Even the thought of egg and chips had made Amy want to heave, and now, as they walked towards the Grapes, the food sat like a congealed lump in her belly.
Before they reached the pub, Lockie changed his plans.
‘Amy, I have to go and see a man about a horse.’
‘Since when?’ Amy spluttered.
‘Since now. Can you make your own way home?’ Before she had a chance to reply, Lockie was off and running down the road.
*
He found Lily’s mother, sitting alone in her home at Clare Cottages with the lights off. She was asleep in the chair, drunk, and it was not yet seven o’clock. On his way back down the landing, he saw Mrs McGuffy, standing in her front door, smoking a cigarette with three other women. It looked decidedly like they were gossiping. Throngs of children ran around in the yard, screaming and playing. Some were laughing, some were crying and on the landings little girls were carrying around even smaller babies on one hip.
‘You looking for Lily?’ shouted Mrs McGuffy. ‘You won’t find her here, Lockie. She’s not been back, she hasn’t. Sister Therese has been looking after her since little Joe died.’
Lockie walked over towards the women.
‘What about Mrs Lancashire? She’s on her own in there, looks like she’s already had a skinful.’
‘Aye, she has. They took her to St Chad’s as well, tried to dry her out, they did, but she kept escaping. Didn’t want to be there, she said. You know what she’s like for the drink, Lockie. Can’t keep the woman out of the pub. You’d have to lock her up to do that.’
Lockie looked back at the door to Lily’s house. ‘I think it might come to that,’ he said. ‘Either that, or there’ll be another death.’
‘I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen, lad,’ said Mrs McGuffy, her voice full of kindness. ‘I’ll pop in and put her to bed later, just like I did last night and the night before. We look after our own around here. We have to, no bugger else does.’
Lockie doffed his cap and then ran down the stairs. Two minutes later, he was at the door of St Chad’s.
Sister Therese wasted no time in telling Lockie that he could not come in. ‘I will be getting a bad name,’ she joked. ‘Our Lily is having that many visitors.’
Lockie raised his eyebrows. Visitors? Who? He decided it must be the McConaghys, although Amy hadn’t mentioned anything.
‘You can’t see her today, Lockie. But come back on Sunday and I’ll make sure she’s here for you.’ And without another word, Sister Therese closed the door.
Sunday! Lockie paced up and down anxiously. He was desperate to see her. How could he wait that long?
Leaning against the moss-covered wall of the convent, he rolled himself a cigarette and thought about Lily. He thought about everything she’d been through. How she never complained, always put those she cared about first. Then he thought about Amy. He stubbed out his cigarette. He knew exactly what he had to do now.
34
Dessie stood on the inside of his front door and kissed Emily. He was heading off to the mafia meeting at Biddy’s house.
‘I feel like a right fraud,’ he said as, taking a deep breath, he wrapped his arms around her. ‘Something like this isn’t supposed to happen to a normal fella like me from the Dock Road.’
Emily’s arms encircled his waist and she buried her face in his chest. She loved the way he smelt. The closeness, the mustiness, the maleness. She had grieved for her family for so long, had given all of her time to Alf and hadn’t taken seriously the attention of any man, until now.
The wool of his Fair Isle tank-top began to itch her face as she pulled away and looked up at him. Although the evening was warm, Dessie would never dream of stepping outdoors in his shirt sleeves alone.
‘So, how do I get out of here then?’ she asked with a grin. ‘Will I hear the back gate bang?’
She had arrived under the cover of darkness the previous evening and they had spent the day indoors, revelling in the time and space in which to enjoy each other’s company.
‘Now, I have thought about that one long and hard,’ said Dessie, ‘and I have a plan.’
‘That sounds intriguing.’ Emily raised her face for yet another kiss. ‘Are you going to share this plan with me?’
‘I’m going to have to. Otherwise you’ll be incarcerated here for ever. I suggest, my beautiful angel,’ Dessie kissed Emily again, ‘that we come clean and we go to the meeting at Biddy’s house together. I mean, why are we even hiding? Either that or you exit the back way, once you hear Hattie next door leave for the bingo.’
Emily stood back and took both of his hands in hers. ‘I think the Hattie to the bingo option, because we don’t want to be gossiped about, do we? We don’t know what is going to happen.’
A frown crossed Dessie’s face. ‘I thought you would jump at the chance for us not to have to sneak around. All this cloak-and-dagger stuff, it’s hardly normal, is it?’
‘I know, Dessie, but we work in the same place and will probably be working together for a long time. It’s complicated, isn’t it. We don’t know what is going to happen to us.’
Dessie took a long deep breath and as he did so he pushed back a tendril of her hair that had fallen across her forehead. He wanted to see all of her face. He wasn’t sure if Emily was batting him away or if what she was saying made complete sense. Everything she had said was correct; it was true, but...
He looked down at her. Beautiful, innocent eyes and the face of a woman who should by now be a mother. If that was ever to happen for Emily, it would have to be soon. He had nicknamed her his angel because she was just that, and he was afraid that, like an angel, she would one day fly away and leave him to the loneliness and sadness of his former life.
‘I find myself trying to imagine what life was like before you, and I just can’t,’ he said. ‘And yet you’ve only been in my life for the shortest time. I was lonely. My bed was always neat and tidy, but it was cold. I know these things now, but I wasn’t really aware of them before.’
‘Me too,’ said Emily. ‘I’ve spent so much of my life sleeping alone that I thought it would be impossible to actually sleep with someone. No one told me that what happens is you fall asleep in someone’s arms last thing at night and wake up in them the next morning. I should have read more books. I might have made more of an effort to meet a nice man; to marry, even. I was clueless, Dessie. So wrapped up in my love of nursing and poor Alf, I forgot about me.’
Dessie pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. He allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if he woke tomorrow morning and this had all been a dream. The thought filled him with horror. He revelled in Emily’s company. Their conversation, the small talk, the lovemaking. The waking up with her in his arms.
‘Emily, we aren’t a courting couple. We are a couple who have made love, well, I’ve lost count of the number of times.’
‘More than twenty,’ Emily chirped.
Dessie roared with laughter. ‘Are you really counting?’
Emily blushed and nodded. He blushed too. How could he explain that he simply just couldn’t get enough of her? That he was hungry to make up for the time he had lost.
He didn’t even think about what he was about to say, the words just fell out of his mouth. They didn’t need thought or agonizing consideration. He loved her. It was as easy as that. The most natural thing in the world to say and, yes, to do. He would do it tomorrow if he could.
‘It’s so wrong,’ said Emily. ‘But I can’t help myself.’
He only half heard her words as an impulsive thought ran through his brain. He knew immediately that it was absolutely the right thing to do, and he couldn’t help himself, he just blurted it out.
‘Emily, will you marry me? As quickly as possible, so we can stop hiding and tell the world right away.’
Emily felt her heart flip. The tears rushed unbidden to her eyes, faster than she could stop them. She was swamped with an immediate sense of elation. And
then it left her, as quickly as it had arrived.
‘Oh no,’ she said as a look of desolation crossed her face.
‘Oh no, what?’ Dessie laughed. ‘That’s not my answer, is it?’
Emily shook her head. She loved Dessie and she already knew that. She couldn’t even remember life without him, but there was one glaring and obvious fact that she had momentarily forgotten. St Angelus did not allow married nurses and if she said yes, her career would be over. She would not see her nurses through to the end. Her life’s work would be finished. Her school of nursing, her office, her nurses, Biddy. The framework of her life would disappear overnight.
She sobbed. ‘Dessie, I can’t. I can’t marry you. I don’t know how. I just can’t do it.’
*
Biddy shrieked at the sight of her cat running out of the kitchen with a salmon-paste sandwich in his mouth.
‘You bleedin’ little thief,’ she shouted as she ran after him, grabbing the mop as she passed the back door. She raced across the back yard, brandishing it as she went and missing Madge and Elsie by a whisker.
‘Oh, put that filthy thing down, Biddy, you nearly hit the sponge cake.’
Branna was following close behind and came through the back gate before Elsie had a chance to close it. ‘Are we all here then?’ she asked, looking down the entry behind her.
‘No, Dessie and Sister Haycock have to arrive yet,’ said Biddy.
‘Ah, well, I’m guessing they will only be along if they can drag themselves out of the bed for long enough.’
Biddy had placed the mop against the yard wall and taken the sponge cake out of Elsie’s hands. Now she wished she hadn’t as she almost dropped it. ‘What bed? Whose? What are you talking about? Why would you say a thing like that?’ she shrieked.
‘Because it’s true,’ Branna replied. ‘Bryan had to drop the time sheets at Dessie’s house and he saw her. She didn’t know he saw her though. Bryan took the sheets to the back door and Dessie was acting a bit strange, so he hovered around to see what was going on and not even a minute later they were both there, in the kitchen, kissing. Hattie Lloyd says there’s been some funny noises coming from the bedroom too.’
‘Well, if a single word of any of that is true, we will know it the minute he arrives. If Dessie is getting his leg over, he’ll be like the cat who’s found the cream, the lucky bugger,’ said Madge.
‘Oh, what is wrong with all of you? You are sex mad, you lot. First Hattie spreading rumours and now you, Branna. Is poor Sister Haycock not entitled to a private life? You are a gang of witches, all of you.’
They had shuffled into the kitchen through the back door, Madge’s heels wobbling on the cobbles of the yard and Branna’s arms folded in indignation. Elsie was in the process of carefully untying her headscarf from over her tightly curled hair when Dessie walked in.
‘Evening, ladies,’ he said in exactly the same way he always did.
As he turned his back on the group to hang his jacket on the nail protruding from the back of Biddy’s kitchen door, Biddy silently mouthed, ‘Told you so,’ to a baffled-looking Branna.
Branna pulled back a chair and sat down. ‘Does anyone know if Sister Haycock is joining us?’ she asked with as much nonchalance as she could muster.
Dessie grabbed the chair next to her and, swinging it around, straddled his legs across the seat cowboy-style and folded his arms across the top. He studied the marks etched into the backs of his hands and didn’t say a word.
Silence filled the room as, without any awareness that they were doing so, the four ladies stared at Dessie.
‘Lovely cake. Can I have a slice?’ asked Dessie, leaning forward and turning his gaze on the sugar drizzle. ‘I’ve got such a massive appetite, I could eat the ragman’s donkey.’
Biddy cut him a slice and slipped the plate across the table towards him. ‘I’ll make the tea. Would you like a cup, Dessie?’
‘I would,’ said Dessie. ‘I’m dying of thirst. Am I being greedy if I ask for another slice of that cake? Even though it looks almost too good to eat.’
Elsie swelled with pride. ‘You eat as much as you want, Dessie, go on. I’m watching me figure.’
‘Hungry, are you, Dessie?’ asked Madge.
‘I am that,’ said Dessie, as, in an ungentlemanly way, he licked the back of his fork.
While Dessie tucked in, a quartet of quizzical eyebrows were raised. Confused looks darted between the ladies as tea was poured and sugar stirred. Branna mouthed to Biddy, ‘I’m bloody right.’
The day was fading and the light in the kitchen had dimmed. Biddy flicked the switch on as she walked past with the kettle. The stark lone light bulb was above Dessie’s head. All the better to interrogate him by, thought Madge, who until now had been silent. If there was anything going on between Dessie and Sister Haycock, Biddy would get to the bottom of it, that much Madge knew.
Biddy sat down opposite Dessie and cut him another slice of cake. It was Elsie’s cake, but it was Biddy’s kitchen. Rules were rules. Biddy was a feeder. Dessie was an eater. They worked well together.
‘So, what have you been up to on your day off?’ she asked him pointedly.
Elsie poured the tea. She was allowed to do that. In the background, the kettle simmered on a low heat as the whistle struggled to burst into song. The clock on the wall ticked down the seconds while the women waited for Dessie’s reply. The kettle sang an introduction, the icon of the Holy Mother hanging on the wall strained to hear, and they all waited while he swallowed.
‘This and that,’ he said before he shovelled in another mouthful. ‘Out and about, you know.’
‘Hattie Lloyd says she’s hardly seen you move beyond the front door recently. Says you’ve had your curtains closed a lot. She’s worried about you. Not been feeling well then, Dessie?’
‘She said she’s heard a lot of banging on the bedroom wall,’ Branna blurted out.
Biddy felt a strong inclination to pick up the teapot and pour it over Branna’s head.
Madge only just about suppressed her smile, for fear of Biddy biting her head off.
‘I’m decorating the bedroom,’ said Dessie. ‘Stripping the old wallpaper off. I’m done with peonies on the walls.’
Not one of them failed to notice that Dessie was now bright red.
You’re stripping something, but it’s not the walls, thought Madge.
Dessie forked another portion of cake into his mouth quickly, before anyone else could ask him another question.
Madge, who thought she had the most to say at the meeting and was now getting twitchy, broke the silence first. She could tell they were not going to get anything out of Dessie, so it was a waste of time trying.
‘Can we carry on with the meeting now?’ she said. ‘I have some very important information, ladies.’
Dessie threw her an appreciative look. She gave him the faintest smile back. Her meaning was clear: your secret is safe with me, Dessie.
Dessie’s furtive movements and new-found appetite were all but forgotten as chair legs scraped, bottoms shuffled and three voices chimed in tandem, ‘What? What have you got?’
‘Well, now, let me tell you.’ Madge extracted her notes from her bag. ‘There have been some interesting telephone conversations between our Miss Van Gilder and her son.’
‘Her son?’ The loud and sudden shout could be heard as far as the entry. Even the cat, now perched on the windowsill, stood and arched its back in astonishment.
Madge grinned from ear to ear. She was enjoying her moment. ‘Yes, her son. And he isn’t just her son, he is also the owner of the Acme cleaning agency. Does that ring any bells?’
‘That’s the man who’s been on the wards with a clipboard and a pen, getting in everyone’s way,’ said Branna.
‘That’s right, Branna, and whatever the two of them are planning, she is taking twenty per cent. It’s all about money. She was as dragon-like with him on the phone as she is with everyone else.’
‘Oh m
y giddy aunt,’ said Branna. ‘Would you credit it. The woman’s a thief.’
‘No, no, surely not. I can’t believe she would do anything illegal,’ said Elsie. ‘You couldn’t meet a woman more proper, like. She has a son?’ Her brow furrowed in disbelief.
‘I can hardly believe this is true. What do you think, Dessie?’ asked Branna.
Dessie had put down his cake and was about to reply when Madge added, ‘And there’s more.’
‘Wait!’ screeched Elsie, keen to savour the moment. ‘Let’s have top-ups. We don’t want no one jumping up and down now when we all need to concentrate. There is good news here and a plan to be made, just wait.’
Elsie whacked Biddy’s gas up full, while Branna busied about taking the steri milk down from the press Biddy had found in the flea market and now loved. It reminded her of home and she would never let it go, no matter how many new-fangled kitchen appliances came on to the market.
‘Can I use fresh leaves, Biddy?’ asked Elsie.
‘I think the occasion demands it, don’t you?’
Elsie washed the pot out in the kitchen, humming to herself as the tap ran. When she looked up, the back gate opened and a nervous-looking Emily Haycock stepped into the yard from the entry. Elsie grinned her toothless best effort and waved furiously. A hand raised in response.
‘Biddy, get another cup down, Sister Haycock is here.’
Dessie picked up his almost empty cup and pretended to drink. He needn’t have worried. The others were more interested in the fact that Emily was about to walk through the door and ruin Madge’s news.
Biddy joined Elsie at the sink and rinsed out a cup. ‘See, I told you all that was nonsense. If there was anything going on, she wouldn’t be turning up here now, would she?’
‘Sister Haycock, here, come and sit down.’ Branna stood and pulled over a seat from under the window to squash into the now almost crowded table. She threw a look towards Dessie, who appeared to be drinking from an empty cup. It wasn’t like him not to be a true gentleman. He would normally have broken his leg trying to be the first to fetch a chair, for any of them. It was his way.
The Children of Lovely Lane Page 41
