Across the Mersey (19 page)

They’d arranged to meet outside the Odeon on London Road in the city centre, and although she was on time, Grace was pleased to see that Teddy was there ahead of her, smiling broadly at her when he saw her.

‘I wasn’t sure I’d recognise you out of uniform,’ he teased her, giving her an openly appreciative look, which was nevertheless still respectful.

He was wearing a smart navy-blue suit and an equally smart shirt and tie. Beneath the hat he’d removed when he came over to her and was now
replacing, his hair was flattened into obedience with Brylcreem. Grace felt proud to be with him as he guided her towards the Odeon.

She’d taken care with her own appearance, brushing the hair she had washed the previous night until her curls gleamed, her toilette critically overseen by the twins, who had shaken their heads over her first choice of last year’s sensible heavy tweed skirt, insisting instead that she wore her ‘best’ woollen dress, also from last year, and giving their approval to her silk stockings and smart court shoes.

Grace had banished them before carefully applying the new dark pink Max Factor lipstick she’d been experimenting with in the privacy of her room all week, worrying that it might be just a bit too racy. But not even her mother had said anything when she had finally gone downstairs, the pretty scarf that had been a Christmas present from Luke last year tucked into the neck of the raincoat she had decided to wear ‘just in case’.

Because they were early there wasn’t a queue. Teddy headed straight for the shining chrome box office set between the two pairs of doors.

Grace’s eyes widened when she heard him asking for front circle seats. She hadn’t expected that!

‘Seeing as we’re a bit early we could go up and have a bit of something in the restaurant before the film starts, if you fancy it?’ Teddy suggested once he had paid.

Grace shook her head. He’d spent enough already. But as though he guessed why she was holding back he told her, ‘I wouldn’t mind a bit o’ summat meself.’

‘Oh, well, yes, then that would be lovely,’ Grace agreed.

‘It’s you who is that,’ Teddy told her boldly as he guided her through the foyer and up the stairs to the lounge.

Grace could remember only one previous occasion when she’d sat in the front circle and that had been as a treat for her sixteenth birthday.

The carpet beneath her feet was so thick that she could feel herself sinking into it, and although she was trying hard not to look impressed, she couldn’t help studying the elegant décor.

A smartly dressed waitress showed them to a table in the restaurant.

‘Just tea for me, please,’ Grace told her, not daring to think what the prices were here.

‘Tea for two and cakes,’ Teddy told the waitress firmly, winking at Grace.

As other smartly dressed cinemagoers filled the restaurant, Grace was glad that she had allowed the twins to persuade her into wearing her frock. Its soft mid-blue suited her and emphasised the colour of her hair and eyes, as well as emphasising her small waist.

She felt a bit self-conscious pouring the tea for them both, but Teddy was so relaxed and such fun to be with that she soon forgot her discomfort at being out on her first proper date,
as she laughed at his jokes and enjoyed his company.

‘I hope there isn’t going to be too much soppy stuff in this film,’ Teddy joked as they left the restaurant, his hand protectively under her elbow. ‘Mind you, me mum gave me a clean hanky before I left, so you needn’t worry.’

He was carrying his overcoat, and just in front of the doors to the circle he paused and rummaged in his pocket, producing a box of chocolates for her.

Grace blushed and smiled, and thought she had never been so happy.

They were back in their own kitchen, Alan looking at her as though he couldn’t believe his luck in getting away with what he had.

‘I’ll have to go round and see Mummy now, Alan, seeing as we’re supposed to be going shopping together this afternoon. It’s a pity we haven’t got a telephone. I’m surprised your father doesn’t have one installed for us, seeing as you’re working for him. Perhaps I should say something about it to your mother.’

‘There’s no need for that. I’ll have a word with him. Look, Bella, what happened last night – well, it won’t happen again.’

She liked his hangdog look and the humble note in his voice, Bella decided.

‘No it won’t,’ she agreed coldly, ‘’cos if it does I
shall
tell your mother.’

‘It wasn’t all my fault.’ Alan was getting angry again now. ‘If you hadn’t said what you did—’

‘You’ll have to drive me round to Mummy’s, Alan,’ Bella told him, ignoring his accusation. ‘Oh, and if you want something to eat I’m sure your mother will have some tripe left.’

The film had kept Grace on the edge of her seat with fear for poor Maureen O’Hara, apart, that was, from those few brief occasions when Teddy had reached for her hand and held it comfortingly, drawing her closer to him.

Even her mother would have completely approved of the way he had behaved towards her, Grace acknowledged as they left the cinema.

‘That Maureen O’Hara is so beautiful,’ she said to Teddy as they emerged into the gloom of the late December afternoon.

‘She’s not a patch on you,’ Teddy told her stoutly, before asking, ‘What number bus do we want?’

‘We?’

‘Well, you don’t think I’m going to let you make your own way home, do you? I should have brought the ambulance, then we wouldn’t need a bus.’

‘There’s no need to see me home, Teddy.’

It was typical of him that he should offer, though, and Grace was pleased that he had done, even if by doing so he had inadvertently reminded her of another, very different, man, who had also wanted to see her home safely.

‘I suppose you and the other girls will already have made plans for New Year’s Eve?’

‘We have talked about it,’ Grace admitted.

‘You’ll be wanting to go dancing, I expect, somewhere like the Grafton,’ he guessed.

‘Lillian says it’s got the best dance floor in Liverpool, properly sprung and everything, and she’s going to get tickets for us all for New Year’s Eve.’

‘Happen I might get a ticket for meself, especially if a certain very special girl is going to agree to stand up and dance with me.’

‘I’m sure any girl would be happy to dance with you, Teddy,’ Grace told him, and meant it.

‘I’m not talking about any girl, just one girl … Promise you’ll save the last dance for me?’

Somehow or other he had taken hold of her hand without her realising it and now he was lacing his fingers between her own and she could feel a warm glow of happiness.

‘I … yes, I will,’ she told him breathlessly.

It had gone cold, and suddenly Teddy started to cough.

‘That sounds nasty,’ Grace sympathised when he had stopped.

Teddy shook his head. ‘It’s nothing, just got a bit of cold air on me lungs, that’s all. Fancy going to the pictures again tomorrow?’

‘I’d love to, Teddy, but Mum will be expecting me to help her at home,’ Grace told him regretfully. ‘Here’s my bus,’ she added. ‘I’d better go …’

He caught her off guard when he suddenly put his arm around her and drew her to him, then kissed her on the cheek.

‘It’s all right, I’m not going to take liberties with
you,’ he told her gruffly as he released her. ‘Not that I’m saying that I wouldn’t like to kiss you properly, mind,’ cos I would.’

There wasn’t time for her to say anything; all she could do was let him walk her to join the queue already boarding her bus.

‘Roller skates.’

‘No, new gramophone records.’

The twins, giddy with the excitement of it being Christmas Eve, were giggling as they tried to outdo each other with what they hoped to find under the Christmas tree.

‘I wouldn’t mention gramophone records in front of Dad,’ Grace warned them, ‘not after him telling you off last night for all the noise you were making.’

‘Dad doesn’t understand, Grace. You’ve got to play them loudly,’ Sasha explained patiently. ‘Otherwise it doesn’t work, does it, Lou?’

‘Otherwise what doesn’t work?’ Grace asked them, putting her head on one side to study the effect of the candles she had just finished clipping onto the branches of the Christmas tree Dad had brought home from the market earlier in the week.

‘That thing that happens inside your head when you’re dancing that make you forget everything else. You need to have the music really loud.’

‘When you were our age did you ever want to be a singer like Auntie Francine, Grace?’ Lou asked her.

‘No, never,’ she said truthfully. ‘And if I were you two, I’d put that idea right out of my head,’ cos Dad would never agree to you going on the stage.’

The twins exchanged looks whilst Grace sighed over her attempts to decorate the Christmas tree. No matter how careful she was, the weight of the candles in their clip-on holders kept making the branches bow and spoiling the symmetry of what she was trying to achieve.

‘Proper fairy lights would be better,’ Lou told her.

‘Well, yes, but they aren’t as pretty. Anyway, what are you two doing in here? I thought you were supposed to be making paper chains?’

‘We were, but the taste of the gum was making us feel sick. Come on, Gracie, tell us what you’ve bought for us …’ Sasha wheedled.

‘It isn’t slippers, is it?’ Lou asked suspiciously, ‘only it feels very light for such a big box.’

Grace hid a small smile. She had deliberately put the record she had bought them into a box she had packed carefully with paper so as to disguise it.

‘What’s wrong with slippers?’ she teased them, keeping her face straight.

‘Grace, have you got a minute, only I could do with you to give me a hand making the stuffing,’ called her mother from the kitchen.

‘Coming, Mum.’ Grace got up.

The kitchen was full of steam and the familiar delicious smells of Christmas – only this Christmas wasn’t going to be the same as the ones she remembered, Grace acknowledged. Luke wouldn’t be with them, and they were at war, even though as yet nothing had really changed apart from the blackout, which everyone was grumbling had caused more accidents and been more of a nuisance than Hitler.

‘I went and telephoned our Vi this morning from the corner shop,’ Jean told Grace, having instructed her to grate the bread she had dried out in the oven for breadcrumbs for the stuffing. ‘I thought she might have changed her mind about Jack being evacuated and had got him back home with it being Christmas, but she hasn’t.’ Jean gave a small sigh.

She had been worrying about Jack ever since Vi had announced that he was sending him off to the country, but she knew how stubborn her twin could be once her back was up, so she had held off from saying too much, knowing that Vi would tell her that the arrangements she and Edwin made for Jack weren’t anyone else’s business.

‘What, she’s not even having him home for Christmas?’ Grace asked indignantly.

‘She wants him to be safe, love, that’s why she’s sent him away.’

‘There’s lots of kiddies being brought back as their mothers don’t see any sense in them being away when there’s not been any bombs or anything. Is that enough breadcrumbs yet, Mum?’

Jean peered into the bowl. ‘Better do some more, love. We’ve got old Mr Edwards coming in for a bit of Christmas dinner and I thought I’d ask Miss Higgins, that you used to run errands for, as well, seeing as she’s all on her own. I know she likes to keep herself to herself but no one wants to be on their own at Christmas. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get this goose in the oven, Grace. I told him what has the poultry stall in the market that I didn’t want it more than twelve pounds.’

‘At least he let you have it for the same price as a twelve-pound one, Mum.’

‘Yes, because he’d probably gone and sold mine to someone else. Next year I’m going to order from someone else.’

Grace smiled. Every year her mother grumbled about the goose and the poultry stall owner she always bought it from, threatening to buy from someone else.

‘At least Dad and Luke won’t be arguing over who’s got the biggest drumstick this year,’ Grace joked, and then bit her lip when she saw her mother’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking of, saying a daft thing like that. Christmas just won’t be the same without our Luke.’

‘No it won’t.’

‘He said in his last letter that the officers have to serve the men their Christmas dinner and that that ENSA – you know, the singers and actors and them that go doing shows for the men – are putting
on concerts for them and they’ve been told that Gracie Fields will be performing at them, and Billy Cotton and his band.’

‘Well, I’d be surprised if she does, seeing as how it’s bin in all the papers how poorly she’s bin and how she’s gone to that Capri place for a rest.’

The newspapers and the fan magazines had been full of veiled and not so veiled references to the cancer of the cervix the star had suffered, and her ongoing recovery from it.

‘I thought you might have gone out dancing tonight, Grace, with them nurse friends of yours.’

‘We can only afford to go out dancing the one night, so we’ve decided to get tickets for New Year’s Eve,’ Grace told her. ‘For the Grafton.’ Although she tried hard not to, Grace could feel herself colouring up slightly, as she remembered what Teddy had said to her when he had made her promise to keep the last dance for him. He probably wouldn’t even be at the Grafton, never mind remembering what he’d said to her.

‘I dare say that young lad will be there, hoping to get a dance with you, will he?’ Jean asked her shrewdly.

‘Teddy?’ Grace tried to look nonchalant but she knew she was blushing again. ‘He did say something about going, but I dare say I won’t even see him, it will be so packed.’

Jean saw the blush and sighed inwardly. Grace might be trying to pretend that she wasn’t interested in this Teddy lad, but Jean, with a mother’s instinct, knew better.

‘Here’s your Dad back,’ Jean told Grace unnecessarily as they both heard the squeak of the side gate into the garden from the passage. ‘It will have to be a scratch supper tonight if I’m going to get everything finished here in time for the Midnight Carol Service.’

‘By, it’s cold out there,’ Sam complained as he came in. ‘I was talking to one of the old chaps from the allotments earlier and he reckons we’re in for a bad winter.’

‘Sam, them are hot. I’ve not long since taken them out of the oven,’ Jean warned as he reached out for one of the mince pies cooling on a wire tray on the table. ‘It will serve you right if you burn your tongue. They’re for tomorrow, not for now.’

‘That’s if Father Christmas leaves us any,’ Grace joked, straight-faced.

Bella looked towards the Tennis Club bar where Alan was standing drinking with some of the other men.

She was wearing the new dress he had bought her by way of a making-up present. It was red silk and very sophisticated, and a copy of one that Vivien Leigh had been photographed wearing, the owner of the dress shop had told her. Bella knew it showed off her pale skin and the nearly but not quite faded bruises on her arm where Alan had grabbed her. Those other bruises, on her ribs and her stomach, were of course hidden, like the tender spot on her head.

A group of young men and women on the other
side of the dance floor were laughing at something and jostling one another, as they played some sort of noisy game. Alan had stopped drinking to watch them. Trixie emerged from the middle of the mêlée, flushed and laughing, and triumphantly clutching a man’s handkerchief.

‘Oh, I say, well done, Trixie,’ one of them congratulated her whilst the others all clapped.

Three older couples were occupying the table next to their own and Bella heard one of the women saying indulgently, ‘Dear Trixie, such a good sort. She runs the local Cub pack, you know, and all the boys adore her.’

Bella gave Trixie with a sour look. She was the one everyone ought to have been fussing around and praising tonight, not Trixie. She was, after all, the only young bride here; Trixie was just Trixie, a dull boring maypole of a girl without looks or style. Trixie couldn’t hold a candle to her and yet somehow and very unfairly she had managed to make herself the centre of attention, whilst she was left here alone as her husband stood at the bar and the other two couples they were seated with made excuses to go and get some supper. Bella could feel the sharp prickle of unwanted tears stinging the backs of her eyes.

This time Alan just better have bought her those pearls she had shown him in the jeweller’s window, that was all. Otherwise …

She stood up and made her way to the bar, giving Alan a doe-eyed look of still newly married adoration as she put her hand on his arm and
stood close to him, before pouting and then reaching up to fuss over him and straighten his tie, and whisper just loud enough for the others to hear, ‘It’s lonely at the table without you.’

‘I always said you were a lucky chap, Alan,’ one of the older men told him.

A couple of the other men laughed and warned him teasingly, ‘Just you wait until you’ve been married for a few years; she’ll be waiting for you with a hard rolling pin then, not soft words.’

They might be talking to Alan but it was her they were looking at. Bella revelled in being the focus of their attention, clinging to Alan as she laughed and pouted and flirted, and made sure that they saw her as an adoring young wife whilst Alan saw how much he was envied by his friends for being married to her.

This was what she had expected and wanted from her marriage: this attention and admiration; this knowledge that other men thought she was more attractive than their own dull wives, and her own husband’s recognition of his extreme good fortune.

What had been merely a fiction when she had come to join Alan was now, as she basked in the attention, fact. She was what she had wanted to be. How all the still unmarried young women must envy her, especially poor Trixie.

Bella preened and posed, her eyes sparkling and her lips readily parting in a smile. She was the first of their set to become a wife. Others would follow her lead, but she had that lead and she intended to keep it.

Yes, she was feeling very pleased with herself, Bella decided half an hour later, standing in front of the mirror in the crowded powder room, reapplying her lipstick.

Two girls, whom she knew vaguely, were standing next to her, one of them admiring the other’s engagement ring, whilst she spoke breathlessly of being in love with her fiancé.

Deliberately Bella looked at her own wedding ring and smiled at them, interrupting their conversation to say complacently, ‘Personally I don’t think it’s possible to know what love truly is until one is married. Being a wife is so very different to being a fiancée.’ She gave them a smile that said she was in on a secret from which they were excluded, showing off her married status.

Trixie was standing behind her, her plain face looking even plainer and her brown eyes stark with misery. Good, let her be miserable. Bella was sick of hearing Alan’s mother and everyone else going on about how wonderful Trixie was, as though somehow she had something that she, Bella, did not, which was obviously ridiculous and impossible.

‘Alan’s sooo flattering about how happy our marriage has made him. He never stops telling me how much he loves me. He’s always begging me to promise that I’ll never stop loving him. He says that he couldn’t bear it if that happened. But of course it won’t. Nothing would ever make me stop loving him or make me leave him,’ Bella smiled indulgently. ‘Men can be such silly boys at times.’

* * *

They had been late leaving for the Christmas Eve midnight service because the twins had insisted on putting out mince pies and milk for Father Christmas, and when they had got there the church had been so full that they had only just managed to squeeze in.

Every pew contained families with someone in uniform, or so it seemed to Jean, tall broad-shouldered young men standing with their parents and their siblings. The fate of a nation rested on those shoulders and their bearing revealed their awareness of that responsibility.

Tears pricked at her eyes when the congregation sang the familiar Christmas hymns, words written to be sung with joy and awe at the coming of a Saviour. It was to these young men in their new uniforms that the role of saviours would fall, and Jean prayed that they would not have to bear the cross of pain and death that the child whose birth they were celebrating now had borne.

Luke was one of these young men. She turned towards Sam. He had lost some of his pride and stature these last weeks. He carried with him the shadow of his own pain even though he refused to admit that he felt any.

The vicar spoke of hardship and endurance, and the triumph of right over wrong, good over evil, love over hatred. There were special prayers for those who must fight, and prayers too for those men sailing convoys across the Atlantic, through its storms and the relentless pursuit of Hitler’s U-boats to bring safely into port much-needed supplies.

There could, of course, be no joyous pealing of the church bells to ring out across the cold clear night air symbolically clamouring the news of the gift of a special birth, because church bells could be rung now only in emergencies.

After the service families and neighbours lingered outside the church, stamping their feet against the sharp cold, speaking in low voices of this, the first Christmas of a new war.

How many more would there be before it ended, Jean wondered starkly as they made their way home, and how many families would be changed for ever by it? It was bad enough that Luke wasn’t here, but so very much worse because of the way he and Sam had parted. It would have made such a difference if she had been able to turn to Sam and share her fears for Luke with him, just as they had always shared their fears for their children.