Friends and Lovers (6 page)

‘Hush.’ Dominic placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘A girl of your age needs a mother.’ He picked up his jacket and left by the front door.

Mother and daughter eyed each other. ‘When I think you made me feel dirty with George,’ said Viv, her eyes glinting. ‘And here’s you alone with a married man at this time of night!’

‘We’re old friends,’ said Hilda, frowning. ‘And what’s a kiss after all? It’s hardly a full blown affair. And if we’re talking about the time – where have you been? You’re only seventeen. Who have you been with?’

‘It’s none of your business.’ Viv’s chin set determinedly. ‘Don’t think just because you’ve come home you’re going to tell me what to do and what time I’ve got to be in. I had enough of that with Grandfather and George.’

‘Fair comment,’ said Hilda. ‘Where is George, by the way?’

‘He’s gone to Paris to paint. It’s what his father wanted to do and he never got the chance. That’s why George wanted the money. So you see, Mother, why he took off without a goodbye.’

She shrugged. ‘Sure I see. It was the easy way out. You’re made of sterner stuff, Viv.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She sat on the rocking chair.

‘You lived here with your grandfather. It must have taken a lot of doing.’ Hilda sat on the lumpy sofa. ‘I admire you.’

There was a short silence then Viv smiled. ‘Soft soap, Mother. You must want me to stay.’

‘I do. I know things didn’t work out for us in the past but there’s no use crying over spilt milk. It’s all water under the bridge. I’m the only mother you’ve got. Our Flo might have done my job for me in bringing you up but she’s not here now.’

Viv took her gaze off her mother’s lovely face and stared at the fireplace. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast. Did Hilda really mean what she said?

‘I’ve thought of going to America,’ murmured Viv. ‘Aunt Flo’s asked me there for Christmas.’

‘She’s what?’ Hilda sprang to her feet. ‘Damn her! She’s no right. You’re
my
daughter. She has her own family. How long is it since we’ve had a Christmas together, Viv? You’ll have to write back and tell her you’re not going.’

She felt a spurt of anger. ‘I’ll what?’ she cried. ‘Aunt Flo wants me, you never did! You never once invited me to stay with you in America!’

‘You never once asked! I wish you had. It would have pleased Charlie. He thought you weren’t interested in us.’

‘I wonder where he got that idea?’

Hilda flushed. ‘OK, OK. So maybe I told him so. But I’ve changed since then. Since I nearly died.

‘Nearly died?’ Viv laughed. ‘You don’t have to lay it on with a trowel, Mother.

‘Since I nearly died,’ said Hilda through gritted teeth, ‘I’ve changed. I realise how many
things I’ve done wrong and I want to make up to you for them. A girl needs a mother at your age. I only wish I’d had mine around. Things might have been different. In fact, I know they would.’

‘In what way?’

‘I mightn’t have had to fight my own corner so much.’

‘You mean
you’ll
fight my battles for me?’ Viv was amused. ‘It’s a bit late for that, Mam. I’ve had to do my own fighting for the last couple of years. Generally against Grandfather.’ She paused. ‘Anything else you have on offer to make me stay?’

Hilda hesitated. ‘Not to compare with what our Flo can provide in America.’ She leant forward and touched her daughter’s knee. ‘We’re the only ones left in Liverpool, though, Viv, to keep the home fires burning if they ever return.’

Viv was strangely moved and said hesitantly, ‘I can’t believe it’s you saying that.’

Hilda smiled inwardly, remembering an American war film she had seen. ‘You don’t really know me, though, do you? Give me a try,’ she said persuasively. ‘Our Flo would understand. She always wanted us to get together.’

Viv was silent, certain sure that she did not trust her mother to be any different if she stayed. But Nick had given his mother a chance and could
she do any less? ‘I’m not the muttonhead I used to be, Mother,’ she warned. I won’t be your skivvy.’

‘Yes, Viv,’ said Hilda meekly.

Viv slanted her a knowing look. ‘Don’t think I’m fooled by that. Did you mean it about getting the house done up?’

‘Of course I meant it!’ Her mother’s baby blue eyes widened. ‘Why do you think I had Mr Kelly in here? He was measuring up the jobs that needed doing. He gets laid off for days in winter.’

‘Can I have a new bed? One of the latest divans.’

‘You mean, spend extra money?’ blurted Hilda.

Viv raised her eyebrows. ‘There’s my real mother speaking. Perhaps I’ll go to America after all.’

Hilda bit back an angry retort. ‘We’ll buy the bed.’

‘Jolly hockey sticks.’ Viv beamed at her and got to her feet. ‘You’d better take George’s room. I’ll be going up because I’ve work in the morning. Perhaps you’d like me to give you an early call?’

‘No thanks,’ said Hilda hastily. ‘The voyage quite took it out of me. The doctor said I have to have lots of rest.’

‘I bet,’ said Viv drily and sauntered out of the room, feeling that she had won the first round.

Viv gazed at the board in front of her with Saturday’s horse racing results and worked out the odds on two winning singles and a double before passing the green slip to Dot to check. Then she sat gazing into space, chewing on the end of her pencil.

‘You’ll get lead poisoning,’ said Dot.

‘I’m thinking.’

‘Well, think afterwards,’ said her friend. ‘I’m waiting for more work from you.’

Viv nodded and got on with working out a Round Robin but part of her mind was taken up with thinking about her mother, who had still been in bed when Viv had left for work. Had she done the right thing by saying she would not go to America? Aunt Flo would be disappointed but there was no doubt she would be in favour of mother and daughter getting together. Who was
her father? She was glad it wasn’t Mr Kelly, but thinking about him and her mother together made her feel uneasy. Dominic Kelly was still a
good-looking
man despite being all of forty. She hoped her mother wouldn’t get up to any of her old tricks. ‘What’s a kiss between old friends?’ In her mind she still heard her mother’s voice. What if she caused another scandal in the street? Viv wouldn’t put it past her. Damn! Perhaps she should enquire about ships sailing to America but it would have to be done straightaway or Christmas would be here and gone. She pondered the matter off and on for most of the morning and was still undecided when twelve o’clock came.

When Viv came back from lunch she found Dot and several of their workmates gathered round a desk. They were playing Ouija with letters, numbers and an upturned cup. ‘One of these days,’ murmured Viv, ‘you’ll get an answer and frighten yourselves to death.’

‘It’s only a bit of fun,’ said Dot, grinning. ‘I’m sure there’s someone you’d like to get in touch with. Your dad for instance.’

‘Not like that, thanks.’ She shook her head, wondering if she was a fool still to want to know her father’s identity after what her mother and Nick had said. Her heart gave a peculiar flip when she thought of Nick. He was the plus in staying home for Christmas, although when he had kissed
her goodnight he had not said when he would see her again. He had told her that he had a lot of catching up to do in work and would be putting in extra hours.

When Viv arrived home that evening she found her mother clad in a dressing gown. She was seated in the rocking chair in front of the fire, reading a magazine. Her feet in fluffy nonsensical slippers rested on a pouffe. There were clothes on the backs of chairs and a glass on the floor.

‘You can tell you’re home,’ said Viv, slamming the door. ‘What a mess!’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘There’s something missing!’

‘It’s the sofa.’ Hilda’s expression was wary. ‘I couldn’t bear the sight of it so I had Dom move it into the back yard. We’ll need to get rid of it for when we get new.’

Viv shrugged off her coat and perched on the edge of a dining chair. ‘You actually meant what you said last night?’

‘What I said?’

‘You know, about making a nice little nest of this place?’

‘Of course I did. You didn’t think I’d stay on as it is!’ Her scarlet lips twisted in distaste. ‘I’m used to better, you know.’

‘So I gather,’ said Viv drily, getting up and going into the kitchen to put on the kettle.

The old-fashioned shallow stone sink was crowded with dirty dishes and cutlery. It looked like her mother had shared a meal of fish, chips and HP Sauce with someone. Mr Kelly, she presumed. She felt her temper rising but kept control of it as she went into the front room. ‘You’re a lazy so and so, Mother. One of these days you’ll catch some horrible germ and die.’

Hilda frowned. ‘That’s a nice way to speak to your mother. I haven’t had time to think of doing the dishes. I’ve been busy, unpacking … shopping and things.’

‘Did you think of getting something for my tea?’ said Viv softly. ‘Or did I do right by buying it myself?’

‘I thought my first day home you’d know everything would be strange to me.’ Hilda smiled sweetly. ‘I was right, wasn’t I? But I did buy you a cake. A jammy doughnut. If I remember rightly you used to love them.’

‘It was lemon cheese tarts I loved but a jammy doughnut will do nicely,’ said Viv, taking some mince, an onion and potatoes from her shopping bag.

Hilda’s brow knitted. ‘I could have sworn you liked jammy doughnuts.’

‘
You
liked jammy doughnuts.’ Viv went back out into the kitchen, followed by her mother.

‘I take it our Flo taught you how to cook?’

‘A bit. Necessity taught me most. Although luckily Grandfather wasn’t fussy.’

‘I remember.’ Hilda’s smile was gently reminiscent. ‘He’d eat anything you put in front of him.’

Viv glanced up from peeling a potato. ‘How was it you forgot how to cook? You must have done it when Grandmother was ill.’

Hilda’s smile faded and she rested her back against the fablon-topped kitchen table. ‘I never could cook properly. I muddled through, obeying my mother’s orders. When she died and me and Flo went to live with old Beetroot – she was your Great-aunt Beattie, by the way – she wouldn’t let me near her precious stove. She actually told me she couldn’t have me wasting food by trying out recipes. I asked her how I was to learn and she hit me across the legs. Any backchat or anything she thought I was doing wrong and I would get a belt. When she found out I was seeing Dom Kelly she considered it disgraceful, me having anything to do with a Catholic. She hit me that hard my legs were red raw and bleeding. I hated her. I used to pray she’d die.’ She paused to take a packet of Polo mints from the pocket of her dressing gown and jerkily undid the foil.

‘It must have been awful,’ said Viv, feeling sympathy for her.

‘At least you never suffered like that,’ muttered Hilda. ‘I made sure you had a good home. There
mightn’t have been much there in the way of goodies but our Flo treated you like her own daughter.’

‘I appreciate that you thought of all that before you left me with her,’ said Viv gravely. ‘But I wasn’t her daughter, I was yours.’

Hilda grimaced. ‘So you were.’

‘When did you meet my father?’ Viv’s voice was gentle.

Her mother stared at her and laughed. ‘You won’t catch
me
by surprise. Forget him, Viv. You’ve got me and you don’t need a father.’ She popped a mint into her mouth and said vaguely, ‘Talking of fathers – how much did mine leave?’

Viv’s smile was fixed as she chopped a couple of potatoes and put them in a pan. ‘You mean
your
father whom I looked after like a daughter? If he’d lived with you in America you’d have had to pay for someone to look after him, wouldn’t you? Let’s say that all the money he left is wages in lieu of the care I gave him in place of you hiring a nurse. Fair comment, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose so.’ Hilda’s expression was a little sulky. ‘I haven’t got that much money with me, you know. It takes time to transfer money from one country to another.’

‘Crying poverty again? You shouldn’t have thrown the sofa out because we might have problems buying a new one in that case. And you
shouldn’t have asked Mr Kelly to do jobs either, if you haven’t got the money.’

‘I didn’t say I haven’t the money,’ snapped Hilda. ‘Just that I haven’t got it all right now! I’ve got some but not enough for all that needs doing. I thought you might like to chip in with some of Father’s?’

Viv was silent as she placed the mince in a pan with water and lit the gas. Some of what her mother said about transferring money could be true. On the other hand she could still be just as tightfisted as she had been in the old days.

‘I still plan to go to America sometime so I want my money,’ murmured Viv. ‘We could do the decorating ourselves, that would save.’

‘I’m not going to be climbing ladders,’ said Hilda firmly, straightening up as the kettle boiled and going to make the tea. ‘I’ve asked Dom to do it and that’s that! I can’t go back on it. Besides, I’ve already given him some money. He’s starting with my bedroom and I’ve ordered myself a new bed. I can’t be doing with George’s. Yours can wait.’

‘Just what I thought would happen,’ drawled Viv. ‘I hope you realise that if you’re upstairs when Mr Kelly’s there, Mrs McCoy over the road will soon know about it. She has a telescope in that bedroom of hers.’

‘She always was a nosy faggot,’ muttered Hilda.

‘All you’ve got to do is behave yourself,’ said
Viv positively. ‘I’ll meet you halfway, Mam. I’ll order and pay for my own bed and decorate my own room. I think I can afford that. Besides, I reckon this way I’ll get what I want.’

‘OK. That sounds fair enough. Although the furniture’s a bit crummy in Father’s room.’

‘Let me worry about that,’ said Viv, slicing an onion. ‘Will you be getting a job if you’re so hard up? Maggie might take you on. You have some experience working in a bakery, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know why you’re saying that about me being hard up.’ Hilda’s tone was irritable. ‘I told you, it’s just a matter of time. Besides, I wouldn’t work in that bakery for a gold clock. When the money comes I’ll get you a television to make up for not buying you the bed.’

Viv tried not to look disbelieving. ‘We could rent one. Then if you change your mind about staying and I go to see Aunt Flo, we can just send it back.’ She dropped the chopped onion in the mince and stirred the lot. ‘By the way. I’ll be writing to Aunt Flo. Is there anything you’d like me to say to her for you? I’d thought of asking her if she knows who my father was.’

‘You what?’ Hilda’s whole body stiffened. ‘What do you want to do that for?’

‘Well, you won’t tell me.’ Viv smile was bland. ‘But I thought there was a fair chance you might have told your sister.’

‘I might have,’ murmured Hilda, lowering her eyes and gazing at her fingernails. ‘But then I mightn’t have. She was like you, wanting to know who he was all the time. She was angry for me but I was daft in those days so I kept my peace. Years later I think we might have talked about it again. I can’t remember exactly.’

Viv’s gaze was fixed on her mother’s face and suddenly she remembered her expression of old. ‘I think you’re lying. I’m going to ask her anyway.’

Hilda threw up her arms. ‘You do what you want! I’m not here to stop you doing anything! As long as you do me the same favour. But what good knowing about your father will do you, I don’t know! He was no angel as I’ve told you.’

Viv flushed. I take it he wasn’t completely evil either?’

‘Men can be swines but he wasn’t that bad,’ said Hilda, her lovely mouth compressing. ‘That’s all I’m, saying, Viv.’ With those words she poured tea into a cup and handed it to her daughter. ‘Don’t say I never do anything for you.’ She forced a smile and went back into the front room.

Viv heard the click of the wireless going on and Lonnie Donegan’s ‘Rock Island Line’ thrummed on the air. Damn you, Mother, she thought. If it wasn’t that I need a visa to get into America and it’s too late to get one now in time for Christmas, I’d leave you here and take off. Why can’t you
just be straight with me? But she had to accept that deviousness had often been her mother’s way in the past and she had not really expected a miraculous change in her behaviour. Besides, Aunt Flo was sure to give her the answer she wanted if she went by what her mother had just said.

At that moment there was a smell of burning and Viv had to act swiftly. She poured half of the tea in her cup into the pan of mince and lowered the gas. As she drank the first half she reflected that it might not be the first strange concoction she would be eating if her mother decided to take a hand in the cooking.

Over the next week or so Viv tried to accept Hilda for what she was but it was not easy. Mrs McCoy stopped Viv in the street and asked her point blank what Mr Kelly was doing in their house. According to her he was there some part of most days. An annoyed Viv told her to mind her own business and Mrs McCoy came back with: ‘You’re as bad as your mother!’

Viv wouldn’t have lost her temper only she suspected that her mother
was
up to something with Mr Kelly. Every evening when she came home Hilda was either in a state of deshabille or dressed up as a cowgirl. Viv made a point of making no comment but was convinced that one day she would come in and find her mother being
lassoed by Mr Kelly and dragged upstairs.

But that was not the only thing that exasperated her. She and her mother had agreed to share the work. Hilda had said that she would do the washing if Viv did the ironing. That seemed fair but her mother took the washing to the laundrette and sat watching it go round, gossiping and renewing old friendships. When Viv came home from a full day’s work she was faced twice a week with a mound of ironing, most of it not hers.

Her mother’s dinners generally consisted of fish and chips, tripe and onions in stewed milk, or meat pies from the bakery. She always apologised when placing these offerings on a table spread with a clean tablecloth, a candle and a glass of sherry for each of them, adding that she had had a cook when she lived with Charlie. Viv did not know if she was telling the truth or was just plain lazy.

There was also her mother’s extravagance. For someone who was waiting for money to be transferred Hilda did a fair amount of shopping. Clothes, chocolates, magazines, bottles of sherry and gin, new cutlery, new curtains and bed covers! Then to top it all Viv came home one day to find Mr Kelly and her mother admiring the new bedroom suite in Hilda’s room. As well as that there was a brand new television occupying a corner of the front room!

‘Has your money come then?’ demanded Viv,
slamming the pork chops in the frying pan when Mr Kelly had gone.

‘Not yet.’ Hilda popped a mint into her mouth and said, ‘I got them on the H.P., honey. Don’t you worry, I’m not going to demand my rightful share of Father’s money.’

‘Rightful?’ Viv’s voice went up several octaves. Her mother knew just where to touch her on the raw. ‘You’ve got no more moral right to it than the cat! And another thing – what’s Mr Kelly doing here again? We aren’t getting any more decorating done yet. You’re getting yourself talked about, Mam. Before you know it Mrs Kelly will be banging on the door complaining.’