Walking Back to Happiness

by June Francis

  ‘What about your book?’ asked Peggy. ‘Surely you’ll make some money from that?’

  ‘Yeah, but one book isn’t going to provide me with an income for years.’

  ‘When is it due out?’ she asked.

  ‘February.’

  ‘I thought it would be out before then,’ said Marty.

  ‘Excerpts are going to be serialized in the Liverpool Echo before then,’ Tim said.

  ‘Couldn’t you carry on writing something else while looking for another job?’ Pete asked.

  ‘I am, but there’s no guarantee a publisher will take it.’

  ‘Ask advice from your publisher,’ Pete suggested.

  Tim was reluctant to do that, preferring the idea to come from the publisher.

  ‘Why don’t you ask Chris for advice?’ asked Peggy.

  ‘Now there’s an idea,’ Pete said.

  ‘I haven’t seen Chris for a while.’ Tim stroked his chin and looked pensive.

  ‘I’ll mention to Bobby that you’d like a visit from Chris, shall I?’ asked Marty. ‘She often pops in to have a chat with Irene.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tim. ‘I’d like that.’

  In the days that followed, Jerry and Joseph continued to see each other. Jerry cycled to Seaforth to see Joseph twice a week, and Lucia’s brother walked to Crosby’s Regal cinema and met Jerry there so they could go to the children’s matinee together on a Saturday. Afterwards they went to Tim’s apartment, not far from the cinema, to have something to eat and to play some indoor games. Then Tim and Jerry saw Joseph on to the bus, Tim telling him to give his love to Lucia and all the family.

  One Saturday midway through October was slightly different, in that Joseph told Tim that Mrs Hudson’s new lodger, Jack Jones, was in the habit of talking to Lucia over the back garden fence after he’d finished work and Joseph had overheard him asking her to the cinema.

  This information was enough to cause Tim’s spirits to plummet. ‘What did she say?’ he asked.

  ‘That she’d think about it,’ Joseph replied.

  Tim breathed easier, thinking that at least Lucia hadn’t jumped at the invitation. But what if this Jack Jones was persistent and asked her again? She had not replied to Tim’s latest letter; hadn’t even given Joseph a note for him as she had done in the past. Maybe she was completely fed up with him. Even if she did not see this Jones character as a future husband, perhaps she would decide to go out with him. Tim did not like that idea at all and wondered what he should do about it. Tim was glad that he only had to wait a couple of days before Chris’s visit. He really wanted his advice about what he was writing at the moment.

  Chris arrived on a wet and windy day that held a hint of winter. Tim opened the front door and invited the young man inside. He led him into a rear room that was somewhat larger than his sitting room at Mrs Hudson’s. A coal fire burned in the modern tiled fireplace and the sash window overlooked a paved area with a lawn beyond, with an apple tree at the foot of the garden and a few straggly chrysanthemums in a flowerbed.

  ‘Nice,’ said Chris, noticing the desk with the typewriter and a stack of paper to the left of the machine and several sheets of carbon paper. ‘What are you writing? I thought you’d finished your autobiography.’

  ‘I have. Now I’m having a go at something else and I’m stuck. I’m hoping you might be able to help me. I need to earn enough from writing to support a wife and several children.’

  ‘You need to write at least a novel a year, and for them to appeal to a large readership.’

  ‘But what kind of novels?’ Tim was aware of a rising excitement. Perhaps he could make a success of writing fiction.

  ‘Write about what you know, but make the story take place in a world you create that appeals to you,’ Chris said. ‘I suggest you visit some of the bookshops, and also W. H. Smith’s in town, and take a look at what’s doing well. Talk to those behind the counter about books – and don’t forget the libraries. Have a talk to the librarians about books. Crime, romance and Westerns tend to be popular.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Tim. ‘Romances are mainly Mills & Boon. They used to have red dust jackets with a couple in a clinch on the front. I remember my sisters used to read them secretly, knowing Dad wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘And crime novels tend to be black with a dagger or gun on the front, and sometimes a silhouette of a man in a trilby looking threatening,’ Chris said. ‘Westerns usually have a cowboy on the front.’

  Tim smiled. ‘I’ve read a few of them.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t want to write one?’

  ‘Of course not! All I know about cowboys is what I’ve seen on the flicks,’ said Tim. ‘I thought crime would probably be best as I know something about it, but I need to be on the side of law and order now and think like a detective.’

  ‘Read, read, read, and see what kind of detective appeals to you. Patricia Highsmith is good. And Agatha Christie— she’s been writing for years and is still as popular as ever.’

  ‘I like her books. I like Edgar Wallace as well. Although his books are very different from hers.’

  ‘Well, study plots and think about doing a series of books with the same detective, amateur or professional, involved in solving a crime or mystery. Christie’s a writer who’s written about what she knows. She was a pharmacist in a hospital during the First World War so knows about drugs and poisons. But there are also crime magazines such as True Crime, but I reckon that some of the cases they include are purely made up. You need several people with a motive for murder and you need to know all about them. You have to work out a few red herrings, and also you need to drop clues for the reader but keep enough back to keep them guessing. And no revealing the murderer’s identity until almost the end.’

  Tim was absorbing everything Chris was suggesting and feeling hopeful that with a good bit of research he could write a successful crime novel. He had already made a start and now he felt confident enough to be able to complete it. After all, he did know something about the subject. Why shouldn’t his amateur ’tec be a reformed criminal who is assisted by his parish priest who visited him in prison?

  ‘You seem to have gone off in a trance,’ said Chris. ‘So how did you finish your autobiography eventually?’

  ‘With the kidnapping and Joseph being reunited with his family. Hopefully there’ll be space for an Epilogue with Lucia and I getting married.’

  ‘That sounds perfect,’ said Chris. ‘But not what Isabella had in mind.’

  ‘No. Especially as she had been in cahoots with the kidnapper to bring me down. Although she had no knowledge of Donahue’s plan to kidnap Jerry. But you’ve probably had all this from Nick.’

  Chris hesitated. ‘He swore me to secrecy. Apparently her name is being kept out of it. I believe it was she who persuaded Donahue to admit to his guilt.’

  ‘I’ll never understand her,’ said Tim. ‘Anyway, let’s change the subject. I’ve heard that there’s a new lodger next door to the Brookes family who appears to be taking an interest in Lucia. Have you caught sight of him?’

  ‘Yes, and spoke to him. He seems an OK bloke. I come across Michael now and again and he told me that Theresa had mentioned him. She thinks him good looking and she told me that he’s asked Lucia out and she’s seriously thinking of accepting his invitation – apparently she’s fed up of never going anywhere. Understandable! I can’t understand why you decamped to this place if you love her.’

  ‘It’s because I love her. I want to marry her but I’ve nothing to offer her. I explained it all but she couldn’t put herself in my shoes; she thought it acceptable for me to move in with her, jobless, and let her support me.’ Tim stood up. ‘I feel like a beer. What about you?’

  Chris nodded. ‘I am thirsty. Lucia’s a much more modern person than you are,’ he said, accepting a beer from Tim. ‘The days of wives expecting to be kept by their man, staying home and doing all the household chores, have gone. The war gave them a taste for freedom and also th
eir own earnings. They no longer have to go begging to their husbands for the money to buy a new frock, or even a set of new pans.’

  ‘Of course, she shouldn’t have to beg, but I want to be able to shower presents on her and share the responsibility and expense of bringing up the kids.’

  ‘Theresa said that Lucia only wants to be first in someone’s life and to share that life with them. She likes presents as much as the next person, but she’s a sensible woman who has a realistic view on life. On the whole life hasn’t been easy for her and her family; a lot was expected of them, so none of them expects the future to be a bed of roses.’

  ‘But I don’t want it to be a wilderness of weeds for her, either,’ Tim said.

  ‘Why don’t you take her out in your snazzy van? Somewhere completely different. You’re going to have to meet her halfway if you don’t want to lose her.’

  Seventeen

  Tim gazed into the distance, thinking. In the past, seldom had faith or self-sacrifice played a part in his life, although it had been a sacrifice moving away and not seeing Lucia every day, enjoying their conversations and being close. But now he was going to have to sacrifice his own opinion of what was right for them, and have faith Lucia’s way could work for them and that their love could be strengthened by them working together as a married couple. As he made his preparations to take Lucia out, he was glad that he’d had extra keys made for the front door and the apartment for Jerry in the eventuality that Tim was not at home. He had also had a word with his landlady. He thought how life had been less complicated when he’d had Lucia living next door. He wrote a note for Jerry and left it propped up against his typewriter before leaving. He sighed as he gazed at the sheet of paper in the machine, thinking he still had a fair way to go before the manuscript would be ready to send off for his editor’s perusal, having decided to try it out with his present publisher. He called Fang and went out to the van, and by two thirty he was on his way to Seaforth.

  To his relief, Lucia was delighted to see him. ‘I’ve only been home from work a few minutes,’ she said. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’

  ‘I couldn’t stay away any longer. I wondered if you’d like to go out for a meal this evening so we can discuss our wedding?’

  With her mouth half-open, she could only stare at him, and then she let out a whoop and did a little dance on the spot before saying, ‘You are serious?’

  ‘Don’t I sound serious?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but the three months aren’t up yet.’

  ‘I know but, as I’ve just said, I couldn’t stay away any longer.’

  ‘Then I accept your proposal,’ she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

  They kissed. ‘So where are you taking me?’ she asked.

  ‘A restaurant in town, not far from the Victoria monument. I remembered Pete mentioned going there when he was still working in the shipping office down by the docks.’

  ‘OK. When have I got to be ready?’

  ‘You’ve several hours, so plenty of time to dolly yourself up.’

  ‘What about Jerry?’

  ‘I left him a note. By the way, is it all right for me to leave Fang here? He’s in the van at the moment.’

  ‘Of course, but why don’t you nip back to Crosby and bring Jerry here. He can stay with Joseph. I’ll ask Theresa to stay in and look after them.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll do that.’

  Tim wasted no time returning to Crosby and fetching his son, who was delighted to be going to Seaforth.

  The evening was dry with a nip in the air when Tim and Lucia caught the train to Liverpool. Both of them were in a cheerful mood as they left Exchange Station and walked in the direction of Dale Street and the Mersey, only to turn left, well before they would have reached the river glistening beneath a setting sun. The restaurant was in North John Street and Tim had chosen it, not only because he had heard good reports of the food and the ambiance, but also because it had no memories of Maggie or Bernie. As they were shown to a table, he was aware of Lucia gazing about her. He thought how it was likely that most of the businessmen and workers from solicitors’, insurance and shipping offices lunched here, unless they decided they needed fresh air and had brought sandwiches, and in that case they would walk down to the Pierhead to watch the ships coming and going.

  ‘This is a bit classy,’ Lucia whispered across the table to Tim.

  ‘I hoped you’d like it. Pete recommended the food, so unless it’s changed since his day, we should be in for a good meal.’ He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. ‘I’ve something important to discuss with you.’

  ‘The date of our wedding?’ she asked.

  ‘We can discuss that after I say what I think needs saying,’ Tim said.

  ‘So you haven’t changed your mind about us getting married then?’

  ‘Of course not, but I’ve been wondering whether we should move away from the Liverpool area.’

  ‘You don’t think there could be someone else who has it in for you, do you?’

  ‘I don’t think so – but I want you and the kids safe.’

  ‘I think you’re worrying unnecessarily. Unless you think it possible that, when your book comes out, someone – other than the gang – who reads it might take offence?’

  ‘The thought had occurred to me,’ said Tim. ‘If it wasn’t too late to cancel, I might have withdrawn it, but I’ve spent most of the advance so I can’t give it back. Besides which I’m hoping it’ll be a lesson to any kids who think there’s something glamorous about joining a gang and breaking the law. I want them to realize that crime really doesn’t pay in the long run.’

  ‘Then stay with it,’ Lucia said. ‘What I hate is the thought of you spending time with Isabella when the book is launched.’

  ‘By then you and I should be married, so I’m hoping you’ll be at my side at all the publicity events.’

  Lucia gave a wriggle of pleasure. ‘So, when will we get married?’

  ‘I thought the beginning of December, so we can enjoy the run-up to Christmas as a married couple with the family.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ Lucia said.

  ‘I’m glad. So how about if we order now and continue this conversation later?’

  They reached for the menus the waiter had placed on the table in front of them and began to peruse the food on offer. Lucia chose a prawn cocktail for starters and Tim settled on the soup of the day, and for the main course both decided on medium-rare rib-eye steak, fried onions, French fries and seasonable vegetables. Dessert they decided to choose later.

  Tim ordered a bottle of rosé and a pint of Guinness and having done that, they leaned back in their chairs and smiled at each other. ‘I’ll ask our Marty to be my best man. I was thinking that you’d probably want your Michael to give you away.’

  Lucia agreed. ‘I’ll ask Theresa to be my chief bridesmaid. I doubt Joseph and Jerry will want to take part in the service.’

  ‘They could help hand out service sheets. Would you mind asking Josie to be a bridesmaid? It would please Irene and Marty.’

  ‘I’d be happy to do that. After all, she is your niece. Do you think Peggy will want her little girl to be a bridesmaid? It’s just that I don’t want there to be too many little ones for Theresa to have to keep her eye on.’

  ‘Understandable, and besides, if you ask Peg’s little one, you’d have to have our Lil’s daughter as well. Too many!’

  ‘I agree. Besides, we can’t possibly afford that many bridesmaid frocks and posies. Although, if I could have our Gabrielle as a bridesmaid, I would. But I can’t see her or James being at our wedding. Although it would be lovely if they could come over with Aunt Babs.’

  ‘Do you think it’ll be all right to have the reception at your house?’ asked Tim.

  ‘It’ll save money on hiring a hall,’ Lucia said. ‘And it’s not as if we’re going to have loads of guests.’

  ‘Mainly just family,’ said Tim. ‘Although, I’d like to
invite Sam Walker and his wife, and Nick and Chris.’

  ‘And Bobby … and I should invite Josh and Maggie – if you don’t object?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tim said. ‘And Monica – and what about Irene’s brother, Jimmy, and his wife.’

  ‘How many people is that now?’ Lucia asked, beginning to count names on her fingers.

  She was interrupted by the waiter bringing their starters.

  As she began to eat her prawn cocktail, she said abruptly, ‘You know who we’ve forgotten – your mother.’

  ‘And we mustn’t forget Mrs Hudson,’ Tim said. ‘And your aunt Nellie, Uncle Michelangelo—’

  ‘And maybe Uncle Francis will help out at the service,’ said Lucia.

  ‘My head is starting to spin,’ Tim said. ‘Let’s forget about the wedding for now and be quiet while we eat.’

  Lucia agreed, thinking she was beginning to feel a bit dizzy herself. How she wished her father were alive to give her away.

  By the time the crockery and cutlery from the first course had been removed and their main course placed in front of them, they were both feeling calmer.