The House by Princes Park (32 page)

Sundays, Larry and Rob helped prepare the meal in the diminutive kitchen and washed up afterwards – they were the best husbands the world had ever known. Once a month, they all went out to dinner, but not anywhere expensive because they were saving up for a house.

With four wages coming in and such a tiny amount needed in rent – Matthew Doyle had let them have the flat surprisingly cheap – both couples had almost enough for deposits. The boys had already had money saved, not for any particular reason other than there didn’t seem much to spend it on. The girls found this amazing, having saved nothing at all, and knowing they still wouldn’t have saved a penny if their wages had been two or three times as much. There’d always seemed far too many essential things, like clothes, to spend money on.

Marriage, however, had brought them down to earth.
Since the wedding, neither Greta nor Heather had bought a single item of clothing and hardly any make-up. They were very careful with the food, though Larry had asked with an amused grin if they really needed three different sorts of pepper.

Matthew Doyle had informed them when he came to collect the rent that there was a new estate of semi-detached houses planned in Childwall that would cost two thousand pounds which meant they’d only have to put down two hundred.

‘What!’ Mam had screamed when she was told.

‘Two hundred pounds, Mam. That’s all.’

‘I’m not on about the deposit. Are you saying he collects
your
rent as well? What’s the matter with the man? He’s got hundreds of people working for him, yet he still goes round marking rent books.’

Matthew had arranged for them to be sent a brochure which showed a plan of the estate which was shaped like a letter U with a smaller U inside.

The following Sunday, after breakfast, they went in the car to look at the site, which was ideal; an old playing field, not far from a row of useful shops.

‘Those houses would be best,’ opined Mrs White, Rob’s mother, when she and her husband came that afternoon. She pointed on the plan to the larger U. ‘They’re less overlooked, well away from the main road, and they’ve got bigger gardens. The ones on the curve have the biggest.’

‘You and Larry can live on one curve, and me and Rob on the other,’ Heather said excitedly. ‘We can wave to each other in the morning and before we go to bed.’

‘I suggest you put down a deposit immediately before they’re snapped up,’ Mr White put in. ‘We’ll let you have a loan if you haven’t enough.’

Larry’s mam and dad had also offered to lend them money and so had Mam. People were being incredibly
nice. Greta took the plans into work to show everybody and they were very nice as well. She was given the name of a good conveyancing solicitor and that of a man who fitted carpets on the cheap.

Greta lay in bed one Sunday morning studying the back of Larry’s head. It was almost three months since they were married and Sunday was the best day of all. She felt even more exquisitely happy than usual. They would be in each other’s company until it was time for Larry to leave for work tomorrow.

She always found the back of his head particularly endearing and longed to reach out and touch the short hairs on the nape of his boyish neck, kiss his right ear, the only one visible, which was a lovely, rosy pink. But the alarm clock showed only five past seven and she didn’t want to wake him yet. He worked hard and needed his sleep. At eight o’clock, she’d sneak out and make a cup of tea. After they’d drunk it, they’d make love which was quite seriously the very, very best part of being married.

Until then, Greta was quite satisfied to lie in bed, look at Larry’s head, think about the new house and what colours to choose for the walls and, most importantly of all, the tiny baby that was resting securely in her tummy. Only Larry knew about the baby – it felt awfully odd, almost daring, discussing your periods with a
man
. She was waiting to see the doctor until three had been missed which she would know by next Wednesday. It was just possible that their house might be finished before the baby arrived and things would work out ideally which, in Greta’s short experience of life, things usually did.

Her thoughts were so enjoyable that by the time she looked at the clock again it was almost eight. She got up as quietly as she could and tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen. Heather was already there, about to put the kettle on. She looked flushed and starry-eyed and Greta suspected she and Rob had already made love, though didn’t say
anything. Sex with their husbands was the only subject the girls never discussed.

‘Shall we go to ten o’clock Mass?’ Heather enquired, a silly question in a way because they always did.

‘I think so.’ It would give all of them another hour and a half in bed. They didn’t have breakfast until they came home from church, a
real
breakfast for a change; bacon, eggs, sausages and fried bread.

Heather said in a small voice, ‘We haven’t been to Holy Communion since we got married.’

‘I know.’ It was embarrassing to swallow the body of Christ after an hour or more of enthusiastic lovemaking. Perhaps Heather, like Greta, had a feeling God wouldn’t have approved. ‘Perhaps next week,’ Greta said vaguely.

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Heather answered, just as vaguely.

It was Mam and Chris’s turn to come to dinner; curried beef and rice followed by a meringue gâteau. Chris had brought a bottle of red wine. Greta was thrilled to bits that Mam had clicked with Rob’s uncle and they would stay one big happy family.

The food went down extremely well, though Greta had a touch of indigestion afterwards which was probably due to the baby and she didn’t mind a bit. The men, Chris included, went into the kitchen to wash up.

‘I have a feeling,’ Ruby said to Greta, almost slyly, ‘that you’ve got news for us.’

‘No, I haven’t.’ She’d noticed Mam had been staring at her intently throughout the meal.

‘Are you sure?’

Greta felt her cheeks grow extremely hot and knew she was blushing. ‘How did you guess?’ she stammered.

‘From your face, love. You look like the cat that ate the cream. Am I right?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re both talking about,’ Heather complained.

‘I’m expecting a baby,’ Greta whispered.

‘There! I knew it,’ Ruby said triumphantly. ‘When?’

‘About the end of September, I reckon, but I haven’t seen the doctor yet.’

‘How long have you known?’ her sister demanded angrily.

‘Two months.’

‘And you didn’t tell me! Does Larry know?’

‘Of course.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘Don’t be silly, Heather.’ Ruby looked annoyed. ‘Larry’s her husband.’

‘
I’m
her sister. I wanted us to have our babies at the same time. Now I’m way behind.’

‘It’s not a race, luv. Oh!’ Ruby groaned. ‘I’ve got a horrible feeling I’ve put my foot in it.’

‘It had sorted itself out by the time we left,’ Ruby said in the car on the way home. ‘Rob and Larry knew nothing about their little tiff. I think Heather regards them as a foursome, not two separate couples. She expects Greta to be as close to her as she is to Larry. Greta, strangely enough, has always been more independent. But me and my big mouth! I really set the cat amongst the pigeons.’

‘I happen to love your big mouth,’ Chris replied. ‘Anyway, there’d have been an upset whenever Heather found out.’

‘I suppose.’ Ruby sighed. ‘You know, I always feel uneasy when I’ve been to see them.’

Chris looked at her in surprise. ‘Why? I’ ve rarely known such a happy atmosphere. They obviously adore each other. It seems to me the two nicest young women in the world have found the two nicest young men. Honestly, darling, most parents worry if their children are miserable, not the other way round.’

‘It’s unreal,’ Ruby said slowly. ‘It’s
too
happy, like a
fairy-tale, or that film,
The Enchanted Cottage
. I keep feeling that somethings’s going to spoil it, that it can’t last.’

‘Of course, it can’t last. Eventually, they’ll calm down, get used to being married, get on one another’s nerves, lose their tempers, go running to their mam for a moan. But it doesn’t mean they’ll love each other any less.’

‘You wouldn’t think you were a bachelor. You sound as if you’ve had half a dozen wives. Does it mean we’ll go like that?’

‘No, not us.’ He grinned. ‘We’ll prove the exception to the rule.’

It was April and about time she told Matthew Doyle and the lodgers that she would be abandoning the house by Princes Park at the end of July – she and Chris were getting married on 3 August, his fortieth birthday. ‘I’ll be getting the best present a man could ever have,’ he said jubilantly. ‘You!’

Ruby knew she was being unfair. The lodgers needed plenty of notice to find somewhere else to live and, for all his faults, Matthew Doyle had been a good landlord.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to say a word and was glad when Matthew broached the subject himself next time he came. He knew she was getting married, Greta had told him.

‘Will your new husband mind sharing you with the lodgers?’ he enquired. He was lounging in a kitchen chair, long legs stretched out, finishing in a pair of gleaming handmade shoes. As always, he wore an expensive suit, white shirt, silk tie.

‘He won’t be sharing me with anybody. We’re buying a house.’

‘Where?’

Ruby shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet. We’ve looked at a few places.’

‘When did you intend telling me you were leaving?’

‘I meant to,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘but kept putting it off.’

He looked at her sideways. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’ She did, though. It was because she had the strangest feeling she was burning her bridges behind her, which she knew was ridiculous because nothing could possibly go wrong. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll be leaving at the end of July. I’ll tell them upstairs tonight.’

‘In that case, I’ll apply for planning permission and have this place torn down.’

Everton were playing Arsenal in London. It was the last away match of the season. When Greta and Heather arrived home from work early on Saturday afternoon, the Volkswagen had gone from the place where it was usually parked outside the flat.

‘I thought they were catching the train?’ Heather remarked.

‘They must have changed their minds, probably because the weather’s cleared up.’ It had poured with rain all night, but the sun had come out on their way to work. ‘Shall we have a little snack before we start on the cleaning? Beans on toast, or something. I’m starving.’

‘That’s because you’re eating for two,’ Heather said stiffly. It was still a sore point that Greta hadn’t confided in her the minute she’d found herself pregnant. It was for this reason, because she’d been so deeply hurt, that she hadn’t told her sister she might possibly be pregnant too. She was only a week late, but was normally as regular as clockwork.

‘I’ll need maternity clothes soon.’ Greta gave a little shudder of delight as they went upstairs. ‘Shall we look for some next week in the dinner hour?’

‘If you like.’ Heather’s voice was still stiff, but the idea of wandering around the maternity departments of the big shops was so appealing, that she added warmly, ‘I’d
love
to!’

They smiled at each other.

As soon as they entered the flat, Heather put the kettle on and Greta switched on the wireless. She turned the knob, hoping to find something nice to listen to and stopped when she came to a woman singing, ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’, from
Carousel
, the best picture she’d ever seen.

‘Listen!’ she shouted.

‘I can hear.’ They sang along with the wireless while they prepared the beans on toast.

Ruby was humming along to the same music while she ironed the lodgers’ sheets. She never ironed her own sheets and resented doing it for other people. But the beautiful words of the song were so uplifting, they made her feel quite cheerful. ‘Only another couple of months,’ she thought, ‘and I’ll never have to iron another sheet again.’

In a house in Orrell Park, Moira Donovan was searching through her friend’s knitting patterns for a matinée jacket. The wireless was on in the background and the sun shone cheerily through the window.

‘This looks nice,’ she said, pulling a pattern out. ‘I think I could manage that. It’s a relatively simple stitch.’

‘I’ll do the lacy borders for you.’ Ellie White offered. She was an expert knitter.

‘Ta. I wonder if Greta will have a boy or a girl?’ Moira mused.

‘What does your Larry have to say?’

Moira laughed. ‘Whatever Greta has will suit Larry. As long as it’s healthy, he doesn’t care, same as me.’

‘I hope our Rob puts Heather in the club soon. We’ve always done things together. I’d like us to become grandmothers at the same time.’

‘We’re ever so lucky with our sons and their wives, Ellie,’ Moira said soberly.

‘I know. We’re lucky all round. Oh, there’s that song! What’s the name of the picture it’s from?’

‘
Carousel
. The lads took the girls to see it not long after they met. Ever since, Larry’s always sung it in the bath – if you could call it singing. It’s more like a bellow.’

‘You’ll never walk alone,’ Ellie began to sing.

Moira joined in.

The phone call came just after six o’clock. Ruby had several things on her mind. What to wear that night when she went out with Chris? Was she prepared to live in the north side of Liverpool when all she knew was the south? Had she made enough food for the evening meal now that Mr Oliver had turned up when he’d said he’d be away?

She went into the hall. The telephone was on a table with a wooden box beside it for anybody who wasn’t an O’Hagan to put in the money if they made a call. They usually did. She picked up the receiver and briskly reeled off the number.

‘Ruby. It’s Albert White.’ Albert was Rob’s father.

‘Oh, hello, Albert. How are you?’

‘I’ve some terrible news, girl. Are you sitting down?’

There was nowhere to sit. A chair only encouraged longer calls. ‘What’s wrong, Albert?’ Perhaps the house purchase had fallen through, which would be a shame. She hadn’t the faintest intimation how earth-shattering the news would be.