The Girl From Penny Lane (38 page)

Nellie thought about moving away, then changed her mind. The man did look familiar, but she couldn’t quite bring to mind where she had seen him. It was possible that it could have been in France, of course, when she had nursed during the war, but there was something about him . . . he had come, she was suddenly sure, from further back in her past, so she must have met him in Liverpool, because she had lived there all her life until going to France.

‘Miss . . . oh cripes, if I ’aven’t gorn and forgot your name, Miss,’ the man said. ‘Doncher remember me? Joey Prescott what found your little sister – if she was your sister – that time she ran away dahn the Wapping Dock in Liverpool? You ’ad a bruvver Charlie – that I
do
recall – an’ ’is wife was ’avin’ a baby. Your sister was called Lilac . . . Now that’s not the sorta name a feller can forgit!’

‘Why, Joey Prescott!’ Nellie exclaimed joyfully as light dawned. ‘How could I have forgotten you, after what you did? I was so grateful, but we never exchanged addresses – and if you came to the Pool again you never looked us up.’

‘War broke out soon afterwards,’ Joey reminded her. ‘My ship was torpedoed twice, I was lucky to escape wi’ me life the second time. Well, if this ain’t rich . . . ’ow about you an’ the little lady joinin’ me an’ young Tommy ’ere for a nice cuppa? I’d be ’appy to treat you both to a bun, an all.’

Nellie laughed but shook her head regretfully.

‘It’s awful nice of you, Joey, but we’ve got our tea with us; Elizabeth was really looking forward to a picnic – Elizabeth’s my daughter, by the way. I’m Nellie Gallagher now, not Nellie McDowell.’

‘I see . . . yes, come to think, there was a sailor who glared at me that night – dark chap, curly ’air – you married ’im, did you?’

‘Oh! No, that was . . . no, I didn’t marry him, my husband was a war correspondent in France; now he works for the
London Evening Telegraph
. And Lilac was engaged, but . . .’

Joey Prescott whistled.

‘Little Lilac, engaged! It don’t seem possible, but then it don’t seem possible that I’m out o’ the Navy an’ workin’ for the Merchant line, fust mate on a coaster! I done the paperwork nights, an’ got me ticket five year back.’

‘Did you get fed up with the Navy?’ Nellie asked. She watched Tommy, who was showing Elizabeth how to set the sails of his small yacht. Elizabeth was lying on the parapet on her tummy, small fingers deft on the tiny ropes, obeying Tommy’s laconic instructions to the letter and completely absorbed, Nellie could tell.

‘Fed up? Yeah, I guess I did. Wanted a bit o’ stability in me life, wanted a wife, a family, that sort o’ thing.’

‘So you’re married, too?’ Nellie glanced down at Tommy. ‘But the little boy said . . .’

Joey looked back towards the yachts and the water, at the sails filling and flattening as they caught and lost the breeze.

‘I’m not married now, my wife died six years ago,’ he said quietly. ‘She’d just ’ad a baby – I lost ’em both.’

‘Oh, Joey,’ Nellie said softly. ‘That’s a dreadful thing. I am so sorry.’

‘Oh, I’m awright now,’ Joey said. ‘Time takes the sting away, jest like they tells you it will. I was desperate for a bit, but . . . you learn to live wiv it.’

‘Yes, but it’s hard,’ Nellie said. ‘Lilac’s fiancé was drowned at sea six months ago. She’s still very unhappy.’

‘The poor kid,’ Joey said. ‘Cor, an’ to think I’ve been goin’ up to Liverpool a couple of times a month this past year and never thought to try an’ find the pair of you! Mind, I did just after the war, I went up and dahn the Scottie, popped into the Court . . . what was it called . . .’

‘Coronation Court,’ Nellie supplied, laughing. ‘We moved out of there years ago. Now tell me, what are you doing on Tooting Bec Common in the middle of the week?’

‘My ship’s ’avin’ a bit of work done,’ Joey said. ‘So I got me a few days free. I take it you’re livin’ in Tooting Bec?’

‘Balham. Not far away.’

Joey nodded.

‘I’ve got a room in Tooting, just for when I’m in the Smoke, but I’m savin’ up for a place in the country somewhere. Then, when I retire, I’ll ’ave somewhere nice to go. Is Lilac wiv you dahn ’ere? I’d like to meet the kid again.’

‘No, she’s still in Liverpool. She’s a hotel receptionist during the day and she teaches dancing in the evenings. She’s quite a little businesswoman . . . but so unhappy, Joey.’

Joey nodded, his expression sombre.

‘Yeah, I know what she’s goin’ through. Wish I could ’elp . . . tell you what, give me the name of the ’otel and drop ’er a line, tell ’er I’ll nip in for a chat next time I’m in the Pool.’

‘That would be kind,’ Nellie said. ‘But why not come over to Balham, meet my Stuart and have an evening with us? We’d love it – Stuart would really like to meet you, we talked about you so much when Lilac was younger.’

‘Well, I will,’ Joey said. ‘Fanks, Nellie! Tell Lilac I was askin’ for ’er.’ He turned to his small charge. ‘Come on, old feller, time we got ourselves that cuppa.’

‘Wait a minute, Joey; why don’t you and Tommy share our picnic? I’m sure it’ll stretch that far!’

‘That would be grand,’ Joey said. ‘And then Tommy and me, we’ll walk you back across the park an’ treat you to a cuppa an’ a spiced bun at the Flora-Dora tea-rooms. And I’ll write your address on something so we don’t lose touch again.’

‘That was a very nice man, that Mr Uncle Joey,’ Elizabeth said to her mother as the two of them began the walk home. They had had their picnic, then their cup of tea and their spiced bun, and then they had waved goodbye to Joey and his small friend and set off. ‘I liked him very much, Mam. He knows Auntie Lilac too, doesn’t he?’

‘Yes, though he hasn’t met her since she was seven years old.’ Nellie was struck by a sudden recollection. ‘Elizabeth darling, do you remember Auntie Li telling you the story of when she ran away from the Culler? A kind sailor rescued her and took her home to Uncle Charlie’s place and she saw Auntie Bess’s new little baby – the baby that’s your big cousin Henry now. Well, that sailor was Mr Prescott when he was in the Navy.’

‘Then he
is
my uncle,’ Elizabeth said joyfully. ‘I told Tommy he was, only he wouldn’t listen – boys!’

‘He isn’t really your uncle . . .’ Nellie began cautiously, only to see her daughter shaking her head sadly.

‘Oh, well, no, but a
relative,
’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘He’s the nicest uncle I’ve got, and I don’t have to call him Mr Thingummy after all! I just hope he tells Tommy! Tommy’s just his landlady’s son you know, not a real relative at all.’

‘I thought you liked Tommy,’ Nellie said. She was beginning to see a distinct similarity between her headstrong adopted sister and her small daughter and found the resemblance worrying. ‘I thought you got on very well.’

‘Yes, he’s nice,’ Elizabeth conceded, hopping along the pavement on one foot and swinging rather heavily on Nellie’s hand. ‘But even if he’s nice that doesn’t mean he can always be right, does it, Mam?’

‘Well, no. But Joey isn’t related to us at all, darling, he’s just an old friend from long ago.’

‘He’s my uncle,’ Elizabeth said in a tone which brooked no argument. ‘My
unrelated
uncle. From long ago.’

Stuart was very late home indeed, but he came up the short path to the front door with such a light step and his key rattled so briefly in the lock that Nellie, who had been watching for him from their bedroom window, positively flew down the stairs and across the hall, arriving just as he entered the house, her face alight with anticipation.

‘Well? Oh Stu, darling, you must be worn out! Elizabeth’s in bed and asleep, your dinner’s in the oven keeping warm – I did you a beef stew with suet dumplings because the longer it cooks the better it gets – and there’s a lemon mousse for afterwards. Well, aren’t you going to tell me what happened?’

‘Guess,’ Stuart said, smiling down at her. ‘Just guess, Nellie Gallagher, who cared so little that she went off out this afternoon when I was frantically ringing to give her the news!’

‘Oh Stu, darling! Oh, I waited until nursery school came out and then I picked the baby up and took her to Tooting Bec Common for a picnic and . . . you got it! You did, you did, and we’ll be going home at last! Oh, aren’t you the cleverest, the best . . .’

‘Well, yes, I think I’m pretty damned good,’ Stuart said with a conspicuous lack of modesty. ‘There were eight of us – eight, sweetheart, imagine that – and every one a local man and most of ’em very nearly as experienced as me. One or two were the wrong side of forty, one was more or less my age, a couple younger, the rest late-thirties. I think we all interviewed quite well, but it was the fact that I’d done the nationals that told in my favour in the end I think.’

‘That and your lovely, intelligent, trustableness,’ Nellie said, hugging and laughing and kissing the side of his neck. ‘Come and feast on beef stew an’ dumplings, me lovely feller!’

‘And what did you do with yourself today?’ Stuart asked presently, when he had taken the first edge off his hunger, and sipped the wine which Nellie had anxiously bought, kept at room temperature and served in their best glasses. She had not dined either, preferring to wait for him, so they shared a pleasant candlelit dinner, with both of them glowing with achievement, though most of Nellie’s glow was vicarious.

‘Well, after you’d left at the crack of dawn, dearest, I sat down and wrote a nice long letter to Li. Then I got the babe up and got her breakfast. She was a little difficult, still cross because you’d not taken her to Liverpool with you, crosser when she found she’d have to wear her waterproof and her pixie hood because she says she can’t skip in a waterproof . . . and she didn’t like it at all when I said that was all right, since she wouldn’t be taking her rope to nursery. It rained quite hard until nearly noon, you know, unless you were too busy to look outside.’

‘I arrived like a drowned rat, but I was early so I went straight to the gents and tidied meself,’ Stuart admitted. ‘We all had the sense to do that except for the snooty one who came from Crosby and travelled all the way by cab! He got wet running between the cab and the office and stayed like that until he dried off . . . wouldn’t crowd into the Gents with the rest of us – very infra dig! Go on though; what did you do next?’

‘Oh, Stu, my life is so dull compared with yours! Well, I baked the bread for the week, and I prepared the vegetables for tonight, did the housework . . . waited for the telephone to ring . . .’

‘We didn’t know until three o’clock,’ Stuart admitted. ‘It was a series of interviews, and even when we knew I didn’t have a chance to phone for an hour, they were taking me round from office to office, introducing me to people. It was fun, I enjoyed it. Everyone was dead friendly, honest!’

‘Yes, well; it’s home,’ Nellie said. ‘And then, as I told you, I picked Elizabeth up from nursery and walked to the common . . .’

‘I’ve got a ravishingly beautiful secretary called Iris,’ Stuart said wickedly. ‘Miss Holmes I’m supposed to call her, but I prefer Iris . . . I bet she’ll pander to my every whim.’

But if Stuart had expected an outburst of jealousy he was disappointed. Nellie’s face lit up with a huge, beaming smile.

‘Not the Iris Holmes I worked with in my last year in nursing! Can it be the same one? She’s got deep blue eyes, set with a sooty finger they used to say, and black hair, lovely creamy skin . . . oh Stu, is it really old Iris?’

‘You’re supposed to drag me off to bed to take my mind off the woman, not claim acquaintance,’ Stuart said, drinking the last of the wine in his glass and reaching for the bottle. ‘What an annoying wench you are, Nellie me gal! But fancy you knowing Miss Holmes – it really is a small world, isn’t it?’

‘Liverpool is,’ Nellie said contentedly. ‘And it’s our small world, Stu – won’t it be wonderful to go back?’

They sat up until the early hours, talking. The salary was generous, a car would be provided, telephone and travel expenses paid. Stuart had asked about the availability of housing and was told that there was plenty available; they would be able to pick and choose a property at a price they could afford.

‘I thought we’d buy, not rent, this time,’ Stuart said as the two of them sat by the fireside, Nellie curled up on Stuart’s lap gazing at the flames and no doubt seeing her city in the glowing embers. ‘How about trying for something nice and neat on Hawarden Avenue, or Gresford Avenue come to that, in that area, anyway? It’s near our old haunts, but you’d get the garden you’re so set on and you’d be a sight nearer your Lilac than if we moved out of the city itself.’

‘I wouldn’t mind one of them big houses on The Boulevarde,’ Nellie said wistfully. ‘We could have our Lilac to live with us; not that it ’ud do, I know that. But I’d dearly like to have her under me eye until she comes to terms with losing Art.’

‘That may take a lifetime, sweetheart,’ Stuart said gently. ‘And living with us wouldn’t be the answer, I promise you that. Sometimes the happiness of people you love is nigh on unbearable.’

‘But we wouldn’t flaunt our happiness,’ Nellie said uncertainly. ‘We’d be tactful, wouldn’t we?’

‘Nell, when our Elizabeth does something funny or clever, could you stop that great big grin spreading across your face? When I come in tired and you welcome me with a kiss and stories of your day, do I not relax, lean on you, show my love? To try to change, to hide our feelings, would ruin the best thing we’ve got, believe me.’

‘All right. I agree then, that we can’t ask her to share our home. But once we’re back . . .’

‘Oh come to bed, you little plotter! We’ll talk about it over and over these next few weeks, I have no doubt. I’ll give in my notice tomorrow and work my month, then we’ll be off! I’m as excited as you, I promise you. There’s a little pub near the offices . . . no, don’t hit me, I’m to be allowed all sorts of indulgences because it is I, Stuart Gallagher, who got the job and will be bringing you triumphantly home!’