by Rosie Harris
He had sworn her to secrecy about their meetings, saying that if his father found out he would sack her. That was the last thing she wanted to happen, but she found it increasingly difficult to speak to Miles in a calm, impersonal voice when he came in to the office.
He seemed to have no difficulty in remaining aloof as he handed over the bills of lading, or checked queries on the documents. He was so formal that she found it unbearable.
What hurt most of all was the way he laughed and joked with the other two in the office, yet remained off-hand with her.
She knew Mavis and Olive whispered about it behind her back and their snide remarks were beginning to make her feel very uncomfortable.
When she had plucked up the courage to mention it to Miles, pointing out that by behaving towards her as he did he only drew attention to what was going on between them, he’d been annoyed.
His blue eyes had narrowed and so too had his mouth, his lips thinning into a hard line. The next time he had come in to the office he had ignored her completely. Megan had felt so upset that she had been on the verge of tears. When Mavis asked her what was the matter, her excuse that she had a bad headache hadn’t sounded very convincing.
She had been at Walker’s for over eight months now and was confident that she was doing her job efficiently. She seemed to be well liked by both Mr Walker and Miss Pearce, so why couldn’t Miles openly acknowledge their friendship? she thought bitterly.
Megan stopped and stared unseeingly at one of the shop windows. On their very first date, she recalled, Miles had warned her that his father would object to their friendship because he didn’t believe the boss should be too friendly with employees. Miles wasn’t her boss … at least, not yet. He was an employee the same as she was.
If only Miles felt the same way about her as Robert Field did, she thought wistfully. Robert was for ever asking her to go out with him. She liked him well enough, but she felt he was too old, and not her type because he was much too serious.
Miles was nearer her own age and when they were on their own the repartee between them was spiced with humour. He knew how to spark off her reactions, and she found him to be a constant challenge.
When she was with Robert she felt that he was bending over backwards all the time to agree with her, as if afraid he might upset her if he voiced an opinion that differed from hers.
A brilliant shaft of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder, made her jump. As huge raindrops splashed down she dashed into a covered alleyway for shelter.
It was then she became aware that she was not alone. The uneasy feeling she’d had ever since she’d left the café that someone was dogging her footsteps was confirmed.
Trembling, she looked round at the thin, lanky young man with greasy shoulder-length hair. ‘Are you following me?’ she demanded.
‘I’ve been walking behind you since you left the Copper Kettle, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’ He grinned widely. ‘I heard you tell Alan Williams that you were Lynn’s sister and I’m a mate of hers.’
‘Are you Flash?’ She looked at him suspiciously. Lynn hadn’t mentioned anything about him wearing glasses.
‘No, kiddo. I’m not Flash.’ He grinned, showing big, irregular teeth.
‘So how do you know Lynn?’
‘I’ve met up with her at the Stork Club. Right little smasher she is!’
Megan bit her lip and said nothing.
‘I’ll take you for a bevvy, if you like,’ he offered, ‘and we can get to know each other.’
‘No, thank you.’ She hoped he wouldn’t hear the squeak of fear in her voice. At the back of her mind was a prickly foreboding. She regretted having taken shelter in the alleyway; it was so deserted.
‘Let’s go for a nosh, then. They do a smashing bowl of scouse at the Sweatrag in Scottie Road. Come on, we can cut through the jowlers and be there in next to no time.’
As he grabbed hold of her arm, Megan felt petrified. She pulled away and let out a scream as her stomach knotted with fear.
‘What’s wrong? You’ll have the Scuffers on our necks carrying on like that,’ he scowled, letting go of her.
‘Don’t you touch me or I really will scream,’ she warned, breathing hard and hoping he wouldn’t notice that she was trembling.
‘Yeah, I reckon you would an’ all.’ He grinned, a note of respect creeping into his voice. He shrugged his thin shoulders. ‘Well, please yourself, kiddo. Some other time, perhaps!’
When Megan said nothing, he pulled up his collar against the heavy rain that was now sheeting down. ‘See you around, then. Tell that sister of yours to bring you along to the Stork sometime,’ he called over his shoulder as he loped off out of sight.
Megan waited until he had disappeared from sight then she took to her heels and didn’t pause until she reached home. As she went indoors she was shaking and her breath was catching audibly in her throat. She felt bewildered and exhausted by what had happened.
As she opened the door to the cramped little flat she thought longingly of their cosy cottage, ringed by mountains, and wished with all her heart that she was back in Beddgelert.
Chapter Twelve
‘YOU MUST COME, Megan; it’s your birthday treat!’
Megan tried to avoid her sister’s pleading grey eyes because it seemed churlish to refuse. Yet the Stork Club, where she might again bump into that awful man who’d followed her from the Copper Kettle, was the last place she wanted to go to on her birthday.
Given the choice she would have been fulfilling her dream of having dinner somewhere with Miles Walker. That was wishful thinking, though! Miles hadn’t sent her a card or even popped into the office to wish her a happy birthday.
Since late spring, when the nights had started to lengthen, they had met less and less frequently.
‘Its too risky, someone might see us,’ he would say evasively.
He would smother her protests with passionate kisses and, as his mouth took possession of hers, and she gave herself up to the magic of the moment, her resentment and powers of reasoning dissolved. It was only later, when she was alone, that all the niggling doubts would come back.
Why was Miles still so insistent that no one must know they were seeing each other? They’d been meeting at least once a week to go to the pictures for over six months now, yet she still knew practically nothing about how Miles spent his leisure time when they were not together.
She thought about it constantly, but no matter how much she questioned him she never received a satisfactory answer.
‘What do you do at the weekends?’ she pressed. ‘I’m sure you don’t just sit at home!’
‘No, I’m out and about. I play cricket quite a lot.’
‘Where? Can I come and watch?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Sorry, it’s a private club.’
‘Surely you can take a guest along occasionally.’
‘Since my father is the president that’s quite out of the question because he’d recognise you!’
She sighed. ‘You must do plenty of other things,’ she persisted.
‘Yes, family dinner parties.’ He yawned widely. ‘You have no idea how incredibly boring they can be! I get fed up of listening to dry as dust opinions about how the country is going to the dogs and how things should be run.’
‘Surely that doesn’t take up the entire evening.’
He shrugged. ‘Sometimes if they leave early I go for a spin along the prom on my bike. It’s practically deserted late at night and I can put my foot down and watch the speedo clocking up. It’s terrific!’
That part she believed. It was what he did on all the other evenings that she wanted to know about.
‘Don’t you ever go dancing or any place where we could meet?’ she persisted.
‘I go to jazz clubs sometimes.’ He laughed as he saw the look of distaste on her face. ‘Don’t you like jazz?’
‘It’s OK, I suppose,’ she said evasiv
ely. ‘I’d possibly like it better if I went with the right person!’
She waited for him to suggest they went there together. When he didn’t she felt both hurt and bewildered.
Commonsense warned her that he must know plenty of girls and she began to suspect he might be two-timing her. If only he would tell her the truth, she thought unhappily.
As she sat in front of her bedroom mirror, putting on her make-up, Megan wondered if Miles really did find her attractive. Her face wasn’t too bad, she decided, turning this way and that to study it. Her nose and chin were neat, she had well defined cheekbones, good skin and her teeth were white and even.
In fact, she decided with some satisfaction as she ran a comb through her hair, when she smiled the rest of her face seemed to come alive, as though her dark brown eyes were smiling, too.
She moved back from the mirror, twisting round to study the rest of her appearance. Her figure was far better than Lynn’s! Yet Lynn was the one who had the boys flocking round her like starlings round a bird table.
She knew that if Lynn was in her shoes she would have told Miles Walker that either they met openly or she would stop seeing him. She wished she had the nerve to do the same, but she wasn’t sure their friendship meant as much to Miles as it did to her. She was afraid that if she took such a step it might well mean the end of their friendship altogether.
Even that might be better than the hole-and-corner way they were behaving at present, she thought miserably. It hurt terribly when he came into the office and hardly spoke to her or pretended not to see her.
As Megan and Lynn made their way to the Stork Club, they found the streets were packed with Liverpool-Irish who earlier in the day had marched through the city centre to mark Orangeman’s Day. Now, most of them were drunk and they were accosting passers-by. By the time the girls reached Queen Square, they were almost out of breath from trying to avoid the unwelcome attentions.
‘Take no notice of them, they’re only Paddies, they won’t hurt us,’ Lynn whispered, tightly clutching Megan’s arm.
‘Most of them are so drunk that they’ll be fighting each other before very long.’ Megan shuddered.
‘The police will have seen them off by the time we come home, and the doorman won’t let any strangers in the Stork,’ Lynn told her.
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ Megan warned.
In that, Megan proved to be right. Even Lynn had to admit she had never seen the place so crowded.
‘See if you can grab a table while I go and look for Flash,’ she told Megan.
‘You’ll never find anyone in this mob,’ Megan said in a disgruntled voice. ‘For goodness’ sake let’s stay together.’
She was too late. Lynn had already gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Megan looked round nervously at the jostling mass hoping she might see someone she knew, but wherever she looked they were all complete strangers.
The music had not yet started, but the noise was deafening as they shouted to friends or talked to each other at the top of their voices to make themselves heard.
The heat, combined with cheap perfume, was overpowering. The atmosphere was tense. As the band began to tune up the noise became even more ear shattering. Megan found it hard to believe that Miles liked such places. She wondered if he would be here tonight. If he was she resolved she would ignore him. Afterwards she’d tell him that she’d done so because she didn’t want any of her friends to see them together.
Lynn returned, her mouth pulled down at the corners in disappointment. ‘I can’t find Flash anywhere,’ she grumbled.
‘We are very early, the place has only just opened,’ Megan pointed out. ‘Give him time.’
‘He always comes in early. He only stays for about an hour and then just vanishes,’ Lynn said petulantly.
Megan looked at her, puzzled, but said nothing. What was wrong with Liverpool boys? she wondered. They all seemed to behave as if they were living double lives. Flash sounded no better than Miles and yet both she and Lynn were infatuated by them.
‘I’ll go and get us some drinks,’ announced Lynn restlessly, ‘he may have arrived by now and be at the bar.’
As Lynn disappeared again, Megan looked round nervously, wishing herself anywhere but here. The sound of the saxophone was reverberating through her head and she didn’t think she could stand it for much longer. If Flash wasn’t there perhaps she could persuade Lynn to change her mind and they could go to the pictures instead, she thought hopefully.
There was so much jostling as people tried to locate their friends that Megan found herself pushed right up against the stage. As she looked up her gaze locked with that of the drummer and she felt a blind whirling panic as she recognised him. It was the chap who had followed her from the Copper Kettle the night she’d been there looking for Lynn. She averted her gaze quickly, hoping he hadn’t recognised her.
‘Hi there, kiddo! You’ve come looking for me, then.’ Without pausing in his beat, he bent forward, his face contorted by a self-satisfied smirk.
Megan shrank back, embarrassed.
‘Don’t run away, I’ll see you later,’ he called out, loud enough for her to hear above the music.
Quickly she elbowed her way through the crowd, determined to find Lynn and tell her she was leaving. As she reached the bar, a scuffle broke out. Raised voices, flying bottles, girls screaming and men shouting and swearing, rapidly turned the place into a battlefield.
Her heart pounding with fright, Megan climbed onto a chair to try to see if she could spot Lynn. At that moment the crowd surged wildly, sending the chair crashing.
She screamed as she felt herself falling.
‘You’re OK, I’ve got you.’
A pair of strong hands grasped her round the waist and steadied her. The voice was so familiar that she turned her head sharply and found herself looking up at Robert Field.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same question,’ he said drily. ‘I thought you said you didn’t like the Stork!’
‘I don’t!’ She grimaced. ‘I came with Lynn, but I can’t see her anywhere now.’
‘Stay put while I find her. Then I think we should all get out. There’s going to be real trouble here tonight.’
By the time Robert returned, with a very dishevelled Lynn, the fracas had built up into an ugly scene.
‘Come on.’ Robert grabbed their arms and began to steer them towards the door. As they drew abreast of it they were blocked by the formidable bulk of a uniformed policeman.
‘Looks as though there’s going to be a spot of bother here tonight so we’re leaving,’ Robert told him disarmingly.
The policeman gave him a penetrating stare, then with a curt nod let them pass.
‘What do we do now?’ Lynn asked with a pout once they were outside. ‘The evening’s ruined and it was meant to be Megan’s birthday treat!’
‘We could go to the Philharmonic,’ Robert suggested.
‘Huh! I would sooner go home and play my gramophone, thank you very much,’ Lynn told him scathingly.
‘Go on then, and I’ll take Megan to the Phil,’ he teased.
‘Don’t be daft! We could go to the pictures, though,’ she suggested.
‘All right. That’s if there’s anything good on.’
‘Could we go to see The Gold Rush, the new Charlie Chaplin picture?’
‘Hold on! Megan might not fancy seeing that. She might prefer to see The Sheik. Rudolph Valentino is in that.’
‘You mean you would!’ Lynn grinned cheekily.
‘Well, which is it to be?’ Robert looked questioningly at Megan.
After the fracas at the Stork Club, Megan would have much preferred to go home, but she realised Lynn would be upset if they did.
‘The Gold Rush, I think,’ she murmured, and was rewarded by a whoop of delight from Lynn.
Robert sat between them and Megan tried to pretend that it was Miles, not Robert, sitting there.
Wh
en they left the cinema the streets were still full of noisy revellers and she was glad Robert was with them, especially when Lynn insisted they should go to one of the brightly lit milk bars before they went home.
‘You managed to find the girls, then.’ Mrs Williams winked at Robert conspiratorially when they arrived back.
In the kitchen, as she made a hot drink for them all, Megan felt annoyed that it had all been planned behind her back.
It was a long time before Megan got to sleep that night and when she finally drifted off her mind was a dense tangle of disquieting thoughts as for the hundredth time she compared Robert and Miles.
She woke early next morning. There was a Sunday hush over the house and the road outside. She managed to get dressed without disturbing Lynn, and she left a note propped up on the mantelpiece to say she had gone out for the day.
Liverpool was shuttered, the pavements deserted. Even the lorries that were usually unloading at the warehouses were absent. It was so early that the trams hadn’t started running. Boys delivering newspapers, and a few people hurrying off to early morning Mass, were the only signs of life.
A hazy sun promised heat later in the day. Feeling as if she was on holiday, now that she was out of their stuffy flat, Megan walked towards the Pier Head.
She found the New Brighton ferry didn’t start sailing until mid-morning so she went on the Royal Iris to Seacombe, hoping that she could get a tram from there to New Brighton. The boat was almost empty. As they pulled away, she went up on the top deck and walked round, fascinated by the view of Liverpool from the river.
She leaned her arms on the rails as she studied it all, happily accepting that it was all part of her new life. The Liver Building with its clock face and huge gilt Liver birds dominated the waterfront, towering over the Docks and Harbour Board offices and the massive Cunard Building. On either side were the long lines of warehouses with boats at anchor, waiting for Monday morning.
As the Royal Iris bumped to a stop against the landing stage at Seacombe, and the gangplank was lowered, Megan felt a heady sensation of freedom as she made her way up the floating roadway to the waiting trams.
