Laceys of Liverpool (6 page)

‘No, ta, Dad. It would be best if I went on me own.’

‘You’d better get a move on. It’s almost half past seven. Does John know where you are?’

‘I said I was coming round to yours with the mince pies.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘He probably thinks they’re for one of me secret lovers. I’ll be cross-examined when I get back, particularly if I’m late.’

‘Does he know about the twenty-five pounds?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he might have stopped me coming if he had. John doesn’t like me working no more. He wants me safely at home where I can’t get up to mischief.’

Danny Mitchell swallowed an expletive. He hadn’t realised things were quite so bad. ‘He won’t be all that pleased if Cora comes up with the cash and you start the hairdressing on your own,’ he said cautiously, worried
that Alice was getting into a situation that would only make things worse.

‘I don’t care, Dad.’ Her face tightened in a way he’d never seen before. ‘I’m entitled to something out of life and I’m not getting it now. I wish with all my heart John had never had the accident. I love him, I always will, but I’ve given up trying to make him believe it. He’s impossible to live with, so I’ll just have to make a life for meself outside the house.’

Danny hadn’t thought his normally timid daughter capable of such determination. He nodded approvingly. ‘Right thing too, luv.’

Come in,’ Cora said in surprise when she opened the door and found her sister-in-law on the step.

Alice rarely came to Garibaldi Road, mainly because she was rarely asked and Cora wasn’t the sort of person you dropped in on uninvited for a jangle.

‘What can I do for you?’ Cora asked when they were seated in the nicely furnished living room, as if she realised it wasn’t a social visit and Alice had only come for a purpose for which an explanation was due.

‘Where’s Billy?’ She didn’t want John’s brother blundering in.

‘At the pub, where else?’ Cora sneered.

Alice nodded. ‘Right. I want to borrow some money,’ she said bluntly. She wasn’t prepared to beat about the bush, engage in chit-chat to pass the time, then tactfully come up with a request for a loan.

‘Really!’ Cora laughed. It must be for something of very great importance. Under normal circumstances, Alice wouldn’t have asked her for the time of day, let alone money. ‘What for?’

In a cool voice Alice explained about Myrtle’s. ‘I’ll pay
you back the twenty-five pounds as soon as possible with a fee on top, for borrowing it, like.’

‘You mean interest?’

‘Do I?’ Alice said, confused.

‘Interest is what you pay for borrowing money.’

‘Then I’ll pay interest.’

‘At what rate?’ Cora asked, in order to confuse her sister-in-law more.

But Alice understood what Cora was up to. ‘At whatever rate you say,’ she replied, cool again.

The older woman smiled unpleasantly. ‘Why should I loan you a penny?’

‘Because you’ll make a penny in return.’

Cora smiled again. Then her voice became hard. ‘It would have to be a business arrangement.’

‘That’s all right by me,’ Alice said nonchalantly. Inwardly, she was desperately trying to keep her wits about her. She didn’t trust Cora Lacey as far as she could throw her and wished she had taken up Dad’s offer to come with her. What on earth was a business arrangement?

‘I’ll lend you the twenty-five quid, but I’ll draw up an agreement and we’ll both sign to say we’ll share the profits till the loan’s paid back.’

‘
Share
the profits!’ Alice exlaimed. She wanted Myrtle’s more than anything on earth, but sharing the profits seemed a bit rich. ‘You mean half each? That hardly seems fair. It’s me who’ll be doing all the work.’

‘OK, you have two-thirds, I’ll take a third.’ Cora had known Alice, dim as a Toc H lamp though she was, would be unlikely to agree to half. A third was what she’d wanted all along. It was the easiest way she’d ever come across of making money. ‘I’ll just go in the parlour and write it down. I won’t be long.’

Alice waited on the edge of her chair. She’d done it!
Tomorrow morning Myrtle’s would be hers, but she wished it hadn’t been necessary to involve Cora Lacey. It left a nasty taste in the mouth. A third of the profits! She held out her hands to warm them in front of the small coke fire. It was cold in here. She shivered. The fire gave off scarcely any heat. Cora surrounded herself with nice things, but had no regard for creature comforts. No wonder Billy took himself to the pub night after night.

She knew nothing about her sister-in-law other than that her maiden name was Barraclough, her mother had died when she was born and she’d been brought up in Orrell Park by two spinster aunts, both long dead. Nothing was ever said about a father.

It was a constant wonder what she and Billy had seen in each other. Billy was hardly ever in, Cora rarely went out. In company they ignored each other. Billy seemed nervous in the presence of his cold-eyed wife, Cora contemptuous of her childish, good-natured husband.

Her legs were numb with cold. Alice got up and walked around the room to bring them back to life. She picked up a glass vase off the mantelpiece. It shone like diamonds as she turned it back and forth in the dim light. She flicked it with her fingernail and it gave off a sharp, tinkling sound, like a bell. Cut glass! How on earth could Cora afford such a thing? Where had she got the twenty-five pounds from, come to that? Off Horace Flynn?

‘I reckon she does more than keep his books,’ Dad had said, or something like it. Alice shivered again at the thought of fat, greasy Horace Flynn coming within a yard of her, let alone doing his books – or far more intimate things if Dad was right.

There was a child’s book on the table; a colourful cardboard alphabet book with an animal beside each letter. A for Antelope. She turned to the back page: Z for Zebra. A piece of paper fell out on which had been
written several simple sums: 1 + 1, 2 + 2, 2 + 1. The answers had been filled in by a clumsy, childish hand. Cora must have written the sums, Maurice had filled in the answers. She must be teaching him at home.

For some reason Alice glanced at the wall where the cane usually hung. It wasn’t there. She noticed it propped against the green tiled fireplace. Her stomach turned. Was Cora whipping her little boy to make him learn?

Alice suddenly longed to get away from this lovely, cold room with its expensive ornaments and return to her own comfy, warm house, where there wasn’t a single ornament costing more than sixpence, but which was far preferable to here. Hang Myrtle’s. Cora could keep her money and her business arrangement.

She made for the door – and remembered John who would be sitting in the chair under the window waiting for her, glowering, wanting to know where she’d been, how many men she’d allowed to touch her. The accusations were getting wilder and wilder, more and more offensive. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Dad some of the things John had said. How many men had she serviced? Did they stand in line? How much had she made? Terrible accusations from the man she had thought would love her for ever. Alice suppressed a sob, just as Cora came into the room with a piece of paper torn from a writing pad.

‘Sorry I was so long, but it had to be worded carefully. Just sign here where I’ve drawn a line of dots. I’ve brought the ink with me and a pen.’

‘I’d like to read it first.’

‘Of course,’ Cora said smoothly. ‘You should never put your signature to anything you’ve not read first.’

‘I, Alice Lacey,’ Alice read aloud, ‘acknowledge receipt of the sum of twenty-five pounds from Cora
Lacey, entitling the said Cora Lacey to a third share in perpetuity of the business presently known as Myrtle’s Hairdressing Salon.’ She frowned. ‘What does “in perpetuity” mean?’

‘Till the money’s paid back.’

‘That’s all right, then.’ It wasn’t often she put her signature to anything. She sat down and carefully wrote ‘Alice M. Lacey’ on the dotted line.

‘What’s the M. for?’ Cora enquired.

‘Mavoureen. It was me mam’s name. Me dad called her Renee.’

Cora nodded. ‘Well, here’s your money.’ She held out a small piece of paper.

Alice regarded it vacantly. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a cheque for twenty-five pounds.’

‘But I need the money, not a cheque!’ She’d only vaguely heard of cheques and had never seen one before.

‘A cheque’s the same as money,’ Cora said with a superior smile. ‘Just give it to Myrtle’s daughter. She’ll know what to do with it.’

Alice wanted to protest, but it would only show her ignorance. She took the cheque, thanked Cora and said she had to be getting home.

Outside the house she paused. She felt uneasy. How could a piece of paper be worth the same as twenty-five pound notes? Oh, if only she could ask John! He seemed to know everything worth knowing. Alice sighed. But the days were long gone when they could discuss things – should they have a day out in New Brighton on Sunday if the weather was fine, for instance? Or perhaps Southport, easier to get to on the electric trains that ran from Marsh Lane Station? Was it possible to squeeze another bed into the girls’ room now that they were getting older? Orla constantly complained about sleeping three to a bed.

The cheque thing was bothering her. She would have gone back to Dad’s, but he’d be out by now, probably with Phyllis Henderson, his latest woman. But Bernadette would know. Unlike Alice, she was clever. Although they’d started St James’s Junior and Infants together, Bernadette had passed the scholarship at eleven and gone to Seafield Convent. She lived no distance away in rooms in Irlam Road. Hopefully, Bernadette would set her mind at rest. It would make her late home, but she was already late and by now John was probably doing his nut.

‘Oh, well! I may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.’

‘Of course a cheque’s all right, silly.’ Bernadette laughed. She was already in her dressing gown ready for bed although it was only half past eight. Since Christmas she’d been feeling low. Roy McBride had turned out like all the other men she’d known, except for Bob, and had tried to get his hand up her skirt in the taxi on the way home from the dance on Christmas Eve. She had decided to give up on men altogether and rely on books for company.

‘We get loads of cheques in the Gas Board. What’s it for, anyroad?’

For the third time that night, Alice explained about Myrtle’s, then described her meeting with Cora. ‘She made me sign an agreement of some sort – and she wants a third of the profits, but never mind. As from tomorrow Myrtle’s will be mine, that’s all that matters.’

‘Oh, Alice!’ Bernadette looked dismayed. ‘I wish you’d asked me first. I would have loaned you the money and you wouldn’t have had to sign anything. I wouldn’t have demanded a share of the profits, either. Just the money back when you could afford it, that’s all.’

Alice regarded her friend, equally dismayed. ‘It never entered me head you were so flush, Bernie.’

Bernadette shrugged. ‘It’s why Bob and I never had kids, isn’t it? I stayed at work so we could save up for furniture for our house. Since he was killed I couldn’t bring meself to touch a penny. It didn’t seem right, buying clothes and stuff, so the money’s been lying in the Post Office for years. There must be going on for forty pounds by now. You could have had the lot and used some to do up Myrtle’s place a bit. It certainly needs it.’

‘Oh, Bernie! I wish I’d known.’

‘Tell Cora to stuff her cheque and I’ll arrange to draw the money out tomorrow.’

‘I can’t, can I? I told you I signed an agreement.’

Bernadette looked at her doubtfully. ‘What did it say?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘You’re too trusting by a mile, do you know that, Alice Lacey? Anyroad, how about a cup of tea? Better still, a glass of sherry to toast your new business venture.’

‘You make it sound very grand.’ Alice smiled.

‘It
is
very grand. I feel dead proud that you’re my friend. Hold on, I’ll just get some glasses from the kitchen.’

While she was gone, Alice glanced around the big, rather gloomy room that was at least warm. A big fire burnt in the massive fireplace. The book Bernadette had been reading was lying face down on the floor alongside an empty cup that had obviously contained cocoa. She wouldn’t have wanted to be in Bernie’s shoes, not for a moment, but just then she felt a certain amount of envy for her friend for being able to do as she pleased – go to bed when she liked, stay out as long as she cared to without someone breathing down her neck wanting to check up on her every single moment. She squirmed
guiltily when she considered how much nicer life would be without John.

Oh, Lord! Alice felt sick. According to the sideboard clock it was ten to nine. But, she reasoned, if John was worried it was his own fault. She couldn’t confide in him any more, tell him about Myrtle’s. Even when she got back she could tell him where she’d been, but not
why
. He would be quite likely to tear up the cheque, say he didn’t want her working. Best to leave telling him till Myrtle’s was actually
hers
.

‘Hey! I’ve just thought of something.’ Bernadette returned with the glasses. ‘How did Cora know who to make the cheque out to?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ Alice took the cheque out of her bag and read it properly for the first time. ‘It ses “Pay Flynn Properties”.’ She read it again, frowning. ‘
Flynn Properties
’?

Bernadette shrieked, ‘The bitch! Myrtle’s belongs to Horace Flynn.
He’s
the owner of the property company that awful daughter was on about. Oh, Al! Right now, I bet Cora Lacey’s laughing up her sleeve.’

Myrtle came into the salon wearing a slightly bald astrakhan coat with a brown fur collar, a dusty black hat shaped like a turban and fleece-lined ankle boots. The lace on one of the boots was undone. Alice made her sit under a dryer while she tied it. ‘In case you trip over, like.’ She stroked the creased, bewildered face. ‘Take care, Myrtle, luv. Look after yourself, won’t you? We’re not half going to miss you.’

‘Here, here,’ echoed Florrie Piper who had just arrived for her weekly shampoo and set.

A taxi drew up outside and Olive Cousins came downstairs dragging a large, shabby suitcase. ‘Gerra move on, Mam,’ she snapped. She went pink. ‘I mean, do
hurry, Mother.’ She turned to Alice. ‘Good luck with the salon,’ she said shortly. ‘I hope you do better with the place than Mother did. I must say you could have knocked me down with a feather when you turned up this morning with that cheque.’