The War Widows (38 page)

‘Nothing but when Walt hears about it, there’ll be trouble.’

‘We’re not going to tell him, are we?’ Queenie asked.

‘We’re not going to tell anyone else any of our business,’ said Diana. ‘Mum’s the word, right, girls?’

‘All for one and one for all,’ Lily smiled. ‘Let’s have a powwow.’

They sat in a circle as darkness fell, each with their arms around the next one’s shoulders, huddled, whispering in the dark, telling secrets no one else would ever hear. They would have stayed out all night but for the park keeper.

‘Now, ladies, the party’s over. Hurry along.’

Next morning Lily rose early, not wanting to face her mother. She had not slept a wink, pacing the floor, going over yesterday’s excitement; trying to push the unexpected
thrills of dancing with Pete, the embarrassing public row with Ivy and the secrets that they all confided in the park out of her mind.
Something
must be done about that and soon. But the jungle drums had been beating and Walt was round at the travel agent’s first thing, demanding an explanation.

‘I can’t leave you five minutes with that lot before you make an exhibition of yourself. I’m surprised at you,’ he said, pink with indignation and puff.

‘It didn’t take long for Poison Ivy to lash her venomous tongue in your direction,’ Lily replied. ‘It was only a bit of fun. She’s making a mountain out of a molehill as usual.’

‘But you were seen canoodling with Pete Walsh like a brazen hussy. Is that a proper way for a fiancée to behave?’ Walt’s lips were pursed into a peevish line just like his mother when she had a strop on her, a thin line of disapproval that did his face no favours.

‘It was one farewell kiss, for old times’ sake, nothing at all. Why didn’t you come along to the dance and join us and then none of this would’ve happened?’

‘Because I trusted you to behave yourself and not show me up like some giddy bitch on heat,’ he snapped, loud enough for Avril Crumblehume to hear and back out of the door blushing.

‘And what’s all this about Ivy being savaged by the Eyetie? Honestly, you can never trust foreigners with drink in them.’

‘Oh, Walt! Don’t show your ignorance. Sometimes you can be such a prude. My friends wanted me to have
a good time and came to the rescue when Ivy was insulting me. Maria had her own score to settle.’

‘Fancy fighting like fishwives!’

‘It was Ivy who provoked them.’

‘So you say.’

‘You don’t believe me?’

‘I don’t know any more. You’re not the girl you used to be, Lil.’

‘Don’t call me Lil. I’m Lee here.’

‘I’ll call you what I like. You’re my wife.’

‘Not yet I’m not!’ she turned on him.

‘What’s that’s supposed to mean?’ he snapped back, towering over her.

‘I’m not sure,’ she replied, storming back to her desk. ‘By the way, did your passport arrive in the post?’ It was time to change the subject.

‘Why should I want a passport?’ He cocked his head, puzzled.

‘For Paris, the trip and our honeymoon,’ she sighed. ‘For the ferryboat across the Channel.’

‘The only channel we’ll be crossing is the Irish Sea. The Isle of Man will suit us just fine. What would I want with snails and frog’s legs and all that foreign muck? Honestly, Lil, I don’t know where you get these big ideas,’ he said, searching the papers on her desk, shuffling them out of order. ‘Of course, I might have guessed. It’s that Olive Oil Club of yours, putting such fancy notions in yer head. The sooner I get you up to Well Cottage the sooner you’ll come down to earth. We’ll have to choose your friends more carefully next time but I’ll be on hand to guide you.’

‘But I thought we agreed. Avril is counting on us to help on the charabanc. It’s their first trip. Ernie and Gladys Walsh are going on it.’

‘So I suppose Pete Walsh will be going along for the ride too. If you think I’m spending my honeymoon with him in tow, you’ve another think coming,’ Walt snapped.

‘What’s Pete Walsh got to do with the price of beans? This is our honeymoon, our first adventure as a married couple. It’s what we planned.’

‘It’s not what I planned. The honeymoon is the groom’s decision.’

‘That’s so old-fashioned. Modern couples decide things together.’

‘Not in my book, they don’t. A man must be master of his household. Start as you mean to go on, I say. That’s why your Levi has trouble with his wife.’

‘I want our marriage to be a partnership. We each work and earn a wage. We’ve waited so long…Any road, what my brother does is his own affair.’ She carried on at her desk, pink with fury.

‘Perhaps we’ve waited too long, Lil…’

‘Oh? How come?’ she sighed, weary of all his arguing.

‘It’s all the strain of waiting to fulfil our love that’s getting to you, the strain of not having a man to guide you on the right path, too many women giving you the wrong advice and big ideas. Girls are the weaker sex. They aren’t meant to make big decisions and go their own road. Look what happens when they do: bringing up bastards, working all hours, straining their brains studying for jobs beyond their capabilities. A woman’s
place is in the home, by the hearth, tending to the needs of her hubby, not gallivanting here and there with opinions all her own.

‘Look how happy you were when you ran Waverley House, before the invasion of foreigners spoiling everything. Who was it we could count on to see to the household chores and Neville, keep Levi and Ivy happy and your mother settled and content? Who was it who manned the stall yet had time to give my mam a helping hand and never a cross word? You were so reliable and easy to please. Once I get you all to myself, the old happy Lil will return to the hearth and be content.’

‘Is that how you see our future?’ she asked.

‘Of course, don’t you? Think of these past months as a bit of a blot on the landscape. Together we’ll put it all behind us, love, forgive and forget. I forgive you this time.’

She nodded and tried to smile but her lips stuck together. ‘I must get on with my work. There’s so much to do.’

‘Don’t you worry your head, love, about this,’ he replied, dismissing the whole office in one swipe of his hand. ‘As soon as we’re settled you can stay at home. Once you’re a married woman, this sort of work’ll be too much for you. Whatever the sacrifices, the doing without, no wife of mine will shame me by having to earn a living. So don’t be fretting. It won’t be long now until you can leave all this behind for good. Won’t that be exciting?’

He plonked a kiss on her forehead and squeezed her arm with affection. Lily felt dizzy with fear.

‘Is everything all right?’ Avril waited until the coast was clear. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost…Let’s have a brew.’

‘I’m fine. Sorry about the floor show…it’s all been a bit of a shock,’ she replied, still feeling weak. What on earth was she going to do now?

Lily went round to Lavaroni’s Hair Salon the moment it opened at ten o’clock, knowing Queenie would be in early before Gianni began his morning appointments.

‘We have to find Sylvio Bertorelli and fast. Do you know where he went?’ There was no point in shillyshallying with Queenie, who had her ear to the ground when it came to gossip. Surely someone must know his whereabouts?

‘I wish I did, ducks, but he just disappeared and old man Lavaroni won’t have his name mentioned in here. He might be trying his luck in London but I can’t believe he’d just walk out on Maria. Perhaps he blames himself for Marco’s death. I’m not sure he even knows about it. He’s a good lad. Wherever he’s gone he’ll be a success. Do you want me to ask Gianni? He’ll bite my head off but it’s worth a try. I’m worried about Ria and little Rosa too.’

She eyed Lily up and down and winked. ‘It was a
right humdinger in the park with that sister-in-law of yours. She deserved all she got. You just stood there and sorted her out without a flinch. That perm really suits you, by the way. If you’re not careful you’ll be turning into a right glamourpuss. Are you having it shampooed and set on the morning of the wedding?’ ‘I haven’t booked anything yet. We need to sort this out before I go away,’ Lily replied. Hairstyling was the least of her worries. ‘Can we meet up at Division Street later in the week? You’ll have to excuse the mess. Mother’s on the move soon and she’s having a fit of packing. There’s china in boxes, and books and water-colours stacked up. She wants a right sort-out before she leaves. We haven’t dared tell her what happened last night.’

The Olive Oil Club was in session behind closed doors. Diana was in the chair. There was nothing better than sitting at the head of a table giving orders, getting things done in her view.

‘We’ve got to find Sylvio,’ Lily started. ‘Don’t ask me why but I think he’ll not be far away. Between us all we can do it, but Ria mustn’t suspect. She’s too proud to seek our help. Did you find anything out, Queenie?’

‘Not much, but there is one clue. Gianni muttered he’s had a call from some hairdresser in Manchester wanting a reference for Sylvio. Needless to say he sent him off with a flea in his ear.’

‘Did he remember the name?’ asked Diana, hoping for a quick breakthrough.

‘Nope, or if he did he wasn’t going to tell me. I think
he’s glad Sylvio’s gone. Now he’s got all his old clients back and no competition.’

‘That’s not much help,’ said Su. ‘Finding a guy in a city is like finding a hairpin on the pavement.’

‘I can ask at my church in Manchester. I can find out about hairdressers,’ offered Ana.

‘Brilliant!’ Diana smiled. This was a team effort. Then she remembered the Chamber of Trade. There were lists of shops in Grimbleton. There was bound to be one in Manchester. ‘If we can find out all the names of the hairdressing establishments in the city, we can visit and ask around for Sylvio Bertorelli. Someone will know of him. We’ll give them this number and get them to ring us.’

‘There’s all the Italian community to go at as well; café owners and ice-cream vendors, that sort of thing,’ Queenie added.

‘No,’ Diana interrupted. ‘The community is small and family links are long tentacles. Toni and Angelo might get to hear. There might be trouble for Maria. We don’t want her to guess what we’re up to. Who else knows the city well?’

Manchester was somewhere Diana avoided for shopping. Mummy liked Kendal Milne and St Ann’s Square. She found it quite depressing every time she passed the Salford hospital where all those nurses had been killed in a direct hit. Everything was bombed and gutted after the blitz. The cathedral was being rebuilt. Sometimes she ventured in by train to the Free Trade Hall to hear the Hallé Orchestra. The rest of the city was a mystery to her. She preferred London.

‘Bill and Avril at the travel agency might help us,’ Lily offered.

‘What about Pete Walsh and the Grasshoppers? They play United and City. What if young Sylvio’s joined a men’s barber, not a ladies’ hairdresser? Perhaps Pete could help us. This is going to take ages otherwise,’ said Queenie, not wanting to depress them.

‘What’s the big rush?’ asked Su.

‘Maria told us her secret. Where were you?’ snapped Ana.

‘And I want this sorted before my wedding,’ Lily said, still being the peacemaker.

She felt guilty that she had not confided her own precious secret to them all but it was not the right time or place, and she couldn’t be sure how they would react. Her head was buzzing with plans and ideas, half formed and too fuzzy yet to be put into words. Maria needed their help and that was enough to be going on with now.

Every time Lily thought about the coming wedding day her mind froze with panic.

Apart from the wonderful nightdress and the new suit, she’d not enough coupons to go rash with a trousseau, but she must buy some holiday slacks just to prove a point. But who could be bothered about clothes when a friend was in danger?

What’d happen if the Santinis found out Maria was carrying another man’s child? What if there was violence and shame, and she got thrown out of the flat? She needed Sylvio and her friends for protection. There had
to be a way to find him but she was running out of time.

Walter’s demand that she cut down her circle of friends after their marriage was gnawing away inside. He was being unreasonable but he was jealous and that showed how much he loved her. This mission gave her something better to think about other than all his insecurities. Meanwhile she must get on with her tasks, the first of which she would rather enjoy.

‘I know this sounds daft but we need your help as a detective,’ Lily stuttered, standing pink-faced on the whitened doorstep of number ten Eccleston Place, the small terraced house where Pete Walsh lived at home with his family.

‘Come in, come in…It’s Lily Winstanley, Mam,’ he shouted from the vestibule.

‘Put the kettle on, Kath, it’s Brown Owl. Come and sit down.’ Pete’s mother ushered her in, ripping off her pinny in honour of the visitor.

‘It’s very kind of you but—’

‘No buts, Miss Winstanley, pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you. I hope our Pete’s not been up to any trouble.’

Lily was ushered into the neat front room with its three-piece suite, draped with lace anti-macassars. The piano in the alcove was covered in Pete’s trophies and team photographs. They were treating her like a guest of honour. Her cheeks were pink with blushes at such a warm welcome.

I hope he doesn’t think I’m chasing him, turning
up at his doorstep, she thought. Who’m I fooling? I just wanted to see that grin on his face and the dimple on his chin. No one had arm-wrestled her to come and ask him to help. She was a more than willing volunteer.

‘I’m on a sort of secret mission to help a friend,’ she explained. ‘But it’s rather private. We were hoping you’d be able to help us-and the other boys, if they can.’

It was important to use the royal we, to distance herself from choosing to be the eager messenger on this quest. It was important to sit primly, straight-backed and not get distracted from her task by looking at his lips and recalling his impulsive kisses.

His mother closed the door discreetly with a, ‘Do you take sugar in your tea?’ This was going to be a best china occasion.

‘How can I help?’ he smiled.