by June Francis
‘American?’ asked Emma.
Jared nodded. ‘Met Yanks when I was in Korea, and over here after the war.’
‘Is that when you learnt to jive?’
He smiled. ‘There were dances in some of the parks during the war and you’d find Yanks there jiving. I used to watch them and have a go. A lot of liners sail backwards and forwards from Liverpool to New York and it wouldn’t surprise me if Jimmy Miller, Irene’s sailor brother, has brought that record over and she plays it on her record player, because our Maggie can jive.’
Emma did not doubt it and she wondered if maybe this music group Betty and Irene were supporting would soon be playing it. ‘Did the Yanks stay long in Liverpool?’
Jared said, ‘They were based at Burtonwood airbase, near Warrington, but they often came into Liverpool. They left after the war, but returned when the Russians blockaded Berlin, to airlift food, fuel and equipment into the western sectors of the city.’ Jared downed half his beer. ‘Ready for another dance yet?’
She smiled. ‘I wouldn’t mind a nice slow one.’
The big band had returned to the stage, and when they struck up ‘It Had to Be You’, Emma could not say no. She felt as if she was floating as Jared held her close and sang the lyrics in a low voice against her ear. The words were some of the most romantic ones in the world in her opinion. But surely he could not mean them after such a short acquaintance? Because if he did, then she knew that there would be sacrifices to be made, and most likely it would be she who would have to make them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Elsie placed a tray on the coffee table and gazed at Emma’s glowing face. Jared had just gone upstairs and the older woman was glad of that because it gave her the opportunity to talk to Emma alone. ‘It looks to me like the pair of you had a lovely time. I presume from Betty’s absence that she couldn’t face coming to see me,’ said Elsie.
‘No, it wasn’t that at all,’ said Emma hastily. ‘She wasn’t in when we arrived at her bedsit.’
‘I see.’ Elsie paused. ‘So did you find your father’s painting?’
Emma’s face lit up. ‘Aye, it’s there all right. I thought it was marvellous.’
‘I’m glad,’ said Elsie, looking relieved. ‘And the Hippodrome?’
‘I found it hard to imagine my mother up there on the stage. The film was great, though. You should go and see it. It makes you feel good.’
‘Perhaps I will. It’s a while since I’ve seen a film,’ said Elsie. ‘I haven’t mentioned, Emma, that your father used to help paint the backdrops at the theatre. I think that’s how he and your mother met.’
Despite having already been given that information by Jared, Emma thanked her. ‘We then had a Chinese meal and afterwards went dancing.’
‘You enjoy dancing?’
Emma’s eyes shone. ‘Oh aye! Jared’s a good dancer. He seems to have a natural rhythm.’
‘He takes after his father.’ A sigh escaped Elsie. ‘You have to make the best of every minute, because you never know when it’s going to come to an end, Emma,’ she added earnestly. ‘My first husband, Owen, was a good man and a good provider,’ she went on, sitting down beside Emma and picking up her own cup of cocoa. ‘And patient! He had the patience of a saint. He never flew off the handle like his brother, and he’d had it tough, but in a different way from Teddy. He’d gone hungry and without shoes as a boy, but being the eldest he fared a bit better than the younger ones. But it also gave him a sense of responsibility, and that’s what Jared has. Owen was never sorry for himself despite the muscle-wasting disease that killed him, and he was never envious of what other people had. His brother Teddy, though …’ Elsie rolled her eyes.
Emma presumed that Teddy was all the things that his brother was not and she could understand why Jared, Dorothy and Maggie would never accept any kind of excuse as a good reason why their mother had married their uncle.
‘Well, Teddy’s gone now and I certainly don’t want him back,’ continued Elsie. ‘Now come on, luv. Drink your cocoa,’ she said, changing the subject.
Emma picked up her cup and sipped the steaming brew and was surprised by its creaminess. ‘You make a good cup of cocoa, Mrs Gregory.’
‘That’s the Jersey milk,’ said Elsie, looking pleased. ‘I always treat us to a pint at the weekend. I’ve seen the cow and know the farmer. We’re not far from the country here, you know, luv. It’s not like when we used to live in Liverpool. You get real fogs there. I remember how my mother didn’t dare go out when they came down; so bad, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. Her chest was something chronic. In the end it was the bad air attacking her bronchials that killed her. It’s time the government did something about cleaning up the air.’
‘That’s a cheerful conversation you seem to be having with Emma, Ma,’ said Jared, causing the two women to jump at the sound of his voice.
He picked up his cocoa and sat down on a chair facing them. ‘I was thinking, Ma, that perhaps we should try and find Teddy.’
Dismay crossed his mother’s face. ‘Why? I thought that would be the last thing you’d want.’
‘I’d like to know where he is, so we can keep an eye on him. Perhaps it’s time you reported him missing to the police,’ said Jared.
‘They’ll wonder why I’ve waited before doing so,’ said Elsie.
‘I thought our Maggie could ask Irene to mention it to her stepfather. He’s a policeman,’ said Jared.
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Elsie, draining her cocoa cup. ‘Anyway, it’s time we were all in bed. Drink up, Emma. I’ll go up with you. We can leave our Jared to check the doors and windows and make sure everywhere is locked up.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gregory,’ said Emma, finishing her cocoa. ‘Perhaps I can wash the cups?’
‘No, the first time you visit, you’ll be treated like a guest. Leave your cup there and say your goodnight to Jared. I’ll see to it later.’
Emma stood up and smiled at Jared. ‘Goodnight, and thanks for a lovely day.’
‘I had a great time, too. See you in the morning.’
A quarter of an hour later Emma was in bed, lying on her back with her hands behind her head, reliving her day. It had been the happiest one she had spent, ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘Gosh, have you seen this in last night’s Echo?’ said Maggie. ‘A man threw his own son under a bus in Bootle.’
‘Was he killed?’ asked Dorothy.
‘No, but his leg was damaged. The police are saying it was attempted murder.’ She glanced up. ‘Fancy trying to kill a member of your own family!’
‘It’s not so unusual,’ said Dorothy. ‘If you read the history books, you often get fathers killing sons, and sons their fathers and brothers, and how many men murder their wives? Think of Crippen.’
‘Enough,’ said Elsie. ‘Isn’t there anything cheerful or funny you can tell us?’
‘Not funny, but I find this interesting,’ said Maggie. ‘A deckhand was remanded for selling Royal Iris whisky during a private cruise. Fancy being able to afford to hire the Royal Iris for a get-together.’
‘It would be great,’ said Dorothy, getting up from the table. ‘For a wedding, that would be nice.’
‘Talking about get-togethers,’ said Elsie. ‘Where do the Gianellis live?’
Dorothy and Maggie exchanged glances. It was a month since Emma had visited and the topic of visiting the Gianellis had been raised. Emma was due to stay for the weekend this Saturday, as it would be Christmas in a few weeks and apparently Jared was taking her shopping.
‘Why are you asking?’ said Dorothy.
‘Because I’ve decided to visit Mrs Gianelli and see what she’s like for myself.’
‘You’ve taken your time,’ said Dorothy, shrugging on her coat.
‘I’ve had a lot on my mind,’ said Elsie, humping a shoulder and reaching for a cigarette. ‘I’ve had several visits to make to various places.’
‘Where?’ aske
d Dorothy bluntly.
‘To visit my solicitor, for starters,’ said Elsie, fiddling with her cigarette and then putting it away, unlit.
‘Your solicitor! I didn’t know you had one. What for?’ asked Dorothy, leaving her coat unbuttoned and resting her hands on the table and staring at her mother.
‘I’m in the process of having the house made over to Jared and I’m also having my will drawn up.’ Elsie reached for the teapot and removed the hand-knitted cosy and topped up her teacup. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll like the idea.’
‘You mean you’re making it over to him now?’ asked Dorothy, stunned.
‘Yes. I don’t want to pop off and for Teddy to claim it,’ said Elsie. ‘You might think it’s unfair, but he’s the one who’s most likely to get married first and he’ll need a home to bring his bride.’
Dorothy shrugged. ‘Just because Dougie Marshall isn’t available, it doesn’t say I won’t date someone else and get married before our Jared. I know what you’re thinking: that he and Emma might make a match of it, but he’s only seen her once since she was here, and she mightn’t want to leave her cottage.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Elsie smugly, sipping her tea. ‘I’d like a grandchild before I die. Hopefully, your future husband will provide you with a roof over your head, as that’s what husbands are supposed to do.’
‘Mum, you must know how difficult it is for married couples to find a home of their own since the war,’ said Dorothy, in a tight little voice. ‘But putting that aside, there’s something that’s puzzling me. Where did you and Dad get the money from to buy this house, or is there a whopping mortgage on it?’
Elsie’s cheeks turned a dull red. ‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It’s our Jared’s business,’ said Dorothy heatedly. ‘Is it that you can’t afford to pay the mortgage and are landing him with it?’
‘That’s not it at all,’ snapped Elsie. ‘There isn’t a mortgage. The house is paid for.’
‘Well, that’s a relief. It still leaves a question unanswered.’
‘And it’ll remain unanswered until I’m ready to give answers,’ said Elsie.
Dorothy took a deep breath. ‘Honestly, Mum, you are the most frustrating person to deal with. I admit I’m really glad you’ve come to your senses about Uncle Teddy. It’s just a pity you couldn’t divorce him.’
‘I did actually mention about getting a legal separation to the solicitor.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, but solicitors do cost money,’ said Dorothy.
‘You leave the worrying about money to me,’ said Elsie.
Dorothy said, ‘Have you won the pools or something?’
‘That’s my business,’ said Elsie, reaching for the newspaper.
‘Oh, I’m going to work,’ snapped Dorothy, tying a scarf about her head. ‘Are you coming, Maggie? We might as well walk to the bus stop together.’
Her sister nodded and collected her things and they left the house.
Elsie guessed that they’d have their heads together talking about her, but she wasn’t going to worry what her daughters thought about her right now. And hadn’t they gone and forgotten to give her the Gianellis’ address? Well, perhaps it wasn’t meant for her to go there.
She cleared the table and washed the dishes before combing her hair, putting on a bit of face powder and lippy and her outdoor clothes. Then she locked up and set off to catch the bus for the solicitor’s office in Crosby.
That evening the family were all sitting round the table together, having their meal. ‘So what time is Emma coming on Saturday?’ asked Dorothy.
Jared glanced up and put down his fork. ‘Early afternoon. I’m going to meet her at the station. She wants to go and look at her father’s painting again.’
Maggie said, ‘Will you be seeing Betty?’
‘She has her Saturday job, so I doubt it,’ said Jared. ‘Why do you ask? Is there something you want to say to her?’
Maggie shrugged. ‘Nothing in particular. I was just wondering, that’s all, if she was coming here for Christmas.’
‘She’s been seeing Irene Miller, so why don’t you ask her?’
‘I thought Emma might know.’
Jared smiled. ‘You can ask her yourself, when you see her.’ He turned to his mother. ‘I was thinking, Ma. Is it possible some of Uncle William’s other paintings survived the war?’
‘If they did, then our Lizzie would most likely have put them in the loft,’ said Elsie. ‘But I would have thought she’d have sold them for the money.’
Jared grimaced. ‘You could be right, although it’s possible she might have wanted to hang on to a couple, thinking they could be worth more years later. The money could help pay for Emma’s damp course and possibly an extension to the rear of the house.’
His mother gave a snort. ‘You’re getting carried away, aren’t you? Think they’d be worth hundreds? If there are any pictures, they’ll be filthy and not worth looking at. Believe me, son, it’ll be a waste of your time going up there.’
‘Even so, I wouldn’t mind having a butcher’s,’ said Jared, his eyes alight.
Elsie pushed her dinner plate away and reached for her cigarettes. ‘Well, if you fall between the joists and crash through the ceiling, don’t blame me.’
‘Give me some credit, Ma,’ said Jared, grinning. ‘I’ll give it a go tomorrow.’
The following day he was home by four o’clock. At this time of year his working hours were always shorter, and as the weather had turned foggy, the boss had told them they could knock off early. The house was empty as his mother was at work and his sisters wouldn’t be in until later.
He didn’t bother changing out of his working overalls, which were speckled with plaster and paint, and he kept on the cap that protected him from the worst of the plaster dust. He went down the garden to fetch the ladder from behind the shed and carried it upstairs. Then he took a torch from a drawer in the kitchen and a pair of old gardening gloves from under the sink and went upstairs.
He nipped up the ladder and unlocked the bolt on the trapdoor. He was whistling as he did so, thinking of Emma and looking forward to meeting her tomorrow. He shone his torch into the loft, and odd dark shapes immediately revealed themselves as all sorts of paraphernalia that had been discarded for one reason or another, but kept, as they might come in handy one day.
Placing his torch carefully on a joist, he heaved himself into the loft. He reckoned if there were any of his Uncle William’s pictures here, then most likely they would have been placed out of the way. The loft was a fair size, so probably they’d be over by one of the walls, out of harm’s way. He picked up the torch and shone it around, thinking as he did so that, with a couple of windows in the roof and a proper floor and the rubbish removed, this space could be made into a decent room. The torch’s beam passed over what appeared to be rectangular newspaper-wrapped packages, leaning against the wall to his right. Stepping carefully, he went in that direction.
There were four of them and they felt as if they could be canvases. He decided to carry just two at a time, not wanting to overbalance and put his foot through the ceiling below.
He was in the act of carrying the last two across the loft when he thought he heard a noise down below. He poked his head out of the opening, wondering if his mother and the girls had come home early due to the fog. He could not hear any voices, only the sound of a chair being moved. Then there came footfalls on the stairs.
Carefully, he eased himself out of the opening and was halfway down the ladder when he caught sight of his uncle on the first-floor landing. He was wearing an overcoat that Jared recognised as once having belonged to his father. It was much too long for Teddy, but maybe it was the first thing he’d found to hand, and the foggy weather was freezing outside. Jared noticed his uncle was carrying a box beneath his arm and recognised it as belonging to his mother. Jared was furious and drew in his breath with a hiss.
Teddy must have heard him because he looked a
bout him in alarm. He spotted Jared and the next moment was scuttling down the stairs. Jared dropped the last couple of feet and raced after him. He would have caught up with him if the carpet runner on the landing hadn’t been rucked up by Teddy’s feet. Jared tripped on it, lost his balance and fell headlong down the stairs. He managed to slow his descent by grabbing hold of the banister. He swung round, slid down backwards and caught his arm with a whack on the newel post. The pain was excruciating and his fingers slid off the banister, causing him to land with a thud on the hall floor, his head catching the vestibule door, leaving him stunned.
The front door slammed and Jared managed to stagger to his feet. He had a struggle with the vestibule door, fumbling with a shaking hand for the doorknob. At last he managed to open it. The front door had been left wide open and Jared made his way down to the gate and onto the pavement, but what with the fog, he could see no sign of Teddy. He mustn’t have half shifted himself, thought Jared, furious with himself for falling. He felt sick and dizzy with pain, and cursed his uncle.
Suddenly he heard female voices and recognised them as belonging to his sister and a neighbour. He called Dorothy’s name, and there must have been something in his voice that brought her running. ‘Did you see Uncle-bloody-Teddy?’ he asked, when he could make out her features.
‘No! Why? Has he been here?’
‘He was in the house. I was up in the loft, heard a noise, spotted him and ended up falling down the bloody stairs.’
‘Damn!’ exclaimed Dorothy, looking upset and angry as she stared at Jared. ‘You look terrible!’
‘I feel bloody terrible.’
‘Your face is filthy and you’re bleeding, and what’s wrong with your arm?’ Her voice was filled with concern.
Jared said savagely, ‘I think I’ve broken it due to that bloody man.’
‘Oh no!’ she exclaimed in dismay. ‘You’re going to have to go to the hospital and get it X-rayed.’
