It's Now or Never (25 page)

‘It's more than that and you know it,' said Sam heatedly. ‘You're going to be away for I don't know how long and when you come back I bet you'll change your mind and decide you have to make that documentary. That's if you're not asked to star in another film and you decide it would be crazy to refuse,' he said, tracing a pattern on the tablecloth with his fork.

She almost blurted out,
How did you know?
But, of course, he couldn't possibly know that there was a chance of that. He was only guessing.
Even so she
began to have doubts about whether he had told her the truth about Lynne. ‘It's her, isn't it? She criticized me, didn't she?'

Sam stared at her incredulously. ‘Are you calling me a liar?'

‘I want you to promise not to see her while I'm away!'

‘So now you don't trust me. I'm making no such promises.'

‘Why not? Because you'd break them? I've a good mind to leave right now.'

‘Don't let me stop you,' said Sam coldly.

She had not really intended walking out on him but pride and anger caused her to reach for her coat and handbag and, getting up from the table, she walked out of the restaurant without a backward glance. She half-expected him to come after her, to say sorry and that they mustn't part in such a way.

But he didn't.

She kept on walking, up Renshaw Street until she reached Lycee Street. She continued on up there, thinking to turn left at Roscoe Street or Rodney Street which would take her into Mount Pleasant where the hotel was but suddenly she remembered Lenny and his coffee bar. Why shouldn't she go in there and have a coffee and a snack?

As she pushed open the door she realized immediately that the place was full of teenagers; all appearing to be talking at once and from the jukebox came music that she recognized as Alma Coggan. She could not see an available table – or Lenny for that matter – and was about to leave when a voice said, ‘It's Dorothy Wilson, isn't it?'

Oh no!
she thought, having forgotten that Betty Booth worked here when she wasn't at college.

‘Hello,' said Dorothy, clutching her handbag tightly. ‘I see you're full up.'

‘Pretty much! Didn't expect to see you here.' Betty smiled. ‘Were you wanting to have a word with Lenny? He was telling me that you knew each other from yonks ago. You can go in the back if you like. I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you and I'll bring you in a coffee, shall I?'

‘Thanks,' said Dorothy, thinking she couldn't very well refuse. It would appear unfriendly and she didn't have to stay long.

She followed Betty, squeezing between tables and chairs and went through a door that led into a kitchen. It was welcomingly warm in there and the smell of cooking reminded her that she had left Sam to deal with her chicken chow mein. She felt a twinge of guilt.

‘Hello, Dot! What are you doing here?' asked Lenny, placing two bacon butties on plates. ‘Slumming it?'

‘Why d'you have to say that as if I'm some kind of snob?' she retorted, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

‘It was a bad joke. Why are you here?' he said mildly.

‘I was just passing and thought I'd look in. I'm leaving Liverpool this evening.'

‘So you came to say goodbye?' He sounded amused.

‘You don't believe me?'

‘No.'

She spotted a chair and sat down. ‘You'd be right not to do so.'

He walked past her and, opening the door, shouted to Betty who came running, tore a page from her order pad and placed it down before carrying out the plates of bacon butties.

‘My feet are killing me,' said Dorothy, easing off a black patent leather shoe decorated with a leather bow at the front. ‘It's a bit of a climb up here.' She wriggled her toes.

‘So why make the effort?' asked Lenny, gazing at her legs before glancing at the order. He took sausages from a refrigerator and placed several in a frying pan on a hot plate.

‘I had an argument with Sam and walked out on him.'

‘Hah! Had a feeling it would be something like that. Didn't argue over me, did you?'

‘You flatter yourself!'

He grinned. ‘Then go back to him and make up.'

‘I should, I suppose. I left him in the Chinese with a beef curry and a chicken chow mein to eat.'

‘That's mean. I know he's a big fella but even so …'

She got up from the chair. ‘I'll see you then.'

‘Yeah, see yer. Hope everything goes well with the filming. Get me some autographs of the rich and famous if you will?'

‘Will do,' said Dorothy, and left.

As she made her way through the packed coffee bar to the outside door, Betty caught up with her. ‘You going already?'

‘Yes! I'm leaving Liverpool this evening to begin filming.'

‘Good luck!' said Betty.

Dorothy thanked her and went outside and stood a moment, breathing deeply of air that was a little fresher since the new Clean Air Act had been passed.
Italy!
she thought with a rising excitement. Then she began to make her way back to Renshaw Street, hoping to find Sam still at the restaurant.

To her relief he was at the table where she had left him, drinking coffee. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her. ‘Women! Always changing their minds,' he said in an emotionless voice. ‘You're too late. I've eaten yours.'

Dorothy sat down opposite him. ‘I'm sorry. I deserve that.' It took her a lot to say what she said next. ‘If you want to see our little dressmaker, feel free. I know I can trust you. Just remember that you're a very attractive man and she's probably desperate for a husband.'

Sam's eyes narrowed. ‘Don't be ridiculous. Why would I have any intention of seeing her?'

Dorothy could not disguise her relief. ‘I also have to ask you a favour. Would you mind popping a note through her door apologizing for me, saying I won't be able to visit her grandmother for a chat about the theatre after all.'

‘I'll see it's done.'

She paused and looked about her. ‘Now where's that waiter? I need to order another chicken chow mein, knowing that my boyfriend is a pig having eaten mine.'

‘I lied. I didn't eat your chow mein because I cancelled it. Now tell me, where did you go when you left here?'

‘I just walked round the block, looking in the shop windows,' said Dorothy, reluctant to tell him the truth about having dropped in on Lenny.

‘I don't suppose you saw anything that you wanted to buy that matched up to Bond Street?' He lit up a cigarette.

‘I've packed all I need,' she said.

Their parting was less strained than she thought it might be. At least he kissed her and told her not to work too hard on set and enjoy herself in Italy.

It was only as the train pulled out of Lime Street station that Dorothy thought of Lynne again and wondered if Sam would deliver her apology in person.

Lynne looked up from embroidering a patch pocket on a skirt and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw that it had gone eight o'clock. For a moment her eyes rested on the corner of the envelope stuck behind the clock and then her thoughts returned to the guest they had been expecting. She doubted Dorothy was going to turn up now and had mixed feelings about her failure to do so. Part of her was relieved but she knew that Nan would be disappointed. There were few things her grandmother enjoyed more than reminiscing about the old days in the theatre.

‘She isn't coming, is she?' wheezed Nan, shifting restlessly in her chair.

‘She might yet,' said Lynne.

‘I bet she's forgotten. Too busy to give an old woman some of her time.' She paused. ‘And where's our Bobby?'

‘She's gone on a message and should be back soon,' said Lynne.

No sooner had she spoken than there came a rat-a-tat-tat at the front door. Lynne wasted no time going to answer its summons and was surprised to see Betty standing on the doorstep.

‘I hope I'm not too late?' said Betty hastily. ‘Only I've a message for you. Dorothy Wilson had a phone call this morning and had to go to London.'

‘How did you get to know?' asked Lynne.

‘She came into the coffee bar to give her autograph to Lenny and mentioned that she was supposed to be coming here to talk to your Nan.'

‘That's right. Thanks for letting me know. Come on in.'

The two went into the kitchen and Lynne introduced Betty to her grandmother. ‘Nice to meet you, girl,' said Nan, shaking hands. ‘We were expecting that actress, Dorothy Wilson. I was looking forward to talking to her about the theatre.'

‘I know. What a shame!' Betty sat down opposite the old lady and glanced up at Lynne. ‘I thought you'd be interested to know that after listening to the fellas play at the wedding, Lenny's giving serious thought to getting a licence and hiring them to play a couple of evenings a week.'

‘Good for him and good for the group,' said Lynne, smiling.

‘That's what I said,' said Betty.

There was a pause and then Lynne said, ‘How about a cup of tea and a jam tart? Our Bobby made them this afternoon.'

‘Thanks,' said Betty. ‘And while I'm waiting, perhaps your gran would like to talk to me in place of Dorothy about her memories of the theatre.'

Lynne beamed at her and turned to the old woman. ‘You'd like that, wouldn't you, Nan?'

Instantly the old woman nodded and shifted in the chair and eased back her shoulders. Earlier the lines of her face had drooped, but now her eyes were bright and she was looking so much more cheerful. ‘If you're sure, girl?'

‘Of course, I'm sure. My mum loved the theatre and worked behind the scenes and used to play the odd minor role. You might even remember her.'

Nan was about to ask her name when there was a sound at the door.

‘That'll be Bobby,' said Lynne, placing a plate of jam tarts on the table.

A moment later her daughter entered the kitchen with a bulky brown envelope under her arm. She smiled at Betty. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘She's come to let us know that Dorothy Wilson can't make it,' said Lynne.

‘I could have told you that. I met Jeanette at the top of the street. She was with her boyfriend. She was going to pop in to let you know that Dorothy couldn't be here before they went on for a meal. Sam phoned and asked her to do it. Apparently he's up to his eyes due to there being another robbery and couldn't come himself.'

‘Thanks anyway, love,' said Lynne. ‘Were you able to get what I needed?'

Roberta nodded and handed her the envelope. ‘Instructions inside. By the way, Mam, you know that murder you mentioned. It's in tonight's
Echo
. It's blazoned all over the page.'

‘What murder is this?' asked Betty.

‘The victim was a widower called Kenneth Rogers who owned a hardware shop on Prescot Road,' said Roberta. ‘His son found the body. Guess who he is?'

‘No idea,' said Betty.

‘Nick who comes into the coffee bar!'

Betty's mouth fell open. ‘You're serious! Poor Nick!'

‘So who's this Nick?' asked Lynne.

‘I know who he is,' said Nan. ‘He's the lad Bobby and I saw in a rowing boat in Newsham Park after the wedding. She called out to him and later she showed me her drawing of him. What a terrible thing to happen. He looked to really be enjoying himself.'

‘It's so sad,' said Roberta forlornly. ‘Nick told me that he lost his mother a couple of years ago and now he's lost his dad, too. How awful to be an orphan.'

Betty frowned. ‘He does have another relative. An uncle! Don't you remember he was hanging about outside the coffee bar.'

‘I know who you mean,' said Roberta. ‘Nick gave me the impression he wasn't his favourite person. I wonder if we can do anything to help.'

‘I don't see what we can do to help,' said Lynne.

‘If the police are involved, I bet Hester's brother will know about it,' said Betty.

‘Of course he will,' murmured Lynne.

‘I'll see what his friend Chris has to say next time he comes into the coffee bar,' said Betty. ‘Although it's possible Nick could be with him.'

‘No, it says in the
Echo
that his uncle lives in Shotton in Flintshire.' Roberta sighed. ‘Shall I go and make some tea or cocoa?'

‘Cocoa, love,' said Lynne.

As her daughter left the room, Lynne changed the subject. ‘How's Emma been since the wedding?'

‘I knew there was another reason why I came,' said Betty, taking a piece of paper from her pocket. ‘She's written her address down in case she forgot to give it to you. Since she got pregnant she's become real absent-minded. She said that any day this week is fine if you want to visit her in Formby.'

Lynne smiled and took the paper from her and glanced at it. ‘I have the address and we agreed Friday but I see from this note that she's written down instructions how to get to the house.' She folded the note. ‘Now you relax and Nan can get on with telling you about her life in the theatre.'

For a while Betty just listened to the old woman talking and then she said, ‘I have a couple of questions.'

‘Ask away, girl,' said Nan.

‘Emma's mother ran away because she wanted to be on the stage. I wonder if you ever met her.'

‘What was her name?'

‘Mary Harrison – she was from Whalley. Apparently she had a lovely singing voice and lodged in the same street as my mother and her sister in Liverpool. Mary and my mother, Lizzie, ended up marrying the same man, William Booth. He was an artist and his grandmother owned a theatre here in Liverpool.'

‘Sounds familiar,' said Nan, puckering her brow. ‘But my memory isn't what it used to be.'

Betty said casually, ‘I believe before she was married, Mum had a boyfriend who was an actor called Johnny. Apparently he died of blood poisoning.'