Daughters of Penny Lane

by Ruth Hamilton

  ‘It’s done.’

  ‘Quick worker, aren’t you?’

  ‘Different time zone. In fact, we go beyond time to a new dimension.’

  She had to ask. ‘What’s He like?’

  Callum chuckled. ‘God is hard to describe in terms of the five senses awarded to humans. Imagine a white light so bright that your eyes would need shielding. Or music so beautiful that it fills your very soul until it brims with joy. He is faith, hope and love and He’s everywhere. He loves you, too. In fact, He loves everyone, sinners as well.’

  Well, that was good to know. ‘Callum?’

  He seemed to be keeping quiet; was he up to mischief somewhere? She smiled, remembering his magic tricks. ‘Callum?’

  ‘Shut up, I’m praying.’

  Alice shrugged. ‘Typical,’ she snapped, picking up her pen. ‘Now, where was I?’

  Transfixed almost to the hem of paralysis, Elsie scanned the letter. It was like looking at an old religious tract, so perfect was the calligraphy. What the hell could she do?

  She found her feet and began to pace about. The letter told her thou shalt not kill, though that was the only biblical reference. Nevertheless, it read like something delivered from a pulpit on a Sunday morning, possibly by a hellfire preacher from one of the more basic branches of Christianity.

  What the hell should she do?

  A cup of tea. Yes, a hot drink might wake up her dead brain. As she set the kettle to boil, she noticed that her hands had begun to tremble uncontrollably. What was his name? How could she stop him? He had half the money now, and expected the rest after . . . afterwards. ‘Ian,’ she said aloud. His nickname was Lofty, because he was well over six feet in height. She must go down Brighton Road and wait for him to emerge from that shabby house.

  Another thought crashed into her skull. The men in that place weren’t allowed out during the hours of darkness, so Lofty would have primed them to cover for him while he did the job. He might have told them details. The tea was still almost boiling, yet she drank it quickly. Lofty must be found soon, and she dressed hastily in the first garments that came to hand. She was almost out of the house before noticing that she wore one black shoe and one brown.

  After rectifying the situation, she sat for a few minutes. The suspicion that she was being manipulated hovered at the front of her mind. But what might she do about that? Must she go to the police station and show a letter that accused her of plotting an arson attack? God, no.

  Someone must have spilled the beans. Who knew? Only the men in the halfway house . . . Yet Elsie felt sure that this beautifully written missive had been penned by an educated person. But clever criminals did exist, so she had better be on her way. Like the original Gunpowder Plot, this one must be foiled. It had seemed almost foolproof, just one more fire among thousands throughout a country that celebrated the failure of the original treason.

  ‘Pull yourself together, Elsie. You haven’t time to be sitting here.’ Wearing shoes that matched, heavy coat, woollen hat, warm gloves and scarf, she set out with one thought in mind – she must save herself.

  The SSS was formed by Marie and Alice, who had put their heads together a few days after Vera’s wedding. It was all well and good for male lunatics to make a ‘final’ break for it on a stag night, but women? Shopping, cleaning and laundry came higher on the list. They were also nursemaids, cooks, first-aiders, teachers and general dogsbodies. It was time to have a little fun, wasn’t it?

  Their beloved partners, having achieved a mess on the stag night, continued to make a break for freedom once or twice a week. They had poker nights, darts matches, or we’re-just-going-for-a-pint evenings. So retaliation was declared, and the Seven Sisters Society was formed. Since four of the original Stewart girls were no longer available, their places would be taken by Olga, Vera, and Nellie’s two daughters.

  The two founding members of the women’s party decided to have the SSS meetings at Marie’s house, which was the largest by far. They chose Thursday evenings, since that was the day Nigel did an evening shift at the zoo, performing small operations and inoculations while the zoo was closed. He promised to go straight upstairs on his return, as he wished not to interrupt his wife’s social arrangements.

  On the first occasion, they all contributed food and drink. Having never visited a public house or a restaurant unless on the arm of a man, each woman was happier in a domestic setting. This inaugural meeting was happening because they needed to form a plan. ‘Being in each other’s houses will still be giving in,’ Alice said. ‘As soon as a baby cries or a button drops off a shirt, we’d be on duty. So we stick to the rule that on the third Thursday of each month, the husbands are housewives.’

  Marie had something to say. ‘Visit any city and see the truth – men-only clubs,’ she announced. ‘Especially in London, where there are places where women are only let in to clean. We may have the vote, but many of us are still just lackeys. One day, we should form a women-only club in Liverpool. Isn’t it time? No men allowed except to perform menial tasks like decorating.’

  ‘I know a good plumber,’ Alice said.

  Nellie laughed. ‘How well do you know him, love?’

  Alice blushed to the roots of her hair, and her jaw dropped.

  Everyone present knew that Nellie seldom noticed anything beyond her own immediate family of husband, two daughters and two grandsons; if Nellie had spotted the attraction between Alice and Harry, what about the rest?

  Claire directed a shushing sound at her mother. Most here had seen it – the stolen glances, the don’t-look-at-me games, those attempts to avoid standing or walking too closely to each other. Auntie Alice would never cheat on Uncle Dan – Claire was almost sure of that. She glared at her mother. Nellie Browne often tripped over her own tongue, since she didn’t always think before speaking. When Alice left to visit the bathroom, Claire spoke. ‘Don’t you dare do that to her again, Mam. Didn’t you know she’s carrying twins? Her doctor found two heartbeats.’

  Nellie burst into tears.

  ‘Stop that before you start,’ Marie snapped. ‘See? This is why we have to grab some freedom, but that freedom will be worth nothing if we start getting personal. I have no children and that makes me sad, but who births them? Women do. Who stays at home and rears them, feeds them, cleans their bums? Who’s their first teacher? No matter how good a job he has, remember that your husband was taught by a woman how to use cutlery, fasten shoes and wipe his backside.’

  ‘But not all three simultaneously,’ Vera said, and was bemused by the ensuing laughter.

  Janet spoke up. ‘In our case, Mam does the baby-minding while we keep the businesses going, but what you say is right. Women do a lot.’

  ‘So we stick together. Nellie, dry your eyes,’ Marie said. She waited until the youngest sister reappeared. ‘Right. We can’t buy a club for women, but we can use my house once a month. There are seven of us. That’s enough.’

  ‘We’ll decide menus and who brings what,’ Alice added, now cool as the proverbial cucumber. ‘You lot might have wine and spirits, but I can have just a small Guinness. Iron for the babies.’ She rose to her feet again.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ Vera asked.

  Alice left the room again after mumbling something about two babies playing football with her bladder.

  Marie followed her. ‘What’s up?’ she asked. ‘Did Nellie upset you?’

  ‘No comment. Muth’s just walked past with a giant of a man. I need a few minutes on my own, that’s all.’ She left Marie and climbed the stairs to the posher bathroom. ‘Callum?’ she whispered. ‘Is it fixed?’ He was a pest. When needed, he was absent; when unwelcome, he inevitably turned up.

  ‘I know you can hear me.’ Her tone was accusatory.

  ‘She’s on her own now,’ he said. ‘Hiding behind the oak on the left, she is. Seeing you all together will annoy her.’

  Alice sighed heavily. ‘No fire?’

  ‘No fire. But it still cost her the full
price. Go back and close the curtains; we don’t want her riled any more than usual.’

  For once, Alice Quigley did as she was told. Sometimes, she couldn’t be bothered to argue with an angel.

  Fifteen

  1947

  Several things of importance – not all good – took place in the first two months of the year 1947.

  The weekly meat ration was reduced to one shilling’s worth per head, the coal industry was nationalized, and Lord Louis Mountbatten took up the position of last Viceroy of India, which country’s independent status would supposedly be achieved by the middle of the following year. In Britain, troops were deployed to move food from one place to another, since transport workers were on strike, and, on the twentieth day of February, Alicia Marguerite Quigley gave birth to twins on a very valuable silk rug during a meeting of the SSS in Marie Stanton’s house.

  The seven members of the club had been discussing ideas connected to corned beef, because everyone was going to be allowed an extra twopence-worth of that imported meat, but recipes were scrubbed from the agenda when the rug got soaked during an exciting lecture on how to jazz up corned beef hash with tomatoes and mousetrap cheese.

  It was chaos, as the expected were unexpected at this stage of pregnancy. ‘They’re early,’ screamed the mother as her waters broke. ‘There’s still a fortnight to go. What have I done wrong? Is it my fault?’ She dropped her cup of tea, as if trying to make worse the damage she had already inflicted on her sister’s perfect décor.

  ‘Babies don’t have calendars or diaries,’ Nellie muttered as she ushered dogs and cats out of the room. ‘They just come when they’re cooked. Mine were both ten days late. I was thinking of charging them rent for their lodgings.’

  Most of the exclusively female audience gabbled about fetching doctor and midwife, but Vera rolled up her sleeves. ‘Stop flapping, you lot,’ she yelled. ‘They’ll be all right – twins often turn up early. Marie, go upstairs with Claire and empty a couple of drawers. Stick a flock pillow – no feathers – in each one and bring clean towels for blankets. Janet, find string and big scissors. The scissors need to be sterilized in boiling water. Olga, stop swearing in Russian, love – you’re getting on me nerves. I hear enough of that at home with Yuri.’ She made Alice lie down so that the patient’s underwear could be removed. ‘Alice?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How long have you been pushing, girl? You shouldn’t push yet, cos you might burst your periwotsit.’

  ‘No, I haven’t been pushing. It’s just happening without pushing.’

  ‘Any pains in your belly, then? Or in your back?’

  ‘Some. Things keep tightening then stopping. It feels wrong.’

  ‘Oh, so the pains are not too bad?’

  ‘No, they’re not as bad as I thought they’d be.’ Then she heard an angel whispering inside her head. ‘Here comes Danielle,’ Callum said. ‘It will be easy. I’m with you. I’ve been with you since the day you were born, and I’m staying here while you get through this.’ She would be fine, she decided. Her dad’s older brother was watching over her. Lying down on an old, clean tablecloth at the dry end of the rug, she waited for events to unfold. She wasn’t in charge of her body – it was weird.

  The baby made much of her first screaming exhalation before she was fully out of the birth canal. ‘Not much wrong with this one,’ Vera announced. ‘Don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl, but crying fit to bust already.’

  ‘It’s probably Danielle – Ellie,’ the mother told her unqualified but experienced midwife. ‘I’ve never liked standing in a queue, and I’ll bet she’s just like . . . ooh, that was a big squeeze. Is she out?’

  Vera grinned from ear to ear. ‘Perfect, love. She’s so gorgeous, if I didn’t know different, I’d think she was a Caesariant.’

  No one laughed at Vera’s murder of the language; it was part of her.

  ‘String and big scissors,’ she shouted. ‘Cool the scissor handles if you can, but not the blades.’

  Baby Callum slid out as if he’d been rolled in butter. Vera blinked away her tears. She had never before witnessed a birth so quick and so nearly pain-free. Both babies screamed healthily. ‘Nellie – get some warm water and a bit of soap. You wash these babies, but steer clear of the navels when I’ve tied off – I’ve some belly button powder at home. I have to see to the afterbirth stuff. The rest of you get out of the way and sit down with your corned beef. By the way, they’re about six pounds each. No wonder Alice looked so fat that we thought we’d need Big Bertha to shift her.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Alice ordered. ‘I’ve been pregnant, not fat.’

  ‘Who is the big Bertha?’ Olga asked. ‘Does she live in the Penny Lane area? Is she the large lady with metal curlers under the scarf?’

  ‘She’s a crane on the docks,’ Claire said as she arrived with the infants’ makeshift beds. ‘We’ve got some nice, soft towels. Oh, God – they’re here already. You’re a quick worker, Auntie Alice. I took ten hours, and our Janet took going on fifteen.’

  ‘Why big Bertha?’ Olga persisted.

  ‘Because she’s big and some daft sod called her Bertha.’

  Olga decided not to pursue the matter. Liverpool did strange things for strange reasons – this she had learned since arriving many years earlier. She’d given up trying to find out what kind of birds were Livers and why they sat the way they did, one looking inland, the other seaward.

  ‘You can call the doctor now,’ Vera conceded. ‘Just to make sure I’ve got everything out of Alice. And I don’t mean there’s another baby, but we need to ensure I’ve got rid of the other stuff. What the hell are you doing now?’ she asked her charge.

  The new mother was shuffling along towards the fireplace where the babies, after a quick wipe-down, were wrapped in and snuggled under soft towels in a couple of drawers from Marie and Nigel’s bedroom. ‘I’m going to try to feed them myself,’ she said, ‘but in case I can’t, I’ve got bottles and National Dried at home.’ She stared down at two tiny people. ‘Beautiful,’ was her expressed opinion as she assessed her children. ‘Is there any petrol in your little car, Marie?’

  ‘Yes, there is.’

  Alice turned to face her sister. ‘Will you go and get Dan?’

  ‘I’ve gone.’ Marie dashed from the house, picking up her car keys from a hook in the hall.

  ‘If you feel well enough, try feeding them now,’ Vera advised. ‘Your milk won’t be in just yet, but they need the colostrium. It’s yellowish stuff.’

  ‘Colostrum,’ Alice said with a grin. ‘It helps babies not to get ill, because the mother’s lifelong ability to fight disease is in it. Even if I bottle-feed them, it will give them a good start. I read about it.’ She smiled at Vera. ‘Thank you from Callum and Ellie, and from me. You did a great job.’

  ‘You did the work, Alice. If you’d gone the full forty weeks, they’d have been eight pounders, and you might have called it a launching, not a birthing.’

  The mother of twins chuckled. ‘There wasn’t much pain. But look at our Marie’s best rug. I’ve buggered it. That thing cost a fortune. They bought it in North Africa and had it shipped across.’

  ‘Then we buy another,’ Olga said. ‘We have the money, no? We can all give some to replace it. Or perhaps it can be cleaned?’

  Nellie had been quiet since washing the twins. Her daughters stood at either side of her, each holding one of her hands. ‘Stop crying, Mum,’ Janet begged.

  Nellie broke her silence. ‘Don’t let her near them, Alice.’

  Alice, trying to feed her little boy, glanced up. ‘Why, Nell?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I used to remember, but it just went out of my head like chalk wiped off a blackboard.’ She recalled Muth’s screaming coming from the front bedroom, towels, sheets, a pillowcase and blood. A bundle . . . she’d carried downstairs a bundle of bloody washing before returning to sit on the top step of the stairs until the midwife arrived. Alice had been born screaming like these t
wo precious babies, yet . . . Yet? Yet what? Dad had stamped about a lot, and he’d started working longer hours soon after the birth of the seventh daughter. In fact, truth be told, the lovely man went into a decline and never recovered.

  The new mother whispered into her son’s dark, downy hair. ‘That would be Callum, your namesake. He’s cleared Auntie Nellie’s mind and wiped paintwork in Harry’s house as well. Very handy, he is – for a lunatic. He’s my uncle and your great-uncle, and he’s dead. God gave him a ticket, and he’s come back to mind us. He loves us.’ Should she be talking about a ghost? Baby Callum wouldn’t understand a word, she decided.

  When the little boy was asleep, she picked up his twin. ‘Hello, blondie. You’re going to need eyebrow pencil when you grow up. A real little platinum, eh?’ There wasn’t much hair on Ellie’s head, but the damp clumps were light brown, while eyebrows and lashes were white. ‘Oh, my word, you are pretty.’

  As soon as the doctor arrived, Vera dragged him into the kitchen. ‘It’s all in here.’ She showed him a bowl. ‘Two sacs, both looked all right and all there, as if she delivered a couple of footballs. They’ve flattened a bit now, but I’m sure I got the lot. Will you have a good look at her, make sure she didn’t get ripped?’

  He adjusted his spectacles. ‘Of course, and well done. Now, can you clear that room of everyone except the mother and the babies?’

  ‘I will.’ She went to obey the doctor’s orders, then stood back while the man examined the patient for damage or heavy bleeding. Satisfied that the mother was fine, he took Ellie from her. ‘Lovely,’ he pronounced. ‘About six pounds and fighting fit. And yes, she’s taking the colostrum – she’s dribbled a bit.’ He examined Callum. ‘Right, a job well done, I’d say. If you feel worried or ill, get your own doctor out.’ He turned and shook Vera’s hand. ‘Glad you were here. I was told the delivery was swift. She’s not losing too much blood.’

  ‘It was quick,’ Vera told him. ‘Thanks for coming to check on them. Sorry to get you out in the evening, like.’

  On his way out, the medic almost collided with Dan and Marie, who were on their way in. Alice’s husband was attached to her sister, as she was holding fast to his left ear. ‘That, Daniel Quigley, is the last time you sneak out on a Thursday night while we’re in a Seven Sisters Society meeting. See the two drawers from my tallboy? Your son’s in one, and your daughter’s in the other. The woman on the floor is your wife. You’ll be babysitting on Thursdays, all right?’ She spoke to Alice. ‘I’ll get you something clean to wear and run you a bath with a bit of salt in it.’