Daughters of Penny Lane

by Ruth Hamilton

  Nellie couldn’t remember being so happy. She looked up. Her girls. Yes, she did remember a happy time with her own babies.

  ‘They should be in bed, Mam,’ Claire repeated several times, but Nellie always wanted just another minute. Janet grinned. As the Brownes’ younger daughter, she just wanted to drink in the sight of her parents together again with no Gran moaning at them.

  ‘I remember feeling like this when you two were little. We used to play for hours – do you remember? Dollies and cots and fairy tales from a big book?’

  They did. ‘Come on, Mam,’ Janet urged. ‘Let’s take them up to bed. Come with us. They each have their own room. Kevin and Claire have the big front room, and Paul and I have the back one. Keith’s next to us and Simon’s next to his mum and dad.’

  ‘And you don’t mind sharing a house?’ Nellie needed to know.

  ‘No. We’re happy.’

  Downstairs, the three men were talking business. ‘I’ll have to speak to Nellie first,’ Martin said, ‘but I think she’ll want to help. Leave it to me. I reckon it’s time for a change, anyway.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘How long does it take three women to put two babies to bed?’ He chuckled while answering his own question. ‘My Nell’s waited a while for this day, lads. She wanted me back, yes, but her girls were always top of the list. Our Claire and our Janet mean the world to her, and her heart was broken when her mother saw them off. I often wonder, you know, how Nellie turned out to be such a good mother herself, because she learned nothing from old Elsie. But Elsie kept my wife squashed, so I had to come back and get rid of the old cow.’

  Paul lowered his tone. ‘They’re coming down. Make sure you have a good think before deciding anything. You’ve only just met us. Kevin and I could be crooks––’

  ‘My girls wouldn’t marry criminals. They’d see through you, son. So would I. We’ll carry on with the shop for now – maybe forever – but we can give you a hand and a few bob for our girls.’ His eyes were moist. ‘And our grandsons and our sons-in-law.’

  Nellie and the two young mothers came in giggling. ‘I’ve been peed on,’ the grandmother announced proudly. ‘With having girls, I wasn’t expecting that, was I? Well, I’ll know in future.’

  Claire giggled. ‘Boys come with a little hosepipe, Mam.’

  Nellie clung to her daughters. ‘We love you. We missed you.’

  Martin grabbed his wife. ‘Out,’ he ordered. ‘We’ve papers to sort at half past five.’

  There were no more nightmares. Elsie, having moved downstairs into Doreen’s old room, didn’t pay for the privilege. Instead, she worked for her room by cooking an evening meal for guests. Annie Meadows bought the ingredients, and Elsie produced a decent dinner and a pudding, which meant that the men didn’t need to go out to eat after work. They paid more, of course, as they were now given two meals each day in residence, and Annie was prepared to allow Elsie a wage, but Elsie had other ideas. A few days after the commencement of this arrangement, she sat with Annie when the clearing away of dishes had been done. Guests ate in a small sitting room and sometimes stayed there to play cards or dominoes, but on Tuesday they had all gone out to see a film. ‘I’ve got a few bob,’ Elsie said without preamble. ‘How about we become joint owners? Then we’ll take equal shares, and we’ll have my cash to smarten the place up a bit.’

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’ an offended Annie wanted to know.

  ‘Not much. You need a bit of colour, some new soft furnishings and the like. Oh no, you keep it lovely and tidy – it’s a credit to you. A couple of cans of paint, some cushions, a few pairs of curtains and it’ll be sorted. I’ll pay half if you take me on as partner. Think about it. I learned the hard way to do nothing in a hurry, believe me.’ She rose from the guests’ chair. ‘I’ll sort the pots while you pick the crumbs up.’ Elsie was wise enough to know when to hold off and leave her victim to think. ‘I’ve a good few hundred in the bank,’ was her parting shot as she made her way to the kitchen.

  Annie thought. She missed their Doreen. She and Doe had worked together for years – they’d even housed important people during the war, folk from the War Office, the Home Office, the Inland Revenue. A chap in charge of moving and hiding major works of art had taken a room, as had the odd merchant sea captain and two sour-faced women from the Red Cross.

  She could never get Doe back. Life without her sister wasn’t good.

  Elsie paused, her hands resting in washing-up water, a small smile arriving on thin, mean lips. Annie was coming back through the hall. It hadn’t taken her long to work out which side her bread was buttered, had it? Elsie had a way of homing in on people’s weaker points in order to take advantage for her own personal gain. Annie Meadows needed a sister, and Elsie Stewart needed security – two birds, one stone, and very little effort.

  Annie cleared her throat. ‘I’ll make an appointment with my solicitor and the accountant, see which is the best way of going about this kind of thing. My sis is only just dead, but I was already thinking about selling up. I enjoy a bit of company, and you’ve been good to me so far, so let’s look into it, eh? Get it all done legal and proper.’

  Elsie agreed.

  ‘Shall I do us some cocoa, love?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Good idea. And I made some little fancies today – they’re in the pantry, that blue tin with roses on the lid.’ She knew the landlady had a sweet tooth.

  While wiping down the draining board, she found herself humming under her breath. Humming? When had she last done that? Perhaps all along she’d needed to get away from her family; they’d done nothing but drag her down for over half a century. She might be seventy-three, but she was as strong as a horse most days, and she’d be useful here; she’d be needed.

  They sat together in the kitchen eating cakes and sipping cocoa.

  ‘You remind me of our Doreen. She was sometimes quiet, like you.’

  ‘Was she?’

  ‘Oh yes. She was deep, a great reader, forever off to the library to change her books. When she died in hospital, A Tale of Two Cities was on her locker top with a bookmark about halfway through. I remember thinking I was glad she’d read it years ago, or she’d never have known how it ended.’

  ‘She would,’ Elsie said, ‘because they can see everything from heaven.’

  ‘I suppose they can.’ Annie wanted to ask Elsie about her family, but she held back the questions, since the would-be partner seemed unwilling to discuss her relatives. Oh, well – it took all sorts to make a world, didn’t it? And the idea of running this place by herself didn’t appeal, so why not have a partnership? But first, she picked up a third fancy cake. All this thinking was making her hungry.

  Alice, of the tit-for-tat school of thought, was measuring Harry Thompson’s front window for new curtains. He, Peter Atherton and Vera’s two boys had helped with the shuffling about of furniture next door, and she was simply returning the favour. Unfortunately – or perhaps the opposite – Tony and Neil Corcoran were keeping their daily vigil by their mother’s hospital bedside, while Alice was keeping half an eye on Harry, who was keeping both eyes on her legs. She didn’t know what to think, what to say or what to do. ‘I’ve got some lining material next door.’ She was gabbling, and she knew it. ‘Now, double the width and evenly spaced pleats would be nice with the cloth you managed to buy, so I’ll just have to take it away and see if we have enough.’

  ‘I haven’t had enough,’ he grumbled softly.

  She found a suitable reply to that. ‘Oh. Do you want a pelmet?’

  ‘Won’t you have to see if there’s enough?’

  She turned to stare at him, lost her footing and fell . . . into his ready arms.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  She was sure, and she said so. No, she wasn’t hurt, though her heart was doing well over fifty miles an hour in a residential area. ‘Put me down, Harry. I’m all right, so put me down.’ He had beautiful eyes that twinkled with
humour. Was he laughing at her?

  ‘I don’t want to put you down – ever.’

  ‘Well, you have to.’

  He placed her in an armchair, but kept her imprisoned by leaning both hands on the two padded armrests and pushing his face forward till their noses touched. ‘Moving that furniture down your bloody stairs nearly crippled me, Alice, and I don’t mean just physically. I can’t bear the thought of anyone being with you, even Dan.’

  Alice relocated her voice. ‘He’s my husband, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘I noticed,’ he snapped, setting her free by removing his arms. ‘I’ve fallen for you, and this hasn’t happened to me since . . .’

  ‘Since Vera?’

  ‘Yes, it was Vera. But I’ve grown out of that one a long time ago.’

  ‘My turn?’

  ‘Your turn.’

  ‘And I’m supposed to be pleased?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘It might help a bit.’

  She didn’t want to want him, but she wanted him nevertheless. It was all very confusing. Thanks to him and a few others, the front room next door was now the main bedroom, and the main bedroom was a sitting plus sewing room and Harry was . . . he was lovely, and she was here about curtains, about returning the favour. ‘We can’t do this,’ she told him as she rose to her feet.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘I don’t know. Whatever you’re thinking of doing, we can’t do it.’

  His bright blue eyes shining, he waded further into the morass. ‘What do you think I’m thinking, Alice?’

  She squared her shoulders. ‘Sex,’ she stated baldly.

  ‘Oh yes, please,’ he breathed. ‘But Tony and Neil will be back soon, so we’d better stay dressed, or folk might talk. When Vera recovers, she’ll have our reputations spread all the way from Southport to Knotty Ash.’

  The maker of clothes, curtains and other soft furnishings pulled herself together. ‘Dan’s my husband in sickness and in health; you’re just my next door neighbour. It doesn’t matter how anybody feels or what anybody wants, Dan Quigley’s my other half. I won’t betray him.’

  ‘Let me know if you change your mind, Alice.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll send you a postcard.’

  ‘Telegram would be quicker.’

  ‘Stop this, Harry.’ She took a step backward. ‘You’re a nice-looking man, and I think you’re great. I once saw a fabulous, big diamond in a jeweller’s window, and that was great, too, but I couldn’t have it.’

  He grinned, displaying beautiful white teeth whose brightness was forgivable due to a small corner missing from a front incisor. Alice pointed to his mouth. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’m a hard kisser. It was a clash of personalities.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘OK, it was the butcher lad’s bike. I pinched it when I was twelve, had an argument with a wall.’ She liked him; he could tell that she liked him.

  ‘That’s more believable. Harry?’

  ‘What?’ He chuckled.

  ‘Are you laughing at me, Mr Thompson?’

  ‘Me? I wouldn’t dare. Don’t want to lose any more bits of tooth, do I?’

  She tutted. ‘I think I’d better go home – don’t you?’

  Harry shook his head gravely. ‘Well, you could go for your toothbrush, I suppose. We’d have to be quiet because of Tony and Neil, but we’d manage, eh?’ He took pity on her. ‘I know, love. It’s just my dream, and I needed to know if you shared it.’

  Alice swallowed hard. ‘I might have, but there’s Dan. He’s been so ill, and if I had an affair it would kill him. Scared to death already, he is, what with one thing and another.’ She felt heat flooding into her cheeks. ‘He’s had to read books about . . . you know, about the personal side of marriage, because we’ve never . . . since the second stroke . . .’ She shrugged. ‘It’s not easy. I feel scared in case it doesn’t work out or if it makes him ill.’ She stopped short. Why was she talking about this to a man? She’d never discussed it even with a woman, so why was she being so ridiculous? ‘Sorry,’ she concluded. ‘I didn’t mean to heap all my worries on you.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. I’m honoured because you’re confiding in me.’

  She thought about her sisters, Nellie and Marie. Nellie wasn’t the sort to talk about private stuff, while Marie was up to her eyes in dogs, cats, llamas and lion cubs. Olga might understand, though. In spite of being sort of royal, Olga could be very down to earth . . .

  ‘Alice?’

  For answer, she simply raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I think I love you,’ he said. ‘It’s not just sex.’

  In that moment, she looked into his eyes and knew that he was speaking his very simple truth. Oh, he was handsome, bright blue irises, a square jaw with a slight cleft at its centre, wilful brown hair that appeared to disobey all laws, including the one about gravity. He was a good man and he loved her. ‘The first time I saw you, you looked like the wreck of the Hesperus, tatty and dirty. Or perhaps you were an overgrown urchin from the Dark Side.’

  ‘I’ve been to the Dark Side on the ferry,’ he said. ‘Birkenhead’s not that bad. I wonder why we call it the Dark Side?’

  ‘No idea. I’m going to take up my curtain material and walk.’

  ‘Spoilsport.’

  In spite of her terror, she giggled. She realized in that moment that although she didn’t fear Harry, she was afraid of herself and for herself. He would probably make a delicious lover and, try as she might, she could no longer look upon Dan in that light. She loved Dan – of course she did – but as a sometimes good companion rather than as a husband. Would he stay in his hospital bed tonight, or would he come into her room? And suddenly, she didn’t know what she wanted from Dan. Why?

  ‘You’re staring,’ Harry accused her.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve a lot on my mind.’

  ‘I know you have. Off you go, then.’

  Her feet stayed where they were, refusing point-blank to do the bidding of her brain. Hands, too, acted daft, losing purchase on yards of cloth and allowing it to tumble to the floor.

  He came and scooped her up like a child, crushing her to his chest. ‘Alice, oh, Alice,’ he groaned. By the time he laid claim to her mouth, she was in no state to oppose him, because she . . . oh, hell, not an otherness, surely? Not now. But it wasn’t an otherness; it was something new, someone new – she was new. She liked this; liked it rather too well. He was tickling her lower lip with his tongue, and she liked that. He was combing her hair with his fingers – she liked that, too. When she stroked his face, he groaned deep in his throat like a contented cat, and she was reminded of the lions.

  Fighting for breath, they ended the long kiss. ‘Bloody hell, Alice.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Harry.’

  ‘What the fu–– what the heck do we do now?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, we don’t do the word you didn’t finish. We need time to think, because I’m not leaving him.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So how will it work?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘No bloody idea, love. But it’s not something we can just switch off, is it?’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’ She stepped away and picked up the cloth.

  ‘Peter, Olga and I are invited to that party at the weekend,’ he said. ‘Dan invited us.’

  ‘Yes, I know. It’s open house – their friends and neighbours will be there.’

  He ran a forefinger down her cheek. ‘Silky skin,’ he whispered.

  ‘Like a cat, Harry. I bite like a cat, too. Ask Dan or my sisters.’

  ‘Passionate, then.’

  She didn’t know about that, so she offered no reply. These riotous feelings were not typical of her – well, not with Dan, anyway. With her husband, it had been romantic and funny, even hilarious at times. But this was very grown-up and real and disturbing. ‘He wants a baby,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Does he now?’

  She nodded. ‘He’s turned the whole thing into a kind of laboratory experiment. I’ve s
een no pipettes or Bunsen burners, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some somewhere.’

  ‘Don’t forget the litmus,’ he whispered into her hair.

  ‘What does that do?’

  ‘Goes red or blue. If it goes red, you tell him to bog off. But if it turns blue, you’re in trouble.’

  She was in trouble here and now, and it was nothing to do with litmus paper. Except for the odd kiss in her early teens, she’d been touched only by Dan until today. Would she be able to face him? She didn’t know, and scarcely had time to care. ‘I’d better go.’ She picked up the curtain material and walked out of the house knowing that she had left a small piece of her heart inside with Harry.

  But Dan was the one she’d fought for, the love of her life whose hand she had held for hours when he was ill in hospital, the man who waited for her now, because they were going to make a baby. Harry was lovely, though she belonged to Dan. Didn’t she?

  Harry shook Tony Corcoran’s shoulder. ‘Come on, lad – wake up.’

  Tony opened his eyes. ‘What?’

  ‘There’s a couple of policemen waiting for you downstairs. Put that old robe of mine on while I get Neil.’

  ‘Is it Mam? Is she dead?’

  ‘No idea, son. Go down while I get your brother.’

  Tony Corcoran got out of bed. ‘I’d rather wait for our Neil. I want us to be together.’

  Something in the boy’s tone sent a shiver up Harry’s spine. ‘What is it, Tony? Was your mother worse?’ He waited. ‘Tony? Answer me. Was Vera showing signs of life, death, or what? Lift your head up – there’s nothing interesting on the floor.’ He waited. ‘All right, then, go and get Neil.’

  After another two minutes, Harry followed Vera’s sleep-tousled boys to the ground floor.

  The policemen stood to attention in front of the fireplace. ‘Tony and Neil Corcoran?’ the older man asked.

  Tony answered. ‘Yes. He’s Neil, but I’m the oldest. Is our mam all right?’