The Lost Daughter of Liverpool: A heartbreaking and gritty family saga (The Mersey Trilogy Book 1)

by Pam Howes

  When she and Agnes went into the ballroom and looked for the boys, Alan had drinks ready and waiting on the table and Joe was on stage with the band at the top of the room, doing a quick warm-up session. Dora looked around. She’d never been here before and admired the traditional, classy decor and soft lighting. The wooden dance floor looked freshly varnished and inviting with tables and chairs placed around the perimeter. Couples started to arrive and the large room quickly filled. The band leader had agreed to play a selection of records in-between the band spots and the popular Glenn Miller songs had people getting up to dance already.

  Dora sipped her gin and tonic and looked to see if she recognised anyone. It was a bit of a drive from Kirkby, so it would be unlikely. Joe had told her the dances here attracted mainly locals and people from nearby Bootle and Crosby, and as they were quite popular, it was hard to get tickets.

  Ivy bundled Flo off the bus, pulling her along towards Litherland Town Hall. She was fuming because Flo had told her at the last minute that she didn’t want to go to the dance. But Ivy was having none of it and ordered her to get ready. Now she wished she’d come on her own; Flo’s greasy hair was sticking to her head from lack of washing and being tucked under a turban all day while she’d cleaned the house. She’d done her best to help Flo titivate it with lacquer and curlers but to no avail. The crème puff and lippy she’d hurriedly slapped on were patchy and smudged and Ivy had raised her eyes to the ceiling when Flo had presented herself as ready to go five minutes before the bus was due. She said her best dress needed a wash; the one she had on was dipping at the hemline, and her cardigan was done up on the wrong buttons. Ivy bit her tongue, handed Flo her coat and they’d travelled on the bus in silence.

  The one thing keeping Ivy going was the thought of seeing Joe again. She hoped he’d be more relaxed than he’d been that week. It would be unlikely there’d be anyone there from work and he’d have had a drink or two by the time they arrived and would probably be in an amiable mood. She’d get another close dance and a kiss tonight if it killed her.

  There was a bit of hassle with the doorman, who demanded their tickets.

  ‘I thought it was pay on the door, like most dances,’ Ivy said, pulling herself up to her full five-foot-three and thrusting her ample bosom in his direction.

  ‘Sorry, miss, tickets only here, always has been,’ he said averting his gaze, his cheeks turning pink.

  The man had a look of Hitler with his shifty eyes and toothbrush moustache, and he clicked his heels together in a way that irritated Ivy. He was uniformed and he obviously felt it gave him the edge over the usual social club doormen who just wore smart suits.

  ‘Now, see here,’ Ivy whispered and drew him to one side. ‘That’s my sister.’ She inclined her head towards Flo. ‘You can see she’s not quite right, can’t you? And we’ve come a long way on the bus tonight. She’ll be so disappointed if I have to take her home without seeing the band play and having a little dance. It keeps her happy, you see.’

  The man looked at Flo, who was staring at her surroundings, her slack jaw droopier than ever tonight. She did indeed look not quite right. He nodded. ‘Go on then, miss. That’s one and six for you and you can take her in for free.’

  Ivy smiled, paid up, thanked him and beckoned to Flo to follow her. Flo’s scruffy appearance had paid off nicely and stood them the price of a drink each. They gave their coats to the cloakroom attendant and Ivy led the way into the ballroom, Flo following meekly on her heels. The band was already up on stage and waiting to start the first set of songs. Ivy could see Joe standing with his back to her, talking to the drummer, who was perched on his stool. She hurried across to a table at the back of the room so that she wasn’t in full view of Joe. She didn’t want to put him off his stride just yet. Flo plonked herself down on a chair and Ivy dashed to the bar and got two small schooners of sherry. Joe always got them a large one, but in view of the fact they needed taxi fare to get home, as the buses would have stopped running by the time the dance finished, she was watching her pennies.

  There was a table near to the stage and it only had one fella sitting at it. Maybe he’d shift himself soon enough and then she’d move Flo over there. The lights went down and the MC announced the name of the band. A round of applause and a cheer went up and the band started up with their usual opener of ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’. Ivy saw the doors fly open and two smartly dressed young women hurry to sit in the spare seats at the front table. As the blonde picked up a glass and turned to the stage she saw Joe raise his hand and the woman smiled and did a little wave back. As she flicked her long wavy hair over her shoulders Ivy realised the woman was Dora, Joe’s wife. Her stomach plummeted as she saw how pretty and slender Dora looked and the adoration in her eyes as she watched her husband playing his heart out. As Joe paused after his solo Ivy saw that same look in his eyes as he waved again to his wife. An overwhelming feeling of jealousy swept over her. They’d obviously got over their problems and he didn’t need her to confide in any more. That was one pair who wouldn’t be sleeping in separate beds tonight.

  CHAPTER 21

  Joe swept Dora into his arms and dropped a kiss on her lips as they danced to Nat King Cole’s ‘Embraceable You’. He hadn’t seen her look this happy for months. ‘I love you so much,’ he whispered. ‘It’s been a wonderful day.’ He hoped it was going to be a wonderful night when they got home. But that was up to Dora. They would go forward at her pace. They’d come this far and he wasn’t about to break that new-found closeness now.

  ‘I love you too.’ She smiled and laid her head on his chest as his hands moved slowly up and down her spine. He held her tight and to Joe it felt like they were the only couple on the dance floor. ‘New beginnings,’ he said.

  ‘That’s what Joanie said.’ She smiled as he led her back to her seat.

  ‘I’m nipping to the gents, then I’ll get us a refill,’ Joe said. ‘Same again?’

  He hurried out of the ballroom, oblivious to the fact that someone was watching his every move and had followed him into the corridor. He dashed into the gents and was out within minutes. As he rounded a corner he walked straight into Ivy, who had her arms folded under her ample bosom, a furious expression on her round face.

  ‘Ivy! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I told you I was coming. But I see you’ve brought your wife.’

  ‘Well, yes. She’s feeling much better now and wanted to come with me. She does have a right, you know?’

  ‘And so do I.’

  Joe stepped back as Ivy was practically shoving her face into his. ‘Of course you do. Everyone who pays for a ticket has a right to be here.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that, Joe, and well you know it.’

  Joe shook his head. ‘You’ve lost me, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You kissed me last week, made me think there was something between us.’

  Joe held up his hands. Shit, this was all he needed. ‘No, Ivy, you’ve got that wrong. You kissed me. I pushed you away, remember? I only ever pecked your cheek to thank you for the dance.’

  Ivy folded her arms. ‘All those things you told me about your unhappy marriage. I don’t think Dora will like it that I know all your secrets, do you?’

  Joe frowned. ‘What’s all this about? I never told you that I was unhappy. I took you into my confidence when I lost my daughter, and my wife was very ill. I needed someone understanding to talk to. I thought that someone might be you after what you told me about your own losses. I didn’t realise you’d take it all out of context, read something into it.’ He pushed her away. ‘Don’t try and cause trouble for me. You’ll be sorry if you do, really sorry, and I mean that. I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. But I can easily get to the bottom of that phone call Dora made when she was in labour. The exchange will confirm whether a call was logged from my home number to the canteen number on that date.’

  As he stormed off back into the ballroom Ivy realised what a fool she’d nearly made of herself
in her jealous rage. She shouldn’t have come here tonight. It was true, Joe hadn’t kissed her; she’d kissed him, clinging to him when he’d tried to break free. But in her thoughts it was easy to turn around her memory of that kiss and make it out to be more than it was. She’d never win back his friendship now. He wouldn’t confide in her again. Why would he even look twice at her when he’d got Dora in tow? And if he did get to the bottom of that phone call then she’d be ostracised by everyone at the ROF again and her life would be hell. She hurried into the ladies feeling sick.

  Back in the ballroom Flo was staring into her empty glass. Ivy handed her coat over. ‘We’re leaving.’

  ‘Why? You haven’t had a dance with Joe yet and we’ve only had one drink.’

  Ivy inclined her head to the front of the stage area. ‘He’s with his wife,’ she whispered.

  ‘Oh my God, does she know?’

  ‘Know what?’ Ivy grabbed her handbag from the back of the chair.

  ‘About you and him.’

  ‘There’s nothing to know.’ Ivy wished now that she’d kept her mouth shut and not told Flo the richly embellished tales that she had done. Too late now; she just needed to get her out of the building and on that bus home. She’d got a lot of making-up and apologising to do next week when they were back at work. If Joe realised that she’d gone home without any hassle tonight, he might even thank her. It would be a start. And then she would reassure him that she had no intention of causing him any trouble with his wife. And she didn’t – not yet, anyway. She’d get him on side again, keep in the background for a while, and see how things went. But she’d also make sure that Joe understood the implications of what he’d confided in her. That she could, if she so chose to, quite easily blow his marriage apart.

  Dora sat on the sofa with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. It was still early but she’d woken with the birds, expecting Carol to be whimpering in her cradle by the side of the bed. As she’d lain sleepily in the half-light she’d become aware of a soft rhythmic sound beside her and for a few seconds had been unable to place the noise. Then it had come back to her. Carol wasn’t there, but Joe was, flat on his back and fast asleep. She smiled and slid quietly out of bed so as not to disturb him. It had been a late night. The band worked hard and performed three encores. Alan had brought them back home and he and Agnes had gone on their way, turning down Joe’s offer of a nightcap as they too were tired.

  Both more than merry with the drinks they’d consumed, Joe had helped Dora up the garden path and then lifted her into his arms and carried her over the threshold. They’d collapsed in a heap on the hall floor, laughing until their sides ached.

  When Dora asked him why he’d carried her, he said it was what he should have done when they’d moved in, and as this was a new beginning, he’d decided to do it tonight. She smiled now, remembering how they’d tumbled onto the bed, removing each other’s clothes and swearing they’d never spend a night in separate beds again. Their lovemaking had been loving and passionate, but Joe had taken the time not to rush her and Dora had been grateful for that. It was like they’d never been apart.

  ‘Dora,’ Joe called. ‘Where are you?’

  She popped her head around the door. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Come back to bed. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up.’

  ‘We need to get ready to go to Mam’s.’

  ‘It’s only half-eight. We’ve got hours yet.’

  Dora smiled, undid the belt of her silky dressing gown and let it fall slowly to the floor, loving the way his eyes lit up as he stared at her naked body with love and hunger in his eyes.

  Dora frowned as her dad hurriedly pushed a handkerchief into the pocket of his old gardening trousers. He’d come round to help with the garden again and was planting bulbs in the freshly prepared flower borders. Through the open window she’d heard him coughing quite badly and had stuck her head out to ask if he wanted a drink of water. Even from a distance she could see that the handkerchief was covered in blood and she dashed outside.

  ‘Dad, how long has this been going on?’

  He wiped his hand across his mouth, looking sheepish. She could hear his chest wheezing and rushed back inside to get a chair. She sat him down near the front door and undid the top buttons of his flannel shirt while he caught his breath. He grabbed her hand.

  ‘Don’t tell your mam, chuck, please. I don’t want to worry her. It’s only been a day or two. It’ll clear soon. I’ve been coughing that hard I’ve maybe popped a blood vessel in my throat or summat.’

  He looked so worried that Dora put her arm around his shoulders and assured him she’d keep it to herself. ‘But on one condition, Dad. You go to the doctor’s tomorrow morning before you come here. Otherwise I’m telling Mam. Now I’m going to put Carol in the pram and I’ll walk to the chemist’s and get some linctus for you to take. See if it soothes it, never mind Mam’s boiled onion rubbish. That’s obviously not working.’

  ‘There’s no need to do that, I’ll be fine.’ He took a sip of water and smiled. ‘See, right as rain.’

  ‘No, you’re not and I’m not arguing with you.’ Dora went back inside, shaking her head. She fastened Carol into the pram and manoeuvred it out of the front door. She was halfway down Belle Vale Road before it dawned on her that this was the first time she’d been out on her own with Carol in the pram since her birth. She took a deep breath, muttered ‘New beginnings’ and carried on her way before she lost her nerve and turned back.

  She parked Carol outside West’s chemist’s and nodded hello to a neighbour she vaguely recognised as living in the prefabs, who followed her into the dark little shop. Dora loved the smell in here, aniseed, liquorice, and surgical spirits vying for space with the scent of lavender, mint and coal-tar soap. She asked for a product she saw advertised on a poster on the wall behind the counter: a bottle of Stoddard’s glycerine, lemon and ipecac linctus. She remembered her mam dosing her and Frank with it one winter during the war when they’d both developed stubborn chesty coughs that just wouldn’t go away. Mam had blamed the thick Mersey mists and bloody Hitler and his bombs. Dad’s bad chest was no doubt due to the fires he’d helped put out during the Blitz and all the nasty stuff he’d breathed in while doing that. The damage was done, but making sure he got some help now instead of ignoring it was vital.

  ‘That’ll be sixpence, please, love.’ The white-coated assistant handed her a paper bag with the bottle inside.

  ‘Thank you. I don’t suppose you’ve got any Uncle Luke’s chest and throat sweets?’ Dora asked. Even cough sweets had been hit by rationing, but her dad liked those and they’d help soothe his throat.

  The assistant rooted under the counter and produced a half-full jar. ‘I can let you have two ounces,’ she said. ‘Are they for you?’

  ‘My dad. He’s got a shocking cough and it won’t go away.’

  ‘Poor fella, I’ll slip an extra couple in for him. Twopence to you, love.’ She twisted the corners of the little white paper bag and handed it to Dora.

  ‘You could try rubbing his chest with goose grease,’ the neighbour who’d followed Dora into the shop chipped in. ‘Always helps my ’Arry’s chest when he starts coughing his guts up. Mind you, it gets all over the sheets and it’s a right job on washing day to get rid of it. I have to boil them three times before the grease comes out. You could try it on a poultice to save the mess, I suppose,’ she added as an afterthought.

  Dora smiled and thanked her neighbour for the tip. She didn’t think Mam would take too kindly to washing greasy sheets; and how on earth could fat taken from cooking a goose help a bad chest? She dropped the cough sweets and linctus into her shopping bag and thanked the assistant.

  ‘Hope your dad gets better soon,’ the shop assistant said as Dora waved her goodbyes.

  Outside she gripped the pram handle and took a deep breath. It had taken some effort to get this far and as she was here she might as well do a bit more shopping. She walked to the haberdasher’s
and bought a spool of white thread, and some pink wool to knit a new cardigan for Carol for when the cooler autumn days began to set in. In the bakery she treated herself and her dad to meat and potato pies, fresh from the oven, and a vanilla cut each. Carol started to grizzle and chew on her fingers. Dora popped her dummy in her mouth and she sucked hard and then spat it out with a look of disgust.

  Dora laughed as the cross little face screwed up in readiness for a screaming session. ‘Soon be home, madam. Anyone would think I starved you.’ She set off at a brisk pace, happy that she’d made a bit more headway today with getting her independence back.

  Dora lit the oven and popped the pies on a plate to keep warm while she fed Carol, and then she and Dad could enjoy their dinner in peace. She placed the vanilla cuts in the fridge. Her dad had always enjoyed them before the war so it would be a nice surprise for him. It was lovely to look after him; she missed being at home with her family and seeing her parents and brother each day. But this was home now and she and Joe were getting back to normal and she loved being a mammy to Carol. She mixed Carol’s feed and sat with her on the sofa while she fed her. It was such a pity she’d missed out on breastfeeding her and the closeness that it was supposed to bring. Carol’s cheeks were pink with the effort of sucking and her eyes rolled in ecstasy. She’d be asleep before much longer. Good – this afternoon Dora planned on doing a few more wedding dress sketches for the next time Agnes popped over. Tomorrow morning, if she felt okay, she might tackle another step towards regaining her independence and get the bus with Carol to visit Palmer’s to see Joanie and her old workmates.