-on felt hat with a feather in it. She had an attractive, strong-boned face and green eyes, and her lips were painted a bright red. The ground felt as if it rocked beneath Jeanette's feet and it was several moments before everything steadied.

‘Jeanette?' said the woman in a voice that quivered.

Jeanette felt a need to cling on to something, but there wasn't anything suitable, so she went down on one knee in front of the wheelchair so that her face was almost on a level with the woman's. ‘Yes, I'm Jeanette. But I don't think you're Laura O'Neill.'

‘Oh, I am, but that's just one of my names,' she answered.

‘I don't understand,' said Jeanette. ‘You wouldn't also go by the name of Grace Walker, would you? Your eyes are green and you look so like her photograph that I think you must be my mother.'

‘I am your mother.' Grace reached out and touched her daughter's face. ‘Beryl said you'd grown so pretty.' Her voice was husky.

‘I'm not pretty,' denied Jeanette. ‘I prefer attractive or interesting. Pretty makes me think of dolls.'

Grace laughed. ‘You always did like to argue. You get that from me, not your father. How is George?'

Jeanette hesitated. ‘Hurt. I know you didn't marry for love, but he's missed you since the day you disappeared. He said that you needed a home and someone to take care of you and he needed a mother for Sam and Hester. He explained it was a marriage of convenience, but . . .' Her voice trailed off.

Grace's eyes were suddenly bright with tears. ‘George was good to me. I was terribly fond of him.'

‘Then why did you stay away?' said Jeanette fiercely. ‘Although I don't doubt you're going to say it's because you're in a wheelchair.'

Grace flinched. ‘Of course! I didn't want to be a burden, and Ethel would have made herself even more indispensable to your father. I'm a selfish woman, Jeanette, and I couldn't have coped with that. I could only pray that she wouldn't destroy your spirit. I think my prayers were answered.'

‘Prayers aren't enough! You should have been there for me,' said Jeanette, her voice shaking. ‘It never occurred to me that . . . that—'

‘That what, Jeannie? What did you think of when you thought of me?'

‘That you were dead, killed in the blitz. But at other times I believed you had walked out on us because Aunt Ethel was forever saying bad things about you. She said that you'd left a note, which she destroyed.'

‘I did leave a note once because I nearly left before you were born,' said Grace. ‘I fell in love, but I soon realized he was a worthless rogue. When I left the house to visit an elderly friend on her birthday, I fully intended returning home. Then the bomb hit and sadly she was killed, but I survived in this state.'

A woman whom Jeanette had not noticed before bent over Grace. ‘Shall we move away from here? We're blocking the entrance and there's a cold wind that could chill you to the bone.'

Grace patted her hand. ‘Let's go home then. I'd like Jeannie to see where I've been living for the past thirteen and a half years.' She beamed up at her daughter. ‘It's called Little Storeton. And this is Beryl O'Neill who looks after me.'

‘O'Neill?' said Jeanette.

‘Yes. People believe we're sisters,' said Grace. ‘Now it's a bit of a walk but I hope you won't mind that.'

‘No, I don't mind a walk,' murmured Jeanette, still trying to come to terms with her mother alive and in a wheelchair.

‘I want to hear all about you,' said Grace. ‘I know some of what you've been doing over the years, but I could only ever know part of it and I'd like to hear the rest from you.'

‘I don't understand,' said Jeanette. ‘How is it you know even a little about my life?'

‘Beryl is a widow and she has kept an eye on you for me. I knew when you had measles, but there was a period when we lost contact with you because you moved house. Then we found you again. I know that you work in a shipping office and have a boyfriend who is a sailor,' said Grace, her eyes twinkling. ‘You and Beryl met once in the snow.'

‘That was you!' exclaimed Jeanette, staring at the other woman.

Beryl nodded. ‘I almost told you the truth then.'

‘You're my only daughter. I was never going to forget about you,' said Grace.

‘I never forgot about you either.'

‘I realized that when you placed the notice in the
Echo.
Beryl read it out to me, and after the initial shock we puzzled and puzzled over why you should be making enquiries about me after all this time.'

‘It was because of the death of a woman. A Lavinia Crawshaw,' said Jeanette.

‘Ahhh!' murmured Grace, smiling.

Jeanette was surprised. ‘You've heard of her?'

‘Of course, she was my mother. Just as I never forgot about you, my mother never forgot about me. She kept a watch on me, too.'

A stunned Jeanette said, ‘So the old witch was right! She said you were Lavinia's daughter. Remembers you being born. How strange is it that my father should meet you the way he did?'

‘He was a policeman on the beat, so I don't see why you should think it so strange. I was always in trouble when I was a kid. I was a bit of a devil, just like my mother. I knew George was a soft touch.'

‘Aunt Ethel thought the worst of you.'

‘She had a lot of experience of bad girls and I told your father such fibs. You do know that she was a prison wardress?'

‘Yes.' Jeanette grimaced. ‘I don't think she's ever forgotten those days in that job. Anyway, when Lavinia Crawshaw's death was announced in the
Echo
, she really went on about my finding you. She was convinced you were still alive.'

‘No doubt because she believed there was money in it,' said Grace, looking amused.

‘Yes. I was angry with her, but I knew so little about you and then suddenly I was learning something concrete. I didn't like asking Dad too much because it upset him.'

‘George was always good to me,' said Grace, her expression softening. ‘So kind. He helped me when I was in trouble, whereas some would have let me stew in my own juice.'

‘If you cared for him, you should have let us know you were alive at the very least,' said Jeanette. ‘He tried to find you.'

Grace sighed. ‘That doesn't surprise me. He'd have wanted me to come home and it wouldn't have worked. I was rescued by the most handsome of voluntary firemen. I fell quite in love with him. At the time I was in such a state I couldn't remember who I was and he used to come and visit me. Once my memory returned and I realized I was going to be a cripple for the rest of my life because part of my spine was crushed, I thought it was best to say goodbye to him and let your father and the rest of you believe I was dead. My mother did get in touch with me, though. She tracked me down. Her conscience had bothered her about me ever since she got religion.'

‘I suppose you've been able to manage for money because of your mother,' said Jeanette.

Grace nodded. ‘She was a rich woman as Ethel knows, but she lived simply and was a bit of a philanthropist. Beryl here is a nurse and was well known to Lavinia. Between them, they took it upon themselves to look after me. Sadly I wasn't able to attend my mother's funeral as I was ill at the time. Her death is a great loss to us,' she murmured, glancing up at Beryl.

‘But even in death she's been good to us and provided an income for your mother,' said Beryl. ‘We live with my brother in a rented cottage with some land attached. We're pretty self-sufficient because we grow most of our own vegetables and we have fruit trees and keep hens and pigs.'

‘And I knit and sew and sell my work,' said Grace, smiling.

‘I see,' murmured Jeanette. ‘So why is it that you've got in touch with me now if you didn't want to be found?'

‘Because you obviously wanted to find me and I had this desire to speak to you and see you close up, instead of from a distance. Besides, the dread of being a burden on your family has long passed. If I'd been less of a coward I would have made contact earlier, but the longer I left it the more difficult it became.'

Jeanette could understand that and did not doubt that her father would, too. She could not wait to tell him that Grace was alive. As for Aunt Ethel, maybe she had got confused about the timing of the note Grace had left?

They came to the village. The cottage was at the end of a row of semi-detached ones constructed of the sandstone of the area, which, according to Beryl's brother, had been quarried for hundreds of years.

He told her so over lunch, adding, ‘It's also the same sandstone used to clad the Empire State Building in New York. The quarry has since been filled in with all the rubble and earth dug up when the Mersey tunnel was built.'

‘Isn't that fascinating, Jeannie?' said Grace, winking at her. ‘Little Storeton might only be a tiny place compared to Liverpool, but it does have its claim to fame. So tell me about your boyfriend and how you met. And how is Hester getting on – and Sam?'

Jeanette was happy to tell her mother all her news and to bring her up to date with some of what was going on in their lives, although she kept quiet about Cedric. Grace appeared particularly interested in Sam's girlfriend making a film of Liverpool women, including Ethel.

‘You wouldn't believe the times she locked me in my bedroom,' said Jeanette, rolling her eyes.

‘I would, love. I'm sorry. It is possible that she really thought she was doing what was best for you all these years,' said Grace, ‘and that's why women like her are a necessity and a danger. Anyway, if you get your own flat you'll be away from her.'

‘Yes, but that might not happen for ages.'

Grace smiled. ‘Of course, you mightn't be there very long. Your young man, David, do you think you'll marry him?'

‘Maybe,' said Jeanette casually. ‘It's early days.'

‘You must bring him to see me,' said Grace.

‘And Dad?'

Grace hesitated. ‘If he wishes to see me, then tell him to leave it until the New Year. I'm sure he'll want some time to consider all that I've told you. He might not even want to see me when he knows the truth.'

Jeanette shook her head. ‘He'll want to see you. Dad hasn't changed much.'

Shortly after, she decided that it was time she made a move to leave for home. ‘It's Christmas Eve and I've been given the job of getting the Christmas tree,' she said.

‘Well, choose a good one, Jeannie,' said Grace, reaching out and hugging her. ‘And have a very merry Christmas and I'll see you in the New Year.'

‘That is the perfect-sized Christmas tree for the bay in our parlour,' said Jeanette, breathing in the scent of pine, although she had been told that such trees were really Norwegian spruce.

‘It still has its roots,' said the shopkeeper. ‘Which means it'll last longer unless you have central heating.'

‘Don't be daft,' said Jeanette. ‘It would be a heck of a job to put central heating in our old house, even if Dad and Aunt Ethel would agree. They'd consider it unhealthy.'

‘It's all that smoke from coal fires that's unhealthy, luv. The sooner the Clean Air Act is passed the better in my opinion,' he said. ‘So you've made up your mind? It's this one?' He touched the spur that was used to fasten a silver star or a fairy on top.