The Children of Lovely Lane

by Nadine Dorries

  Biddy looked up from the piece of paper. ‘Cathy’s sister finishes by saying that we should be on the lookout because Miss Van Gilder has a nasty temper.’

  She folded the letter with such care, it could have been made from gold leaf, then placed it back into the warmth of her apron pocket. Inflated by her moment of huge importance, she glanced around the table and said, ‘Well then, what do you suppose we do about that?’

  She addressed the question to them all and was met by silence as they absorbed the shattering news. Not only was Miss Van Gilder threatening their jobs, she might have been in trouble with the law.

  ‘Well, I don’t know. It tells us that if we resist her changes, that might bring out the worst in her, but it also tells us that our assistant matron is potentially corrupt.’ This was Dessie, who spoke his thoughts out loud.

  ‘I’m going to have to start listening in on all her conversations,’ said Madge. ‘Maybe I can find out what really happened at her other hospital. I’ve only ever listened to the odd one so far. It’s getting so busy on the switchboard, feels like everyone in Liverpool is buying a phone. It’s amazing, with them being so expensive and all. Even I don’t have one. The waiting list is more than six months.’

  ‘Why would you want one?’ asked Branna. ‘You’re on a phone all day long.’

  ‘What you find out is going to be very important, Madge,’ said Biddy. ‘You, Elsie, you are on the inside in Matron’s rooms. You are going to have to up your efforts a bit. And, Sister Haycock, her room is next door to yours.’ She raised her eyebrows at Emily.

  ‘What?’ Emily looked around the table, slightly confused.

  ‘Well, you can get into her room, can’t you?’

  ‘Biddy!’ Emily’s voice was almost a screech. ‘You want me to snoop around her room? I can’t do that. I am the director of nurse training.’ She glanced at the others, hoping that Madge or Dessie would agree with her.

  ‘It’s for the good of the hospital,’ said Dessie quietly. ‘And for all the women who lost their men in the war and who need the cleaning jobs for themselves and the portering jobs for their young sons. If Miss Van Gilder gets her way, what will happen to the likes of Bryan and Tommy?’

  ‘Or my son-in-law, Jake,’ Elsie added.

  Emily knew at that moment that there was no way out. She was being sent on a spying mission. She nodded her head. ‘I will then, but only when I know the coast is clear and I am safe.’

  Biddy smiled and refilled the glasses. ‘There you go then. I’m guessing it is just a matter of time until we have Miss Van Gilder beat and this hospital gets back to normal. In the meantime, I think we all need to start standing up to Miss Van Gilder. You know what they say about bullies, they always back down. And that woman, she is a bully.’

  ‘I will drink to that,’ said Dessie.

  *

  Almost an hour later and not a little tipsy, Emily was walking back to the hospital accompanied by Dessie. The night sky was the colour of blue ink and shot through with stars. To their left, the river washed gently against the bank. Apart from the odd tram, there was little noise around them. Liverpool was tucked up in its lazy Sunday-night bed, preparing for the morning ahead.

  Dessie walked alongside Emily and breathed in deeply. She smelt of woman and gentleness and promise. It was not a scent he was used to. He felt as if his head would burst. Thoughts that had lain dormant for years were racing around his brain, and he had drunk more Guinness than usual, which had loosened his tongue. On the end of a deep breath, the words just jumped straight out of his mouth. ‘So, have you never wanted to marry then?’

  Immediately he said it, a look of surprise crossed his face. It was something he’d been wondering, but he hadn’t meant to say it. It was the Guinness talking.

  Emily pulled her camel coat around her, more for comfort than warmth. The air was gentle, the breeze carrying a promise of warmer days ahead. ‘Oh, well, it’s not choice really, Dessie. I have my stepfather Alf to look after and, you know, after the war life was a bit crazy for a while.’

  Dessie did know. Everyone knew about the bomb that had flattened George Street and killed Emily’s entire family. ‘I know about that,’ he said. ‘Have you heard? There’s talk that when they rebuild that road, they might erect a plaque with the names of those who died, in their honour.’

  He glanced sideways as they passed a street light and saw the tears welling in her eyes. He understood. He’d lost his wife in the war, but he hadn’t shed a tear since the day he’d heard where his wife was when she died. Down on the docks. There was only ever one reason why a woman was down on the docks at night.

  He had married his wife in haste; she’d been pregnant, or so he’d thought. But that had turned out to be a lie too. She was like that, he discovered. A woman who lived in a fantasy world. All Dessie had been to her was a house and an income, one she spent faster than he could bring it home. It seemed that all the while he was away fighting, she had spent the money too fast and become bored. He held no ill-feeling towards her. The war had taught him to be generous-spirited. He had lost too many friends. Too many of his men. His wife had paid a terrible price and he still prayed for her soul at Mass, aware that he was the only living person in the world who would. But tears? No, there were no tears.

  He took Emily’s hand and slipped it through his arm. Then, patting the top of her hand, he said, ‘There, there, don’t fret. It must be the most awful thing. No one can imagine what that was like.’

  Emily sniffed. ‘I’m sorry. I know you lost your wife on the same night. I saw the ship go up...’ She stopped. She had no idea what Dessie knew. She only knew what Biddy had told her.

  ‘Aye, well, we have something in common then, don’t we. Look up into that sky...’

  Emily lifted her head and followed Dessie’s gaze.

  ‘There they all are, every one of them. Your little brothers, your mam. Looking down on you, they are, smiling at you. No, I’m wrong. I can see them, they are waving their fists at you, saying, “Be happy, Emily, so that we can twinkle away with the others.”’

  A sob caught in Emily’s throat. For a brief moment, the fanciful notion that her mother and brothers could see her took her breath away and she was flooded with a feeling of desperate loneliness. She missed them. She missed them so much. It was permanently with her. The boys who in her mind would forever be boys. She carried them around with her every day. A dull ache between her ribs that never let up.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Dessie, his face creased with concern. ‘I shouldn’t have said that, it was bloody thoughtless of me.’

  ‘No, not at all,’ said Emily as she extracted a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her eyes. ‘It’s a lovely thought that they could be stars, looking down on me. It’s not something I’ve ever imagined, but do you know what, Dessie, I might take some comfort from it. Look at all those stars, each one of them could be a loved one. A very loved one.’

  She thrust her hands deep into her pockets and, taking a deep breath, craned her neck backwards and looked up at the sky. She turned slowly. The light from the river reflected off her face and, standing beneath the twinkling stars, she looked stunningly beautiful. As she leant backwards, she lost her balance slightly and Dessie reached out to grab her.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, and giggled, her mood restored. ‘I had too much sherry.’

  Dessie didn’t reply. He couldn’t. He was so taken with her beauty and the emotion of the moment. He could only say her name. ‘Emily.’

  ‘Yes?’ She turned to look at him, a slightly quizzical expression on her face.

  He hadn’t meant to, he was only thinking it. What would it be like? How soft would her lips be under his? How sweet would she taste? But he did it. He kissed her. He reached out his arms and, folding her into them, he kissed her.

  At first she stiffened slightly and Dessie, horrified he had made a terrible faux pas, felt his own back become ramrod straight. But then she leant against him. She
melted into his arms, her lips gave way to his, he heard a slight moan and she swayed, lost. Dessie stopped thinking. He kissed her in a way he couldn’t remember having kissed any woman before. His hands ran through her hair and hers ran across his back. This was not an ordinary kiss. Dessie knew this was the beginning of something he could only just dare to imagine; he knew that, from this moment on, Emily would be his.

  He pulled her back gently and, holding her arms, looked into her half-closed eyes.

  She opened them wide. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked with an almost cheeky edge to her voice.

  Dessie had never heard her speak like that before and, unbeknown to him, neither had Emily.

  ‘I just want to make sure that you are OK with this. I don’t want you to tell me tomorrow it was all a big mistake.’

  Emily smiled and pulled him towards her. ‘Dessie, you know that “be happy” thing you were talking about a minute ago, when you were pointing out the stars? I think it’s just happened.’ She tilted her head and grinned up at him.

  He was about to kiss her again; he wanted more. He wanted Emily in his bed tonight and for ever more. There was no other woman he had even felt attracted to since the war had ended and yet this one was turning his mind upside down.

  ‘Well, that’s a relief then,’ he said as he pulled her towards him and kissed her again, this time with even more passion. I can wait, he thought. Not for long, but I can wait. Tonight I must get her back to the hospital.

  If it was possible, the second kiss was better than the first. Dessie lost himself. He placed his hands inside her coat and felt the warmth of her skin as his fingers found a gap between the waist of her skirt and her top. His hand brushed against the mound of her breast and he felt her slightly, almost imperceptibly, push herself into his hand. A tug blew on the river, bringing him back to his senses.

  ‘We need to get you home,’ he said.

  Her answer came without a second’s hesitation. ‘Dessie, I don’t have a home, can we can go to your house instead?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, his voice thick and choked with emotion. ‘I’m not sure I can behave like a gentleman if we do that.’

  ‘Good,’ she answered. And before he could say another word, she kissed him again.

  26

  On Monday, Amy had failed to turn up for work for the third time in two weeks.

  ‘A right grumpy madam, she’s been,’ Lily heard Mrs McConaghy say as her brother-in-law stood with his cap in his hand, explaining her absence.

  ‘You and me, Jim, all of us, we are getting too old for this. Have you taken her to the doctor’s?’

  ‘I’ve tried. I said I’d call in and get her an appointment. She refuses to go anywhere near the doctor’s.’

  ‘Well, he’s that old and decrepit, I’d refuse to go to him myself. ’Tis woman’s troubles.’ Mrs McConaghy lowered her voice to whisper this gem. ‘Either way, she has to get sorted. Another year from now and Amy will need to start taking over the reins in this office. I’m not getting any younger and I can’t go on paying Lily for ever. I’m finding those front steps harder and harder each day and I daren’t go down on to the plant floor, for fear I might not get up again. As for the heat from the furnace, to think, I used to pop down for a warm. Too fierce altogether these days.’

  She furtively checked to see if Lily was listening. She was.

  Bile rose in Lily’s throat as she took a deep breath to calm her panic and anger. She had heard every word. Her time at the plant was almost up. They had put on her for years, using her to cover for their mistakes and inadequacies and to salve their guilty consciences. She had run the business almost singlehandedly and it operated like clockwork too. For years, every ledger, draft and payment and all of the wages had been calculated by Lily and written in her own hand. On the occasional week when she had a holiday, she still came in on the Friday to complete the end-of-week accounts and wages. But all along, all they wanted to do was replace her with their own niece and heir. Lily mused on this until the figures began to blur before her eyes. ‘I can’t keep on paying Lily for ever,’ Mrs McConaghy had said and the words beat against her brain.

  Amy finally returned to the plant on the Wednesday.

  ‘You look as white as the nets, Amy,’ Lily said as she walked through the office door just before the afternoon tea break. She was of course referring to the nets she’d seen Mrs McGuffy hanging in the summer breeze and not the nets hanging in their windows, which she had washed herself on Saturday but had been too embarrassed to hang out to dry, they had been so grey. ‘Is your tummy better now?’

  ‘No, I feel desperate. Where is she?’ Amy looked around the office. There was no sign of Mrs McConaghy.

  ‘She’s popped to the new café on the Dock Road to meet one of her friends from church. Why? Does she not know you’re coming in?’

  ‘No, Lily, she doesn’t. I’d love a cup of tea, please. Have we any biscuits?’

  Two minutes later, Lily placed a cup of scalding tea and a plate of biscuits down in front of Amy.

  ‘I’m eating so many biscuits just now,’ she said. ‘Especially in the mornings. Can’t move without them first thing.’

  ‘Well, that’s a funny cure for a tummy bug, Amy. Are you sure you shouldn’t be having a bottle of something from the chemist’s?’

  ‘There is no bottle to deal with what I have, Lily. There’s no making it better, either, not unless I want to butcher myself.’ She sighed, then looked Lily full in the face. ‘I’ve had no monthly for weeks and weeks now. It hasn’t come. I’m pregnant.’

  Lily shot up from her chair, though she’d only just sat back down. ‘Oh God, what are you going to do? Was it that man who came to the office? Does he know? Do your parents know? He will have to listen to you now.’

  It was a simple observation, but it made Amy melt into a flood of tears. ‘That was why I went to see him. I guessed. I knew. I wanted him to know. I waited outside his house again last night so I could see him.’

  Lily pulled her handkerchief out of the sleeve of her cardigan and handed it to Amy. ‘There you go. Dry your eyes,’ she said. She looked though the door towards the steps leading down to the processing plant. Mr McConaghy was on the floor, as was Amy’s father. They would be looking for their tea soon, but Lily didn’t feel that she could leave Amy.

  ‘He hit me.’ Amy began to wail and this alarmed Lily. ‘He said he’d told me not to go anywhere near his house and that he’d meant it. He doesn’t give a damn. He said he’ll say he’s never even met me.’

  Amy hadn’t answered the second part of Lily’s question, but she didn’t need to. It was obvious from the way she was unburdening herself that Lily was the first to know. Lily felt sorry for her. Despite all the money and support she had at home, despite the processing plant inheritance that awaited her and all the clothes and make-up, when it came to it, when she was truly desperate, the only person she could talk to and trust was Lily, the charity girl in the office. The girl who had nothing. Lily, from whom Amy had stolen Lockie, her only friend.

  Lily laid her hand on Amy’s shoulder. She had no answer. All she could do was listen and it seemed that, at this moment in time, Amy needed that more than anything.

  ‘Look.’ Amy tilted her head back and Lily could see that on either side of her throat were red marks. Marks that looked like fingerprints.

  Lily knew those marks, she had seen them herself. In the days before her stepfather had left them all to struggle on without his wage, and before Lockie had told him to back off, he had often lunged at Lily and grabbed her throat when he was mad for a drink.

  ‘Have you seen Lockie?’ asked Amy as she blew her nose.

  ‘No, why, haven’t you?’ said Lily, startled.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen him, but I’m going to have to. My only chance is to tell him it’s his,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t know, of course. Let’s hope he’s the marrying kind, eh, Lily?’

  Lily felt the air rush from her body as she look
ed into Amy’s eyes, glistening with intent, still wet from her tears. She made to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. She was sure she couldn’t have heard that right. That Amy was about to trick Lockie into marrying her? No, that couldn’t be right.

  ‘But how can you do that if it isn’t his?’ she asked. Amy might have stolen her friend to flirt and play around with, she had almost certainly kissed him, but Lily was convinced that Lockie wouldn’t have gone any further with a woman he wasn’t married to. Lockie was too careful. He lived his life according to a plan and Lily was quite sure that making Amy pregnant would never have been a part of Lockie’s plan. She felt her back stiffen involuntarily. She pulled away and removed her hand from Amy’s back.

  ‘Because, Lily, I trapped him. It was easy enough to get him to play along. I made sure he was seen leaving the pub with me and it did happen. I already knew by then. In my heart, I knew.’

  She looked up at Lily, aware that whatever sympathy there had been had left the room. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Lily! It was only the once. It could have been his. It’s only a few weeks’ difference. He will never know.’

  Lily shook her head. I can’t have heard her right, she thought. But she knew she had. And she knew what it meant. Lockie was about to be tricked into fathering the baby of another man.

  The bell above the door jangled and they both looked up to see Mrs McConaghy arriving.

  ‘Amy, Amy, are you well?’ she trilled as she rushed over. ‘Would you look at the state of you. What devotion to work you have. Would you look at her, Lily! She looks as though she’s at death’s door and she still turns up for work. You need to take note, Lily.’

  The blood shot to Lily’s cheeks. She had never once had a day off sick. She hadn’t even taken time off when Joe was ill. She’d come in late that one morning when she’d been at the hospital, but that was all. How dare Mrs McConaghy? And if she knew what Lily knew...