by Joan Jonker
Home Is Where
The Heart Is
Joan Jonker
Copyright © 1993 Joan Jonker
The right of Joan Jonker to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2012
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN: 978 0 7553 9195 0
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About the Author
Also by Joan Jonker
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Joan Jonker was born and bred in Liverpool. Her childhood was a time of love and laughter with her two sisters, a brother, a caring but gambling father and an indomitable mother who was always getting them out of scrapes. Then came the Second World War when she met and fell in love with her husband, Tony. For twenty-three years, Joan campaigned tirelessly on behalf of victims of violence, and it was during this time that she turned to writing fiction. Sadly, after a brave battle against illness, Joan died in February 2006. Her best-selling Liverpool sagas will continue to enthral readers throughout the world.
Joan Jonker’s previous novels, several of which feature the unforgettable duo Molly and Nellie, have won millions of adoring fans:
‘Wonderful … the characters are so real I feel I am there in Liverpool with them’ Athena Tooze, Brooklyn, New York
‘I enjoy your books for they bring back memories of my younger days’ Frances Hassett, Brixham, Devon
‘Thanks for all the good reads’ Phyllis Portock, Walsall
‘I love your books, Joan, they bring back such happy memories’ J. Mullett, Lancashire
‘I’m an ardent fan, Joan, an avid reader of your books. As an old Liverpudlian, I appreciate the humour. Thank you for so many happy hours’ Mrs L. Broomhead, Liverpool
Also by Joan Jonker
When One Door Closes
Man Of The House
Home Is Where The Heart Is
The Pride Of Polly Perkins
Sadie Was A Lady
Walking My Baby Back Home
Try A Little Tenderness
Stay As Sweet As You Are
Dream A Little Dream
Many A Tear Has To Fall
Taking A Chance On Love
Strolling With The One I Love
When Wishes Come True
The Girl From Number 22
One Rainy Day
Featuring Molly Bennett and Nellie McDonough
Stay In Your Own Back Yard
Last Tram To Lime Street
Sweet Rosie O’Grady
Down Our Street
After The Dance Is Over
The Sunshine Of Your Smile
Three Little Words
I’ll Be Your Sweetheart
Non-fiction
Victims Of Violence
Dedicated to my family and friends for their encouragement.
My gratitude to Mary Johnson, without whose help and guidance this trilogy of books would never have been written.
Chapter One
A spark from a hissing coal spurted from the fire and landed on the hearth rug by Eileen’s feet. Quick as a flash her foot shot out and extinguished it before it had time to singe the rug. She glanced across at her husband who was sitting at the opposite side of the grate, but Bill was so absorbed in the evening paper he was oblivious to everything else. I dunno, Eileen muttered silently, once he’s got his nose stuck in a paper, he wouldn’t notice if the house burned down around him. If he had a mind like mine right now, he wouldn’t be sitting there so calmly. All the family were in bed and it was quiet in the small living room of the two-up-two-down terrace house, except for Eileen’s heart, which was pounding so loudly she wondered that Bill couldn’t hear it. Eileen sat back in the chair, her hands clasped tightly together. Go on, tell him, she urged herself. You’ve got to do it sometime, so the sooner you get it over with the better. But her mouth felt like a piece of emery paper with nerves and she didn’t think she could speak even if she plucked up the courage.
Calm down, she told herself, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Her gaze swept around the room, taking in the sideboard with a vase and ornament on top of the lace runner, the couch against the far wall and the dining table with its maroon plush tablecloth and four straight backed chairs standing neatly with their seats hidden beneath the table top. When her heart beat had slowed, Eileen licked her dry lips. It’s now or never, so best get it over with.
‘Bill, will yer put the paper down a minute. I’ve got something to tell yer.’
Bill Gillmoss lowered the Echo until his deep brown eyes were peering over the top. ‘What’s that, chick?’
‘I’m havin’ a baby.’ Eileen was sitting on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped between her knees. She pushed a wisp of mousey-coloured hair behind her ear as she waited anxiously for her husband’s reaction.
Bill stared hard for a few seconds, then threw back his head and chuckled loudly. ‘I nearly fell for that! How you can keep a straight face, I’ll never know.’
‘I’m not jokin’, Bill. I went to see Doctor Greenfield today, and I’m nearly two months.’
The smile left Bill’s face. ‘You’re having me on, aren’t you, chick?’
Eileen shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that.’
The paper fell from Bill’s hand, and for what seemed like an eternity to Eileen, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Then, in a voice thick with shock, he said, ‘That’s the last thing in the world I expected.’
‘Well, I wasn’t exactly plannin’ on it meself!’ Not for the world would Eileen show how frightened she was. It was twelve years since their Edna was born and that was a long time to go between children. ‘It’s happened, an’ there’s nowt we can do about it!’
‘But we’re too old to go through that again!’ When Bill turned his eyes on her, Eileen could see he was bewildered. ‘The children are all grown up now . . . Billy’s nearly sixteen, Joan’s leaving school in a couple of weeks, and Edna’s twelve! I thought the days of having babies were well behind us!’
You can say that again! Eileen didn’t voice her thoughts. As she’d said, it had happened and there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn�
�t like buying a pair of shoes that you could take back if you found they didn’t suit you. ‘Bill, I’m forty-two, not a bloody hundred and two! An’ if I’m pregnant then I can’t be too old, can I? If it hadn’t been for the war, an’ you bein’ away for six years, I’d ’ave probably had a few more children by now.’ Eileen was close to tears. She’d been on pins all day, having to keep the news to herself until all the family were in bed and she had Bill on his own. She’d been hoping he’d be pleased, then she’d have felt a bit better. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a baby, she loved children. But the prospect of giving birth scared her stiff. ‘It takes two to make a baby, Bill Gillmoss, so don’t be lookin’ at me as though I’ve committed a flippin’ crime!’
‘I know, chick.’ Bill was trying to come to terms with the shock. He could see the disappointment on Eileen’s face and tried to raise a smile. ‘What did Ma have to say?’
‘I ’aven’t told me mam. I wanted you to be the first to know, seein’ as you ’ad a hand in it.’
‘I wonder how she’ll take it?’ Bill reached for his cigarettes and matches. ‘And the kids? It’ll be a big shock to them.’
‘Bill, I couldn’t give a monkey’s uncle about me mam and the kids! It’s you who’s my main concern, and yer actin’ as though it’s got nothin’ to do with you! We, Bill . . . you an’ me . . . are goin’ to ’ave a baby whether yer like it or not!’
Out of the side of his eye, Bill gazed at his wife. He took in the droop of her shoulders and the troubled expression on her face. He quickly returned his cigarettes and matches to the mantelpiece and moved to kneel at the side of her chair. ‘I’m sorry, chick!’ He put an arm across her shoulders and pulled her towards him. ‘It’s come as a bit of a shock, so I need a little time to get used to the idea.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘That’s what we get for playing mothers and fathers.’ Eileen’s arms went around his neck, a constant reminder of his days in the prisoner-of-war camp. She’d been able to fill out his skeletal frame and help him over his nightmares, but nothing could put back the dark brown hair he’d had before he’d joined the army. ‘I’m worn out, Bill, an’ I’ve got a splittin’ headache. Me mind’s been in a hell of a state all day. It’s not that I don’t want a baby, ’cos yer know I’m a sucker when it comes to babies. But it’s been such a long time since I ’ad our Edna, I don’t relish the thought of goin’ through it all again.’ She drew away to look into his eyes. ‘But if I thought you were ’appy, Bill, then that would be half the battle.’
‘Look, as long as you are all right, that’s all I worry about, you know that. If you’re happy, then I’ll be happy.’
They were quiet for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms. Then Bill asked softly, ‘Have you thought about the upheaval this is going to cause? We’ll have to move away from here, for a start. The house is too small as it is, we’d never manage with a baby as well.’
Eileen jerked up straight. ‘I’m not leavin’ this little house! I love it here!’
‘Chick, be practical! Where would you put a cot? Your ma sleeps in the girls’ room, and they can hardly move, and our Billy’s feet are almost sticking out of the window in that little box room.’
‘I’m not movin’ away from ’ere!’ Eileen persisted. ‘I’d miss all me neighbours.’
Bill sighed. ‘Okay, we’ve got plenty of time to talk about that. The first thing is to tell Ma and the children.’
‘That’s the part I’m dreadin’.’ Eileen hunched her shoulders as her chubby face creased in a smile. ‘I never told me mam when I was expectin’ the other three, I just left it till she could see for ’erself.’ Eileen started to rock back and forth and Bill could hear the springs in the chair creak in protest at the movement of her eighteen-stone body. ‘Can yer believe it, I’m forty-two years old and frightened to tell me mam I’m ’aving a baby!’
‘Five minutes is all it’ll take to tell Ma, and the girls, and when it’s over you’ll wonder why you were ever worried,’ Bill said confidently. ‘You can leave Billy to me . . . I’ll tell him.’
‘Only five minutes, he says,’ Eileen huffed. ‘Yer can be hung, drawn and quartered in five minutes, Bill Gillmoss, an’ that’s what me mam will do to me . . . after she’s laid a duck egg!’
‘Is this one of your little jokes?’ Maggie stood rubbing her chin, a look of doubt on her face. Her daughter was always pulling her leg, and Maggie never knew when to take her seriously. She was only half the size of Eileen, with a trim figure and an abundance of white hair which was always neatly waved. It was her face, with deep worry lines etched on her forehead and cheeks, that told of the sadness she’d suffered in her sixty-seven years. When her husband had died eighteen years previously, she’d come to live with Eileen and Bill, and never for one moment had she regretted it. They’d taken her into their home and surrounded her with love and laughter. They’d given her a reason for living.
‘Mam, I know I clown around a lot, but I’d hardly make a joke about havin’ a baby, now would I?’ While Eileen’s heart was thumping like mad, she told herself it was ridiculous to be so embarrassed. Having babies was natural when you were married. And it wasn’t as though her mother had never had children of her own because she’d had her and their Rene. When Maggie didn’t answer, Eileen leaned forward, so their faces were nearly touching. ‘I know yer gobsmacked, Mam, but for ’eaven’s sake say something.’
‘That’s the understatement of the year!’ Maggie’s mind was in a turmoil. She could see the pleading in Eileen’s eyes, begging her to understand and be happy for her. And all Maggie ever wanted was her daughter’s happiness. But while she willed herself to say the words Eileen wanted to hear, Maggie couldn’t suppress the fear she felt. She’d always worried that the weight her daughter carried round with her would one day put too big a strain on her heart. How was she going to cope with the extra burden of carrying a child?
‘Come on, missus!’ Making a fist of her hand, Eileen leaned on the table. ‘Cat got yer tongue, ’as it?’
‘You certainly know how to surprise people,’ Maggie said, smoothing down the front of her floral wrap-around pinny. ‘But this is one surprise I never expected!’
‘I know what’s worryin’ yer,’ Eileen smiled to ease the tension. ‘It’s the thought of another Easter egg yer’ll ’ave to buy, an’ another Christmas pressie.’
‘What does Bill say?’ Maggie asked. ‘Is he pleased?’
‘Pleased as punch, he is!’ Eileen lied. ‘When ’e went out of ’ere this mornin’, he walked down the road with ’is shoulders back and his chest stuck out a mile. Real proud of ’imself, he is!’
‘And do the children know?’
Eileen screwed up her face. ‘Haven’t told them yet. I’ll tell them when they come in from school, so make yerself scarce, will yer, missus? I ’ad to take me courage in both ’ands to tell you, so God only knows ’ow I’m goin’ to break it to them.’
‘They’ll take it in their stride,’ Maggie said. ‘As long as their tea’s on the table, and they can go out and play with their mates, that’s all they worry about.’ She opened her arms wide and Eileen, blinking back the tears, walked into them. ‘Congratulations, love.’
‘Thanks, Mam.’ Eileen grabbed her mother round the waist and lifted her off her feet. Swinging her round and round, she gasped, ‘I always said yer were the best mam in the whole world.’
‘Oh, you, Mam!’ Joan’s hand went to her mouth, her face the colour of beetroot. She was at the age now when sex was whispered about in the playground, and some of the girls in her class sneaked in copies of True Confessions magazine. The thought of her mam and dad doing what couples in the magazine did, horrified her. They were too old for that!
‘What d’yer mean, “oh, you, Mam”!’ Hundreds of butterflies were flying around inside Eileen’s tummy, she was so embarrassed. It’s worse than going to the flipping dentist, she told herself. ‘I thought yer’d be pleased to ’ave a little brother or sister.’
�
�Well I’m not, so there!’ Joan nodded her head to emphasise her words. ‘I don’t want it!’
‘That’s just tough on you, then, my girl, ’cos there’s nowt yer can do about it.’ Eileen raised her eyes to the ceiling. God give me the strength to keep my hands off her.
Edna had been standing with her mouth open, listening and taking in. Now she flew to put her arms around Eileen’s waist. ‘Ooh, I’m made up, Mam! I hope it’s a little girl, and we can call her Susan . . . after that film star, Susan Hayward.’
Eileen patted her bottom, chuckling, ‘An’ if it’s a boy, I suppose yer want it called Alan, after Alan Ladd?’
Edna’s brows came together in concentration. She was two years younger than Joan, but they could pass for twins. Both had their mother’s straggly, mousey-coloured hair and hazel eyes. And both were as thin as bean poles, as Eileen had been at their age. After a few seconds’ consideration, Edna shook her head. ‘No, if it’s a boy, can we call it Randolph, after Randolph Scott?’
The rafters rang with Eileen’s laughter. ‘Some ’ope you’ve got! Can yez see me at the front door, shoutin’, “Randolph, yer tea’s ready!” I’d be the laughin’ stock of the whole ruddy neighbourhood!’
Joan spun on her heels. She didn’t know what there was to laugh about. Fancy someone as old as her mother having a baby! It was a good job she was leaving school in a few weeks and wouldn’t have to tell her friends. ‘I’m going down to Dorothy’s.’
‘Don’t go far,’ Eileen called after her, ’yer tea won’t be long.’
‘Mam, will yer teach me how to knit?’ Edna was moving from one foot to the other. ‘Then I can make a matinee coat for the baby.’
‘We’ll see.’ Eileen noticed the jerky movements and gave Edna a push. ‘Down the yard to the lavvy, now! Yer always leave it till the last minute!’
Eileen, a smile on her face, watched through the window as Edna flew down the yard. ‘At least I’ve made someone happy,’ she said aloud. ‘And the others will come round, given time.’
Bill threw the spent match in the fire grate, his eyes screwed up against the smoke drifting upwards from his cigarette. Last night, when Eileen had told him she was pregnant, it had hit him like a body blow, knocking the stuffing out of him. He’d been able to think of nothing else all day in work. But by dinner time, although he wasn’t thrilled, he’d got used to the idea. And when he was clocking off, he told himself the eagerness he felt to get home was only because he wanted to make sure Eileen was all right. It was when he was stepping down from the bus, the truth hit him. He wanted this baby!
