Liverpool Angels (7 page)

‘You are both very, very lucky and make sure you take care of them. No dressing and undressing them constantly or those dresses and bonnets will look like rags in no time,’ she’d warned. But she had said they could go down to Ziegler’s for half an hour to show Isaac their gifts, providing they were back in time to say goodbye to John.

Both Isaac and Esther, Harold’s wife, had exclaimed over how beautifully the dolls were dressed.

‘Look how neat the stitching is, Father, even on the petticoats,’ Esther cried, lifting the organza skirt.

Isaac examined it closely and nodded. ‘You are indeed both very lucky girls and you must take special care of such gifts. They must have cost your father a good deal of money and he works so hard for it.’

‘Oh, we intend to,’ Mae replied gravely as the doll was handed back.

Isaac smiled at them both.

‘Thank your mother for the pies, Alice. It was good of her and I know it has been a very busy time for her,’ Esther urged.

‘I will, Mrs Ziegler,’ Alice promised.

‘We have a little gift for you both,’ Esther said, crossing to the table and picking up two small cloth bags. ‘One each.’

‘Thank you. We really didn’t expect anything, with you not really . . . well . . . believing in Christmas,’ Alice replied in some confusion.

Esther smiled at her. ‘For us this is Hanukkah, a time when we also give gifts and we light a candle every day for the eight days of the festival. These are called
gelt
and we hope you will enjoy them.’

Tentatively Alice opened the little bag; inside were some small coins made of chocolate. ‘Oh, thanks. Chocolate!’

‘Can we eat some now?’ Mae asked, intrigued by the designs on the surface of the sweets.

‘First you must have some
latkes
with us,’ Isaac instructed, nodding to his daughter-in-law.

‘Crispy pancakes made from potatoes. It is also a tradition,’ Esther enlightened them as she passed around the small plates.

Mae mumbled her thanks, her mouth full, although she decided she would have preferred the chocolate.

‘And you have enjoyed having your father home this year for the celebrations, Mae?’ Isaac asked.

‘Oh yes! We’ve all had a really great time but . . .’ Mae paused. ‘But it would have been better if he could have sailed tomorrow morning.’

The old man nodded. ‘Ah, there is never a good time to say goodbye.’

Alice was becoming impatient, wanting to show her mam the little coins. ‘We’d better be getting back now, Mae, we don’t want to miss waving him off,’ she reminded her cousin and Esther showed them out as the winter dusk was falling.

Clutching their dolls carefully the girls walked up the street towards home but as they drew level with Webster’s shop a scruffy-looking lad came hurtling around the corner and collided with them, knocking Alice to the ground. She screamed as the precious toy dropped from her arms on to the cobbles and into a puddle of muddy water left by the melted snow.

‘Why don’t yer look where yer goin’!’ he yelled at them as Mae bent down to help Alice up.

‘Why don’t you look where
you’re
going! You’re the one who came charging round the corner!’ Mae cried, glaring at him. ‘If you’ve ruined her doll you’ll pay for it!’

He peered closely at them both. He knew who they were, everyone did round here, and spoiled little madams they were, both of them. ‘Oh, shurrup! There’s nothin’ wrong with ’er flamin’ doll! Yer lucky to ’ave dolls – me sisters ’aven’t. None of us kids gor anythin’ – as usual.’

‘Her clothes are all wet, dirty and spoiled now!’ Alice cried, holding up the toy. ‘Just see what you’ve gone and done, Davy Hardcastle. She’s
ruined
!’

He glared back at her. ‘Yer mam can afford ter buy yer a new one, with all the money she’s got,’ he jeered. Maggie McEvoy was a moneylender and had a better home, food and clothes than his own family. Look at the get-up of the pair of them, he thought jealously. They had good winter coats and woollen scarves and hats, thick stockings and shiny black buttoned boots while he shivered in his old threadbare jacket, cut-down trousers and patched boots. ‘Me mam says she’s nothing but a leech, a bloodsucker, takin’ advantage of poor folk’s misery by charging them over the odds. Nothin’ short of daylight robbery, what she charges. No wonder yer don’t go short of anythin’.’

‘She doesn’t charge over the odds!’ Alice shot back angrily.

‘Course she does, yer stupid little tart! ’Ow do yer think she pays fer all the stuff you’ve got? By robbin’ poor folk, that’s ’ow!’

‘Don’t you call me a “tart”, Davy Hardcastle! You wait until I tell me mam what you called me!’ Alice yelled at him. Calling her that name was a terrible insult, as bad as swearing at her.

He laughed at her. ‘What’s she goin’ ter do, then?’

‘She’ll go and see your mam,’ Alice said.

‘An’ me mam’ll chase ’er. She ’ates ’er because she’s so thick with them dirty Jews . . .’

Mae had said nothing during this tirade but she was angry – and even though he was as old as Eddie and bigger than her, she lashed out furiously, catching him a hefty swipe across the cheek. ‘Don’t you dare say such things about Aunty Maggie or Uncle Isaac! I’m not going to let you call nice, kind people horrible names, Davy Hardcastle . . .’

He yelled and clutched his stinging cheek. ‘Yer little bitch! I’ll teach yer to mess with me!’ He lunged forward towards Mae, trying to wrench the doll from her, but she backed away.

‘They’re not “dirty Jews”. I hate you! I hate you!’ she cried.

‘It’s you who’s the “dirty” one, Davy Hardcastle! Look at the cut of you, I bet you haven’t had a wash all week! I bet you could grow potatoes in your ears!’ Alice taunted him.

The lad was now furious, humiliated and smarting at being belted and jeered at by girls both younger than himself. His manner became far more menacing and he lunged out and caught Mae by her long hair that tumbled from under her hat. ‘I’ll twist yer head off! See ’ow yer like that!’

Mae screamed more in fear than pain and Alice began to yell at him to stop.

‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you, lad. It would make me very angry and you wouldn’t want to see me when I’m angry. Now let her go or I’ll knock you into next week!’ John Strickland hadn’t raised his voice but at the sound of her da’s voice May let out a cry of relief.

‘Da! He . . . he was calling Aunty Maggie names and said Uncle Isaac was a “dirty Jew”, so I belted him!’

‘And he started it, Uncle John! He knocked me over and he called me a “stupid little tart”. Look what he’s done to my dolly,’ Alice added.

Confronted by this giant of a man whose reputation as a long-serving member of the Black Gang was legendary in the neighbourhood, Davy had had enough. He turned on his heels and ran.

‘He’s horrible! He’s really, really hateful!’ Mae cried.

‘Are you both all right?’ John asked. As there had been no sign of the girls returning he’d gone out into the street to look for them and had seen some of what happened.

They both nodded.

‘Ah well, I wouldn’t take too much notice of the likes of him. He’s just repeating what he’s heard others say and they’re bigoted and ignorant people. Don’t let him spoil your day. Come on inside now, the pair of you. I’m sure your mam will be able to do something to spruce your doll up, Alice,’ he urged. There was always someone who wanted to ruin things for others, he thought sadly as he ushered them across the road.

Liverpool, 1912

M
aggie had made up her mind. She had decided to hold what she termed a ‘get-together’ for a number of reasons. The first was to celebrate Eddie’s sixteenth birthday and his apparently satisfactorily progressing apprenticeship at Cammell Laird’s shipyard, and the second being Mae having just commenced a course on shorthand and typewriting at the quite prestigious Havering Lloyd College of Office Procedures in the city centre.

‘You mean you’re going to have a bit of a “do”?’ Agnes remarked when she was informed.

‘Not really what you’d call a party, Agnes. I mean I don’t intend to go inviting half the street. Just a few friends.’

‘So, who will you invite?’ Agnes asked, thinking that it wasn’t usual to celebrate a sixteenth birthday, a twenty-first was more normal, but still she supposed both Eddie and Mae were doing well.

‘You and the family, of course, the Zieglers, our John will be home and I thought I’d ask Eddie if he’d like to invite a couple of his mates.’

Agnes had nodded her agreement; sixteen people, she deduced. More than enough in a house this size.

They’d then spent the rest of the evening working out how much food they would need, bearing in mind the fact that Isaac and his family did not eat pork or ham, and what should be provided in the way of drink. Maggie decided that she would write formally to invite Isaac, Harold and Esther. ‘It looks better, Agnes, more polite,’ she’d stated.

Both Eddie and Mae were quite delighted when they heard the news.

‘It’s very good of you, Aunty Maggie,’ Mae said, glancing at Alice to see if she was in any way disappointed, but her cousin was looking quite happy about the little celebration.

‘And I can invite a couple of my mates?’ Eddie pressed, not quite sure if he’d understood properly. Usually his mam classed his mates under the general heading of ‘young hooligans’, or she had done in the past, but he supposed that now she looked on him as being more grown up and sensible; indeed he had begun to feel so.

‘I said you could, as long as they’re respectable. It goes without saying that Jimmy and Harry will be coming, but of course we’ve known them for years,’ Maggie replied, frowning over the lists of groceries.

‘Then I’ll ask Alfie and Derek. They’re apprentices like me,’ Eddie announced.

‘Where do they live?’ Alice asked, wondering why her mam hadn’t asked this. She usually wanted to know everything about their friends.

‘Birkenhead – well, Alfie does. I think Derek lives further out – more Prenton way,’ Eddie replied, beginning to feel quite important.

‘There’s some posh parts on that side of the river,’ Alice commented.

‘Birkenhead’s not posh!’ Eddie retorted.

‘Oh, don’t you two start arguing, it’ll spoil everything,’ Mae intervened, heading off one of their frequent bickering matches.

‘How will they get home then?’ Alice asked, not quite ready to give up on the discussion regarding the distinctions between Liverpool and its neighbours on the Wirral peninsula.

‘I don’t intend this get-together to go on that late, Alice. They’ll be in plenty of time to get a tram and then the ferry,’ Maggie stated firmly, putting an end to the discussion.

The following evening after supper Mae was struggling with the rudiments of Pitman’s shorthand while Alice was half-heartedly trying to memorise the major rivers of Europe for her geography class next day.

‘I can’t see the point of learning about the Rhine or the Danube – I’m never going to get to see them, am I? Who do we know who’s got the money to go travelling to Germany or Hungary or any other country for that matter? Uncle John, of course, but that’s part of his job, he’s not sightseeing,’ she said, chewing the end of her pencil.

‘You should try having to learn all these dots and dashes and strokes which are supposed to represent sounds and letters,’ Mae complained.

Alice grimaced. ‘Don’t forget I’m going to have to when I leave school and join you at that college. Is it really
that
hard?’

Mae nodded gloomily but she felt she had to try her best as it was costing her da a lot of money and she didn’t want him to think her ungrateful. She wanted him to be as proud of her as she was of him – John Strickland was greatly respected in Albion Street. ‘We’ll both manage it in the end, Alice, I’m sure.’ She paused. ‘You don’t mind about this get-together? You don’t feel . . . left out?’

Alice shook her head. ‘No, why should I? I think it’s mainly because our Eddie’s sixteen and he seems to be doing well,’ she replied, thinking that her brother would be starting evening classes soon at the Mechanics Institute to learn the more technical side of engineering. He was bright, was Eddie, much brighter than she was, but she wasn’t jealous of him. Then she grinned. ‘And besides, I think Mam really wants to show off the new piano.’

Mae grinned back. The piano that resided in pride of place in the parlour was a very recent acquisition. Her aunt dusted it meticulously every day and every Saturday it was polished vigorously. When Maggie had announced that she’d purchased it Eddie had demanded to know why as none of them could play. His mother had replied that that was irrelevant. Every decently furnished parlour had a piano.

‘Maybe one of Eddie’s mates can play,’ Mae mused. ‘I wonder what they’re like, this Alfie and Derek?’

‘Probably the same as our Eddie and Jimmy and Harry. Football mad, I’d say; it’s all they ever seem to talk and argue about,’ Alice replied without much interest. Lads of her brother’s age she considered very boring.

Mae nodded her agreement although she knew Harry Mercer was just as interested in cricket despite the fact none of them played that game.

When John arrived home he was mildly amused to learn of the forthcoming get-together, although he agreed with his sister that it was a good time to mark Eddie’s birthday and both his and Mae’s achievements. ‘They’re growing up, Maggie,’ he’d said. ‘We’ll have to start looking towards their futures.’

‘Thanks to you and me they’ll both have the skills to earn a decent living. Mind you, it’s not been easy to keep our Eddie’s nose to the grindstone and I’ve a lot to thank Isaac for on the matter of the apprenticeship. He had a word with a foreman he knows who works there, so that’s a very good reason to invite him and Harold and Esther for a bit of supper,’ she’d concluded.

She had decided to hold the little party on the Sunday evening, knowing that both Friday and Saturday were rather inconvenient for the Zieglers and besides, as she confided to Agnes, as everyone had work or college or school on Monday morning she didn’t expect it to go on much later than eleven o’clock.

Both girls had helped her to lay the table in the kitchen with her best cloth and dishes and set out the plates of sandwiches, cakes and other delicacies that had been purchased for the occasion. On the dresser were set out glasses and the bottle of whiskey she had bought for Bertie, Isaac and Harold and the bottle of cream sherry for Agnes, Mrs Webster, Esther and herself. There had been a bit of a heated discussion as to whether or not some bottles of pale ale should be purchased for the lads but she had been firmly against it, declaring that they were far too young to start drinking beer and what would Alfie and Derek’s parents think of her if they went home reeking of ale? No, lemonade would be provided. John had finally persuaded her to at least let them have shandies; that would make them feel more grown up and if plenty of lemonade was used to dilute the beer they wouldn’t be very alcoholic at all. This was something to which Eddie eventually agreed, feeling that to invite his mates to drink lemonade or tea was a bit humiliating.

Gradually the guests arrived and as the parlour became rather overcrowded, the young ones retreated to the kitchen, leaving Agnes, her mother and husband, Isaac and his family and Maggie and John to chat.

‘We’d all be bored stiff if we’d stayed in there listening to them going on about the “good old days”!’ Eddie snorted as he poured the drinks.

‘Go easy on the pale ale, Eddie, there’s only six bottles and it’s got to last all night, and there’s five of us, remember,’ Jimmy instructed.

‘Perhaps Mae and Alice might like to try a shandy too,’ Harry suggested, thinking it only polite to include the girls, although he didn’t include his little sister Lucy.

‘No thanks, the smell of ale is enough to turn your stomach,’ Alice protested, pulling a face.

At that Jimmy, who thought his brother was being a bit too free with what was after all Eddie’s hospitality, muttered, ‘Good.’

‘It’s not that bad when you get used to it. I’ve sampled a couple of pints lately,’ Alfie Duggan boasted. He was a tall, gangly lad with a shock of unruly brown hair and a mild outbreak of acne.

‘How did you manage to get served in a pub?’ Alice asked pointedly but without waiting for a reply shook her head. ‘I don’t want to get used to it. Besides, if Mam came in and caught us there would be holy murder and you’d be in dead trouble, Eddie,’ she stated.

‘I don’t think my da would be very pleased either if he saw me drinking anything alcoholic,’ Mae added.

Derek Schofield, Eddie’s other mate, was quieter than Alfie and seemed quite taken with Mae. ‘Are you really learning to use a typewriter? They look quite complicated machines to me,’ he asked earnestly, sitting beside her.

Mae nodded, sipping her glass of lemonade. ‘That’s the fairly easy part. I’ve only been at the college three weeks. We’re not allowed to look at the keys, we have to memorise them and use different fingers for each one. It’s the shorthand I’m finding terribly . . . complicated.’

‘And will you get a good job in an office when you’ve finished?’ he continued.

‘I certainly hope so. What about you? Are you finding engineering hard?’ she asked politely, noticing that Alice was grinning at her.

‘So far there’s not been much “engineering”, has there, Derek?’ Alfie interrupted.

‘We’re more like “can lads” and “gofers”. “Go fer this, go fer that!”’

‘“Get the can, lad, and make the tea.” That’s mainly what we seem to do all day,’ Alfie enlightened them. The tea was made in a billycan, with the tea, sugar, condensed milk and hot water all mixed together.

‘Well, it should start to get better soon, Alfie, we begin at the Mechanics Institute next week,’ Eddie reminded them, not wishing for what was always referred to in reverent tones as their ‘apprenticeships’ to be viewed in such an unfavourable light. He turned to Jimmy. ‘Mind you, I might have to miss a few midweek games,’ he added a bit ruefully.

Alice was totally bored with this conversation, which she had known would eventually include the dreaded football. ‘This is supposed to be a celebration, Eddie. Can either of you two play the piano?’

Derek and Alfie looked at each other and shook their heads. ‘You never said anything about there being music, Eddie,’ Alfie commented.

‘There won’t be, seeing as no one can play,’ Alice said flatly.

‘Shame that, I don’t mind a good sing-song,’ Alfie replied.

A silence fell during which Mae looked hopefully at Harry Mercer, willing him to introduce a fresh topic of conversation, but he seemed lost for words, sipping his drink in an awkward manner, although he was finding it tasted quite pleasant.

Alice was about to say she’d sooner sit in the parlour with the old ones and listen to stories of when the old queen was alive than sit here in silence when her mother appeared, frowning.

‘You’re all very quiet in here! I thought you’d be nattering away ten to the dozen. Usually I can’t shut you up, our Alice.’ She beamed at them all. ‘Well, come on into the parlour. Mrs Ziegler is going to play for us,’ she announced delightedly.

‘I never knew she could play,’ Alice responded, stung by her mother’s description of her as a chatterbox.

‘Well, apparently she can and Harold has nipped home for her music. She’s got all the popular songs. We’ll have a great evening,’ Maggie said firmly, ushering them out of the kitchen and away from the food and drink, which she noted was rather depleted already.

They started with ‘Happy Birthday to You’ in honour of Eddie, which everyone sang heartily while Eddie felt his cheeks growing pink with embarrassment, then progressed to ‘Shine On, Harvest Moon’ followed by ‘Down by the Old Mill Stream’. John gave a solo of ‘Has Anyone Here Seen Kelly?’ in a surprisingly good baritone while Harold Ziegler’s rendition of ‘Let Me Call You Sweetheart’ had his wife’s cheeks pink with pleasure. After this Maggie decided it was time Esther had a break and urged everyone to go and help themselves to the food.

‘Your da’s got a great voice, Mae,’ Derek said admiringly.

Mae smiled politely, aware that the attention he was paying her was causing some amusement to both Alice and Jimmy.

‘I don’t see what you and Jimmy Mercer are finding so funny,’ she commented sotto voce to her cousin as she helped herself to a cold beef sandwich.

‘He’s been giving you the eye all night, Mae, and Jimmy said every time he gazes into your eyes you look as though you’re sucking a lemon!’ Alice giggled.

‘I thought I was smiling! I’m just trying to be polite, Alice.’

Alice helped herself to an iced cake. ‘Jimmy also said their Harry doesn’t like the way that feller was looking at you when Harold Ziegler was singing.’