A Place To Call Home

by June Francis

  His overgrown eyebrows came together. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Mrs Chisholm will understand when I see her. I’d like to speak to her now. Lawrence would not like it that his wife has been kept waiting in the hall,’ she said with a touch of hauteur worthy of her erstwhile mistress.

  He looked angry and Edith recognised an enemy when she saw one. ‘Come this way then!’ he barked.

  She followed him, knowing that she would need all her wits about her if she was to get what she wanted for Lawrence’s daughter.

  *

  ‘I’m sorry about the rabbit,’ said Greta, glancing across the table at Alex.

  He grinned. ‘You’ve said that six times.’

  Joyce took out a packet of Camel cigarettes and lit up. ‘You’re not the best of cooks, are you?’

  Winnie glared at her. ‘You’re so ungrateful! It only caught a bit and anyway, the burnt parts of the stew reminded me of potatoes done on a bonfire on Guy Fawkes night. I thought it was tasty.’

  Joyce looked at her and smirked. ‘But then you’d eat anything and it goes straight to your hips.’

  ‘Leave her alone,’ snapped Greta. ‘I can tell you there’s plenty of fellas who find Winnie attractive. Anyway, we’re not here for you to criticise.’

  Joyce blew a smoke ring and there was a sulky droop to her mouth. ‘I don’t want to be here at all. I just wish Mum would get a move on and come home.’ She looked at her sister. ‘So where’ve you been this morning?’

  ‘You’re going to allow me to get a word in edgeways, are you?’ said Winnie, starting to collect the dishes.

  ‘There’s no need to be touchy! Tell us!’

  Winnie sat down and gazed across the table at Greta. ‘Mum sent me to see Teddy. She had a date with him this afternoon for a tea dance.’

  ‘Who’s Teddy?’ asked Joyce, astonished. ‘She’s never mentioned a Teddy to me.’

  ‘She probably didn’t want you to know about him,’ said Winnie, looking pleased for an instant, then her expression changed and was grave. ‘But when she got the telegram she knew that it wouldn’t be right to go.’

  ‘What telegram?’ demanded Joyce, flicking ash on her saucer.

  Greta said slowly, ‘I know. Mr Lawrence has been killed. Your mum didn’t say so in so many words but she was obviously in a mood and looked a bit tragic.’

  ‘Oh hell! Poor Mum,’ said Joyce, sounding like she cared. ‘I wonder what will happen to Mrs Chisholm’s money now.’

  ‘Is that all you think about money?’ snapped Alex.

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘It’s alright for you to talk like that. You’re a bloke, you’ll earn a decent wage after the war. We girls have to look out for ourselves and Mum getting an allowance from Mr Lawrence’s sister would have come in handy.’

  At that moment there was a knock on the door. Greta glanced at the clock. ‘It could be Rene to check whether we’re still going to the pictures tonight.’

  Alex sprang to his feet. ‘I hope it is her. I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet but your Uncle Jeff is back in Liverpool. We were on the same ship and I don’t think you need me to tell you that your dad’s worth at least ten of him.’

  Greta nodded as they both went to answer the door. ‘He lied to us, you know! Told us his wife was dead and she wasn’t! D’you think we should warn Rene?’

  ‘Definitely! I hope that’s not him now.’

  It was a relief to Greta to find it was Rene standing on the doorstep. ‘Come on in. Look who’s managed to get home for the wedding!’

  Rene’s eyes lit up. ‘Alex! Oh, luv! That’s marvellous!’ She put out her hands to both of them. ‘Harry’s going to be so pleased. And, somehow, I don’t think you’ll be wanting to go the pictures tonight, Greta.’

  Greta glanced up at Alex with a smile. ‘I don’t know about that. Perhaps Alex would enjoy seeing a good film after being away so long.’

  ‘What about me?’ Joyce stood in the kitchen doorway. ‘I’d enjoy seeing a good film. We could leave a note for Mum. I’ll stay the night so she’ll still get to see me.’

  ‘Who said you’re staying?’ said Greta in unfriendly tones. ‘Alex always stays here when he’s home from sea.’

  Rene knew there was no love lost between the two girls and immediately suggested that Alex sleep next door. ‘Wilf will enjoy your company and so will I,’ she said to him, adding with a twinkle, ‘and it’ll stop the neighbours having something else to gossip about, a handsome young man like you sharing a house with four females.’

  ‘Thanks, Rene. I appreciate that.’ He congratulated her on her forthcoming marriage with warmth in his eyes and squeezed her hands. ‘I couldn’t be happier for you both.’ He hesitated a moment before adding in a low voice, ‘I hate to put a dampener on things but I think you should know Jeff’s in town.’

  Rene’s face froze and then she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin. ‘Thanks for telling me. Forewarned is forearmed! If he turns up at my front door I’ll know exactly what to say to him.’ They moved into the kitchen. ‘Where’s Edith?’ she asked.

  Greta told her of the death of Mr Lawrence and how Edith had left the house without saying where she was going. ‘I would have thought the most likely place would be to see his sister,’ said Rene. ‘They share a common grief.’

  ‘Of course!’ said Winnie, and smiled with relief.

  Rene said, ‘In the circumstances it wouldn’t be right for us all to go to the pictures. Someone should be here for Edith when she comes home.’

  ‘I suggest Joyce then,’ said Greta, trying not to look pleased. ‘After all it’s her mother she’s come to see.’

  Winnie agreed, as did Rene, so Joyce had to accept their decision with ill-grace. After Alex had dropped his kitbag off at Rene’s house, washed and changed, they set off for the pictures.

  Greta could scarcely keep her eyes on the screen and kept glancing at Alex, sitting at her side, his hand clasping hers. She did not know what the future held for the pair of them but knew, more than anything, that she wanted to marry him. He had made no mention of his sisters or mother so far and she wondered if tomorrow he would resume his search for them. She was reluctant to dwell on the difference finding them might make to her dream of the future.

  They left the cinema and whilst Rene and Winnie went on ahead, she and Alex strolled together, discussing the film and filling in the spaces of their lives that there hadn’t been room for in letters or that the censor had cut out.

  When they arrived home they expected to find Edith and Joyce waiting for them but the house was empty. A note was propped up against the clock on the mantelpiece. Winnie picked it up and read it. Then she looked at Greta with a furious expression on her face. ‘It says that your Uncle Jeff called and, as she was fed up of waiting for Mum, she accepted his offer of a drink and has gone out with him. Don’t wait up! The selfish cow! She used to care about Mum once but since she left home the only person she seems to care about is herself.’

  Greta, Rene and Alex exchanged swift glances. ‘So what are we going to do about her?’ asked Greta, scarcely able to contain her annoyance.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ said Alex.

  ‘He’s right!’ said Rene. ‘They both might have bitten off more than they can chew in each other. I’m more concerned about Edith. She’s been out hours and it’s pitch black out there.’

  Winnie held out her hands in a helpless gesture. ‘What do I do? I can hardly go visiting Mr Lawrence’s sister’s house at this time of night asking for her.’

  ‘You know where Mr Lawrence’s sister lives?’ asked Alex.

  Winnie nodded. ‘Mum showed me the house near Hall Road.’ She added in a determined voice, ‘If she doesn’t turn up by tomorrow lunch time, I’m going there to find out what’s happened to her. Knowing our Joyce was supposed to be coming, there’s very few things that would have kept her away.’

  ‘I might just go that way with you,’ said Alex, his expression th
oughtful.

  Greta glanced at him and immediately decided that, tomorrow, she was taking the day off. As for her Uncle Jeff, if he thought he’d get a welcome here then he had another think coming.

  20

  ‘Good morning, Alex! Have you any idea of the time?’ said Rene, feeling slightly jaded, having not slept well. He entered the kitchen, tousled haired and sleepy eyed. He was wearing grey trousers and a fir green sweater and had a towel flung over one shoulder. She presumed he had just washed in the kitchen while she had been out for a loaf and a bottle of milk. She wondered if he would get round to popping the question before going back to sea. Greta might only be seventeen but she was mature for her age, and besides it would make her feel more sure of him, worrying as she did about that mother of his and his sisters. Greta and Alex looked such a nice couple together and they were kind, thoughtful young people, willing to help others; that boded well for their future in her estimation. Although, one couldn’t think too far ahead when there was a war on.

  Alex smiled ruefully. ‘Blame the comfortable bed. After sleeping in a hammock for the best part of a year it was a treat. I did intend getting up early, hoping to see Greta before she went to work and see if Jeff had turned up but … ’

  ‘I met her at the dairy … she hasn’t gone in to work. She’s taken time off.’ Rene smiled faintly. ‘I should imagine it’s to accompany you and Winnie to Hall Road. Apparently Edith still hasn’t arrived home. So far Jeff and Joyce haven’t arrived either.’

  ‘Great!’ he said, his expression grim. ‘She’s a fool! But I’m not going to waste my thoughts on either of them. I want to spend as much time as I can with Greta. Shore leave can go over so fast that, before one knows it, it’s back to sea for God only knows how long.’ He hesitated, then from his pocket he took a tiny box and thrust it at Rene. ‘I thought of … giving her this! I know we’re only young, but do you think Harry would give his permission for us to get engaged?’

  Rene opened the box and gazed at the diamond and ruby ring. Her face lit up. ‘It’s lovely. I hope it fits. I’ll refuse to marry Harry if he hums and hahs about her age and there being a war on. I do know he’s very fond of you.’ She closed the box and handed it back to him. ‘But make sure you pick the right moment to ask her. A girl appreciates these things and she’s had a tough life so she could do with a bit of fussing over.’

  ‘I’ll remember that,’ said Alex, and sat at the table.

  ‘What are your plans to trace your sisters?’ asked Rene, watching him spread jam on a slice of bread.

  ‘I was rereading some of Mum’s letters and it struck me that maybe the headmistress at the girls’ school might know where the girls were sent. So I thought I’d pop along to Crosby and see if she’ll speak to me. I’m presuming the school won’t have been closed for the duration.’

  ‘You haven’t thought of trying to see your uncle again?’

  ‘You mean see if he’s back from wherever he went?’ said Alex dryly. ‘I had but I’ve decided to see how I get on at the school first.’ He changed the subject and asked after Harry.

  ‘He’s being transferred down to Kent, the Garden of England as he calls it,’ Rene replied. ‘He says there’s plenty of seaside places with boarding houses where I could stay whenever I get the chance to visit. As you know it takes some planning, travelling in wartime.’

  At that moment the kitchen door to the lobby opened and Wilf came in. ‘I’ve finished cleaning the parlour windows, Rene, and thought you might like to know that Winnie and Greta have just slammed the front door. They’ll be looking for Alex here next.’

  Alex got to his feet, reached for his jacket and hurried out.

  The three of them caught the tram to Exchange Station and Alex told the girls his plan to visit his sisters’ school. ‘If I have no luck there I’ll see what I can find out about my uncle’s whereabouts.’

  ‘You don’t want me to come with you?’ asked Greta, looking disappointed.

  He smiled. ‘I’d love your company, luv, but I’m not sure if the headmistress will see me, and then I’m going to call at my uncle’s office. If he’s there he might be more open if I’m on my own. It’s a fair bit of walking and besides I think Winnie needs your moral support.’

  Greta could understand what he meant and didn’t argue with him. She bought a ticket for Hall Road and continued on the Southport train with Winnie after Alex left it at Crosby and Blundellsands.

  ‘Now you definitely know where you’re going?’ asked Greta, glancing about her as Winnie led the way up a tree lined road.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my memory,’ said Winnie.

  A few minutes later she came to a halt in front of a house with lead paned windows either side of the door. ‘This is it.’

  ‘Are you going to knock?’ said Greta as they stood in the gateway.

  Winnie nodded and slipped her hand through her arm. ‘But I’d like you to come with me.’ So they walked up to the house and Winnie thumped on the door.

  It was opened by a maid, whose face was flushed and who appeared extremely pleased to see them. ‘I don’t know who you are but come in! I’ve been trying to get the doctor on the telephone but it doesn’t seem to be answering and I don’t like leaving my mistress on her own. She’s had one of her turns.’

  Greta could not resist saying, ‘What kind of turn?’

  The maid sighed. ‘I thought it was just nerves but her solicitor says it’s her heart. She had a terrible shock the other day. Her brother was killed.’

  Winnie and Greta exchanged significant glances. ‘Does she have pills for her heart?’ asked Greta.

  ‘Yeah!’ The maid’s eyes widened. ‘But she keeps hiding them. I’ve asked her where they are but I can’t make sense of what she’s saying. When I offered to get in touch with Mr Armstrong she … ’

  ‘Armstrong!’ exclaimed Greta, her heart giving a peculiar jump.

  ‘Yes, Mr George Armstrong! He’s her solicitor and a close friend of the family.’

  ‘I thought he’d gone away,’ said Greta.

  ‘No!’ The maid shook her head. ‘Although, yes, you’re right. He did go away for a while but he’s back now. He’s been keeping an eye on her since a bomb dropped on the golf course and her nerves were all shot to pieces. Then her husband died.’ The maid twisted her hands agitatedly. ‘I feel like my nerves are going the same way.’

  ‘You’re best taking deep breaths and trying to keep calm,’ said Greta, who was feeling anything but calm.

  The maid sighed. ‘The doctor could be on his rounds but maybe he isn’t. Perhaps I should ring again!’

  ‘You do that,’ said Greta, and stepped over the threshold into a pleasant hall, dragging Winnie with her. ‘We’ll come in and have a look at your mistress.’

  ‘Your mistress didn’t have a visitor yesterday, did she?’ asked Winnie. ‘A blonde woman. A Mrs Macauley?’

  The maid stared at her and her mouth trembled. ‘You mean Mr Lawrence’s widow. Yes, she was here! But I don’t know if you should go speaking of her to the mistress,’ she said dubiously.

  ‘We won’t. If you tell us when she left,’ said Greta soothingly.

  ‘About eight o’clock. I heard her say she wanted to be home before dark as she was expecting her daughter. Mr Armstrong had kept her there talking for ages, asking her all sorts of questions.’

  ‘She never got home,’ whispered Winnie, gripping Greta’s hand.

  ‘Oh dear!’ said the maid, looking concerned. ‘No one’s safe in the blackout these days. But-But maybe she went somewhere else. Perhaps Mr Armstrong could help you. He left a few minutes later.’

  ‘We’d like to see your mistress first,’ said Greta. ‘She might be able to tell us something more.’

  They were shown into the drawing room where a woman lay on a chaise longue. Her hands fluttered in an agitated fashion and when she saw the two young women, she said in a querulous voice, ‘Who are these people? I’m not well enough to see visitors.’ />
  ‘We won’t stay long,’ said Greta, smiling. ‘Your maid was worried about you and thought we might be able to help.’

  The two girls moved closer to the chaise longue. Mrs Chisholm’s greying fair hair, fashioned in a heavy chignon, looked like a bird’s nest. ‘Is there anything we can get you?’ asked Winnie. ‘A drink of water perhaps?’

  ‘Yes! I’ll take one of my pills!’

  Greta did not show her surprise. ‘You’ve remembered where they are?’

  Mrs Chisholm’s eyes went from side to side. ‘You won’t tell him?’

  ‘Tell who?’

  ‘George.’

  ‘He’s not here,’ said Greta.

  Relief flooded Mrs Chisholm’s face and she reached up and fumbled with her chignon and drew out a small pill box. Both girls stared at her in astonishment. ‘I’ll go and find the kitchen and get her some water,’ muttered Winnie, and left the room.

  ‘So why don’t you want Mr Armstrong knowing where your pills are?’ asked Greta.

  ‘He’s after my money! That’s what dear Edith said.’ Mrs Chisholm leaned forward and said in a conspiring manner. ‘She’s had a little baby, you know. Dear Lawrence’s daughter. I said that I must see her and she said she’d bring her and I’d be able to see that she was telling the truth because she’s the spitting image of him. George didn’t like that. He wants me to change my will. Said the woman’s a complete stranger and she and her daughter have no right to my money. That they’ve done nothing for me. I didn’t tell him Edith had once worked for me and that’s how she and Lawrence got to know each other. George would have looked down his nose at her. So I just kept on repeating that she was Lawrence’s widow and the girl is my niece … that finally shut him up.’

  Greta was puzzled and tried to make sense of what the woman had said. Edith didn’t have a baby so what did it mean? Then a thought occurred to her and she understood a lot more about Edith and Joyce and Winnie than she had ten minutes ago.

  Winnie reappeared with a glass of water and handed it to Mrs Chisholm. The woman washed the pill down with the water and then closed her eyes. For several minutes there was only the sound of the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.