Memories Are Made of This (25 page)

Jeanette told her.

‘I'll go with you. I've something I want to discuss,' said Peggy. ‘See you later.'

Jeanette guessed that Peggy knew about the incident at the Stadium and her possible involvement. The dockers having returned to work a while ago, Jeanette spent a very busy morning typing out bills and letters. By the time her lunch hour arrived, she was ready for a break. She met Peggy downstairs and they headed for the river.

Jeanette did not have long to wait before her friend said, ‘It's all over the neighbourhood that Billy's wanted for stabbing the doorman at the Stadium.'

‘Did your Marty tell you he took me there and I saw Billy?' said Jeanette, instinctively glancing behind her at the sheer mention of her attacker's name.

A serious-faced Peggy shook her head. ‘It was Bernie who told me. She turned up at our house Saturday morning, wanting to know all about you. I was really annoyed with you for not telling me anything about it, so I put her straight where you were concerned.'

‘What d'you mean by that?' asked Jeanette.

Peggy smiled. ‘I told her she had nothing to fear as you fancied someone else. Afterwards I spoke to our Marty and he told me it was a put-up job to make Bernie jealous, so all's well that ends well. They've kissed and made up and I wouldn't be surprised if they got engaged at Christmas.'

‘Well, good luck to them both,' said Jeanette, although she almost felt sorry for Marty because Bernie had real claws.

She and Peggy walked on in silence for a few minutes before Peggy said, ‘So what happened after you scarpered?'

‘Billy surprised me outside the Stadium and—' Jeanette broke off abruptly, reliving those moments.

Peggy stared at her. ‘You've lost your colour! You don't have to tell me what happened if it's too upsetting.'

‘He attacked me! Nearly choked the life out of me,' said Jeanette rapidly. ‘I managed to kick him in the shins and . . . and the . . . the doorman – I reckon he saved my life. I . . . I didn't see what happened between them because I just beat it out of there. But was I in trouble when I got home!'

‘You poor thing,' said Peggy, squeezing her arm. ‘But you're OK now?'

‘Beyond being terrified he might attack me again? Yes.'

‘He's not going to touch you,' said Peggy comfortingly. ‘He knows they'd get him for it. He'll keep his head down and try and get on a boat to his relatives in Ireland if he's got any sense. He might have done that already.'

Jeanette remained silent. She just wanted her life to get back to normal and Billy caught and punished.

They came to the landing stage where surprisingly there were plenty of people about despite the chill breeze. As it happened, a ferry boat had just come in and Jeanette was able to ask one of the crew about the collision. He knew Jimmy and was able to reassure her that he was all right.

They made their way to a bench under cover and sat down to eat their sandwiches and watch the ships coming and going on the river.

‘Pity we couldn't see Jimmy,' said Jeanette. ‘We could have asked him about the twins.'

‘One of those twins wouldn't be me, would he?' said a voice behind them.

The girls' heads turned and they saw Pete standing there. ‘Have you come to have the cobwebs blown away too?' asked Peggy, smiling up at him.

He rested both hands on the back of the bench and agreed that it was windy. Peggy said softly, ‘Why don't you sit down?'

‘No room,' he said.

Instantly Peggy moved her bag and Jeanette shifted over. He came round and sat between them. ‘So how have things been with you two?'

‘Jeanette was attacked on Friday by the bloke who used the bicycle chain in the chippy,' said Peggy.

Pete stared at Jeanette. ‘Bloody hell!'

She felt herself begin to tremble inside. ‘I know, it was really scary. Now if you don't mind, I don't want to talk about it, so I'm going for a walk.' She stood up and almost ran from them. She hoped neither would follow her. She still had her sandwich in her hand and ate it as she walked along the landing stage until she arrived at the place where the Isle of Man boats docked. There was one tied up and so she stood gazing up at it and noted it was named
Mona's Isle
.

‘Hey there!' shouted a voice.

Startled, Jeanette tilted her head even further back and saw a sailor leaning over the side of the ship on what must have been the top deck. She could not make out his features because the sun was shining in her face. ‘Were you talking to me?' she called, shading her eyes with a hand.

‘I am that. Could you wait there until I come down?'

‘Could you give me a good reason why I should?' Even as Jeanette spoke, she realized that she was wasting her time because the sailor had vanished. For a few moments she stood there indecisively and then turned and looked at the clock on the Liver building. Really, she shouldn't be wasting her time standing here.

She began to walk slowly back the way she had come, only to pause when she heard someone shouting her name. She turned and saw a man running towards her. It was only when he was about a couple of feet away from her that she was able to see the scar on his cheek. Her heart began to thud.

‘It's Jeanette, isn't it?' he asked, smiling. She was in such a state of shock that for a moment she could not speak. His smile faded. ‘Don't you recognize me?'

‘You . . . you look different.' Her voice was strained.

‘Ugly, you mean,' he said.

‘No, don't alter my words!' she said hoarsely. ‘The last time I saw you, you were wearing a sou'wester, you were soaking wet and your face was bleeding and dark with streaks of oil.'

His eyes hardened. ‘I haven't forgotten. That sou'wester didn't do anything for me. I looked like the old seafarer on the Skippers' sardine tin.'

‘No, you're exaggerating,' she said swiftly. ‘He's much older and has a big bushy beard and—' She stopped. ‘You're joking, when really there was nothing to joke about then. Your poor face . . .' She reached up to touch it and then withdrew her hand slowly. ‘Does it still hurt?'

‘Don't be daft, lovey. It's months ago now.' His serious, grey blue eyes searched her countenance. ‘I recognized you almost immediately. You stood there, just staring, and I thought,
It can't be her
! Unless she's come looking for me.'

‘I didn't know you were on this ship,' blurted out Jeanette. ‘But I did want to see you again. I asked the priest about you and he told me why you were in such a rush that night. More recently I discovered that your mother had moved to Liverpool to live with her sister and that you were a sailor, just as I thought. I had wanted him to give you my address and for you to write to me. I was worried about you, you see.'

He smiled ruefully. ‘I'm sorry, lovey. I didn't speak to the priest because the ship was ready to sail. It was a quick turnaround. I asked a mate to deliver a message for me. When he got no answer at the priest's house, he told me he just scribbled off a note and pushed it through the letterbox. Later I got in touch with my mother and asked her if she could sort things out, but obviously she didn't. She's not been herself since Dad died and she gets forgetful.'

‘I'm sorry about your father and your mother,' said Jeanette. ‘I wish I could talk more now but I have to get back to work.'

‘But we must meet again,' he said firmly, his eyes gleaming. ‘I was planning on treating you to some fish and chips next time I saw you.'

‘Tha-that would be nice,' said Jeanette, unable to tear her eyes away from his.

‘I'd have liked to have done that now, but as you say you've got work and we'll be sailing soon. My name is David, by the way,' he said. ‘David Bryn Jones.'

She smiled. ‘I knew about the David and the Jones but not the Bryn. Father Callaghan told me your name.'

‘Good.' He returned her smile. ‘How about the weekend? I'll be back here then and will have a twenty-four-hour shore leave.'

She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady the nerves in her stomach. ‘OK! Time and place?'

He thought a moment. ‘The Titanic Memorial, Sunday afternoon at three o'clock.'

‘OK.' Whatever might happen in the meantime, she determined to be there. She glanced up at the clock on the Liver building. ‘I'll have to go.'

David reached out a hand to her and she placed her hand in his. ‘See you then, Jeannie with the light brown hair and green eyes,' he said softly.

She smiled. ‘See you, David Bryn Jones.'

He squeezed her hand before releasing it. She hurried away, feeling as if her heels had wings – a description that fitted perfectly the floating sensation she was experiencing. It was so different from the fear that had gripped her such a short while ago. She had found her David Jones and she did not know whether to tell Peggy that her search was over or keep it to herself.

‘You're looking pleased with yourself,' said Peggy, as she approached.

‘That's because I am pleased with myself,' said Jeanette. ‘Thanks for waiting. Pete gone back to work, has he?'

‘Yes. We'd better get a move on, too.' Peggy sighed.

Jeanette stared at her. ‘You don't look happy. What's up?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Don't be daft! There's obviously something wrong. Is it Pete?'

‘Yeah,' said Peggy. ‘Although I do sympathize with him not being able to dance like his brother and do all the other activities he used to do, I can't let that guide me. Anyway, there can be no future for him and me together.'

Jeanette was startled by the remark. ‘Does there have to be a future together for the two of you? I mean, I know you like him so what's stopping you going out together?'

Peggy sighed again. ‘I find him really attractive, but he's a Proddy like you. I've decided that I can't afford to get involved. It could prove too painful . . .' She let the sentence tail off and slipped her hand through Jeanette's arm. ‘Shall we go? On the way you can tell me what got you smiling.'

‘I've found him,' said Jeanette, a wobble in her voice.

‘Found who?' asked Peggy.

‘Don't be thick!' cried Jeanette.

Peggy came to an abrupt halt. ‘David Jones?'

‘David Bryn Jones! And he recognized me from way up on the top deck of the Isle of Man boat.'

‘Bloody hell!' exclaimed Peggy, brushing a strand of hair blown by the wind from her eyes. ‘I suppose you'll be seeing him again?'

‘Of course,' Jeanette said blithely. ‘Sunday afternoon. We've a date then.'

‘I suppose this means I'll be seeing less of you,' said Peggy gloomily.

‘Don't be daft! He's a sailor, so his job isn't nine to five and home every night.' Jeanette thought that the weekend could not come quickly enough for her. She would not mention him to the family yet. She would hug the knowledge of their meeting to herself and tell them about him when she was good and ready.

‘So what are you so happy about?' asked Ethel on Friday evening.

Jeanette stopped mid-note of the fourth line of ‘Some Enchanted Evening' and took her hands out of the dishwater. ‘It's the weekend. I know that makes no difference to you, Aunt Ethel, because you don't go out to work. Most days must feel the same to you – but for me the weekend is special.'

‘Hah!' exclaimed Ethel, scowling. ‘Where d'you think you'll be going when last Friday you blotted your copybook?'

Despite her great-aunt having been in bed when Jeanette had arrived home with Sam a week ago, she had been told some of what had taken place that evening. Jeanette decided she needed a good excuse to leave the house alone on Sunday. ‘I thought I would go to church again,' she said casually. ‘Confess my sins and ask for forgiveness and all that. You should try it sometime.'

Ethel made to cuff her across the head but she ducked. ‘Don't you be giving me cheek, girl! You're not too old to have your bottom smacked.'

‘I blooming am,' said Jeanette, flicking dishwater in Ethel's direction. ‘I'm not one of your former prisoners, you know. And don't you forget what Dad said about putting you in a home. You need to make sure that you don't blot
your
copybook. I'll be eighteen in less than a month. If you didn't take most of my money, I could move out and get a bedsit.'

Uncertainty flickered across Ethel's wrinkled face. ‘George wouldn't put me in a home and he wouldn't allow you to leave home at your age.'

‘We'll see about that when the time comes,' said Jeanette, thinking that there was just one more full day before her date with David Bryn Jones, and tomorrow should go swiftly what with working at the milk bar. She had thought her father might forbid her to go, but so far he had said nothing about it. Perhaps he had decided that as Billy had no idea where she lived he was worrying unduly about her safety.

The following day Jeanette was waiting-on at the milk bar when a policeman and policewoman entered.

‘Now what do they want?' muttered Mrs Cross, glancing across at the navy-blue uniformed figures.

‘It's my dad and half-sister,' Jeanette whispered. ‘I'm sorry, Mrs Cross. They must have a message for me.'

‘Well, get them out of here as quickly as you can. They're not good for trade.'

George came over to the counter and nodded at the woman. ‘Morning! Nothing for you to worry about, missus. We just popped in to see my daughter and whilst we're here we'll have two cups of tea and two toasted teacakes.'

‘You heard your father, Jeanette,' said Mrs Cross, pinning on a smile. ‘Let him have them on the house.'

‘That's generous of you, missus,' said George. ‘But I always pay my way.'

‘Well, that's up to you, Sergeant. I'll leave you to it.' She hurried into the back.