The Mersey Girls

by Sheila Riley

  ‘Can I get you anything else?’ the waitress in a flowered pinny asked pointedly, pad and pencil at the ready.

  The couple casting the evils found a seat and Grace breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Could I have two more coffees please.’ Then, feeling obliged, she added, ‘I’m waiting for my friend – she’s been delayed.’

  ‘It’s all the same to me, love,’ the waitress answered, distinctly uninterested as she removed the lipstick-stained coffee cup and wiped imaginary crumbs off the table.

  ‘Oh, here she is now…’ Grace’s voice trailed off when she realised the waitress had already gone and had not heard a word she said.

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Susie was breathless as if she had been rushing.

  ‘I’ve ordered us a coffee each,’ Grace said above the loud chatter of stallholders and shoppers in the smoke-filled, steamed-up café.

  ‘I’m not too keen on coffee, to be honest,’ Susie said, blowing smoke to the ceiling, ‘but seeing as you’ve already ordered, I might as well drink it.’ Her presence immediately irritated Grace and she felt no inclination to confide in her friend the way she would have done in the past. Talking to Connie had done her the world of good, and the time she had to think while waiting for Susie to show up had cemented her thoughts for the future.

  ‘Here,’ Susie said, leaning forward and lowering her voice, ‘I heard something about Meggie Skinner that will make your hair curl.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ Grace asked, realising she had outgrown the small-town mentality that thrived on gossip and insinuation.

  Looking round, to make sure nobody could overhear, Susie said, ‘I’m not sure I should say. Not with you being related and all that.’

  ‘You’ve started now,’ Grace said, tapping her fingernails on the table.

  ‘It’s not the kind of thing I should repeat,’ Susie replied mysteriously, taking another drag on her cigarette.

  ‘Then why mention it in the first place?’ Grace said, knowing Susie should have outgrown this desperate need to be always in the know. ‘You’re as bad as my mother.’ It made Grace realise this was one of the reasons she left Reckoner’s Row in the first place. The small-mindedness got on her bloody nerves.

  ‘This is just between me and you,’ Susie said, and Grace nodded, ‘you mustn’t breathe a word.’

  Grace nodded again. Get on with it.

  Susie’s world was what happened at the yard, and who said what to whom. She lived a little life and had no ambition but to marry Danny just to get away from her overbearing parents, who would not let her out of their sight. Although God only knew why, she never shut up talking.

  ‘Aunty Meggie had a baby.’ The pleat of her brow gave Grace a look of disbelief and now it was Susie’s turn to nod. ‘I’m telling you, straight up, not a word of a lie.’ To enforce her words, she slapped her hand on the table. ‘She had a baby before she married your uncle Henry.’

  ‘It’s nobody else’s concern but theirs,’ Grace said, realising she had more in common with the old woman than she thought possible. Nevertheless, she had no intentions of repeating the news. After all, she wouldn’t want people gossiping about her. She decided to change the subject before Susie really got her teeth into it. ‘Don’t you fancy travelling, seeing the world, open your mind to new ideas?’ Grace asked.

  ‘If I went on a ship, it would probably sink.’ Susie was peeved that her news did not have the explosive impact she had hoped for. ‘So come on, tell me, all about how you and Clifford split up.’ She was dying to know why Grace wouldn’t talk about her chap in front of Ada.

  ‘Clifford?’ Grace’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion. Clifford seemed so long ago, and she shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t talk about her tangled love life with her one-time friend. who was more interested in other people’s business. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’

  ‘I’ve been looking forward to every juicy detail.’ Susie recalled the ring. ‘He must be rolling in money to afford a dazzler like that one he gave you.’

  ‘It’s not worth much, I’m certain,’ Grace said, ‘but I’d like to know for sure.’

  ‘It looks real enough to me,’ Susie answered, and a light went on behind her eyes when she said, ‘I could ask my uncle for you? We could go now if you like.’

  ‘That would be good,’ Grace answered, knowing they could escape the smell of fried food. ‘I’ve got it here in my bag.’

  ‘Well what are we waiting for?’ Susie said and they got up from the table.

  Watching the two girls chatting he ground out his cigarette knowing he had done the right thing in not approaching her before the blonde joined her at the table. The place was packed. She may have kicked up a fuss. Picking up his cigarettes and lighter, he stood up and followed the two out of the cafe.

  ‘It’s not like Beaverbrook’s, or any of those posh jewellers,’ Susie said in hushed tones. ‘I suppose if you walked past it you wouldn’t even notice it was there, not your usual kind of jewellers…’

  'Here, you’re not talking about anything, you know… Shady?’ Grace knew she was in enough trouble as it is.

  ‘Why would I do that?’ Susie was affronted. ‘I’ll have you know these are diamond merchants, they buy straight from source from all over the world.’

  ‘I didn’t mean any offence,’ Grace said, remembering how quick Susie was to take umbrage.

  ‘None taken.’ Susie felt appeased. ‘These people value the merchandise, bring it back and sell to other jewellers who make up fancy bracelets and necklaces, you know, like the one you brought back for your mam.’

  ‘He must be loaded,’ Grace said as they hurried along Stanley Road to the bus stop, ‘dealing in gold and diamonds.’

  ‘He isn’t the owner,’ Susie replied as the bus showed and they had to run to catch up, ‘he’s learning the trade.’ Jumping on to the open platform at the back of the bus, they heard the ding-ding of the bell and flopped down on the brown leather seat as it lurched forward not taking any notice of the man who got on and went upstairs.

  ‘He won’t be interested in a bit of old tat then, will he?’ Grace said patting her bag. They looked like a couple of starlets and the bus conductor couldn’t take his eyes off them. When the bus came to their stop, they stood up and the conductor gave them both an appreciative smile as he let them get off the bus.

  ‘The shop is closed today; it gives Uncle a day each week to complete the orders that need to go out and update the stock,’ said Susie

  ‘You were right when you said the place doesn’t look much,’ Grace said taking in the chipped wooden door and blacked-out windows.

  ‘Uncle knows everything there is to know about precious stones,’ Susie trilled when she rang the bell, ‘he’ll tell you exactly how much the ring is worth – if anything.’

  The inside was nothing much to write home about either, Grace thought, her gaze spanning the unpolished wooden floorboards that creaked with every movement and the L-shaped counter stretching the length of the dusty shop. From floor to ceiling, there were rows of shelves filled with brown cardboard shoeboxes.

  Susie’s uncle locked the door behind them, making Grace feel a bit uneasy; this didn’t look like the kind of place that housed such treasures Susie had spoken of. She had expected it to look like one of those large diamond merchants she had seen in America, but this looked more like a run-down shoe shop.

  ‘We can’t have just any Tom, Dick or Harriet walking in off the street, you know.’ Susie’s uncle said, and Grace realised she did not even know his name, but she didn’t ask, being quite content to know him only as Susie’s uncle. ‘Too much valuable stock. And I know every single piece.’ Those six words sounded like a warning to keep her mitts off. But the last thing Grace wanted was more junk jewellery.

  After examining the ring in forensic detail, Susie’s uncle made a small noise at the back of his throat. Something between a grunt and a sigh, and Grace thought it sounded quite rude.

 
‘Exquisite,’ he said eventually, ‘just… exquisite. A fine piece.’

  ‘So it might be worth something, then?’ Grace was surprised because Clifford wasn’t known for being at all generous.

  Then his eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a whisper, ‘Where, may I ask, did you get this ring?’

  ‘From my ex-boyfriend. It was an engagement ring.’

  ‘He’s very wealthy, this boyfriend?’ Susie’s uncle asked and Grace began to feel a rush of dread and excitement. She didn’t answer. It must be worth a few bob, she thought and knowing Lime Street Station was just a little way down the road she could nip in and purchase her train ticket while she was in town. If she got enough money for it, that is.

  ‘I would say somewhere in the region of twenty thousand pounds…’

  ‘How much?’ she and Susie said in unison. Grace in a state of shock, was rooted to the dusty floorboards and could not raise her voice above a gasp. ‘How much?’

  ‘I am not an expert, you understand, but, with an educated guess, I would say this ring is worth well in excess of twenty thousand pounds.’

  ‘That’s what I thought you said… Bloody hell!’

  ‘Where did your fiancé buy it, might I ask?’

  ‘Where did he buy it?’ Grace looked puzzled. She had to think fast. What could she say? If the ring was worth that much, then how much would the necklace be worth. And, most important of all, where did Clifford get the money to buy them? ‘I think it is a family heirloom,’ she said quickly. Something was wrong here. Something was very, very, wrong.

  ‘Do you have the certificate?’ Susie’s uncle asked, and Grace shook her head, still finding it difficult to string a few words together.

  ‘What does she need a certificate for?’ Susie asked and seemed satisfied when he told her it was for insurance purposes.

  Grace looked at the ring in a different light. It didn’t look quite so gaudy now. In fact, it was quite beautiful. But if it was so valuable, then maybe Clifford still had the certificate. Or had he won it in one of his many card games from one of his wealthy clients? Did he know it was worth so much money? And if he did, she began to wonder, why had he given it to her?

  ‘I wanted to know how much it was worth because I want to buy property in London,’ Grace said later when she and Susie were getting off the bus at the top of the bridge leading down to Reckoner’s Row. The news put a skip in their step as they descended into the Row and headed down the sun-drenched street.

  ‘You could buy the whole street with that amount of money!’ Susie squealed, and as she opened the gate to her own home at number six, she leaned forward, looked round to make sure nobody was within earshot and said to Grace, ‘Uncle told me, if you ever want to sell the ring, he’ll give you a good price, or rather, his boss will. They are always on the lookout for something out of the ordinary – for the foreigners, you understand.’

  ‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ Grace said. But her mind was on other things. If Clifford saved every penny he earned from now until doomsday, he would never be able to afford a ring like this.

  She looked down at it again. Something wasn’t right.

  ‘Coo-ee, Evie, are you in?’ Connie shouted up the lobby.

  ‘Come in, Connie,’ Evie called, and a moment later Connie let herself into the kitchen, where a play was airing on the Light Programme. ‘Come out here, I’m in the back-kitchen.’

  ‘I just wanted to know if you could give me a hand tonight,’ Connie asked. ‘Grace Harris is going to London for a big audition tomorrow. Ada told Mim she’s going to be a big star on the television.’

  ‘Well, nobody round here will see her because they haven’t got a television.’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Connie answered, ‘but guess what? Ada said they were going to buy a brand-new television just to watch their Grace sing.’

  ‘That’ll be a treat for them,’ Evie said, rolling her eyes. Trust Ada to be the first to get one.

  ‘Bert will sell the telly to the highest bidder. He’s flogged Ada’s furniture from under her in the past, especially when he needed the price of a pint.’

  ‘She hasn’t had it easy with Bert, that’s for sure,’ Evie answered.

  ‘The family are giving Grace a bit of a send-off in the best end,’ Connie said, ‘a buffet and everything, Ada’s pushing the boat out this time.’

  ‘She might as well, seeing as there isn’t going to be the big wedding she had planned for Grace.’ Evie was feeding a wet towel through a mangle in the back kitchen, letting the water pour into the white galvanised bowl underneath.

  ‘Mim was so looking forward to wearing her wedding hat,’ Connie said, and the two women burst out laughing, recalling Mim’s maroon velvet Cavalier hat that she wore to Connie’s wedding. It had been the talk of Reckoner’s Row. ‘Ada called it a monstrosity and vowed never to be seen dead in anything like it.’ Tears of mirth ran down Connie’s face, ‘Ma’s steamed the feathers and everything.’ She could hardly get the words out as she and Evie were overcome by another bout of laughter that rang round the kitchen.

  ‘Yes, I’ll do a couple of hours,’ Evie said, folding the wet towel when they had calmed down a bit, knowing she would do anything to help Connie, who had given her more than just a helping hand three years ago. Connie had been her backbone, her strength, and her sanity.

  ‘Sounds like the bloody rent man,’ Ada said when she heard a loud ran-tan on the front door.

  ‘I’ll get that for you, Mrs Harris,’ Susie said. She had decided to call in on her way back from the post office, but Grace wasn’t feeling well and was having a lie-down.

  Moments later, she rushed into the back-kitchen, where Ada was making pobs – a concoction of stale bread soaked in hot milk and sprinkled with sugar – to keep Grace’s strength up for the night ahead. She didn’t want anything to spoil Grace’s big night.

  ‘I think you'd better come and see.’ Susie’s eyes were glittering with excitement and Ada sighed, she could do without callers today.

  ‘Can’t you see to it for me, Susie? Tell them I’m busy.' Ada stirred the milky mixture.

  ‘I don’t think it’s a social call.’ Susie could see the visitor was in no mood for niceties, and did not want to miss a minute of any impending drama.

  'Tell them I’m indispensable. I’m not buying today.'

  Susie rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Nobody suffered the way Ada did. ‘You mean indisposed, Mrs Harris,’ Susie said, ‘and you’re not.’

  Ada stopped what she was doing and wiped her hands on her pinny.

  'This one says she's not leaving until she gets some answers.’ Susie noticed a spark of interest light up Ada’s eyes.

  ‘She?’ Ada’s head was on a swivel and she seemed infused with a new energy. ‘She, you say. Out of my way.’ Ada nudged Susie out of the way with her elbow. ‘I suppose if a job needs doing, I'd better do it meself.' Heading to the door, Ada looked like a cat stalking a mouse and Susie knew her curiosity was an itch that had to be scratched. Suddenly, it seemed like Ada was back to her old, bombastic self.

  A woman stood on the top step. She was dressed in a black coat with an astrakhan collar and matching hat, standing straight-backed, like a dancer. Her poise elegant and proud. Perusing the single row of terraced houses, her offended facial expression told its own story.

  ‘You must be Mrs Harris?’ the young woman said in a voice that wasn’t local. In fact, Susie, who had joined Ada at the front door, would’ve laid money on it not being familiar to the North West at all.

  ‘I’m Ada Harris,’ Ada said importantly, her back ramrod straight, her hands clenched under a buxom bosom. She looked the younger woman up and down. ‘What can I do for you?’ She hadn’t seen this woman before. She would have remembered. But she had a feeling in her bones that the woman was not here on a friendly social visit.

  ‘You are the mother of Grace, I take it?’

  ‘What if I am?’ Ada said, giving nothing away. It was a common response to answer
a question with a question when probing strangers came calling. For all Ada knew, this woman might be anybody from a debt collector to the authorities, and what they needed to know was nobody’s business.

  Susie noted the tall, thin woman whose hair, cut into a sharp bob, peeped below the rim of her cloche hat, while on her feet she wore black Mary-Ellen shoes and lisle stockings, reminding her of the pre-war thirties.

  The woman, looking down her slim nose under the rim of her hat, eyed Ada with something akin to suspicion. ‘You don’t know me,’ she told her, ‘but you do know my husband.’

  ‘And you are?’ Ada developed a sociable smile that dissipated when the woman replied.

  ‘My name is Mrs Brack.’

  Ada’s brows creased in confusion. She’d heard that name before. Brack. Brack? That was the name of Grace’s fiancé, wasn’t it? Brack wasn’t a common name round here.

  'Brack, you say?’ Ada queried after a moment’s pause.

  ‘My husband…’

  Ada, aware of the small gasp, spun round as if suddenly remembering Susie was still there and said with a sniff, ‘I’ll tell Grace you called, Susie.’

  She bundled Susie out of the door, looked both ways to make sure no nosy buggers were poking their sticky beaks into her business and ushered Mrs Brack into the lobby before closing the front door, an unheard-of action on a warm, sunny morning in Reckoner’s Row – unless you had something to hide.

  ‘Your husband’s name?’ Ada demanded, steering Mrs Brack into the front room, which was kept neat and tidy for important circumstances such as these, or when the priest called round.

  ‘Clifford… Clifford Brack,’ the black-clad woman said, opening her bag. She showed Ada a small photograph and Ada felt herself shrink when her straight back stooped a little.