by June Francis
A shiver raced down Mick’s spine and he said with a delighted smile, ‘It could be true! Weren’t there body-snatchers up in Scotland years ago? They came unstuck when they started pinching them out of graves and people kicked up a fuss. Spooky!’
‘I knew you’d like it.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Mick glanced around, kissed her quick, and then ran as if his life depended on it. His chest was heaving when he entered the kitchen.
‘You’re late,’ said John, turning from the range.
‘Where’s Ma?’ gasped Mick.
‘Putting her feet up. I said you’re late.’ John’s expression was uncompromising. ‘A good half hour! Your mother’ll want to know where you’ve been. I suppose you’ve an excuse?’
Mick realised he should have thought one up. But then why should he make up excuses? he thought resentfully. He did not like telling lies but neither did he want to tell the truth, so he kept silent, going over to the gas refrigerator and taking out a jug. He began to pour milk into cups. The big fella had already put on the kettles.
‘The silent treatment,’ murmured John. ‘I suppose you haven’t seen Hetty on your travels?’
Mick was startled and stared at him dumbly. How could he know that? Or perhaps he didn’t? Whatever, he’d better keep his mouth shut. If he confessed to having seen Hetty up Rodney Street his stepfather might put two and two together and stop him seeing Celia.
‘Am I to take this further silence as a yes or as a no?’ said John, slamming a hand down on the table so that the milk in the cups splashed up and Mick jumped out of his skin.
‘Yes, I mean no. I – I mean – I did see her. She was with some bloke.’
‘What was he like this bloke?’
‘Er – I didn’t look that close. Though I think he had big ears.’
‘That description’ll get us far,’ said John with gentle sarcasm. ‘Were they behaving like sweethearts?’
The question took Mick completely by surprise. ‘Erm, I – er, no!’ he said positively. ‘In fact I think they were arguing.’
‘People who love each other argue.’
Oh, smart! thought Mick. ‘What do you want me to say?’ His voice rose. ‘They weren’t kissing and cuddling so they weren’t acting like sweethearts in my book.’
‘Keep your voice down or you’ll have your mother up here.’
Mick lost control. ‘I don’t care! I’d like Ma up here! She wouldn’t let you bully me! Anyhow what’s wrong with Het—’
John clamped a hand over Mick’s mouth and rammed him against him. The youth gasped with shock and tried to wriggle free but he was completely helpless. ‘Now listen to me – would you recognise the bloke again? Nod or shake your head.’ Mick managed to nod his head. ‘Good,’ said his stepfather, releasing him.
‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said Mick, seething with rage and frustration at being rendered helpless.
‘Why, what’ll you do, Mick?’
Mick was silent.
‘Take it as a warning that I won’t have any impudence from you, laddie. And listen, I don’t want what we’ve said in here to go further than these four walls.’
‘Why. Because Ma’ll know what a bully you are then?’
John looked bored. ‘How old are you?’
‘You know how old I am,’ Mick said sulkily.
‘And you’ve been seeing Celia, haven’t you? So why don’t you start behaving like the man you’d like to be. Your mother has enough on her plate without worrying about our differences.’
Mick went sick. ‘I suppose you’re going to stop us from seeing each other?’
‘Ach, no! I’m sure your friendship with Celia is harmless.’
Friendship! Harmless! Did he really believe that? Mick felt like telling him that he loved Celia! Only he felt sure his stepfather would mock him because he couldn’t possibly understand the powerful feelings that surged through his body whenever he so much as brushed against Celia. ‘Thanks,’ he said stiffly.
‘That’s OK. The kettles are starting to boil. Do you want a hand?’
The sudden change in his stepfather’s manner threw Mick off balance. ‘Er, no thanks. I’ll manage.’
John left him alone.
As Mick spooned cocoa and made tea he found himself reliving that suffocating moment when his stepfather had seemed intent on squeezing the life out of him. It had been frightening but Mick made up his mind that he was definitely not going whingeing to his mother. But what had all that been about Hetty?
Mick was still puzzling over it the next morning when he saw Big Ears standing at reception. He would not have stood out in a crowd but for those ears. Mick thought of going over and asking did he want to see Hetty but the vestibule door opened and the O’Neills entered.
‘Hello, Michael,’ said Becky, flashing her lovely smile at him.
He blushed. She was the only person who ever called him by his full name. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs O’Neill. Ma’s about somewhere. I’ll go and fetch her, shall I?’
‘In a minute. How’s Hannah been?’
Mick couldn’t prevent a grimace.
‘That bad?’ she said sympathetically.
‘No,’ he said hastily. ‘Ma said the place has never been so clean. Us boys, though, are going to hell.’
She shook her head and said ruefully, ‘She really is the limit.’
‘Hello, Micky.’ Sarah slipped her hand into his. ‘How’s life been treating you these days?’ It was a phrase her father often used and sounded strange issuing from one so young.
‘OK! How was the trip?’
Mick never got to hear because at that moment Kitty and John arrived on the scene and he was ordered to go and make tea and bring it down to the basement.
Mick did as he was told, lingering only for a few moments to listen to what the O’Neills had to say about the cruise. To his disappointment they were discussing tomorrow’s foundation stone laying ceremony for the Roman Catholic cathedral on Brownlow Hill. He slipped away, fastening a lead to Nelson’s collar he went to meet Celia.
He had just arrived outside St Luke’s Church in Leece Street when she came running, her hair flying behind her. ‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ she gasped, ‘but we’ve had a burglary and the house has been in an uproar. All the silver’s been stolen.’
Mick felt quite excited. ‘Has the doctor had the police?’
‘Of course he has! I had a job getting away. My room was searched and they kept asking me questions,’ she said indignantly. ‘They don’t seem to have a clue, though, how it happened. There’s no sign of a break-in. Miss Geraldine’s real upset and had one of her coughing bouts.’ She took a breath. ‘What’s the world coming to, Mick? A day doesn’t go by when you can’t read of a burglary or a smash-and-grab somewhere in the country.’
‘It’s the Depression,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘That’s what the big fella said … and talking about him, he knows about us.’
Celia stared at him, wide-eyed. ‘What did he say? Did you get into trouble?’
‘He asked me about Hetty and really went on about recognising the big-eared bloke. He got rough but I took it on the chin.’ He squared his shoulders. ‘He’s not going to stop us from seeing each other.’
‘You stood up to him?’
‘I had to – for you.’ He squeezed her hand and she smiled, and the rest of the world was forgotten by both of them.
‘There’s been a burglary,’ shouted Ben, erupting into the basement through the area doorway, clutching a ball to his chest.
Kitty glanced up from the sheet she was darning and her eyes met her husband’s. ‘Where?’ asked John.
‘Rodney Street. I heard Mr McFarlane and Mr Rubenstein talking. It was three masked men and they took the silver.’ Ben’s eyes were shining. ‘I wish I had a magnifying glass. I could go and look for clues.’
‘You mean someone saw them?’ asked Kitty, surprised.
‘Must have.’ He stared at John. ‘Hav
e you got a magnifying glass?’
‘No, Ben.’ He put down the periodical he was reading and got to his feet. ‘I think I’ll take a breath of fresh air.’
‘You’re going to have a nose about,’ said Ben, raising himself up on his toes and down again. ‘Can I come?’
Kitty put aside her sewing, her eyes on John’s face. ‘Maybe I should take a turn upstairs? Hetty’s supposed to be keeping her eye on things but I doubt she’s expecting burglars. Besides it’s time I was doing something about supper. Mick and Teddy should be in soon.’
John nodded and went outside, followed by Ben. The first person they saw was the dentist from next door who John had already discovered had done his training in Edinburgh. He was standing on his front step smoking a pipe. ‘They say there’s been a burglary.’ He pointed his pipe in the direction of Rodney Street.
‘Three masked men I believe,’ said John. ‘Which house was it?’
‘Doctor Galloway’s place. Took every penny, so I heard, and even the Sunday joint out of the larder.’
John said, ‘Is that so?’ They talked for a moment about the burglary and then to Ben’s disappointment changed the subject and began to talk about Edinburgh.
He listened for a moment before wandering away to take a look at the Galloway’s house and parked himself on the kerb opposite. He rolled his ball in the gutter, watching for any suspicious characters but nobody who looked the least bit exciting passed by. After a while he returned to the hotel where there was a Sunday stillness about the place. He went down into the area and he bounced his ball against the wall, thinking it would be fun to tail someone like the hero had done in the film he had seen last week.
Several guests came along, some ignored Ben but several spoke kindly to him, asking had he seen the streets decorated for the ceremony tomorrow. Teddy came bounding down the Mount and went through the front door without showing any sign of having seen his brother. Ben heard him say sorry to someone and the next moment a man came out of the hotel doorway, carrying a bag. Ben looked at him and his interest was caught as the man looked furtively about him.
Carefully Ben crept up the steps, pausing to peer through the railings before emerging onto the pavement and following him. The boy enjoyed himself, darting behind lamp posts and hiding in shop doorways whenever the man paused to change the bag from one hand to the other. He followed him all the way to a back entry not far from Scottie Road. Ben did not hang around waiting when the man went inside one of the yards but ran all the way home for his tea.
A spate of burglaries in the area was reported in the Liverpool Echo during the next few weeks. Then it went quiet for a while, maybe because people stopped being so trusting and locked their doors and windows. Celia told Mick that so far the police had had no luck in finding the doctor’s silver.
‘It’s really upset Miss Geraldine and he’s thinking of taking her away for a fortnight in August. She wants me to go with them.’
Mick stared at her with a sinking heart. ‘Do you have to go? I’m going to miss you terribly.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘I’ll miss you, too, but Miss Geraldine needs me.’
‘I need you,’ he said. ‘I wish you could come and work for us.’
Her expression was wistful. ‘I wish I could but if your ma had really wanted me she’d have asked. Besides I’m really fond of Miss Geraldine and I wouldn’t like to let her down.’
Mick supposed she was right. His mother had never expressed a wish to employ Celia even when she could have done so. They carried on walking Nelson round Princes Park in the warm sunshine, discussing whether to see Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire or Laurel and Hardy next week.
Someone else who had been enjoying the sunshine that Sunday afternoon was Teddy. With the arrival of summer they were not so busy at the hotel as people took off to the country or the seaside, so both boys had a bit more leisure. He was down at the Cast Iron Shore, sitting on a rock with his mate Bert. They were fishing with hook and line, using bite-size chunks of cod’s head as bait. On the foreshore was a group of men playing pontoon, and he and Bert were supposedly keeping an eye out for any sign of the police.
Teddy glanced in the direction of the road which ran up to the railway station. The golf links were on one side and further up on the other was St Michael’s cast iron church, from which the Cassie got its name. His eyes fixed on a tall figure striding along the road and he shot to his feet, almost dropping his line. ‘Damn and bloody blast!’
‘What’s up?’ said Bert.
‘It’s the big fella! What the hell’s he doing here? If Ma’s sent him to check up on me I’ll go mad!’ He felt a twitch on his line and swiftly gathered it in. There was a small fluke on the end. He unhooked it carefully and threw it back and rebaited his hook.
‘He’ll probably go away once he sees yer all right,’ said Bert placidly.
‘You don’t know him! He’s just out to spoil me fun,’ said Teddy, grinding his teeth.
‘So what are yer goin’ to do? D’yer wanna hide?’ suggested Bert.
‘What? Hide from him! You must be joking! I’m not scared and we’re only fishing, aren’t we?’
‘And keeping an eye out for the rozzers.’
‘He doesn’t have to know that,’ said Teddy scornfully. ‘Anyway watch your line. If we keep looking at the river he mightn’t notice me.’
But John had already recognised his stepson’s unruly dark head set on a neck that was still boyishly slender. He approached the rock where the two youths sat. ‘Caught anything?’
‘A couple of little fluke and crabs,’ answered Bert, disarmed by the tall fella’s smile. ‘We threw them back. Me ma would have laughed at me if I’d taken them home for tea.’
John climbed onto the rock beside them, despite Teddy’s glowering expression, and held his face up to the sun and the sea breeze. ‘Not a bad spot.’
‘It’s a good spot,’ said Bert earnestly. ‘Do you fish, mista?’
‘I did when I was younger. My uncle had a rowing boat and we’d go out where the water was real deep sometimes.’
Bert sighed. ‘It’d be good having a boat.’
‘It was good.’ John lowered his gaze and watched Teddy throw out his line further. ‘You don’t have a rod.’
‘Does it look like I have a rod?’ said Teddy sullenly.
John’s eyes narrowed. ‘It was a statement, laddie, not a question, and don’t be impudent. Do you enjoy fishing?’
Teddy nodded, unsmiling.
John got to his feet. ‘Stay out of mischief and make sure you’re home for tea on time.’ He got down from the rock and began to stroll along the water’s edge.
Teddy stared doggedly in the direction of Rock Ferry on the other side of the Mersey, wishing the big fella to Kingdom Come, and thinking of a few things he’d like to say to him if he had the nerve. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that it was not until he heard the squealing of brakes and the shouts of men did he realise the rozzers had arrived. ‘Hell!’ he cried, staring over his shoulder at the uniformed figures spilling on to the beach.
The gambling school had broken up and men were running here, there and everywhere in an attempt to escape arrest. Several shot past him and splashed into the sea. One shouted, ‘What happened to yer, lad? Last time we pay yous to keep a decko out for us.’
‘Sorry,’ said Teddy, much too late because the man had gone, and much too late to realise that his stepfather was in earshot.
‘Does this happen often?’ demanded John.
‘They wouldn’t play here if it happened often,’ muttered Teddy, not looking at him.
‘But it happens and you keep a watch out for them. How long before you start gambling? How long before you’re carted off in a Black Maria? How would that make your ma feel?’
Teddy was silent, hating John for saying such things in front of his mate.
‘I’ll answer for you,’ said John. ‘She’d hate it. We’ll wait until things calm down and then we’ll go home
.’
‘I don’t want to go home,’ protested Teddy.
‘You’re going home.’ John’s expression was uncompromising as he parked himself on the edge of the rock and watched the melee taking place on the foreshore.
Teddy seethed, thinking, one day, one day he’d get his own back.
Chapter Twelve
Teddy had dozed off but something woke him. A dim light filtered through a gap in the curtains and he lay there wondering what time it was. He had gone to bed early, tired out with fresh air and temper. He yawned and glanced in Mick’s direction but his brother was asleep and so was Ben. He lay for a while, thinking over the day’s events, and his anger boiled over again. I won’t be able to show me face for a while down on the Cassie, he thought. The pool of gamblers would be back after a few weeks but they wouldn’t ask him to be a lookout again. He’d lost a way of making money and it was all down to his ma marrying that Scottie. What wouldn’t he like to do to him? Boiling oil was too good. He let his lurid imagination run away with him and conjured up images which included giant spiders and the rack.
He was just turning over to grab a bit more shut-eye when he realised he could hear voices and recognised one of them as Hetty’s. Puzzled, he tumbled out of bed, feeling as if he had hardly slept at all, and padded over to the window. It was darker than he expected and the street lamps were still on. A man and a woman entered Hunt’s Hotel on the opposite side of the road but the woman was definitely not Hetty. He realised it was still Sunday and not Monday morning as he had thought.
He went back to bed, convinced he had imagined the voice. He’d only just settled himself when he heard a smothered giggle and the noise of a drawer opening in his mother’s bedroom. It was enough to get him out of bed again and into a pair of trousers. He opened the bedroom door slowly and squinted through the narrow gap. He was just in time to see the back of Hetty and a man going downstairs.
