Memories Are Made of This (9 page)

The next few weeks passed slowly. The weather was a complete washout, but at least on the last day of the month there was a parade of veteran cars through Liverpool which excited Sam, who had it in mind to buy a car of his own and said so at the breakfast table.

‘Perhaps you could take me on a trip then?' whispered Jeanette in his ear on her way out to work.

‘How about abroad?' he responded, getting up from the table.

Her eyes widened. ‘Are you serious? I'd have to get a passport.'

‘What's this about a passport?' asked Ethel, glancing at the pair of them.

‘Nothing! It was just a joke,' said Sam.

‘What's there to joke about a passport? You thinking of leaving the country?' Ethel's eyes were suspicious.

Sam nudged Jeanette to get a move on. She hurried out of the kitchen and he followed her, closing the door behind them. ‘That'll have her wondering for the rest of the day,' he said, grinning.

‘So it was a joke about going abroad?' said Jeanette, putting on her coat.

He shrugged on his mackintosh. ‘I couldn't afford to buy a car and go abroad as well.' He reached for his trilby. ‘You ready? Let's get out in case she comes asking any more questions.'

‘She won't let it drop, you know. She won't believe it was a joke.' Jeanette fastened a scarf over her head as she followed him to the front door.

‘Then I'll have to give her something else to think about,' said Sam. ‘Such as why she insists your mother had a fancy man. Where's her proof?'

‘I wish you luck in getting a straight answer from her.'

He opened the door and ushered Jeanette out. ‘I wonder if it would be worth visiting the hospitals in the vicinity and asking to see their files for the week of the May blitz. Hester and I were wondering about the possibility that Grace received a head injury and lost her memory.'

There was a thoughtful expression in Jeanette's eyes. ‘Now why haven't I ever thought of that? Dad must have reported her missing, and maybe there was a photograph of her in the
Echo
.'

Sam frowned. ‘I can't remember seeing one.'

‘Perhaps you should mention it to Aunt Ethel and watch for her reaction,' said Jeanette. ‘She might even say something helpful.'

‘And in the meantime she'll tell Dad about us discussing passports and he'll want to know if we're thinking of going abroad.' Sam chuckled.

As Jeanette caught the bus to work, she thought of Peggy who had been on holiday at Butlin's in Pwllheli. She knew that she was back in Liverpool but she had yet to talk to her. She missed her company and wished they could make up their quarrel. She decided to try sending friendly vibes Peggy's way.

A few days later Jeanette was cutting out the shipping list from the
Echo
when a voice said, ‘So, anything of real interest in there today?'

She started, recognizing the voice, and glanced over her shoulder with a smile on her face. ‘Hi, Peggy, I had hoped I might have seen you before now. Did you have a good holiday?'

‘I wasn't sure you'd want to see me, so I kept putting off coming up here,' said Peggy, looking relieved.

‘Of course I want to see you! So what was your holiday like?'

‘Despite the weather, it could have been worse,' replied Peggy, perching on the edge of Jeanette's desk. ‘There was plenty of indoor entertainment and I met this fella at one of the dances. You should have seen him bop. He had me up on the floor most nights, in between the ballroom dancing that is. Mam and Dad had fun, too.'

Jeanette did not like to ask:
What about Greg? Did you miss him? You never did tell me what he said to you that Friday night after he hustled you out of the chippy.
‘I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I've missed you to be honest.'

‘Nothing like getting away from everyday life to put things into perspective,' said Peggy. ‘There was a couple of times when I wished you could have been there.'

‘Only a couple of times,' teased Jeanette. ‘No doubt it was before you met this bloke.'

Peggy grinned. ‘How d'you fancy going to the Grafton on Saturday night?'

‘I'd love to, only—'

Peggy's face fell. ‘Your Aunt Ethel's still not preventing you from going out, is she?'

‘I sometimes think it's her whole aim in life,' said Jeanette. ‘But I haven't had anyone to go out with if the truth is known. Dad hasn't said that I can't go out. I'll mention it to him, so, fingers crossed, I'll meet you outside the Grafton at half seven.'

‘It's a date then,' said Peggy happily. ‘We just don't know who we might meet, and in a way that's more fun than going steady, don't you think?'

‘I've never gone steady so I wouldn't know,' said Jeanette.

‘A whole three weeks Greg and I were meeting secretly because he's a Proddy like you. I suppose it was that which made it so thrilling,' said Peggy, thoughtfully.

‘But it's all over now?'

‘Hell, yes! I don't want to be going out with someone who called me a tart and whose mate is in Borstal. See you at lunchtime? Perhaps we can walk down to the Pierhead and have our sarnies there,' suggested Peggy.

Jeanette agreed, thinking it was a dry day and who was to say that today she wouldn't spot her seaman. If not, maybe she should visit Father Callaghan and see if he'd been in touch with him. She did not have the address of his presbytery, but no doubt Peggy would be able to tell her where she could find him.

Jeanette had never set foot in a Catholic church before and soon realized that the interior was pretty much as she had imagined, with statues, candles and confessionals, and a faint sweet smell that she guessed was incense.

There were a couple of women arranging flowers and she recognized the priest at the front of the church as Father Callaghan. He was talking to another man and, not wanting to interrupt them, she perched gingerly on the end of a pew and waited for them to finish their conversation. She could not help but overhear some of what was being said because the man was talking at the top of his voice.

He was obviously annoyed with the priest and his language was choice. She decided he was drunk and it was not long before she realized that the priest was not prepared to put up with such behaviour. He seized the man by the back of his collar and escorted him from the church. She was about to follow them outside when Father Callaghan suddenly reappeared and collided with her. He steadied her with a large workmanlike hand.

‘Sorry,' said Jeanette, her colour rising with embarrassment. ‘I was in a rush to catch up with you. I didn't expect you to get rid of him so quickly.'

He fixed her with a penetrating stare. ‘If I'm not mistaken, you're the young lady involved in the fight in the chippy some weeks ago. That was Billy's father.'

‘Oh! You have a good memory for a face, Father Callaghan,' she said, impressed.

‘A necessary part of my calling,' he said. ‘My parishioners don't like it if I can't put a name to a face. You're Jeanette Walker.'

‘You
are
good! I suppose Peggy McGrath told you that.'

He smiled faintly. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Walker?'

‘I hope you can help me find him,' she said. ‘I think you'll know who I mean.'

For a moment he simply stared at her, and then said, ‘Shall we sit down? I've been on my feet all day.' He did not wait for her to answer but led the way to the nearest pew.

‘Well, Miss Walker,' he said once they were both seated, ‘I can tell you the young man has been in touch with me.'

Jeanette could scarcely control her excitement. ‘Is he OK?'

‘Yes, he did see a doctor and his wound is healing.'

She beamed at him. ‘Oh, I'm so glad!'

‘Me, too,' said Father Callaghan. ‘I was concerned about him.'

‘I dreamt about him being on a ship and being cruelly treated by a drunken captain,' she burst out.

Father Callaghan raised his eyebrows. ‘You have a lot of imagination, Miss Walker.'

‘It's a gift, so I've been told,' said Jeanette, her cheeks pink. ‘Did he mention me?'

‘I didn't speak to him. He wrote to me, care of the chippy, and they passed his letter on.'

‘Oh, I thought he might have come to see you,' said Jeanette, disappointed. ‘May I ask if he gave you his name?'

‘Certainly. It's David Jones.'

Her face lit up. ‘Did he tell you the name of his ship?'

‘He didn't mention a ship. The postmark on the envelope was the Wirral, so it could be that he was just catching the last ferry that Saturday evening. When I received his letter I intended speaking to Peggy McGrath about it so she could pass a message on to you, but I'm sorry to say I forgot.'

‘You're going to say he wanted my address?' said Jeanette, smiling.

He shook his greying head. ‘He just asked me to let you know his wound was healing.'

She could not conceal her disappointment. ‘Is that all?'

‘I'm afraid so.' He paused. ‘You might wish to know the reason why he was in such a hurry that evening.'

She nodded.

‘He'd had a message that his father was on the critical list and he had to get to the hospital.'

She frowned. ‘Now that I didn't expect. Poor David! Did he reach his father in time?'

‘Yes, but he died shortly after he arrived at the hospital.'

‘Tough,' murmured Jeanette.

‘From what I saw of him and what I can gather from his letter, that young man is well able to cope with it all,' said Father Callaghan.

‘Do you have an address where I can get in touch with him?'

Father Callaghan shook his head. ‘He didn't put an address on the letter. He's helping his mother to move house, and when she's settled he'll be in touch again.'

‘When he does get in touch, will you let me know?' she asked politely.

‘I'll speak to Peggy McGrath and she can pass the message on to you.'

‘OK. Although, if it was urgent and a Saturday, I work part time at a milk bar in Leece Street.'

He surprised Jeanette by saying, ‘I know a young woman called Betty Booth who works part time in a coffee bar in that vicinity. She's a student at the School of Art. Perhaps you've come across her?'

‘No, I know no one of that name,' said Jeanette. ‘Is she one of your parishioners?'

‘No. Now if that's everything,' said Father Callaghan, sounding weary as he rose to his feet, ‘I'll see you out.'

‘There's really no need,' said Jeanette hastily. ‘I've taken up enough of your time.
Tarrah
!'

She left the church, thinking that at least she knew her rescuer's name. It was disappointing not knowing his address but hopefully it would not be long before he got in touch. At least she had some news to tell Hester and Sam.

But when Jeanette arrived home she walked straight into a row between Sam and her great-aunt. It wasn't often that her half-brother lost his temper, but sparks seemed to fly from him and he towered over Ethel in a way that surely must have frightened even her.

‘What's going on?' asked Jeanette.

‘You keep out of this, girl,' said Ethel, an ugly expression on her wrinkled face. ‘You have too much to say for yourself as it is.'

‘I've hardly opened my mouth,' protested Jeanette.

‘Well, keep it shut,' said Ethel.

‘Don't speak to her like that,' snapped Sam. ‘You think you own this place. Dad's allowed you too much say in this house for too long.'

‘I'll speak to her anyway I like,' said Ethel, squaring up to him and waving her fists in the air. ‘You think yourself somebody, just because you made sergeant before your father did.'

‘I worked bloody hard to get where I am,' said Sam, grabbing the fist that had nearly hit him on the nose.

Jeanette decided it was probably wisest for her to make herself scarce and headed for the kitchen, where she found a white-faced Hester sitting at the kitchen table, pushing her food around the plate.

‘Where's Dad?' asked Jeanette.

‘He's on duty. I'll be glad when he retires and he's around more often,' said Hester in a tight voice. ‘Then I doubt she'll be able to conceal the kind of person she really is from him any more.'

‘What's the row about?'

‘Sam came home and found her sitting by the fire, reading letters that he recognized as belonging to him. She'd been in his bedroom, which you know he always locks. She swore that it wasn't locked and that she'd just been waiting for the opportunity to get in there and give it a good clean. He called her a liar and said that he never forgets to lock his bedroom because he doesn't trust her. It turns out that the letters are the ones Carol wrote to him and Aunt Ethel has already burnt some of them.'

‘Carol! Who's Carol?' asked Jeanette, bewildered.

Hester sighed. ‘Of course, you were too young at the time to know Sam had a secret girlfriend.'

Jeanette hastened to remove her supper from the oven and sat at the table opposite Hester. ‘Tell me more!'

Hester leaned forward. ‘Sam kept quiet about her for ages because he knew how the old witch would react if she got to hear that he was seeing a girl.'

‘What happened to her?' asked Jeanette, reaching for her knife and fork.

‘She was killed in the blitz when she was only seventeen.'

‘Oh no! How sad.'

‘I didn't know she was dead until a few weeks after I arrived back in Liverpool. Sam was heartbroken and wouldn't talk about it.'

‘So how did you get to know about it?'

‘A mate of Carol's called Dorothy Wilson told me what had happened. We went to the same school but not at the same time. She was older than me. Still, she'd speak to me if she saw me in the street, with her knowing our Sam. I haven't seen her for ages. She loved the theatre and was always hanging around the Playhouse or the Royal Court. I think she eventually went on the stage and travels around the country.'