by Maureen Lee
finished, Annie was her old self again, and began to look forward to the evening ahead. She and Sylvia always ended up having a good time and a good laugh.
A pleasant smell seeped up through the floorboards from the flat below. The horrible man with the big buck teeth who lived there was making curry for his tea. The smell made her feel hungry and she realised she'd been too upset to have dinner. She'd just slid two slices of bread under the grill and put half a tin of beans in a pan to heat, when she heard light footsteps running up the stairs.
For a moment, her heart leapt at the thought it might be Marie who'd caught the same train back, having decided to stay in Liverpool after all. There wasn't time to decide whether this was good or bad before there was a knock on the door and Sylvia shouted, 'It's me.'
'You're miles early.' Annie felt annoyed when she saw Sylvia was wearing her black slacks and jumper, which meant a dance was out of the question. 'Here's me, dressed up like a dog's dinner.'
Sylvia walked into the room and sat down without a word.
'What's wrong?' Annie frowned.
'The most awful thing has happened,' Sylvia replied in a small voice. 'I've brought a bombshell.' It was rare for Sylvia to sound so subdued. 'Cecy and Bruno have had the most terrible row. They followed each other round the Grand all afternoon, shouting and screaming.'
'Is that all!' Annie said, relieved. Cecy and Bruno rowed all the time, though she had to concede their fights were usually over quickly. She'd never known one last for more than half an hour, after which they usually made up with extravagant hugs and kisses.
'You don't understand, Annie.' Sylvia's blue eyes were frightened. 'Bruno's been having an affair and
Cecy's just found out. The woman's called Eve, a waitress who worked for us a short while last year.'
'An affair!' Annie was horrified. 'I don't believe it. Not Bruno!' Bruno Delgado epitomised everything true and honest in the world. He was perfect. She couldn't visualise him doing any wrong.
'The thing is, it isn't the first. He's had affairs before. He told Cecy all about them, confessed them one by one.'
Annie gaped. 'Did they know you were listening?'
Sylvia nodded bleakly. 'Every now and then one of them would say, "Keep your voice down, Sylvia will hear", and they'd be quiet for a while, then they'd get so mad, they'd start shouting all over again, sometimes in Italian, sometimes in English, as if they didn't care whether I heard or not.'
'Oh, Syl! Do you hate him?'
'I don't know. He said the oddest things. He said, "Everyone's entitled to a healthy sex life. I'm a normal man with normal needs. If you weren't so bloody religious, the situation wouldn't have arisen." '
Annie tried to make sense of this, but couldn't. 'What did he mean?'
'There's something burning,' Sylvia said.
Annie looked perplexed. 'I don't understand. What's religion and a healthy sex life got to do with burning?'
'I meant I can smell something burning.' Sylvia jumped to her feet. 'There's smoke coming from the kitchen.'
'Me beans on toast!'
The toast was cinders and the pan was ruined. The man with the buck teeth came stamping up to make sure Annie hadn't set the house on fire. He went away, disgusted, when she explained what had happened.
Sylvia opened the windows to let the smell out and Annie gave the cooker a superficial clean. She made a cup of tea to calm their nerves.
'That's a nice dress,' Sylvia said when they were sitting down again, 'Green's your best colour.'
'I got it from C & A. I thought we might have gone to a dance tonight. I prefer making me own frocks, but I can't manage pleats.'
'Your hair looks nice, too. It suits you up.'
Annie patted her curls. 'I was trying to cheer meself up. I felt dead miserable because our Marie had gone.'
'I forgot about Marie.' Sylvia made a face. 'She telephoned earlier. Cecy said to tell you she'd arrived safely.'
'There must be a phone in her new flat.'
A long silence followed. Sylvia stared into her cup. Annie didn't raise the subject of Cecy and Bruno until she was ready to talk again.
'They actually spoke about divorce, Annie,' Sylvia said suddenly. 'Least Bruno did. Cecy said she'd never divorce him. Never.'
'Oh, no!' Nothing was permanent. Nothing could be relied on to stay the same. Marie had gone, and now another part of her life was falling apart. She still didn't understand what had happened. Bruno had had an affair - affairs - but why, when he had always seemed so completely in love with Cecy.-* She said as much to her friend.
'He still loves her,' Sylvia explained carefully, 'he said so, but from what I could gather - and this is truly incredible, Annie - they haven't made love since I was born. Bruno yelled, "Do you think I'm made of stone.' Eighteen years, Cecy, eighteen years." You see, Cecy had an awful time with me and she was too frightened to have another baby. I think I told you that once.'
'But you can use things.'
'Apparently she won't. The Catholic Church forbids it.'
'Me Auntie Dot's every bit as religious as Cecy,'
Annie said, 'but she says that's a load of rubbish. It's all right for the Pope to lay down the law, but he hasn't got to look after the unwanted babies. Anyroad, there's something called the rhythm system . . .'
'It's not reliable. Even I know that.'
Annie sighed. 'Jaysus, Syl. It must have come as a terrible shock.'
To her surprise, Sylvia said thoughtfully, 'It did and it didn't. Over the years, I've had this funny feeling there was something wrong. Bruno used to look at Cecy with a strange expression on his face that I couldn't understand.' She smiled unexpectedly. 'I'm sick of talking about it. Let's go for a meal and the pictures. There's a new Alfred Hitchcock picture on at the Odeon, and I love all his films. Rear Window and Vertigo are two of my all-time favourites. It'll take our minds off things for a few hours.'
They went to a Chinese restaurant and had curried prawns and rice, not just because it was Good Friday and they couldn't eat meat, but because Annie had been longing for curry since the smell had drifted through the floorboards, though as she said to Sylvia over the tea that tasted like dishwater, 'I'll have to cut down on this sort of thing now that our Marie's not there to help with the rent.'
The new Hitchcock film was called Psycho. It was utterly terrifying, nothing like Rear Window or Vertigo. Annie kept her eyes shut most of the time, particularly during the last ten minutes.
'What happened?' she asked when the curtains thankfully closed and the stunned audience stood to leave. Instead of the usual buzz, everyone was strangely quiet.
'I've no idea. I didn't look,' Sylvia replied in a shaky voice. 'Thank God we haven't got a shower!'
A woman behind put her hand on Annie's arm and
she yelped in terror. 'What happened at the end?' she asked. 'I was scared to watch.'
'So was I,' said Annie.
Outside, Lime Street appeared dimly lit and had a gloomy, sinister air. Every man who passed looked Hke a potential murderer.
'Oh, Lord,' Annie groaned. 'I left all the windows open. Someone might have climbed in.'
'No-one's likely to climb in a fourth-floor window.'
Annie shivered. 'I'll be on me own tonight and that chap downstairs gives me the creeps. Have you noticed his eyes? The lids are heavy and they move dead slow, like a lizard.'
'Would you like me to stay?' offered Sylvia.
'Please, Syl. I'm petrified at the thought of going back by meself. I wish we'd never seen that picture. It took me mind off things all right. I'm scared bloody stiff!'
They looked for a telephone box so Sylvia could call the Grand. When she emerged, she gave Annie a sardonic smile. 'Cecy thinks I'm staying away because of the row.'
'Did you tell her the real reason?'
'No,' Sylvia said in a hard voice. 'She can think what she likes. If things get any worse, I shall leave home.'
'You've changed your tune. You were ups
et before.'
'I'm still upset, but it's no good crying over spilt milk, is it?'
The table was propped against the door, the bedroom doors were open and the beds had been moved so they could see each other across the lounge and communicate in case of emergency. Every light was switched on.
They sat up in bed and chatted about clothes, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Annie was
seriously considering making herself a plain black costume.
Sylvia looked surprised. 'I thought you were going to be hard up?'
'Once I've made the costume, I won't buy another thing,' Annie said virtuously, 'though I'd love a pair of those stiletto-heeled shoes.'
'They snap easily. I've had mine mended twice and Cecy complains about dents in the carpet. And don't get those winklepickers. A girl at college bought a pair. We thought she had deformed toes.'
After a while, Sylvia said she was tired and ready for sleep. Her blonde hair disappeared beneath the bedclothes. 'Goodnight, Annie.'
' 'Night, Syl. Things'll probably seem better in the morning.'
There was an answering grunt. Annie's head was buzzing and she had rarely felt so wide awake. She lay down reluctantly and tossed and turned for ages. The traffic outside gradually faded to the occasional car and she began to drift off, but woke up seconds later with a painful jump. Eventually, she fell asleep and dreamt a buck-toothed man with an enormous knife was butchering Marie in the bathroom, and the brown stains on the bath had turned brilliant red. Marie was screaming, but to Annie's horror, she found herself glued to the bed, paralysed, unable to do anything but listen to her sister's agonised cries. She woke up again, heart pounding, bathed in perspiration, conscious of the pungent smell of escaping gas, but afterwards realised the smell was no more real than the dream.
It was a terrible Easter weekend. They went dancing on Saturday, but their gloomy faces must have put off any would-be partners. Not a soul asked either to dance. They left in the interval, more miserable than when
they'd arrived. Sylvia telephoned an anxious Cecy to say she was spending another night with Annie.
The following morning they went to Mass, then caught the train to Southport, and had scarcely been there five minutes when the heavens opened and the rain poured down. As they sheltered in a doorway, Sylvia began to giggle. 'This has been the worst Easter of my life.'
'It's not over yet. We've got Monday to get through.'
'There'll probably be an earthquake.'
They laughed and the tension broke. They searched for a cafe and stumbled inside, drenched to the skin. Sylvia ordered a pot of tea, buttered scones and strawberry jam for four.
'I've led a charmed life up to now,' she said at one point. 'Bruno and Cecy have been magical parents. They always seemed superior to other people's. I'll just have to get used to the fact they're human like everybody else.'
It was still raining an hour later and there seemed little else to do but to return home. Sylvia thought it was about time she put in an appearance at the Grand, if only to change out of her wet clothes. They confessed they were sick of the sight of each other and wouldn't meet until the following weekend. Annie stayed on the train only as far as Marsh Lane Station. She was dying to see Auntie Dot.
Her shoulders immediately felt lighter when she went into the Gallaghers' noisy house. The rain lifted, the sun came out, and after dinner, she and Dot went for a walk to escape the din. She told her auntie about the Delgados.
'It's often the way when couples are all lovey-dovey,' Dot said soberly. 'It's only done to disguise the faults, from themselves as well as everyone else. I always suspected things weren't all they were cracked up to be
between those two.' She nudged her niece sharply with her elbow. 'If it weren't for Bert, I wouldn't mind helping Bruno out!'
'Auntie Dot! You're terrible, you are.'
'I'm only joking, luv, but you must admit he's a bit of all right.'
Annie was about to climb the final flight of stairs to the flat when she nearly jumped out of her skin. On the shadowy landing, someone was sitting on a suitcase outside her door.
'Hello, Annie,' Sylvia beamed. 'Relations have completely broken down at home. They were using me to convey messages to each other. I'd like to move in, if you don't mind. I promise to be incredibly cheerful, do my share of housework and pay half the rent. We'll have a wonderful time. They say every cloud has a silver lining. I suppose this is it!'
She had lost her temper only once in her life, and Annie Harrison had vowed never to do so again. Occasionally, people would remark how calm she was, particularly for someone with red hair. But it was dangerous to lose your temper, dangerous to lose control and say terrible things you didn't really mean which you would regret until the day you died.
Despite her vow, the day came when Annie could easily have murdered Jeremy Rupert. Instead, she merely slapped his face.
By keeping a sharp eye on his movements, she managed to keep out of his way most of the time, but when summer arrived and along with it summer frocks and bare legs, he became more and more difficult to
repel. His round eyes would devour her as she sat by his desk. Once again, she began to scan the paper for another job.
The days he was in court were best. He came into the office early, rattled off dozens of letters, and she was left to type them in peace.
He was due in court at eleven o'clock the day she slapped his face. She had already packed his briefcase with the files concerning the case he was defending, together with a lined pad and two freshly sharpened pencils, whilst he went for a quick confab with Mr Grayson. She fastened the case and put his wig in its white drawstring bag on top.
A few minutes later, he came in with Bill Potter, the junior solicitor who was accompanying him to court. He lit a cigarette and flung the lighter on the desk,
'Hallo there, Annie,' Bill smiled.
Annie smiled back. Bill was only twenty-three and quite attractive in a weedy sort of way, but unfortunately engaged to be married.
Mr Rupert picked up the briefcase. 'Everything here?' he puffed.
'Everything,' confirmed Annie.
'What about the Cfivedon file, Jeremy?' Bill Potter said. 'Old Grayson thought it might prove useful.'
Jeremy Rupert clicked his fingers impatiently at his secretary. 'The Clivedon file, Annie. Quickly, there's a good girl.'
The Clivedon file was in the end cabinet, third drawer down. Annie disturbed the file behind as she hastily pulled it out. Mr Rupert shoved the folder in his briefcase and the two men left.
Before closing the drawer, Annie bent down to straighten the files. Suddenly, Jeremy Rupert was back in the office. He snatched the lighter off the desk and held it aloft. 'Nearly forgot this.'
Annie muttered something meaningless and returned to the fihng. She never felt his hand reach beneath her flared skirt until it was directly between her legs, squeezing.
'Hmm, nice,' he murmured.
She felt herself grow dizzy with hot, uncontrollable rage. She span round and slapped his face with such force that his head turned ninety degrees and his glasses flew off. 'How dare your she gritted.
He went pale and retrieved the glasses, which were miraculously all in one piece. There was a bright scarlet patch on his right cheek. 'But . . . but, Annie,' he stammered. 'You've never said anything before.'
Annie didn't reply, but slammed into her own office without another word. She was shaking because she'd completely lost control. Had she been holding something heavy, she could have killed him.
For the remainder of the week, he appeared slightly shamefaced, but over the weekend must have decided he'd done nothing wrong. On Monday, he began a reign of terror. He found fault with her work where no fault existed, insisted he'd said one thing during dictation, when her notes proved he'd said another. They argued fiercely over the situation of commas and semicolons, and Annie found herself with no alternative but to type letters a second time, usually long ones, when there
was nothing wrong with the first. He insinuated she was incompetent, that she was slow, unintelligent. He claimed one of his clients had said she was rude on the telephone.
'Who was it?' Annie demanded. 'I'll ring up and apologise.'
'I've already apologised,' Mr Rupert snapped.
'Liar!' Annie muttered underneath her breath.
In the lunch hour, she remained at her desk and applied for every single secretarial vacancy in the Echo.
She knew she was finished at Stickley & Plumm. Her Up curled when she thought about her boss. He was utterly despicable, using his little bit of power to harass a helpless young girl - she forgot, for the moment, that she'd nearly knocked his head off. He'd probably like to sack her, but was scared she'd make a fuss and he'd get into trouble. Instead, he was trying to drive her into leaving of her own accord, but Annie's blood was up. She was damned if she would leave before she found another job.
'What's up with you.*"' Sylvia asked one night when they were clearing the table after tea.
'What do you mean, what's up with me?' Annie snapped.
Sylvia pretended to back away in fright. 'I mean exactly that. You don't speak normally, you explode. Is everything all right at work?'
'Everything's wonderful at work. Jeremy Rupert is the perfect boss.'
'Are you being sarcastic?'
'Yes,' Annie said briefly, but refused to say what was wrong. 'I'm in the middle of a feud. I'll tell you about it when it's over.'
The crunch came one Thursday, nearly three weeks after she'd slapped Mr Rupert's face.
He dictated a long Writ that morning. The Litigant was called Graham Carr. 'How do you spell that?' Annie enquired.
'C-A-R-R.'
The document was complicated and full of legal jargon, it had to be done on very thick paper with two carbon copies, which meant the typing was slow, hard work. It was three pages long when finished, and had taken two hours, but there wasn't a single error. Mr Rupert had gone to lunch, so she put it on his desk, and quickly typed half a dozen letters applying for jobs
advertised the night before. She'd already been rejected by five of the firms she had appUed to; she was either over-quahfied, under-qualified, or too young,
