by June Francis
‘Sure,’ said Nick, thinking he no longer needed a chair to stand on to do the job. He had grown three inches in the past few months and was now taller than Kenneth. The youth was made up about that because his dad had told him that his nickname had been Titch when he was at school and he had been bullied.
There were some big lads at the Liverpool’s Boy’s Institute where Nick was a pupil and the thought of having to run the gauntlet of passing them in the playground or on the way there and back to school used to fill him with dread. Then he had met Chris who was two years older than him and who started coming into the shop to buy a pound of nails, a length of two by four, or a bag of cement, sand or plaster for his father who was a DIY enthusiast. The youths had struck up a friendship and Nick was no longer as wary of the bigger lads as he used to be and tried to give as good as he got.
Kenneth smiled at Nick as he returned from bolting the doors. ‘Now how about putting the kettle on for a nice cup of tea?’ said the man, getting slowly to his feet.
Nick nodded, thinking that his father had aged since his mother, Muriel, had died eighteen months ago. It was a bloody shame, just when life seemed to be going so well for them. She had been so proud when Nick had passed the eleven-plus and found real pleasure in buying his school uniform. He remembered her saying, ‘I can just see you being a doctor or a teacher one day.’ He felt that tightness in his throat and chest whenever he thought of her but at least he and his father had both survived their second Christmas without her. Although it would have been better if Uncle Dennis hadn’t turned up on the day for the turkey and all the trimmings. But being family meant they had to put up with him, since the Rogers brothers’ father had died two years after their mother.
If Muriel had been alive, Dennis wouldn’t have got his foot through the door because they had never got on. She had considered her brother-in-law selfish and spoilt and had told him so to his face. In response he’d said that she was one to talk, adding that she lived in cloud cuckoo land. Nick could not understand why he had said that to her because he’d always considered his mother one of the most sensible people he knew. As for his uncle, he loathed him. Even when Nick was a small lad, Dennis had attempted to undermine his confidence. When he had made little gifts of wood for his grandparents or taken the drawings he had done in school to show them, Dennis always found fault with them. When Nick passed the eleven-plus, his uncle had told him not to get above himself and that it had been a fluke him passing the examination.
Nick had tried to ignore him but it was not easy because he also made comments about Nick being double-jointed, calling him a freak. He could only be thankful that his uncle lived in Wales, although for how much longer was a question that kept rearing its head. Recently Kenneth, who was the older brother, had talked about the need to sell the house in Flintshire where Dennis still lived.
Nick sighed as he spooned tea from the wooden caddy he had made for his mother into the fat-bellied brown teapot that Muriel had used every day until the last week of her illness. If only she was still alive. After she had died, Kenneth had been wont to say At least she didn’t suffer too long. But how long was too long to suffer? Nick wondered, taking two coronation mugs out of the cupboard as he heard Kenneth climbing the stairs.
When his father entered the kitchen, Nick thought, not for the first time, how they did not look a bit alike. He remembered asking his mother whether he took after her side of the family. She had hesitated and then nodded, telling him that she had been blonde when she was a girl but her hair had darkened as she grew older. The fact that her eyes were blue and Nick’s brown might be thought unusual with his hair being fair but, she had added, her Uncle Fred who had been killed in the Great War had been just the same.
Then there was Nick being double-jointed. It had to be a throwback to her grandfather who had been an acrobat in the circus. He smiled, remembering how his mother had always loved Bertram Mill’s circus pitching the big top in Newsham Park, and the pair of them had always gone together. For weeks afterwards Nick had wanted to be a daring young man on a flying trapeze. He had grown out of that but he was still good at gymnastics.
‘How about a couple of rounds of toast, beans and sausages for supper?’ suggested Kenneth, breathing heavily as he sat down.
Nick rested a hand on the well-scrubbed table. ‘That suits me, Dad. I might as well do it now and finish my homework later.’
‘If you’re sure you don’t mind,’ said Kenneth earnestly. ‘I have some paperwork to do.’
As Nick took the frying pan from a cupboard along with a saucepan, he thought how much easier life had been when they had lived in the semi-detached house in West Derby, but after his mother had died, Kenneth had decided to sell the house and move into the rooms over his hardware shop on Prescot Road. He had said it would be more convenient. Nick had not argued, guessing that the real reason was because Kenneth could no longer bear living in the house without Muriel. Sometimes Nick thought it would have been better if they had stayed there because there were so many happy memories tied to that house but his father had seemed unable to see that.
As they sat down to their simple meal, Kenneth said, ‘I was thinking now the snow has gone that we should visit your Uncle Dennis instead of him coming here so often.’
Nick’s fair head shot up. ‘Do we have to?’
Kenneth nodded. ‘I have important matters to discuss with him concerning the house and there’s a particular piece of furniture that Father left me I want to make sure he hasn’t sold.’
Nick searched for an excuse. ‘I’ve school work to do, Dad. I need to prepare for exams.’
Kenneth pointed his fork at him. ‘No excuses! I want your company. You haven’t visited the house since your grandfather’s funeral. I want my share of that house. Our Dennis thinks he can go on hogging it but I’m not going to allow it. I’m the eldest and he should listen to me. But does he? Does he, hell!’ He paused. ‘But I take your point, we won’t go just yet. We’ll wait until the Easter school holidays. The traffic will be murder on the bank holiday Monday, so we’ll go the following Wednesday afternoon. Is that clear, son?’
‘Yes, it’s clear,’ muttered Nick, making a sausage butty. ‘Although I still don’t see why I have to go with you. He hates me.’
‘You’re imagining it.’
Nick knew he wasn’t imagining it. ‘He’s always poking his nose in my business, too,’ he said beneath his breath.
Kenneth stared at him. ‘He’s just interested because he’s got no children himself.’
Nick did not believe that, and was convinced that his uncle was trying to catch him out doing something so he could complain to Kenneth about it. ‘Why d’you need me?’
‘I need your help to carry that piece of furniture I mentioned.’
Nick looked surprised. ‘Aren’t we going in the van?’
Kenneth hesitated. ‘We are but I can’t lift it in and out on my own.’
Nick thought that Dennis could help Kenneth put it into the van and he’d be here to help him lift it out. He came to the conclusion that his father was making excuses because he really did want his company and so he resigned himself to accompanying him to Wales in a few weeks’ time.
‘I’d also appreciate your help in the shop during the Easter holidays, not just Saturday mornings,’ added Kenneth. ‘It’ll be yours when I go.’
The words go where? sprang to Nick’s lips but he kept silent. This was not the first time his father had mentioned his passing away since he had become a widower. Sometimes it was almost as if he couldn’t wait to join Muriel. That thought bothered Nick because although it was true that he’d never been as close to his father as he had to his mother, they had managed to rub along quite well.
He really hoped that his father had plenty of years in him yet, although Nick could see the day when they would not agree about his future. Kenneth was set on Nick following in his footsteps and there was no way Nick wanted to spend his life working in the hardware sh
op. He might enjoy woodwork but he longed to do something much more challenging. What that something was he didn’t know yet. He was fond of his father and respected him for being a hard worker but Nick could not forget his mother nurturing ambitious plans for him. If she were here now she’d be telling Kenneth that it was a waste of their son’s education if all he was going to do with his life was to work in a hardware shop. She and Nick would have ganged up on Kenneth and eventually he would have caved in. As it was, Nick knew that he was going to have a struggle to do what he wanted in life and it was going to be that much more difficult than when his mother had been alive because his uncle was bound to put his oar in.
Eight
Dorothy gathered together her overnight bag and the shopping she had done while in London. In a few minutes the train would terminate at Lime Street. She was tired and doubted Sam would be there to meet her. She had telephoned the Walker household earlier in the day but he hadn’t been there and, unable to make sense of anything Ethel said, she wasn’t at all sure the old woman had understood her message for Sam.
He would not be in the best of moods, anyway, when they met, what with her having spent more time down south than she had originally planned. As well as seeing her agent and having the audition – which had gone brilliantly – she had taken time out to see old friends. She was going to tell Sam that she had only been told yesterday that she had been given the part and that was why she had stayed in London longer. At least it should please him that she would be able to attend Hester’s wedding because filming would most likely not start for another two months.
The train came out of the tunnel and ran into the station. Even before it came to a halt, she was making her way to the nearest door. When she arrived at the hotel she was greeted warmly by Kathy, who informed her that Mr Anderson had returned that day, too.
‘He’ll soon be off to London for a couple of days,’ said Kathy, smiling. ‘Then it’s the Continent, taking in France, Italy and Greece. He was hoping to hear about the mother and daughter he’s been looking for when he got back but there’s been no phone call for him.’
‘I was just about to ask if there had been any for me,’ said Dorothy.
Kathy shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. How did the audition go?’
Dorothy’s face lit up and she told her all her news before going upstairs to change. Some of her excitement evaporated as she thought of Sam. She was disappointed he had not telephoned to see if she was back and was filled with a sense of foreboding. What if Sam was so furious with her that he didn’t wish to have anything more to do with her? No, she couldn’t believe that. He had said he loved her and he had come round after some persuasion to her making the documentary set in Liverpool. Surely she could persuade him to see the positive aspects of her having won this film role? But what to do right now? Should she ring the Walker household again? What if he was there and didn’t want to speak to her? Perhaps she should change and go to the house and try to talk to him. And if he wasn’t there, then maybe Hester or Jeanette would be home and she could talk to them about Sam and try to gauge his feelings before she saw him. First, she had better dolly herself up.
She wasted no time claiming the bathroom and having a bath and then she took her time choosing what to wear, deciding on a frock she had bought in Bond Street. It was of green and orange jersey silk with a boat neck, three-quarter sleeves and floaty skirt.
Would he notice the dress was new? If so she could always tell him that she had bought it with Hester’s wedding in mind and was trying it out. Perhaps it was a bit too summery and posh for just a visit to the Walker household, but she could put on a warm coat and it would make her feel more confident. She fixed her hair and applied fresh make-up. She reckoned that she was going to have to look really alluring to calm Sam down when she told him her news. Surely when he heard of the money she would be earning, he would be glad for her? She could tell him that part of it could go towards the cost of their wedding. The rest would go to making her documentary.
To Dorothy’s relief the door was opened by Hester. ‘So you’re back at last,’ she said.
‘Don’t sound like that!’ groaned Dorothy. ‘Is he home?’
‘No, he isn’t. You’d best come in.’
Dorothy stepped over the threshold and Hester closed the door behind her. ‘You should have rung.’
‘I did earlier in the day!’ cried Dorothy, following Hester up the lobby. ‘Your Aunt Ethel answered but I confess she sounded confused. Even so I hoped she would have told you and Sam.’
‘No, she didn’t. As for Sam, he’s really busy at the moment but you can be sure I’ll let him know as soon as I see him that you’re back,’ said Hester. ‘Here, let me help you off with your coat.’
Dorothy thanked her and they went into the sitting room where a fire was blazing away and the television was on. Ethel was sitting in an easy chair, toasting her toes on the hearth and gazing at the tiny black and white screen.
‘You’ve got a television!’ cried Dorothy.
Hester smiled. ‘My idea. I persuaded the whole family that we should have one and could afford it if we all shared the rental costs.’
‘Even your great-aunt Ethel?’
‘I just told her to hand over her purse and she did.’
‘You amaze me,’ said Dorothy.
‘It amazed me, too, because she’s always been tight-fisted, but she’s getting that way she doesn’t know what money is.’
‘Poor old soul,’ murmured Dorothy.
‘Yes, it is a bit sad seeing her like this but I don’t really want the old Ethel back. She could be a right so-and-so,’ murmured Hester.
Dorothy thought that perhaps she should try and start up a conversation with the old woman. ‘Mind you don’t get chilblains having your feet too close to the fire, Ethel,’ she said.
Ethel ignored her.
‘She’s becoming very forgetful and muddled but she loves the television,’ said Hester. ‘Cup of tea?’
‘Yes, if you haven’t anything stronger,’ said Dorothy, sitting on the sofa.
‘Sorry.’
‘That’s OK. I can do without.’
‘In need of Dutch courage?’ asked Hester, going into the kitchen.
Dorothy followed her. ‘I knew Sam would be angry with me but I had no choice.’
‘It’s your business, not mine,’ said Hester, crossing back and forth between the larder and the cooker.
Dorothy leaned against the table. ‘I couldn’t turn the part down. It’s brilliant and so well paid.’
‘I’m not saying anything,’ said Hester hastily. ‘But you know what he’s like. He sees himself as the breadwinner.’ She faced Dorothy. ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
‘No! I just washed and changed and came straight here.’
‘I’ll fry you egg and bacon,’ said Hester.
‘Thanks,’ said Dorothy gratefully.
Hester smiled. ‘That’s a lovely dress you’re wearing. Buy it in London?’
‘Where else! I hope Sam likes it. I thought it would do for your wedding. How are the arrangements coming along?’
‘Fine. I’ve been getting loads of ideas from TV programmes about the Easter bride and home-making.’ Hester hummed the Wedding March as she put the frying pan on the stove. ‘And I’ve found myself a dressmaker!’
Dorothy’s eyes widened. ‘I thought you were considering ready-made.’
‘Changed my mind. She’s really good. I’ll be taking our Jeanette along to see her this week to be measured up for her bridesmaid’s dress and to choose the material.’ Hester melted a knob of lard and then took out two rashers of bacon and put them in the frying pan. ‘So, will you still be here for my wedding?’
‘Of course I will!’ said Dorothy positively. ‘Haven’t I just told you I bought this dress with your wedding in mind? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘When does filming start?’
‘Well after Easter,’ said Dorothy. ‘Part of it
is to be shot on location in Italy.’
Hester nearly dropped an egg. ‘You’re going abroad!’
Dorothy giggled. ‘That’s where Italy is.’ At that moment the kettle began to boil so she moved it off the hob and made a pot of tea.
‘Thanks,’ said Hester. ‘You’d better make Aunt Ethel a cuppa, as well.’
‘OK! I’m just so excited.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘You must know how I feel, Hester. You enjoy your job.’
Hester glanced up from the frying pan. ‘I wouldn’t argue but if I had to choose between the job and Ally, then I’d choose him.’
Dorothy’s expression sobered. ‘Are you getting at me?’
‘No, it’s your life. As long as you know what you’re doing and it doesn’t all blow up in your face.’ She put down the egg and turned the bacon over which spat out fat, causing her to lick her hand where it landed.
‘You think I’m risking what I have with Sam to make this film,’ said Dorothy, frowning.
Hester said, ‘Aren’t you? You know what he’s like.’
‘Yes, and he knows what I’m like,’ said Dorothy firmly. ‘If he loves me, he’ll want me to be happy.’
‘That works two ways.’ Hester sighed.
‘I really want to go to Italy and he could take a week’s holiday and spend it with me over there.’
‘Maybe,’ said Hester, forking the bacon on to a plate. ‘I know someone else going to Italy this year.’
‘Who?’
‘Betty Booth, my friend Emma’s half-sister.’
‘Emma whose cottage you’re renting?’
Hester nodded.
‘I know someone going to Italy, too. An American who’s staying at the Lynton.’ Dorothy poured tea and sugared all three cups.
Hester paused before breaking the egg into the frying pan. ‘Name wouldn’t be Stuart Anderson, would it?’
