Memories Are Made of This (19 page)

She remembered how she had felt when she had met Cedric. It seemed to her now that the attraction she had experienced then had simply been physical. There was no way she had felt as good as she did being in Ally's company. He made her think and feel on a different level and, most of all, he made her laugh.

‘Let's cross the road,' she said rapidly. ‘We can catch a bus in front of St George's Hall.'

He took her hand and they headed for the bus stop. He lightened the mood by making a joke about something that had happened to him in Berlin and linking it to a black and white film of Ginger and Fred. Once seated on the bus, she did not know what to expect from him conversation-wise. He asked about her job and she found herself talking about the accident involving the bus and car.

He stopped her in mid-sentence. ‘I don't believe it! We have met before. I was on compassionate leave and I helped get the injured woman out of the car. I wasn't really taking notice of what you looked like and besides, that bloke who said he was a bobby obviously wanted to take command.'

‘Cedric? He's a bobby from Bootle,' said Hester, unable to take her eyes from Ally's face. ‘You were the soldier! I've been thinking since yesterday that I'd seen you before. But I wrote your name down. Why didn't I recognize it?'

‘Why should you remember it? No doubt it just didn't occur to you that I could have been that soldier.' He hesitated. ‘This Cedric?'

She stiffened. ‘What about him?'

‘Good-looking bloke.'

Her heart had begun to thud. ‘Yes, I went out with him a few times but . . .' She hesitated, not wanting to open up to him quite so soon or for him to think she was just someone who dated loads of men.

Ally's expression had altered. ‘You look so serious. I've been making a fool of myself, haven't I?'

‘No! I've enjoyed your company. I'd like to see you again,' said Hester earnestly.

His hazel eyes narrowed. ‘But what about Cedric? He's a bobby. You must have plenty in common with him.'

She heaved a sigh. ‘I can see why you might think that . . . and it's true that we're both interested in the psychology of crime.'

Ally gave a low whistle. ‘The real funny stuff.'

She would have preferred to tell him the truth about that funny stuff, as he called it, but felt unable to discuss with him what Sam had told her about Cedric, so she decided to try and make a joke of things. ‘Yes, but he doesn't like musicals! Fred and Ginger definitely aren't to his taste. I've told you how much I like them.'

‘OK, we have stuff in common, too. So what next?'

‘What do you mean?'

He did not answer immediately, but gazed out of the window. She so wished he would look her in the eye. Then he turned, and reaching for her hand, squeezed it. ‘Right, you've put your cards on the table and have said you would like to see me again. I think I know where I stand. Perhaps we could take in a film again when I'm back in England.'

Her heart lifted. ‘You mean after you're demobbed?'

‘It could be before then.'

‘Right,' she said, smiling.

By the time the bus arrived at Hester's stop, they were discussing forthcoming films and Hester expressed a wish to see
Mad About Men
.

As they got off the bus, Ally said, ‘Hopefully we'll be able to see it together.'

‘I'd like that,' said Hester, relieved beyond measure that they were to meet again.

Ally took out a scrap of paper and pencil. ‘Your address?'

Hester halted beneath a lamp post and gave it to him. She watched him write it down and pocket the paper and pencil before beginning to walk past St John's Church on the corner of Richmond Terrace. He fell into step beside her as they turned into it. Neither of them spoke and he made no attempt to put his arm around her. She had mixed feelings about that, because she liked the security it gave to her, but she did not want the neighbours talking if they happened to be looking out of their windows.

She came to a halt a couple of doors from home and looked at him, unsure what to say to bring the evening to an end. Would he be expecting a goodnight kiss? Hesitantly, she held out a hand.

Immediately Ally took it and shook it. ‘Are we being watched?' he said in a low voice.

The words brought a smile to her face. ‘Oh, what the heck!' she exclaimed, leaning towards him and kissing him. It was a mere brushing of lips before she drew away. ‘Goodnight, Ally.'

He moved purposefully towards her, kissing her in a way that left her breathless. ‘Goodnight, Hester. Till the next time!' The words wafted to her on the breeze as he walked away.

She could hear the laughter in his voice and then he was gone. She had an urge to run after him, but instead she took a deep breath, walked the few yards to the house and opened the front door with the key she had received on her twenty-first birthday.

‘I spoke to Father Callaghan the other day,' said Jeanette.

Hester and Sam gazed across the landing to where their half-sister stood in the bathroom doorway.

‘Why?' asked Sam.

Jeanette tapped her toothbrush against her palm. ‘We discussed my mother.'

‘Your mam!' exclaimed Hester, closing her bedroom door behind her.

‘He was here during the blitz and knew a number of the men involved in digging people out. He suggested I give him a photo of my mother and he'll show it around and see if anyone recognizes her.'

Sam frowned in thought. ‘He could be lucky, but I wouldn't build your hopes up too much, Jeanette.'

‘That's what he said and I'm not!' she said earnestly. ‘But what with the way Aunt Ethel goes on about Mam, I thought it was worth a try.'

‘I'm sure it is,' said Hester in a comforting tone. ‘Anyway, there's a good photo of your mam in Dad's bedroom. You could ask to borrow it.'

‘That's what I thought I'd do, although he might not approve of my involving a Roman Catholic priest.'

‘I wouldn't have said Dad was prejudiced against Catholics,' said Hester, surprised. ‘Anyway, he'd miss it if you didn't ask and it's a better picture than the one in the sideboard drawer downstairs.'

‘Thanks!' She switched her attention from Hester to her brother. ‘I'm not daft, you know, Sam. I do realize it's a long shot that anyone would remember her from a photograph after all this time.'

‘OK.' He sighed.

She gave him a penetrating stare. ‘Are things OK with you? How's Dorothy?'

‘She's in Birmingham in some play. Different from the usual thing, she says.' He pulled a face and reached for a cigarette. ‘Less middle class, more working class and down to earth.'

‘When will you see her again?'

He shrugged. ‘She's hoping to be back here next week. The play's experimental apparently, so it's only on for a few days.'

‘Well, give her my best. Perhaps I'll get to meet her one day,' said Jeanette.

He nodded and lit his cigarette, his eyes narrowing against the smoke.

Jeanette and Hester exchanged looks and left him alone.

Shortly after, Jeanette asked her father about the photograph of Grace, but despite what Hester had said, she didn't tell him the real reason she wanted to borrow it, just that she wanted to show it to her friend Peggy. Later, as Jeanette gazed at her mother's likeness, she could not help wondering what might happen if Father Callaghan was able to connect her with someone who could provide them with a definite answer to what happened that night in May over thirteen years ago. What if her mother was alive and different from what everyone but Aunt Ethel believed her to be?

She decided not to wait until the weekend before getting the photograph to Father Callaghan, and instead placed it in an envelope with a short note and handed it to Peggy, asking if she could put it through his letterbox on her way home from work.

‘OK, if that's what you want me to do,' said Peggy. ‘What about Saturday evening? Are you doing anything? I wondered if you'd seen the twins at all?'

‘No,' said Jeanette. ‘I take it you haven't?'

Peggy shook her head. ‘I thought I might have caught sight of Pete down by the King's Dock, but I haven't.'

‘I'll tell you what,' said Jeanette. ‘If they drop into the milk bar this Saturday, I'll drop a hint that we wouldn't mind going to the pictures with them.'

‘OK,' said Peggy. ‘But how will you let me know?'

‘I'll drop in at Quiggins and tell your brother.'

Peggy grabbed her arm and said, ‘Wait!'

Jeanette looked at her enquiringly. ‘Something wrong with that idea?'

‘He'll want to know everything. Where I met them and where we're going,' groaned Peggy.

‘No different from my dad or Sam then. I won't mention the twins, so there's nothing for you to worry about,' said Jeanette in a comforting voice.

In the meantime, perhaps she should call in at Central Library and see if she could discover more about Lavinia Crawshaw and the suffragettes. Considering they had done so much for the cause of women's rights, she didn't remember learning anything about them at school.

So on Friday evening, Jeanette set out to walk to Central Library. During the blitz, the library and the museum had been badly damaged by firebombs and closed for quite a while, but after renovation they were now open.

After filling in a form and providing evidence of her name and address, she was given a library ticket and the newspapers of January 1910 were made available for her perusal. She did not have to read far before coming upon a report of a suffragette called Jane Wharton being arrested for throwing stones at an MP's car in Liverpool. She was sentenced to fourteen days' hard labour in Walton gaol.

Jeanette read on until she came to another mention of Jane Wharton, who was actually a Lady Constance Lytton in disguise. She looked frail in the newspaper, which was not surprising since she had been force-fed eight times and suffered a heart attack. Jeanette marvelled at the courage of the woman and continued her research. At last she found a mention of Lavinia Crawshaw. Not only had she spent time in Walton gaol, but also in Manchester for suffragette activities. Wanting to discover more about both women, she asked whether there were any books about them she could borrow.

‘Well, Lady Constance Lytton did write a book called
Prisons and Prisoners
,' said the librarian.

‘Do you have a copy?'

‘Yes. It's not read much these days, but I'll find it for you.'

Within ten minutes, Jeanette had left the library with a thin book in her handbag. She began to read it on her way home and found it gripping. Lady Constance had spent time in Holloway and had planned to carve the words ‘Votes for Women'
on her body to prove how seriously she regarded their cause. Jeanette grimaced at the thought and then discovered that her ladyship had been prevented from self-harming by the authorities. But more importantly, her ladyship had become very sympathetic towards women prisoners who were poor and ill-favoured in appearance, so she had disguised herself as Jane Wharton, a seamstress, even going as far as cutting off her hair to make herself look less attractive to draw attention to their plight.

Jeanette had to stop reading as she had reached her destination, but she could not wait to find out what Lady Constance had to say about her time in Liverpool and whether Lavinia was mentioned in the book. To her relief the house was empty, so she made a cup of tea and a jam butty and went upstairs. She stretched out on her bed and ate the jam butty, making sure she wiped her fingers before reaching for the book.

She was almost at the end when she heard the front door opening. Marking her place, she went onto the landing and peered over the banister. Ethel was sitting at the bottom of the stairs dressed in black, whilst George was standing over her, speaking in an urgent low tone.

‘Dad, is everything all right?' she called down.

He broke off from what he was saying and called up, ‘Nothing for you to worry about, Jeannie.'

‘Don't believe him,' said Ethel, getting to her feet.

Jeanette hurried downstairs. ‘Have you been to a funeral?'

‘None of your business. Out of my way, girl. I want to go up and get changed,' said the old woman.

Jeanette squeezed past her and only now noticed in dismay that her father had a bandage about his head. ‘What happened to you, Dad?'

‘A confrontation with some troublemakers demonstrating against the city councillors,' he replied, removing his greatcoat.

‘Did they knock your helmet off? It was the kind of thing the suffragettes did. I'll make you a cup of tea.'

‘Thanks, luv,' said George, looking drawn.

‘What's this about the suffragettes?' asked Ethel, thrusting her face close to Jeanette's and seizing her wrist. ‘What's your interest?'

Jeanette wrenched herself free. ‘Let go, Aunt Ethel!' She slipped her hand through George's arm. ‘You come and sit down and have a rest.'

George allowed himself to be ushered into the kitchen. He was feeling a bit faint if the truth were known. He sank into a chair and closed his eyes. ‘I'm getting too old for this game,' he muttered.

Jeanette gazed at him anxiously. ‘Did you go to the hospital, Dad?'

‘Naw, I much preferred coming home.'

‘But what if you've cracked your skull? It could be serious.'

He opened his eyes. ‘If I have fractured it, there's nothing they can do. It'll have to mend itself. Anyway, I've a day off tomorrow, so I'll have a rest.'

Jeanette knew it was no use arguing with him. Maybe Sam would be able to talk sense into him and make him go to the hospital. She put the kettle on before turning to him. ‘
Has
Aunt Ethel been to a funeral?'

‘Aye, some woman she knew years ago,' he said shortly.