Forgotten Dreams (37 page)
‘Heavens, I don’t know,’ Merle said. ‘I wonder what time it is? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but when we first turned into Scotland Road there were quite a few people about, but we’ve not passed anyone for ages.’
Lottie had dragged her companion to the side of the road and now she swung her round so that they were both staring at the nearest building. ‘We’ve gone wrong somehow, because this ain’t a shop, it’s a terraced house,’ she said. ‘Oh, Merle, the fog’s far too thick to read the street names; even the numbers of the houses are difficult to see, and there isn’t a light on anywhere. We’ve gone wrong somewhere and I haven’t got a clue where we are!’
Chapter ThirteenThe walk home had been meant to give Max and Louella a chance to talk things through but in the event they were silent, simply making their way through the thick fog and longing to reach Victoria Court. Louella was thinking miserably how badly she had handled the whole affair, and Max was apparently wrapped in his own reflections. They were recalled to the present, however, when Baz came up behind them and jerked at his father’s arm. ‘You are in a brown study, Dad,’ he said reprovingly, ‘or don’t you intend to go home tonight? It’s a good thing Jack noticed that you’d gone straight instead of turning into Burly.’
‘Was it Burly? I didn’t realise,’ Max said vaguely. ‘I’ve had my mind on other matters, believe it or not, and I dare say Louella wasn’t watching the street signs too closely either.’
‘You can’t see ’em up there,’ Baz said, indicating the upper floors of the shops and dwellings they had passed. ‘I wonder if I ought to stay here and wait for the girls? Only the truth is, I’ve a deal of thinking to do before I see Merle again. I’m not blaming her, mind,’ he added hastily. ‘But I still feel a bit awkward, like.’
‘You must,’ agreed his father. ‘And you’d have to be a perishin’ saint not to feel angry as well. But Merle’s only young, when all’s said and done. I reckon she was seduced, tricked into doing what she did, so don’t blame her too much, old feller.’
Louella, who had not spoken, suddenly let go of Max’s arm, to which she had been clinging, put out a hand and patted Baz’s shoulder. ‘You’ve behaved really well, Baz, ever so much better than I did,’ she said humbly. ‘I’m sure your father’s truly proud of you.’ She hesitated, then plunged on rather wildly. ‘But has this put you off Merle for good? I mean, if you wanted to make everything respectable . . .’
‘My son is not going to marry at the age of eighteen to cover up another man’s misdeed,’ Max said stiffly. ‘I wonder you should even suggest it, Louella.’
Louella immediately began to retract, but as they fumbled their way through the thick fog and into No. 2 Victoria Court, she changed her mind. ‘I was only trying to help when I suggested that Baz might want to marry Merle despite what’s happened,’ she said, keeping her voice small and diffident. ‘I know it isn’t the ideal solution and of course it wouldn’t be necessary if Merle went home to have the baby . . .’
‘She doesn’t want to go home, and knowing her father as I do, I’m not surprised,’ Max cut in. ‘He’s a really good man, but very strict in his ways, and I’m sure Merle is right: he would never consent to her putting her child out for adoption. So I think it best that she should stay with us until after the baby’s born. Then she can . . .’
‘That’s just my point,’ Louella said quickly. ‘No matter what we tell people, everyone is going to think that Baz is the father. They’ll wonder why you, Max, haven’t insisted that he marry Merle. And the more Baz denies it, the more people will talk behind our backs.’
‘I don’t care about gossip,’ Baz said at once. ‘And folk know Dad doesn’t tell lies, so that’s all right.’
Max had been filling the kettle at the sink but now he carried it across the room and set it on the fire, before turning to give his son a rueful smile. ‘Louella’s got a point,’ he said quietly. ‘We’re in a bit of a cleft stick here because I don’t want Merle to have to go back to her father, but on the other hand I won’t have you made a scapegoat for something you didn’t do. I’ll sleep on it, see if something occurs to me.’
‘Well, I do have a suggestion,’ Louella said. She tried to keep her voice steady, but it trembled in spite of herself. ‘There are . . . places which take in young girls who get into trouble; they arrange adoptions, if that’s what the mother wants. I’m not suggesting Merle should go to a home in Liverpool, but there are others. I know there’s one in Rhyl because it’s where that chorus girl went – the one we found crying her heart out quite early in the season, when she realised she was expecting. Merle could go there, have the baby adopted, and then come back to us and no one any the wiser.’ She looked appealingly at Max. ‘I’d give her her old job back, truly I would, Max. I’m really ashamed of the way I spoke to the poor kid and I’ll never reproach her again, honest to God I won’t. And I’m sure Lottie and myself could keep the act going until Merle could rejoin us.’ She looked hopefully at Max, then let her gaze move over to Baz, and was relieved to see that though they both looked thoughtful, neither seemed displeased; in fact Baz was nodding his head slowly.
‘I think you’ve hit on it, Louella,’ he said. ‘I dare say it ain’t the ideal solution, but it’s the best one we’re likely to find. Don’t you agree, Dad?’
Max nodded. ‘I think you’re right,’ he said. ‘She needn’t go yet, although she must leave before she begins to show. But one thing: I’ve heard tales about those homes so I’d rather pay for the child to stay in lodgings until the birth is near. Then she can go into a private nursing home. I’m sure they’ll arrange the adoption, just as a home for bad girls would do.’
‘I’ll help with the cost,’ Louella said eagerly.
Max cast her a grateful glance. ‘Thanks, Louella. You know, it’s really lucky that no other member of the company has any idea of what went on tonight. For once we should bless the fog for sending the cast home sharpish.’
‘Don’t forget Jack knows,’ Louella reminded him. ‘But he won’t tell. He’s a real good sort is Jack.’
‘Aye; Jack’s true blue and will never stain,’ Max agreed. At that moment the kettle began to hiss and Louella spooned cocoa into five mugs, whilst Max picked up the kettle and carried it across to the table.
Baz watched for a moment then glanced at the clock above the mantel and whistled beneath his breath. ‘Wherever have those perishin’ girls got to?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Me and Jack hurried to catch you up when we saw you had walked straight past Burly without giving it a second glance, but I disremember how far behind us the girls had fallen by then. Still, if they made the same mistake as you and continued on up the Scottie, Jack would put them right.’
Max frowned. ‘They should have been here by now, though,’ he observed. ‘Unless, of course, they went into Jack’s lodgings with him . . . they might have done that when they realised they had a fair walk back to reach Victoria Court.’
‘Yes, that’s possible,’ Baz conceded and Louella saw that the worry had left his face. ‘I expect Jack would want to nip in and tell Mrs Parrot not to lock up. Then they’d mebbe have a hot drink and Jack would walk them back home, ’cos he’s a real gent, is Jack. And that means they’ll arrive here any minute now.’
Through the thickening fog the two girls stared at one another in dismay. If they turned back and tried to retrace their steps, they could be in a worse muddle and might end up on the docks. Neither girl owned a watch but both knew it must be very late indeed. Although they had done their best to hurry the second half of the performance because of the worsening weather, it had almost certainly been ten o’clock, or not far off that hour, when they had taken their last curtain call. Then there had been the bustle of departure as the rest of the cast left the theatre, whilst Lottie and Merle hung about on the stage, waiting for Louella to return so that she could scold them. After that, of course, there had been the row, and then the slow fumble through the fog, in the course of which they had lost first their companions, and then themselves.
‘What’ll we do, Lottie?’ Merle asked, sounding as though she, and not her companion, was the younger. ‘What’ll happen if we just keep on? We’ve gone a good way down this road, so we should soon come to a junction, and then one of us will have to climb on to the shoulders of the other one, and maybe from there we’d be able to read the street name.’ At this ridiculous suggestion they both laughed and somehow laughing made their predicament seem less frightening.
‘Yes, we have come a good way,’ Lottie said thoughtfully. ‘And if we’re right and it’s past eleven o’clock, maybe nearer midnight, most folk will be tucked up in their beds, which is why there’s no lights showing in the windows we’ve passed. But folk round here are used to the fogs coming off the Mersey, so if we find ourselves still lost in ten minutes or so, I think we’ll have to take a chance and bang on the nearest door. Still, if we keep walking we might find ourselves in an area we know, or at least an area I know. It’s different for you, you didn’t grow up in Liverpool, but I got to know it pretty well from visiting school friends and getting the messages and so on.’
Accordingly the girls walked on, but this time they talked very little, both concentrating on trying to recognise their surroundings. Presently, however, Lottie gave a squawk of dismay. ‘Oh, Merle, we’ve gone wrong again! This is a court and not one of the ones I know, either. We’ve followed the pavement right under the arch – which we couldn’t see because of the fog – and if we keep on walking we’ll meet the wall which makes every court into a dead end. I think the time has come to ask for help, because Max and Louella will be worried sick.’
‘So will . . .’ Merle began, then stopped short, and Lottie guessed she had been about to say ‘So will Baz’ and had suddenly remembered the rift in their relationship.
They had linked arms, for both warmth and comfort, and now she slid her hand down and squeezed Merle’s fingers. ‘It’s all right, goose, of course Baz will worry when we don’t turn up. In fact I’m sure the two of you will sort something out once you’ve had a chance to talk. And here’s a bit of luck, I spy a lighted window, so somebody’s still up. Come along. As soon as we know where we are we can start planning our route home.’
Feeling rather self-conscious, the two girls climbed the steps up to the door and banged the knocker. Its echoes resounded and Lottie was about to bang again when she heard shuffling footsteps approaching, and presently the door was opened, though no more than six inches, and a voice said: ‘Oozat knockin’ at me door in the miggle o’ the night?’
Lottie hesitated. Her name was unlikely to mean anything to the person on the other side of the door, but she decided to give it anyway. ‘I’m Lottie Lacey and this is my friend Merle O’Mara. We took a wrong turn somewhere in the fog, and now we’re completely lost. We can’t even see the street names ’cos the fog’s got so thick, and our folk will be worried sick.’
The door opened a good deal wider to reveal a tiny old woman, wrapped in a long, drooping black shawl and wearing beneath it a rusty black skirt. Her skin was seamed and brown and she grinned at the two girls, revealing gums but no teeth, then gestured them into the hallway. ‘Well I never did; if it ain’t the Lacey Sisters,’ she said in a high, cracked voice. ‘I’ve been comin’ to your shows since you were just a kid, young Lottie. And what’s you doin’ astray on a night like this?’
Lottie began to speak but the old woman cut across her words. ‘No, no, don’t tell me now; you must be fair frozen. There’s a good fire in me kitchen and the kettle a-hoppin’ on the hob, so you’d best come through and then you can tell me what’s what while I mash the tea.’ She led them into a pleasant and very clean kitchen, with rag rugs on the floor, a couple of ancient basketwork chairs drawn up before the stove, and firelight and lamplight flickering on the whitewashed walls. ‘Take off your coats or you won’t feel the benefit when you goes out again,’ she instructed, and when this had been done she gestured them to the two easy chairs. ‘Sit yourselves down, young ladies, while I make us a nice cuppa. I were about to have one meself, ’cos you ain’t the only ones what’ve been out in that fog, though I didn’t go far enough to lose meself. This here is Isobel Court and me granddaughter – she’s a good girl, she is – lives in Frederick Court, no more’n twenty yards further along Burnet Street. She had a babby a couple of weeks ago and I’m givin’ a hand, like. I went round to cook . . .’
Lottie however broke in, too surprised to remember her manners. ‘Burnet Street? Ye gods, we’re miles out of our way! Oh, Lor’, we must have wandered down Hopwood and then just kept following the pavement along . . .’ She turned to Merle. ‘It’ll take us ages to find our way back to Burlington Street and Victoria Court, if we ever do!’
‘I can guide you back to Hopwood meself, fog or no fog, and once you’re there you must count the side turnings until you reach the junction – which is the Scottie of course – then you just turn right, and count every side street you cross again until you reach Burly.’ As she spoke she had been pouring three mugs of tea, and now she handed two of these to her guests, put the third down on the kitchen table, and hobbled over to the cupboard beside the sink. She came back with a large tin which proved to contain a fruitcake, and got to work with a wicked-looking carving knife, talking all the while. ‘Me name’s Ada Donovan, but everybody calls me Donny, and I’ve led an interestin’ life,’ she said. ‘I’m a widow, have been for twenty years, though I only moved here when I retired. Before that I worked the canals, first wi’ me husband, then wi’ me two sons. But a coal barge is hard work and the day come when I couldn’t be useful, so the boys rented me this house. I was near me daughter, which was handy, and as I’ve already told you me granddaughter’s just about on me doorstep, and me friends from the canal visit me when they’re loadin’, so all in all I couldn’t be better off.’
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