Megan of Merseyside

by Rosie Harris

  She passed the comb through her hair again, wondering if she should have left it like Lynn had styled it for her. She supposed it had looked more sophisticated framing her face, but she felt more comfortable with it neatly tucked behind her ears in the way she always wore it.

  She frowned at her reflection. There was still something not quite right about her appearance. Perhaps it would be better if she took off her raincoat and carried it. It was her school one and didn’t really go with the smart image she was trying to create.

  She took a deep breath; what was she worrying about? It was only another interview and it would probably come to nothing anyway.

  That was the whole problem, of course. This time it did matter, quite a lot. Her father was counting on her making a good impression.

  Still, she told herself, if a complete stranger thought she was right for the job when her hair was all windblown and she’d been looking a complete mess, then surely, now that she’d smartened herself up, she stood a pretty good chance of being successful.

  Head high, ignoring the butterflies inside her, Megan made her way back to the general office, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

  All she had to do was convince Miss Pearce that she could cope with the work, she told herself firmly.

  From what the young man had told her it seemed she might be the first applicant. If she put her mind to it, concentrated really hard, answered the questions in a clear voice and didn’t get flustered, there was no reason why she shouldn’t be successful. And then he would find her working there next time he came into the office. She felt a frisson of excitement at the thought.

  Chapter Three

  THE WAITING SEEMED interminable. As the days slowly passed and there was no news from Walker’s, Megan’s hopes dwindled. She had been on cloud nine when she’d walked down Old Hall Street after her interview. Her mind had been full of dreams, thinking what it would be like to set out for work each morning, to be part of the teaming throng that made up the city’s life.

  The interview had gone so well. Valerie Pearce was a rather plain, stocky woman in her early thirties, with tightly marcelled fair hair and hazel eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. In her trim navy suit and high-necked white blouse, she had looked rather prim; yet Megan had felt at ease with her, happy to answer her barrage of questions.

  For her part, Valerie Pearce liked the quiet, serious young girl with the wide-set, intelligent brown eyes. Her neat appearance and the absence of heavy make-up or jewellery had impressed her. She’d even liked her soft, lilting accent, which made a pleasant change from the Merseyside voices she heard most days.

  Walker’s was a staid, family firm, and the last thing they wanted was one of the new-style flappers, with their short flouncy clothes and doll-like hairstyles. Girls who thought more about what they looked like than about their work, and distracted the men. She would have liked to have given Megan the job right away, but knew she was expected to talk the matter over with Mr Walker before making a decision.

  Megan wanted the job so badly it hurt. In the days that followed she found it was hard to keep her mind on anything else. Lynn was at school so most days she went window-shopping with her mother.

  As they looked at the fashionable clothes in Owen Owens, C&A, and Lewis’s, Megan ached for her first pay packet. It would be wonderful to be able to buy some of them, she thought wistfully.

  ‘To help pass the time, why don’t you try your hand at decorating that dingy little bedroom you and Lynn are sharing?’ her father suggested.

  ‘I’ve never done anything like that before,’ Megan demurred.

  ‘There’s a first time for everything and I’m sure you could manage to paint the woodwork and put some emulsion on the walls.’

  It was hard work and took much longer than they had expected, but they were all thrilled by the results.

  The pale pink walls and fresh white gloss woodwork transformed the tiny room, making it seem larger as well as much more light and airy.

  ‘It looks good,’ her mother agreed. ‘How about having a go at decorating the living room? I’ll give you a hand, if you like.’

  They started on it right after breakfast the next morning. It took them several days but once again they were all pleased by the results.

  For the first time since they had moved into the flat it began to feel like a home, although it would never be as cosy as their cottage in Beddgelert, Megan mused as she soaked in a hot bath to get rid of the aches and pains and soak away the paint stains from her hands and arms. Although she’d tried to work carefully, she’d even got paint in her hair.

  She ran some more hot water into the bath and slid down until it covered her shoulders. Then she closed her eyes and gave herself up to dreaming about the young man she’d met when she went for her interview.

  She wished she’d asked him his name. He wasn’t a John or a Jim, or a Bill or Bob, she felt quite sure about that.

  If she knew his name then she could ask her father if he’d ever met him. If he knew him then perhaps he could ask him if the job at Walker’s had been filled yet. It was the uncertainty of not knowing that she couldn’t stand.

  She sighed dreamily, remembering the young man’s vivid blue eyes, strong nose and firm jaw. He’d had such an unforgettable face. There couldn’t be all that many chaps working at the docks who looked like him. He’d stand out from the crowd, she reflected, remembering the smart cut of his grey suit that seemed to mould itself to his broad shoulders and long, lean legs. If she got the job at Walker’s, and they met again, she wondered if he would remember her.

  The sound of her mother calling her roused her out of her reverie. She hooked out the plug with her toe, and reached for a towel. She’d ask her father tonight if he knew him. So far, the only person he’d ever mentioned was his co-driver, Robert Field.

  ‘Didn’t you hear me shouting you?’ her mother grumbled as Megan emerged from the bathroom.

  ‘I was just coming. What’s up?’

  ‘There’s a letter come for you. It’s got Walker’s name on the envelope. Come on, hurry up and open it, let’s hear what they’ve got to say.’

  Wrapping herself in the towel, Megan followed her mother into the living room. Heart in mouth, she opened the letter and drew out the single sheet of headed notepaper. The words danced in front of her eyes.

  ‘Well … have you got it?’

  ‘I … I don’t know. I think I might have!’ She smiled hopefully. ‘They want to see me again.’

  At the second interview, having first checked on one or two of the details Megan had supplied during their first meeting, Valerie Pearce confirmed that the position was hers.

  ‘Oh! That’s wonderful,’ Megan exclaimed with a smile of relief.

  ‘There is one stipulation. Since you can’t type we shall expect you to attend night school and take shorthand and typing classes. Walker’s will pay all your fees,’ Miss Pearce assured her. ‘Is that understood?’

  Megan was almost too excited to concentrate as Valerie Pearce went into details of the work she would be doing when she started. Foremost in her mind was the fact that at last she had a job.

  ‘Right. Now, can you start next Monday?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Eyes shining, Megan nodded enthusiastically.

  ‘Good. I’ll see you Monday at nine o’clock, then,’ Miss Pearce confirmed.

  Megan came away from Walker’s in a daze. She could hardly believe her luck. She was to be paid ten shillings a week with the promise of a rise in three months’ time.

  There were ten pay days before Christmas so that meant she’d be able to buy everyone a Christmas present as well as some new clothes for herself, she told herself gleefully.

  She wasn’t sure about going to night school on her own, and wondered if she could persuade Lynn to join as well.

  ‘No! I go to school all day that’s quite enough for me,’ Lynn told her emphatically. ‘I can’t wait to leave and get a job so that I can earn some m
oney.’

  ‘You’d stand a much better chance if you were able to do shorthand and typing,’ Megan pointed out.

  Lynn pulled a face. ‘I don’t want to be stuck in an office even if you do! I want to be where there’s plenty going on, where I’ll meet people and have fun.’

  ‘An office job is much better than serving behind a counter.’

  ‘Who said anything about working in a shop?’ Lynn retorted indignantly.

  ‘Well, if you change your mind, let me know,’ Megan told her resignedly. ‘I’ve promised to go and enrol tomorrow.’

  Even Lynn’s open jealousy about her starting work didn’t stop Megan feeling excited. She spent all day on Sunday getting ready. She washed her hair, sponged and pressed her skirt and polished her shoes. She went to bed early, wanting to be on her own so that she could think about all the things that might happen the next day. Before she fell asleep she even rehearsed what she would say to the blue-eyed young man in case she was lucky enough to bump into him.

  Megan found her first few days working at Walker’s utterly bewildering.

  ‘We’re a relatively small company so that, although everyone has their own specific job, the work is very integrated which means that it’s important that we all cooperate with each other,’ Miss Pearce explained to Megan after she’d allocated her a desk in the general office. ‘Come along, I’ll introduce you to the other people working here.’

  Olive Jervis, the receptionist, was a smartly dressed blonde of twenty-five. She smiled coolly, looking up from the switchboard only long enough to cast a supercilious glance over Megan’s neat but nondescript blouse and skirt.

  At a high desk near the main window, Mr Newbold, a spare, balding man in his mid-forties, sat hunched over enormous ledgers. He gave a thin smile of acknowledgement as Valerie Pearce told Megan she could ask him for help if ever she had any problems with her work.

  In the far corner of the general office, Mavis Parker, a plump, youngish woman with a frizz of sandy-coloured hair, was typing at tremendous speed. She barely paused when Megan was introduced to her.

  Megan’s heart beat faster when Valerie Pearce took her into an adjoining room and said, ‘This is where the shipping clerks work. They spend most of their day down at the docks, so leave anything for their attention in that green tray and they’ll deal with it next time they’re in the office.’

  Megan wondered whether she should ask what their names were and tell Miss Pearce that she had already met one of them, but the moment passed before she could pluck up the courage to do so.

  Finally, she was taken to meet the managing director, Martin Walker. He was a portly man with prominent features, shrewd blue eyes and greying hair. Megan found his curt manner very intimidating.

  His imposing office had an enormous mahogany desk, and two walls housed floor-to-ceiling bookcases and glass cabinets containing models of all kinds of ships, from sailing vessels to modern cargo boats and liners. A smaller connecting room, adjacent to his office and also furnished with a mahogany desk and matching filing cabinets, was where Valerie Pearce worked.

  For the first few days there were times when Megan thought she would never fit in. Mr Newbold and Mavis Parker were so engrossed in what they were doing that she was reluctant to interrupt either of them to ask them to help her. As she made mistake after mistake she waited nervously for someone to tell her she would have to leave.

  By the end of the week, however, she was beginning to master the sequence of sorting and filing the invoices and bills of lading. When Valerie Pearce handed over her wage packet and remarked how well she seemed to be settling in, Megan felt almost light-headed with relief.

  As she made her way home she tried to think what she should do to celebrate her first pay day. She had agreed to give her mother six shillings a week and intended to save a regular amount each week for new clothes, but the rest was for spending. She decided to start by taking Lynn to the pictures.

  ‘Pictures?’ Lynn screwed up her nose and shook her head. ‘We ought to do something more exciting than that!’

  ‘Like what?’

  Lynn’s grey eyes suddenly sparkled. ‘I know, let’s go dancing.’

  ‘I’m not all that keen on dancing.’ Megan frowned.

  ‘Oh, come on, don’t be such a spoil sport,’ Lynn protested. ‘You said you wanted to celebrate by taking me out and that’s what I’d really like to do.’

  ‘I would much sooner go to the pictures.’

  ‘We’ll do that another night. There’s nothing any good on at the moment, anyway,’ Lynn told her airily. ‘Please, our Meg, I really want to go to the Tower Ballroom at New Brighton. Remember how Mam used to talk about the wonderful dances there were there? You’ll like it. We’ll have fun.’

  The moment Megan mentioned their plan to her mother she looked doubtful. ‘You’d better see what your dad has to say about that,’ she said cautiously. ‘I don’t think he will agree to you going on your own.’

  ‘Well, we haven’t had time to pick up any blokes now, have we?’ Lynn pouted.

  ‘Lynn!’ Her mother looked shocked. ‘You’d better not let your dad hear you talking like that or he most certainly won’t let you go to the New Brighton Tower Ballroom.’

  ‘When he told us that we’d be moving back to Liverpool you said I’d love it because I’d be able to go to dances, like you used to do when you were my age,’ Lynn reminded her mother.

  ‘Yes, I know, but things have changed quite a bit since then,’ Kathy told her.

  ‘You mean you’ve become more stuffy,’ Lynn said cheekily. ‘We wanted to do something really special to celebrate Megan getting her first wage packet.’

  ‘Well, you ask your dad if it’s all right. I won’t say a word, but I don’t think he will agree to the two of you going off like that.’

  ‘Not after you’ve had a chance to tell him you don’t want us to go,’ Lynn muttered.

  ‘It’s all right, Mam, we’ll go to the pictures. That’s what I suggested in the first place,’ Megan said quickly as she saw the hurt look on her mother’s face.

  ‘You can go to the pictures if you want to,’ Lynn stormed, ‘but I’m not!’

  Before Megan could answer she’d flounced out of the room, banging the door noisily behind her.

  ‘Take no notice, luv,’ Kathy murmured. ‘She’ll come round when your dad has had a word with her.’

  ‘I suppose there is a chance that he might say we can go, of course,’ Megan said tentatively.

  ‘Oh no, so don’t build-up your hopes,’ Kathy said emphatically. ‘Let the two of you go across the river to New Brighton and not come home until after midnight? Are you mad? Think of the danger. All sorts of unpleasant characters are out and about at that time of night. Drunk most of them, too. Anything could happen to you, you might even be accosted.’

  ‘What about if you two came with us?’ Megan suggested hopefully. ‘I wanted to take Lynn out somewhere special to celebrate my first pay day.’

  ‘I know luv, but it looks as though it will have to be the pictures. Your dad wouldn’t go to a place like that, he never liked dancing.’

  ‘What about you coming with us?’

  Kathy shook her head. ‘Your dad still wouldn’t think it was safe and he wouldn’t like the idea of me going dancing, I’m afraid!’

  Kathy was right. Watkin was most emphatic that they musn’t go. ‘Heaven alone knows what might happen to you,’ he pointed out. ‘Lynn hasn’t even left school yet, and you’ve only been at work for a week, Megan. Wait until you’re older, until you both have young men to accompany you and take care of you.’

  ‘Well, can we go to a dance if it’s in Liverpool?’ Lynn pressed. ‘There’s a jazz club …’

  ‘No!’ Watkin Williams’ roar silenced even Lynn.

  ‘You know nothing at all about what goes on in Liverpool. It’s a big city not a village where everyone knows everybody else. You don’t start going to those sort of places under any circumstances. H
ave I made myself clear?’

  ‘Is it all right if I take Lynn to the pictures, then, Dad?’ Megan asked.

  Her father frowned.

  ‘Please. As a special treat to celebrate my first wage packet,’ she explained.

  ‘Well, all right. As long as you go early and you are back home before nine o’clock.’

  ‘Perhaps you could go to the Saturday matinee,’ Kathy said tentatively.

  Reluctantly, Lynn agreed to find out what was on and they both promised they’d be back home by nine at the latest. The moment they were out of the house, Lynn had other ideas, though.

  ‘Can we take a peep in at the Stork Club for a minute?’ she begged. ‘It’s a jazz club. Some of the girls at school told me about it. They let girls in free, and …’

  Megan looked at the earnest, round face, the pleading grey eyes and felt tempted. Perhaps Lynn was right. It would be a new experience … something to look back on and remember as the way she had celebrated her very first pay packet.

  Chapter Four

  AS THEY MADE their way towards Queen Square, Megan stared in awe at the Stork Hotel.

  ‘We can’t go in there, Lynn!’ she exclaimed, aghast. ‘It’s much too posh, we aren’t dressed right for a place like that.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Megan, we’re not going into the Stork Hotel itself. The Stork Club is in an annexe. Come on!’

  Grabbing hold of Megan’s hand she half dragged her towards a two-storey building at the side of the hotel.

  As they reached the door that led into a carpeted entrance hall, Megan pulled back. Lynn squeezed her hand more tightly and before she could protest Megan found herself inside a room that was crowded with girls and young men.

  At the far end of the room there was a highly polished counter where a red-haired girl was taking people’s coats and hanging them on the rows of rails behind her.

  Lynn pulled off her coat and then grabbed at Megan’s. ‘Come on, get it off, we leave them here,’ she said excitedly.