The Girl From Barefoot House (13 page)

‘I suppose not,’ Lily sighed. ‘But I’m determined to get Francie to the altar one way or another. I could get pregnant – that might do the trick.’

‘The baby will look like a little rat.’

‘Yes, but a very handsome little rat.’

‘What are you two laughing at?’ Ben enquired when they caught up.

Josie and Lily looked at each other and started to laugh again. ‘Nothing,’ they said together.

‘Let’s go to Lyon’s,’ said Lily. ‘I’ve enough left for a pot of tea for four.’

Outside, Ben said, ‘Where shall we go tonight?’

‘Where else but the pictures.’ Josie shrugged. ‘It’s the only place that’s cheap, particularly if we sit at the front and go somewhere outside town. Oh, Ben, I wish I weren’t so extravagant. Auntie Ivy takes hardly anything for me keep, and I spend a small fortune on clothes. Me new frock cost almost two pounds. But it’s dead pretty. You’ll love it. I’ll wear it tonight, shall I?’

Ben stopped and looked down at her shining face. He glanced round to see if anyone was looking, then kissed her. ‘I love
you
, Josie. I’d love you even if you wore rags.’

Josie noticed two girls about her own age eyeing her enviously from across the road. They were envious of Ben – blond, six feet two inches tall, no longer all elbows, slim instead of gawky, graceful and self-assured. He clearly didn’t feel the cold. He wore flannels, a green tweed jacket and an open-necked shirt. His school scarf was draped casually around his neck. Even Lily conceded her soppy brother had become a handsome young man.

She nestled against him. ‘And I love you.’ She was immensely lucky. She had never had to suffer, as other girls did, the torture of praying a boy she liked would ask her out, or the awkwardness of a first date, wondering if she’d be asked again, or hoping she wouldn’t because the chap had picked his nose non-stop throughout a picture you’d been dying to see for ages, as had happened with Lily during
Blood on the Moon
, with Robert Mitchum. She didn’t have to worry if she would get married, because it had all been decided a long time ago. As Mrs Kavanagh had said, they were ‘made for each other’.

Two years ago, when they had left school, after much discussion between Mrs Kavanagh and Aunt Ivy, Josie and Lily had been sent to the same commercial college Marigold had attended. They practised on the same typewriter. College was dead boring, but what else could girls do except work in a shop, a factory or an office? There were no vacancies in the
Liverpool Echo
for actresses or dancers or singers. No one advertised for fourteen-year-old girls to climb mountains, go to Timbuktu, drive trains or fly aeroplanes, any one of which Josie and Lily would have done like a shot.

If college had been boring, work was even worse. Lily worked for a stationery suppliers in Edge Hill. She spent her days processing orders for copy paper, bank paper, boxes of carbon, bottles of ink, pencils, all the rubbish people needed to work in other offices. Worst of all, not a single man worked there she fancied marrying, though it didn’t matter since she’d met Francie two months ago.

‘Sometimes I feel as if me brain’s gone dead,’ she moaned to Josie.

‘It can’t be as bad as insurance,’ Josie grumbled. ‘
Car
insurance. Nothing but policies and premiums. The
letters are as dull as ditchwater. It wouldn’t be so bad in Claims. At least they have accidents to deal with.’

They yearned for adventure. One day they would get married, settle down, have children, but in the meantime it would be marvellous if only something
exciting
would happen.

Josie had already tried on the new dress several times. It fitted perfectly. She put it on again that night, twisting and turning in front of the full-length mirror in Aunt Ivy’s bedroom. Sometimes it was uncanny, looking at herself. She would feel pins and needles all over because it was as if she were looking at Mam. The same eyes, dark blue and wide apart, the same over-generous mouth. The nose that had looked dead perfect on Mam, because everything about her had seemed perfect, was actually a mite too long. She wore her thick brown hair shoulder-length, and brushed it frequently, as Mam had done, to make it shine.

Only the other day, Ivy said in a puzzled voice, ‘You know, when I look at you, it feels like our Mabel’s never been away. She was fifteen when I last saw her. Now you’re a year older, and it’s almost like you’ve taken over and there’s never been a break.’

Ivy was in the bathroom humming as she made herself up for a night on the town with her friend, Ellen. Josie walked towards the figure in the mirror and held out her arms. ‘Hello, Petal. I’m home,’ she whispered. She put her hands, palms facing, on the glass and pressed her mouth against the cold, reflected one. When she stepped back the glass was clouded, and it was even more spooky, watching the face of her mother reappear as the cloud began to fade. ‘I love you, Mam.’

‘I’m off now, luv,’ Aunt Ivy shouted from the landing.

Josie jumped. She went to the bedroom door. Her aunt was wearing her fur coat and an unusual amount of diamanté jewellery. ‘Which picture are you going to see?’

‘I’m going to the theatre, luv, for a change. Margaret Lockwood’s on at the Royal Court in
Pygmalion
.’

‘I thought Ellen didn’t like the theatre?’

‘Ellen got herself a new fella a long while ago. I’m going with another, er, friend. That frock looks lovely. Take care, luv. Have a nice time.’

‘You, too.’ She wondered if Ivy’s new friend was a fella, and she was too embarrassed to say.

Ben came minutes after Ivy had gone. He thought the frock was well worth the inconvenience of being broke for a whole week.

‘You look gorgeous.’ He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her soundly. ‘Ma’s loaned Lily and Francie five bob,’ he said when they came up for air. ‘It was only to get them out of the way while she and me da’ got ready for a dinner dance, so they’re coming with us. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not.’

They went to the Grand in Smithdown Road to see
Samson and Delilah
, which Josie and Lily thought very moving. It was annoying when the boys laughed when Samson grew his hair and pulled the temple down on top of the entire cast.

‘Let’s go for a drink,’ Francie suggested when they came out. Tiny particles of ice were being blown about in the freezing wind, like fireflies against the yellow streetlights.

‘A proper drink?’ Lily squeaked. ‘In a proper pub?’

‘A proper drink in a proper pub,’ Francie confirmed.
‘We can just afford two pints of ale between us.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll ask for four straws.’

Lily wrinkled her small nose. Josie knew she had planned on getting Francie back to the house while it was empty. ‘Me and Josie aren’t old enough.’

‘You
look
old enough. Ben and I will get the drinks. You two sit in the corner. What do you say, Josie?’

‘I don’t mind.’ It would bring back memories of the Prince Albert, but she couldn’t avoid pubs for the rest of her life. It was only nine o’clock, too early to go home and consider the night over. She shivered, and stamped her feet on the icy pavement. ‘Can we go somewhere before we all freeze to death?’

‘We’ll go to the first pub we come to,’ Francie promised.

A welcoming fire burned brightly in the grate of the first pub. Whoever was playing the piano had their foot pressed firmly on the loud pedal as they banged out ‘Bless ’em All’, but perhaps the pianist was determined to be heard above the deafening singing. Inside, the air was warm and full of smoke. They looked for somewhere to sit, but every seat was taken and there were crowds standing round the bar. Lily immediately began to complain. The smoke got in her eyes, the singing hurt her ears, she was tired and wanted to sit down. And she hated war songs, she added, as if further confirmation of her discomfiture was necessary.

‘Let’s find somewhere else, then,’ Francie said patiently.

‘I bet all the pubs around here are just as rough. It’s that sort of area. Every single man here is probably a crook, and the women look no better than they ought to be. This is a dead stupid idea, Francie.’ She fluttered her
eyelashes and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I’d sooner go home.’

The fluttering eyelashes and the hand had come too late for Francie. He lost his temper. ‘Me dad used to come here.’ His small eyes flashed and he gestured angrily around the room. ‘These people are the salt of the earth. Who the hell d’you think you are, calling them criminals and whores?’

Lily’s jaw sagged. ‘But I didn’t …’ she began.

‘Yes, you did,’ Francie said curtly. ‘You know what you are, Lily Kavanagh? A snob! A petty, mean-minded, prejudiced snob. You and I have got nothing in common, and we never will. Quite frankly, you get on me fucking nerves. Oh, and it’s about time you got your hair cut. It looks daft on someone your age.’

‘Eh, hold on a minute, Francie.’ Ben touched his friend’s arm. He and Josie had been watching the proceedings, stunned. Francie shook the arm away.

‘I’m off, Ben. Enjoy your drink.’

‘I haven’t bought one yet. Anyroad, you’ve got the money.’

‘So I have.’ He shoved a handful of coins in Ben’s pocket. ‘That’s the change from what your mam loaned us. Forget the drink. Take your sister home to that nice, middle-class house in Machin Street.’

‘But it’s
you
I want to go home with, Francie,’ Lily cried. ‘It’s what I’ve wanted all along.’

‘Well, you picked a bloody funny way of showing it. Tara, Ben, tara, Josie.’

Francie pushed his way out the door. ‘Well, he certainly had a hump and a half,’ someone said admiringly.

‘What’s a whore?’ Lily asked, then burst into tears. ‘Oh, what did I do wrong?’

Ben put his arm around his sister’s heaving shoulders. ‘You were dead tactless, Sis. You should think before you speak. Every time you open your mouth, you put your foot in it.’

Lily didn’t listen, she rarely did. ‘I’m going after him. I’ll tell him I didn’t mean it, that I love him.’ She looked at them tearfully. ‘I do, you know.’

She rushed out, and Josie and Ben looked at each other. ‘What shall we do now?’ he asked. ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘No, ta. It’s not our money, it’s your mam’s. Anyroad, I think we should go back to yours. I doubt if Francie’s in the mood for making up. Lily’s quite likely to turn up any minute in a terrible state and there’s no one in.’

They strolled back to Machin Street, talking quietly and feeling sorry for everyone in the world except themselves.

Lily was still in a state next morning. She cried, she screamed, she threatened to kill herself, she refused to go to Mass. Mr Kavanagh found it necessary to go to the shop and do a bit of stocktaking. Daisy remembered she’d promised to see a friend. Ben was despatched to fetch Josie in the hope she could help.

‘Well, I wasn’t much use last night, was I?’ Lily had managed to catch up with Francie, who’d repeated the pub diatribe, along with a few more home truths.

‘He likes
you
better than me,’ Lily raged. Ben had made himself scarce. ‘He thinks you’re a far nicer person. If Ben wasn’t his friend, he’d ask you out. What do you think of
that
?’

Josie thought of that, and felt a surprising – and most unwelcome – little thrill at the notion of Francie kissing her,
touching her breasts. ‘He was only saying it to get at you.’

‘Have you been making eyes at him?’

‘Of course not.’ She decided to get angry. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing?’

‘Thank goodness you’re here, Josie,’ Mrs Kavanagh had said that morning when Josie arrived. ‘I don’t know what to do with her. She’s in the bedroom. Our poor Daisy hardly got a wink of sleep. Lily wept and wailed the whole night long. See if you can talk some sense into her, there’s a good girl. Oh, Lord,’ she moaned. ‘She’s only sixteen. I hope we don’t have to go through this performance every time she’s jilted by a boyfriend.’

Lily was sitting up in bed when Josie went in. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, but she had a strange, beatific smile on her puffy face. ‘I’ve decided to become a nun,’ she announced grandly. ‘I’m going to dedicate the rest of me life to God.’

‘Don’t be daft, you haven’t even been to Mass.’

‘I’ll go later, the twelve o’clock. Oh, Jose, just imagine, the quiet of a convent, the peace.’ Lily put her hands together, as if in prayer. ‘No more boyfriends, no more having to be nice to someone so they’ll ask you out. No more
men
! Just priests,
holy
men. All you have to do is kiss their rings, not … well, that thing Francie once suggested.’

‘Since when have you ever been nice to anyone?’ Josie was unimpressed by this desire for a quiet life. ‘You’d have to shave your head, and never wear make-up again or buy pretty clothes or wear nylons. You’d be bored out your skull within a week.’

Lily looked at her kindly and a touch disdainfully. ‘You don’t unders
tand
, Jose. Those sorts of things wouldn’t matter any more. I wouldn’t even
think
about
them while I was communing with God. My mind would be on a different plane. I never realised I had a vocation. I’m looking forward to shaving me head. I’d better go downstairs and tell Ma.’

‘The silly girl is driving us up the wall,’ Mrs Kavanagh complained a few weeks later. ‘She goes around with this stupid grin on her face, as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and wakes us up every morning with a hymn. If I hear “Faith of Our Fathers” once more, I think I’ll scream. She can’t get this idea of a convent out of her head. Have you seen her hair? She’s had it cut, makes her look like Shirley Temple.’

That was Monday. On Tuesday Lily decided she liked her hair too much to have it shaved off. Instead, she was going to join the Army and spend the rest of her life serving King and Country.

‘You’re too young,’ Josie said. ‘You have to be eighteen.’

‘I’ve already thought of that,’ Lily said complacently. ‘I shall pretend I’m our Daisy – she’s twenty.’

‘Does Daisy know?’

‘No, but I’m sure she won’t mind.’

‘Your legs will look dead fat in khaki stockings.’

‘Oh, don’t be such an old misery guts, Josie Smith. Stop trying to put me off.’ She preened herself. ‘I’m officer material, me. I bet I’m promoted in no time.’