The Leaving Of Liverpool (22 page)

When Christina, the maid, came in during Peggy’s performance to tell him there was a telephone call and that the caller had refused to give his name, Ollie guessed immediately who it was. ‘It’s the phone in the den,’ Christina said.

The den was where Ollie made his business deals, played pool, smoked cigars - Lizzie couldn’t stand the smell - and went for some peace and quiet when Lizzie was entertaining her friends or when the kids had been young and making a row. He went in now and picked up the receiver. ‘Ollie Blinker here,’ he said cheerfully.

‘It’s me, Conrad Abel,’ said a surly voice.

‘This is a wasted call, Mr Abel. The cheque’s already in the post.’ He’d heard through the grapevine that the producer was a gambler - not a very good one - and owed big money to a dangerous character who went by the name of Al Capone.

A satisfied grunt came from the other end of the line. ‘Does your boy know I was persuaded to give him the part in my show?’

‘It’s not
your
show, Mr Abel,’ Ollie said stiffly. ‘You’re just the producer, and my boy thinks he was picked on merit. You and I are the only ones who know the truth. If you tell a living soul, you’ll be finished in the theatre. And my boy and his partner were down to the last five when I made my offer, so there’s a good chance they’d still have been given the parts.’

‘The partner, yes - she’s a peach of a girl, a real humdinger - but not your boy. He’s good, but he’s not brilliant. For one thing, his knees are too stiff. There was another young fellow came today: him and the girl would have gone perfectly together, but I turned him down.’ Ollie sensed regret in his voice. ‘That girl carries your son, Mr Blinker. He’ll never get anywhere without her.’ The receiver at the other end was abruptly replaced.

‘Swine,’ Ollie muttered. But it was an opinion that he’d already reached himself.

Two weeks later, Mollie and Joey were allowed home to find everywhere full of flowers and as clean and neat as a new pin. Irene and her sisters-in-law had descended on the place and scrubbed and polished every surface, including the floors.

The house was in a small cul-de-sac off Heath Road in Allerton. There were five pairs of semi-detached properties, all for the families of policemen. There was electricity, and a boiler in the kitchen that provided hot water, so there was no need to light a fire when the weather was warm. They also had an indoor lavatory, a proper bathroom, and handkerchief-sized gardens front and back.

‘Oh, Tom,’ Mollie had gasped five years ago when he’d carried her over the threshold and she’d run like a child around the spacious rooms. ‘I’m so glad I married a policeman.’

It was a relief to be home again and to find the place looking and smelling so nice, with Tom’s family there to greet her and her new son. Lily, sniffing disapprovingly, felt obliged to point out there’d been cobwebs hanging from the ceiling on the landing.

‘Well, I don’t suppose the girl felt like touring the house with a feather duster while she was in the club,’ Pauline said with a disapproving sniff of her own. Pauline was small and round. Although only twenty-nine, she already had a double chin. For a reason she was unable to fathom, her face reminded Mollie of an onion.

Elsie Hardcastle came in with Megan and Brodie, who looked as if they’d also been given a scrub and a polish. ‘We thought you were
dead
, Mammy,’ Megan complained. She was four and had inherited her grandmother’s tendency towards exaggeration.

‘How could you think that when Mrs Hardcastle brought you to the nursing home every single day so we could wave to each other through the window?’ Mollie asked. Children hadn’t been allowed inside. ‘Come and say hello to your new brother. You too, Brodie, love.’ Brodie was hanging back, as always. The girls, with their fair, curly hair, blue eyes, and little oval faces, were very alike, but only in looks. Megan’s forward ways and outgoing personality made her the centre of attention, whereas two-year-old Brodie seemed to live in the shadow of her louder, more aggressive sister.

‘Is he ours?’ she whispered when Mollie pulled her against her knee where Joey lay fast asleep, his tiny mouth curved in a smile, though it was probably wind.

‘Of course he’s ours.’ With a jerk of her hip, Megan shoved her sister out of the way.

Mollie put her arm around her younger daughter and pulled her back. Children and in-laws required enormous patience and loads of diplomacy. ‘Yes, love. He’s come to live here for always, along with you, me, Dad and Megan.’

‘Why he is all wrinkled like Grandma?’ Megan wanted to know.

Irene hooted. ‘One of these days, young lady, you’ll be just as wrinkled as Grandma. Unfortunately, I won’t be around to see it.’

‘Where will you be?’ Megan enquired. She was a child who had to know everything.

‘In me grave, luv: dead and buried.’

‘Don’t frighten the child, Irene,’ Lily remonstrated.

Megan looked indignant. ‘I’m not frightened, Auntie Lil.’

‘As if I’d ever do anything to frighten a child.’ Irene contrived to look hurt.

Mollie began to wish they’d all go back to their own homes, apart from Gladys, who was doing things in the kitchen.

A whole two hours later they did, and only then did Gladys emerge from her hiding place. She wore one of Mollie’s pinnies over a smart blue summer frock. Her brown legs were bare and her toenails were painted bright red. Lily and Pauline regarded red toenails as the very depth of depravity. ‘What on earth have you been doing out there?’ Mollie asked as she opened her blouse to feed Joey. Megan and Brodie looked on with bright, fascinated eyes.

Gladys managed to wrinkle her nose and roll her eyes at the same time. ‘Keeping out the way. If I see too much of that lot, one of these days I’ll explode.’

‘They’re very kind, Gladys. I mean, they didn’t have to come and clean my house, did they?’ That sounded terribly sanctimonious when she’d been praying for them to leave.

‘Oh, they’re kind, all right: kind of awful.’ Gladys grinned. ‘But their hearts are in the right place and you know you can always rely on them in an emergency. When our Kevin was born, he bawled his little head off for three whole months and Lily and Pauline took turns in coming round so me and Enoch could have a decent night’s sleep.’ Gladys had two boys: Kevin and Little Enoch. ‘Anyroad, Mollie, I’ve done things to your kitchen I wouldn’t dream of doing to me own: all your shelves and cupboards have been lined with fresh paper, your cutlery set’s been polished, as well as the things you use every day, and I took the lampshade down and washed it. I even gave the inside of the dustbin a scrub. The dustman’ll think you’ve bought a new one. Oh, and there’s a casserole in the oven for you and Tom when he comes home, save you having to make a meal. It’s on a really low heat so it should be ready about eight o’clock.’

‘Thank you, Glad,’ Mollie said gratefully. ‘Just a minute, sweetheart.’ She helped Brodie to squeeze on to the armchair beside her. Megan immediately tried to squeeze in the other side.

‘Any time.’ Gladys waved graciously. ‘Come on, Megan, sit on your Auntie Gladys’s knee.’ When Megan looked reluctant, she added, ‘I’ll let you play with me powder compact, if you like, but you’ll have to fetch me handbag out the kitchen.’ Megan shot out of the door.

‘I’ll do the same for you when you have another baby,’ Mollie promised.

‘There’s not much chance of that, Moll. Two kids are enough for me and Enoch.’

‘But how can you stop having children unless you stop . . . you know.’ Mollie blushed.

Gladys winked. ‘There’s ways and means, Moll.’ She hoisted Megan on to her knee. ‘Here you are, luv. It’s a new one.’ She delved in her bag and brought out a gold compact. ‘Just think, Moll,’ she went on. ‘You’re not yet twenty-one, but you’ve already had three kids. At that rate, by time you’re thirty-five you’ll have had another fifteen: eighteen all together.’ She grinned fiendishly. ‘How would you fancy that, eh?’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Mollie said faintly. She wondered what Gladys meant by ways and means.

Megan stopped powdering her nose. ‘If you had eighteen kids, Mammy, would I still be the oldest?’

‘Don’t even think about it, Megan.’

‘But—’ Megan began.

‘I said don’t even think about it.’

‘I can’t help it, Mammy.’

‘Would you like me to make the kids’ teas, Moll?’ Gladys offered.

‘No, thanks, Glad, I’ll do it. It’s time I did something.’ She’d been sitting in the chair like an old cabbage, nursing Joey, since she’d come home, allowing herself to be waited on hand and foot. It was time he sampled the cot upstairs. It had been put in her and Tom’s bedroom, where it would stay for a few weeks until he settled in, then moved into the smallest bedroom, which had been freshly painted white for his arrival.

He was still asleep when she laid him down. He was such a tiny bundle it was hard to believe that one day he’d be as big as his father. There was the suggestion of a lump in her throat at the idea of leaving him upstairs on his own, entirely defenceless, unable to do a single little thing for himself. She left the door wide open in case he cried.

She made Megan and Brodie poached eggs on toast. In the larder, she found jelly and blancmange that someone had made, but forgotten to tell her about.

Gladys left to see to her own children’s teas. The other policemen’s wives popped in one by one to see the baby and she let them peep at him through the bedroom door. They stayed for a cup of tea before going home. Brodie was put to bed, and Megan went shortly afterwards. Joey woke but didn’t cry, just gave a tiny whimper. She was in the middle of feeding him when Agatha came and apologized for being late.

‘And I can’t stop long, either. I’m meeting Walter in half an hour. We’re going to the Savoy to see
The Love Parade
with Maurice Chevalier. It’s a talkie.’ She stared rapturously at the baby attached to Mollie’s breast. ‘Oh, is this him? Is this Joey?’

‘Of course it’s Joey, you idiot,’ Mollie snorted. ‘I’m not likely to be feeding another woman’s baby, am I?’

‘Can I bring up his wind the way I did for Megan and Brodie?’

‘You might not have enough time.’

‘I’ll make the time. To hell with Walter. I don’t like him anyroad. I’m thinking about giving him his marching orders.’ Agatha had had plenty of boyfriends, but so far there hadn’t been one that she’d fancied living with for the rest of her life.

She stayed, brought up Joey’s wind, then went to meet Walter half an hour late, saying she hoped he’d got fed up and gone home: ‘Save me the job of chucking him.’

Mollie was still nursing Joey when Tom came in. He took the baby, while Mollie served up Gladys’s casserole. It smelled delicious, though she still had a fancy for fish and chips soaked in vinegar.

Later, Joey back in bed, they sat hand in hand on the settee, staring out the window at their tiny garden with its neat privet hedge and patch of lawn.

Mollie said, ‘The nights have already started getting darker.’

‘Six months from now, and they’ll start getting lighter.’

The future stretched before them, a long, smooth road free from sudden bends and dangerous bumps. They would travel along the road together - Tom, Mollie, and their children - growing older and hopefully wiser. There’d be good days and bad days, memorable days and days you wished had never happened. Christmases would come and go, birthdays would flash by. The children would get married and have children of their own, by which time Tom would have been promoted to detective sergeant or even inspector. And all this while Mollie would have been caring for them, loving them, because that was all she wanted to do: look after her family.

‘Shall we turn in, Moll?’ Tom grunted when the sun had disappeared, leaving the sky a breathtaking mixture of red, green and purple.

‘All right, darlin’.’

He went into the kitchen to bolt the back door and Mollie went upstairs.

Chapter 8

Finn and Hazel now lived in the Doctor’s house with Patrick and their two younger sons, Kieran and Eoin. At first, the house looked no different from how Mollie remembered it since she’d shut the door on that cold February night more than five years ago to start the journey to America with Annemarie.

Yet it
was
different. She sensed a new, lighter atmosphere when she stepped inside, Joe in her arms and Tom holding Megan and Brodie’s hands, Finn behind with their suitcase. He had a car now, Finn, and had picked them up from the station in Kildare. Tom and the girls had seemed overwhelmed as they’d been driven along the narrow, mainly deserted country lanes with hardly another vehicle or a house in sight, just fields of emerald-green grass and gentle hills. Until then, the furthest they’d been was Southport and across the water to New Brighton.

It was September, and they’d come to Duneathly because it was more than five years since Mollie had seen her brothers, Thaddy and Aidan. Before she knew it, they would be men and have forgotten all about their sister - two sisters, although Annemarie had apparently vanished off the face of the earth. Finn said he was always expecting a letter to land on the mat, either from Aunt Maggie to say she’d been found, or from Annemarie herself, explaining the reason for her mysterious disappearance. After a long courtship, Aunt Maggie had married Sergeant McCluskey and moved to a place called Queens.