The Mersey Girls

by Sheila Riley

  Danny was talking to Angus, the landlord, and the plink-plonk of piano keys showed everybody was having a whale of a time, except Susie. She felt like a spare part, perched on the end of the red, leather-covered banquette. She was in two minds whether to go home. She couldn’t hear a word of conversation over the singing and if she stayed here much longer, she was sure to die of neglect.

  ‘Susie, what are you having?’ Danny asked, coming over with a tray full of drinks.

  ‘About time too,’ she said under her breath, but instead of firing a quick retort, she smiled. ‘I’ll have what Grace is having,’ she said, noticing Evie Kilgaren beckoning Connie towards the ladies’. After waiting another ten minutes for her drink, she was not in the best of mood when she tasted the lemonade. ‘What’s this?’ she asked Danny.

  ‘You said to get you whatever Grace is having,’ Danny said apologetically, and with still no sign of Grace, Susie decided she had waited long enough. Picking up her bag and cardigan, she squeezed through the throng of men and headed to the door. Not one person said goodnight or persuaded her to stay as she hoped they would. When she saw Grace, she was going to give her a piece of her mind.

  ‘Connie’s here now, Grace, hold on!’ Evie’s voice sounded calm, but inside she felt anything but.

  ‘I don’t think I can hold…’ Grace whimpered as Connie took a bunch of keys from the pocket of her smock and pushed the key into the lock of the lavatory door.

  ‘Hold on, love, I’m just going to open the door,’ Connie said as the door swung open. ‘All right, love,’ Connie said when she saw Grace who was by now sitting on the linoleum floor in a pool of her own blood, ‘we’ll have you safe in no time.’ She turned quickly to Evie and whispered, ‘Go and ring an ambulance! She needs more help than I can give her.’

  Evie was gone before she finished talking.

  Grace was issuing low groans and Connie lifted her wrist to check her pulse.

  ‘Grace, you have to tell me before anybody gets here,’ Connie ordered, ‘did you go and see anybody else after you came to see me?’ She knew desperation could drive many a girl to take drastic and sometimes fatal action. She could see that Grace did not have the strength to speak and she tried to shake her head, but lifting it slightly it fell back and lolled to one side.

  The cramped cubicle was growing cold, but Grace was loath to move because she felt wet. She wanted to go home. Get into bed. Everything would be all right once she was in bed. She tried to stand, but her legs gave way and she banged her head on the wall. Somebody was holding her shoulders and she must have wet herself but didn’t have the strength to look as the warmth spread between her legs. It felt good. The pain was gone.

  ‘Hold on, Gracey, love. Open your eyes, darling. Open your eyes.’ Someone was patting her cheek.

  Stop it!

  More warm wetness. Gushing behind her knees.

  I didn’t go to anybody else, Connie. I didn’t.

  ‘Grace, tell me, love, have you taken anything. A tablet? Medicine? Anything?’

  Connie, listen. I told you already. Although Grace thought she was speaking loud and clear, no words came from her lips.

  ‘It will help if we know before you get to the hospital.’

  Hospital? What for?

  ‘If the ambulance doesn’t get here soon…’ The deep-set frown on Connie’s face told its own tale, and Evie’s suspicions that Grace might not make it were cemented when Connie whispered. ‘This is bad.’

  Oh Bruce... None of this should have happened… What will me mam say? It doesn’t matter now… I’m falling… It’s going dark… She drifted into oblivion.

  ‘I’ll go and get Ada,’ Evie said. ‘She should know.’

  ‘Don’t tell her what’s happened, keep her outside. We don’t want her to see this.’ Connie nodded to the blood, which had spread across the floor.

  Evie hurried over to Ada’s table as the singing stopped, and the clink of beer glasses fell silent. An unusual hush descended when two uniformed ambulance men cut through the swarm of happy drinkers.

  ‘What’s going on, here?’ Ada asked, rising from her seat.

  ‘Ada, don’t panic, but your Grace is not a bit well, and we had to call an ambulance.’

  ‘What sort of “not well”?’ Ada looked indignant. ‘And why didn’t somebody come and get me before they turned up?’ She nodded to one of the ambulance men guarding the door so nobody could enter the ladies’.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Evie lied for the sake of discretion. ‘She had a pain in her stomach. Connie thinks it’s for the best.’ That was all she was prepared to say on the matter as Ada pushed her way over to the medic.

  ‘That’s my Grace in there,’ she said, ‘so you’ve got to let me in.’

  ‘Sorry, madam, no can do,’ the medic said emphatically, and Evie could see Ada was going to get nowhere here. She’d seen his type before. The uniform’s word was law. It must be all that military training during the war, she thought. The power went to their head.

  Ada went and sat at the nearest table. Someone brought her a brandy for the shock, and she downed it in one gulp.

  ‘My poor girl,’ she wailed when another brandy arrived and was gone as quickly as the first one had. ‘She could be at death’s door and I am out here, hapless. If you give me a subscription I can take it to the chemist.’

  ‘No, missus, a prescription will do her no good in this case.’ The medic stretched a little taller, ‘My colleague will be doing everything he possibly can.’

  ‘It’s gonna be a tight fit round that corner by the door, Fred,’ said the navy-blue uniformed medic, ‘you’ll have to get a chair.’

  ‘Make sure she is well covered,’ Connie said as she padded Grace with towels to stop blood seeping when the ambulance men put Grace on the chair, then, cocooned her in a red, woollen blanket. She followed them to the door of the Tavern, along with every other customer, while, probably with the help of copious brandies, Ada fainted clean away. But Connie left her to sleep it off as the ambulance took Grace to the hospital.

  ‘Bruce…’ The enormous effort for Grace to speak left her sinking into a deep black hole, her voice barely a whisper, ‘Bruce…’

  She was being moved and there was a strong smell of disinfectant. She wanted to get up, but couldn’t. Bound by something rigid. She could hear the sound of running feet. People were talking in urgent voices. Grace could not understand the tangle of orders being fired like shots from a machine gun. She started to shiver. Her body shaking uncontrollably. Somebody grabbed her wrist and held it tightly.

  ‘Sharp scratch!’ A deep pain in her thigh and the voices receded.

  ‘Grace… Grace, honey. I’m here…’ His voice sounded far off in the distance. ‘I went to meet you at the station.’

  Grace felt a tear roll down her cheek, but she could not form the words she wanted so desperately to say. ‘The woman wouldn’t let me speak to you...’ Her thoughts were muddled. She could not focus on why she was here. When Grace opened her eyes she was alone, lying in the darkness. And Bruce was not here.

  Grace heard his voice again as bright sunshine pierced her eyelids. There was another. A woman’s voice, whispery and incoherent. Her eyes felt glued shut and the strong smell of disinfectant told Grace she was not at home. She was lying down. Her toes rubbing the stiff sheet binding her tightly to the bed. She could not turn.

  Slowly and with great effort Grace forced her eyelids open. But the white tiled room was too bright, and she quickly closed them again. She saw Bruce but knew he wasn’t there.

  Somebody was holding her hand, stroking her fingers. It tickled and she pulled her hand away. ‘Shh, shh, shh.’ The gentle rhythm of ocean waves lulled her.

  ‘It’s going to be okay, Grace.’ His voice sounded so clear she could imagine Bruce sitting next to her. ‘I’m going to take care of you.’ A smile stretched her dry lips.

  ‘You are my dream…,’ she whispered, ‘one I don’t want to wake from.’ She stretched he
r hands and felt her little finger being caught in a gentle tug. A touch she would never forget.

  ‘My Bruce,’ she whispered, ‘my darling Bruce.’ Somewhere in the distance she could hear a bell and she surrendered herself to a dream...

  ‘Please wait outside, sir, madam.’ The nurse’s tone was efficient, her words spoken with some determination as she urged Bruce and Ada out of the ward. Ada sat on the wooden bench outside, while Bruce traipsed back and forth along the shiny floor of the long corridor, each thinking the same thing for completely different reasons. Ada needed her daughter to live. She needed answers. Grace must have known she was in the family way. She had been five months gone. And not a mention. It was little wonder she had not been her usual self when she came home. And who was this American chap, who turned up at the hospital and was sitting by her daughter’s bed when she arrived. He had tried talking to Ada when she entered the clinically white side-room, but she was not here to chew the fat with strangers. Then that nurse came in and ordered them outside.

  ‘Bloody cheek!’ Ada muttered, loudly blowing her nose on a white handkerchief made from an old bed sheet.

  Bruce could not keep still. His thoughts were tripping over themselves to get attention. But he could not focus on any one thing except his beloved Grace.

  He had been only moments away from being with his father when he took his last breath. Bruce tried to call Grace many times. But nobody answered. He had to see her. Explain. But before he could do that, he needed to go back to the States. His father was buried in Arlington Cemetery with full military honours, for service to the American Navy during World War One and Two.

  As sole heir to the D’Angelo fortune, Bruce had spent weeks going through his father’s papers with lawyers and shareholders. He was in America for nearly a month, locked into meetings and itineraries that took him from one end of The United States to the other.

  ‘So, did you work with my Gracey?’ Ada asked as she stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket. Her head felt as if it were bursting and she would give every penny she possessed for a cup of tea.

  ‘No, I didn’t work with her,’ Bruce said realising he had not introduced himself to Grace’s Mom. ‘I am Bruce D’Angelo, I…’

  ‘Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’ Ada stood up and almost dipped a small curtsey, but her drink-sodden brain would not allow for the dipping of knees. ‘You’re her boss!’ Bruce tried to explain, but Ada was in full flow.

  ‘It was a terrible shock, you know,’ she said, not letting Bruce get a word in until she’d had her say. ‘One minute she was right as ninepence, the whole Tavern was in raptures with her singing, they couldn’t get enough of her.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Bruce, ‘she has the voice of an angel. You must be so proud.’

  ‘Proud is not the word,’ Ada explained, ‘I’m more than proud, I’m inflated.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Then without any warning, she took bad with her appendages, and the landlady of the Tavern had to call an ambulance – I was overcome, as you can imagine, and nearly needed an ambulance, myself.’ Ada was getting into her stride when a young nurse came out and told her she could go in to see her daughter, but only for a short while.

  ‘I’ll tell her you called Mister D’Angelo.’ She held out her hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Bruce shook Ada’s hand and went to find the matron. Wild horses were not going to keep him away from Grace.

  Later, Bruce watched Ada walk, straight-backed out of the hospital. As soon as she was out of sight he snook into the side ward where Grace was lying with her eyes closed. He stood in the doorway, watching her take a breath with such force it shook her whole body. Bruce could not keep his distance as the nurse urged him to when he saw the tears run down Grace’s beautiful face even though her eyes were still closed. He moved forward and the ward door with its porthole window gave a small squeak as it closed.

  ‘Don’t upset yourself, Mam.’ Grace said in a groggy voice, ‘just let me sleep.’

  ‘Oh my darling Grace,’ Bruce was by her side in a couple of strides. ‘When you are better, I am going to take you away and make you strong again.’

  ‘Go away, Bruce,’ Grace said as a tear ran down her cheeks, ‘I know you are not here.’

  ‘I am here, my darling, and I will never leave you again. I can’t live without you.’

  Grace could not focus, her eyes filling with happy tears when he took her in his arms.

  ‘I am so sorry you had to go through that, honey,’ Bruce said. ‘But I am going to make it up to you.’

  ‘I think I am still dreaming,’ she managed a half-hearted smile but the effort was too much and Grace closed her eyes. Bruce was here. She should be the happiest woman in the world. But how could she be? She had lost the child she was carrying. Bruce’s child.

  20

  Evie had been swamped in the tangle of accounts for weeks. She was proud of the work she had done getting everything in order, but there was still one outstanding payment that could not be attributed to the business account. There was not one single receipt for the money that was still going out regularly every month since 1947.

  Was Mr Skinner still paying the blackmailer? After all he had been through, he still had this worry hanging over him.

  She looked up at the clock. Nine thirty, and Susie was still not in the office.

  Evie caught sight of her assistant through the window. Susie was strolling along Summer Settle like she had all the time in the world. And why not, she asked herself, when she’s got a mug like me to do all the work.

  By the time Susie arrived in the office after a cheery good morning to the lads in the yard, and a little natter to Meggie, who was bringing some letters over, Susie was another fifteen minutes late.

  ‘Meggie kept me talking, you know she likes a good natter,’ Susie said, removing her lemon cardigan and putting it on the back of her chair before she put the letters on Evie’s desk. ‘These are for you to sort out. The new postman delivered them to the house by mistake.’

  ‘Just leave them there, I’ll get round to them in a minute,’ Evie said, studying the figures, while Susie went straight out to the staffroom to put the kettle on.

  ‘Tea?’ Susie popped her head out of the door.

  ‘Never mind tea,’ Evie said, reaching for the first envelope, ‘you’re late enough as it is.’ The first was an electric bill. The next one was handwritten, addressed to Mr H. Skinner at the business address, so she thought nothing of slicing open the envelope, but she was not prepared for what she read. It was another demand for payment, and the amount was substantial. The usual time and the usual place, it said, and Evie looked at the plain white envelope. The postmark said Netherford.

  She pondered on what to do next, knowing the Netherford farmer’s invoice was paid regularly, on time, every month. This was something different.

  ‘I’ll be going with Danny today,’ Susie said, putting a cup of tea onto her desk. ‘I go every month if you remember.’

  ‘I remember,’ Evie said, knowing Susie always made an extra effort to look nice when she was going out with Danny, and she was vaguely aware that was Susie’s reason for being late this morning. Her thoughts still on the letter, Evie decided a change of plan was in order. ‘But not today, you’re not.’

  ‘Why not?’ Susie’s pencilled brows furrowed, and she speared Evie with a direct glare. ‘I go every time. I collect the accounts and…’ Susie could hardly tell Evie about the time she went to Netherford when she went to the post office and clearly heard Bert Harris’s voice. He was not pleased when she stepped in to see once again that he was in the process of collecting money from the Skinner account and Bert had paid her to keep shtum after telling her why Mr Skinner was paying him. Who would have thought it? Bert Harris would do something so nasty as to blackmail a member of his own family.

  ‘And what?’ Evie asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Susie said quickly. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She savagely hauled her chair across the linoleum and dragged the co
ver off her typewriter. Thumping each letter with such ferocity, Evie imagined the top of her head would spout steam like a boiling kettle. Susie suddenly stopped typing and her head shot up. ‘I always go,’ she said stabbing the desk with a crimson fingernail. ‘Every month. Rain, hail or sunshine.’

  ‘Well, not today,’ Evie said, keeping her voice even. ‘Anyway, out of curiosity, can you tell me why you have to go?’ Susie was hiding something, she could tell.

  ‘I can’t say,’ Susie answered quickly, too quickly.

  Evie cocked her head to one side, like she always did when she was trying to work something out, and she was silent for a moment. Susie was making a right song and dance about not being able to go to Netherford. Was it because she would miss out on a day’s skiving on such a beautiful day like this: when the sun was shining, and the sky was the colour of a baby boy’s matinee jacket? Or was there more to it? A thought popped unwillingly into Evie’s head. Surely not? But the thought niggled, refusing to go away. Was Susie writing those letters to Mr Skinner?

  But she had no time to ponder when the telephone rang. It was Danny, to say that Grace was going to be fine. He nipped round to the hospital first thing.

  ‘Give Grace my good wishes when she’s up to receiving visitors,’ Evie said before replacing the handset.

  ‘What was that about Grace?’ Susie asked, curious as ever.

  ‘Oh, you don’t know, do you?’ Evie said, wondering how Susie managed to miss the sirens and flashing lights. ‘You left early.’ Her words were loaded with accusation. How could she have left Grace like that when she was supposed to be her best friend?