A Liverpool Lass (16 page)

‘Right now? Oh, Nell!’

Bethan scrambled to her feet and flung earthy arms round Nellie’s neck. For a moment they clung in silence, then Bethan took the baby gently and held him close to her own breast.

‘You’ve packed all you need? You’re sure? Don’t forget, my dear, you’ll always be welcome here.’

‘I will write,’ Nellie said slowly. Her arms felt cold and empty, and there was an ache in her breasts. ‘But I don’t think I’ll come back. I don’t think I’d dare ... it’s better not. Take care of him. And take care of yourself, too.’

She went back to the cottage and said goodbye to the old man by the fireside and the old woman in the bed upstairs. They had grown fond of Nellie over the months since December and she of them, but she could not speak enough Welsh to tell Father how touched she had been by their warm welcome, though she did her best and Bethan translated her words.

Mother was easier, with her stilted, correct English; she understood Nellie’s fumbling for the right words, but reminded her that the gratitude was all on their side; where would they have been, when Bethan’s time came, had Nellie not stepped into the breach? And isn’t he a fine fellow then and the image of our dear Davy?

‘You must find yourself a nice young man, cariad,’ Mrs Evans told her in her thin, sprightly voice. ‘Good with the babies you are; go you off and get a sweetheart and make babies of your own; you’ll never regret it for nothing like children, there is, to warm a woman’s heart.’

On the carrier’s cart with her small bag beside her, Nellie watched the countryside go by and thought how beautiful it was and how fortunate young Richie was to live here. But she suddenly realised that, for her, the city was what counted. She would never forget Moelfre or the cottage or the people, she would never forget Richart, but in truth the last six months or so had been an episode, a tiny fragment out of another life. Now she was going back to the place she loved, the people she loved. Had she and Davy married they would have
lived in the city, he would never have tried to take her off to Moelfre, she was sure of it. She had enjoyed her stay there more than she would have believed possible, but it had been a waiting time, not real life at all. And now she was on her way home, back to reality – Lilac, the Culler, the Scottie Road!

It had been a hot day and the evening promised to be equally airless. Nellie got off the ferry at the pierhead and toiled her way through the sultry streets to the Culler. Rodney Street looked just the same; smart, somehow closed up, but that was because most of the houses belonged to doctors whose surgeries were shut. She reached the asylum and hesitated at the front steps. She should go round the back, but if she did then she would see the kitchen staff before she saw Mrs Ransom and that would never do; the matron had a very definite idea of her own importance. So for the sake of peace, it would have to be the front door.

Nellie climbed the steps and stood on tiptoe on the redded tiles to reach the great brass knocker. Even with her fingers round it she hesitated, feeling the perspiration trickle down between her breasts, whilst a flush burned from her neckline to her forehead. Who would answer? What would their reaction be to Nellie McDowell, who had fled for no apparent reason, turning up again at five o’clock on a sultry summer’s evening and asking for her job back? But if she did not knock she would never find out. Resolutely, she brought the knocker down three times.

‘Well, Nellie, we’ve filled the position. What did you expect us to do? You’ve been gone near on six months,
gairl, and there’s a war on. We were lucky to get anyone, the women are off to France to nurse the wounded, giddy as mayflies and about as much use, no doubt. But we’ve managed despite your behaviour which I don’t hesitate to say was disgraceful. In fact I’m surprised you’ve got the face to stand there and suggest we tek you back.’

Nellie looked across the old-fashioned mahogany table at the fat, creased face and narrowed eyes of her erstwhile employer. She had known Mrs Ransom long enough to realise that the older woman had every intention of taking her back, but wanted her pound of flesh first; she wanted Nellie on her knees, begging, and this Nellie had no intention of doing.

Accordingly, she stood up, bag still in hand, and began to turn towards the door.

‘Very well, I’ll leave. I’m sorry to have troubled you,’ she said formally, keeping her voice firm and steady. ‘As you say, it won’t be difficult for me to find work the way things are at the moment; indeed, I might go off to France meself, I’d like to help with the war effort.’

‘Ah now, I didn’t say as we wouldn’t use you,’ Mrs Ransom said hastily. ‘For old times’ sake ... you are a Culler girl, after all. Then there’s Lilac ...’

Despite her resolve not to make things easy for Mrs Ransom, Nellie hesitated. She turned back.

‘How is Lilac? I missed her, but my duty was with my cousin.’

Mrs Ransom let the disbelief linger in her eyes whilst they scanned Nellie’s slim figure searchingly, making it plain that she believed Nellie to be no better than she should be, that she thought the cousin just an excuse for Nellie to go off, possibly with a young man. And she wasn’t all that wrong, either, Nellie
remembered ruefully, but she kept her expression innocent, her eyes unguarded.

‘Well, Mrs Ransom? How is Lilac?’

‘Well enough. She’ll be glad to see you. We heard nothing but Nellie, Nellie, Nellie for days – weeks – after you went.’

‘Then I’ll go through, if I may, to the playroom. She’ll be there?’

‘Well, we can’t have ... you won’t have your own room, but if you’d care to share ...’

Lilac was rolling bandages in the playroom with a dozen other girls her own age when the door opened. She had no inkling of who stood outside yet her eyes flew to the door and suddenly she was on her feet, across the room in a couple of bounds, and in Nellie’s arms.

‘Nellie, Nellie, Nellie! Oh, where’ve you been, oh I do love you ... I worried and worried ... oh Nellie, hold me tight!’

‘You’ve grown,’ Nellie said presently, putting Lilac back from her and smiling her dear, familiar smile. ‘You’re quite the young lady now! Matron tells me you never got my letter.’

‘No, we got nothing. Oh Nell, where’ve you
been?
Don’t ever go away from me again, I’ll always be good, I’ll never be unkind or thoughtless to you again! Did you go to find Davy, Nell? Was he all right?’

Above her, she saw Nellie’s eyes turn sad, her smile fade. She knew, then, that Davy was not all right, that Nellie had not abandoned her to enjoy her own life but had been dragged away.

‘No, queen. Davy was killed. I was with ... with his mother and father, taking care of them. I’ve told
everyone else that I was with me cousin, but you’ll have guessed the truth. I stayed until someone else came who could take over, then I come home.’

‘Oh, poor Nellie,’ Lilac said. She hugged her friend tightly, then made a discovery. ‘Nellie, there’s more of you!’

‘Country living,’ Nellie said briefly. She pulled away. ‘You’d best get on with them bandages; there is a war on, you know.’

‘Where are you going?’ Lilac said suspiciously. ‘I’ll come with you ... I’ll bring the bandages, keep on working.’

Nellie laughed but held out her hand.

‘All right. I’ve not got much stuff, but what I have got I’m going to unpack. Mrs R says me uniforms are still in the chest of drawers, the new girl’s too big for ’em it seems, so I’ll get meself changed and then I’ll supervise washing and bed.’

She was as good as her word, but although Lilac clung close, could not take her eyes off Nellie, kept touching her, taking her hand, hugging her, she was aware that Nellie had changed in some deep and subtle manner which perhaps would be obvious only to those who loved her. She seemed taller and more substantial, but that would just be because Lilac had not seen her for so long. No, the change which counted was a change which went deeper, and hard though she tried Lilac could not put her finger on it. By next day though, she felt she had an inkling. It was as though a layer of lightness and laughter had been peeled off Nellie’s personality, leaving the serious side of Nellie nearer the surface than it had been before. And she sensed not only seriousness but a remoteness, a slight chill, which was not at all like the Nellie she knew and loved.

But it did not worry her, because Nellie had come home again, and that was all that mattered to Lilac.

Nellie put up with the Culler for a month and then, after a visit to Coronation Court, she took Lilac to one side.

‘I can’t stick it, not after having had me freedom for a bit,’ she said frankly. ‘Too many rules, chuck, too much silliness. Mustn’t talk in our rooms at night – why not, for heaven’s sake? Me and Clara,’ – Clara was the new girl – ‘we’re young women, not kids, so why shouldn’t we have a word after a long day’s work? And no lights allowed after eight – it’s all right now, with the light evenings, but there’ll be a time when I need a light to finish me work and then old Ranny will start laying the law down. And why mayn’t we sing in the kitchen? Daft, that’s what, to make up silly laws and try to see grown women stick by ’em. And then there’s the food: you’re gettin’ cheap rubbish and it’s no use old Ranny saying about rationing; it’s just an excuse not to feed everyone decent. The old cook would have had a seizure if she’d seen what that poor woman downstairs is given to feed a hundred kids. What’s more there’s too mary of you kids to one class, now that so many teachers have gone. You can’t learn proper when you’re in class with five- and six-year-olds, to say nothing of the older girls.’

‘Well, Mrs Ransom says we have to put up with the food situation for the sake of our brave lads, and she says the teachers have gone to the war, so we shouldn’t grumble about big classes, either,’ Lilac pointed out rather self-righteously. She had mourned the tiny helpings of food and the cumbersome classes herself, but had accepted the explanation. And fancy Nellie called the matron old Ranny, like the kids did! But Nellie shook her head.

‘No, luv. I dunno where the money goes which used to pay the teachers and buy sufficient food, but it isn’t to the tommies. Reckon Mrs R. is feathering her nest; reckon she always did, only I never noticed before. We’re off, you and me.’

‘Where to?’ Lilac asked excitedly. It was clear from her face that she would go anywhere with Nellie, no question.

‘That’s what I’ve brought you out here to tell you.’ It was evening, and the two girls were walking along beside the docks in the reddening sunshine. ‘Poor Bessie’s lost without Charlie, she’s that lonely, and she never was much good as a manager, and now she’s got two little kids to rear. She’s moved back into the court, she was sharing with Aunt Ada and Uncle Billy, but now he’s gone to his rest, poor soul, she says why don’t you and me move in with ’em?’

‘Oh Nellie, I’d love it; I could go to school with Ethel and Art and we could play out, of an evening. But what’ll old Ranny say? And what would you do, Nellie? You couldn’t come back here to work or we might as well not leave.’

‘Course not. I’m going to work at the hospital, learnin’ to be a nurse. They need girls real badly now and I’ve always wanted to nurse, ’cos I like looking after folk. And I told Bessie you’d give a hand with the littl’uns and help Aunt Ada about the house when you weren’t at school. So we’ll give it a go, shall us?’

Lilac was doubtful, for she knew how useful Nellie was and guessed that Mrs Ransom would be reluctant to back down and let the pair of them leave, so Nellie might have been out of luck save for one thing; she had always been a favourite with Mr Hayman. Consequently, when she told Mrs Ransom that there should be more food available and more money to buy
ingredients, Mrs Ransom felt obliged to listen.

‘I want Lilac to learn to cook properly,’ Nellie said. ‘Not just how to make one herring feed six. And I want her to get a bit more attention in class, too. She’s bright, but she’s being held back now because she’s in a class with the littl’uns. If we join the rest of my family in Coronation Court then she’ll get a fair crack of the whip.’

‘And if I say no?’ Mrs Ransom said coldly; she paid Nellie a pittance and had no desire to lose her star pupil, Nellie could see it in her mean little eyes. But Nellie had the measure of her.

‘If you say no then I’ll go straight to Mr Hayman,’ she said calmly. ‘I suppose I ought to go anyway, but ...’

Mrs Ransom stared viciously at her for an unnerving sixty seconds, then, when Nellie’s gaze never faltered, turned away, speaking over her shoulder as though she simply had no more time to argue.

‘Very well. Leave at the end of the week and take the child. I’ll find a reason which will satisfy the Board.’ She turned back, almost smiling, as though at the last minute she was anxious not to give Nellie any reason for carrying out her unspoken threat. ‘And Lilac is bright, I’ll give you that.’

She was. Nellie realised that Lilac was bright enough to have her suspicions about the changes in Nellie, but not yet bright enough to understand that the person who had left her for six long months had been a girl, and the person who had returned was a woman. A woman who had lost her man and borne a child, and lost him, too.

So when the week’s notice was up Nellie packed – two bags this time – the girls said their farewells, and they set off for Coronation Court.

Lilac should have hated Aunt Ada’s untidy, overcrowded house after the relatively sheltered life of the asylum, but in fact she revelled in it. When they arrived the heat of the summer was at its height and she and Nellie slept in the raw, with the window of their small room wide to catch every passing breeze, but even so the smells coming in from the dustbins and from the other houses were ripe and sickening. Lilac had to work hard, too, because with Nellie off to the hospital to work, Bessie and Aunt Ada tended to call on her for most things. Looking after Bessie’s little ones, Henry and Nathan, and giving an eye to Bessie’s tiny new baby, Millie Miranda, took up a good deal of time, and learning to cook with Aunt Ada and to sew with Mrs Billings down on the Scotland Road took up the rest. Nellie was grimly determined that no one was ever going to reproach her for taking Lilac away from the Culler, so life became a series of lessons for Lilac.