The children left behind, p.20
The Children Left Behind, page 20
In years gone by, the Laceys had often visited the village of Kirkby to go blackberry picking during the summer holidays, but since the munitions factory had opened, vast swathes of new roads and drab buildings had begun to make it unrecognizable. Horses pulling ploughs had long given way to bulldozers, cottages lay derelict and orchards were hewn down. Now potholes had appeared and weeds were already struggling through the newly laid pavement slabs.
‘Hot water coming out of the tap!’ said Alice, after Miss Quick, carrying Pennywise, invited her in and showed her around her new second-floor flat. It was part of a block in a cul-de-sac.
‘And an electric cooker. And kettle. It’s lovely. How was your journey? I’m sorry I couldn’t drop off the sewing, but it’s such a long way. And the dust here, from all the building. Lorries every day. It gets to my chest.’
Alice sipped her tea.
‘Oh dear,’ Miss Quick said, ‘I need some sugar. Do you take sugar? I hope not. There’s no borrowing a cup of sugar from your neighbours here, like we all did in Dryburgh Terrace. I don’t know my neighbours. Not well enough to be popping in for cups of sugar, any road. And I’m afraid there’s no shops to nip out and buy some.’
‘No shops?’
‘Not yet. They say they’re building a parade soon. All we want is a greengrocer’s and maybe a butcher’s, and a little corner shop like Connolly’s – but we’ve been waiting for so long. It’s not easy carting butter and milk from the village a mile away. It melts in the hot weather. But never mind that. How’s your mother?’
Alice faltered. She was becoming so used to lying; so used to saying brightly, She’s fine. But here she felt far enough away from Dryburgh Terrace and all the gossip, and close enough to Miss Quick, to blurt out, ‘That’s why I’m here, actually. We’re in a terrible mess. Ma has sent the kiddies away to St Mary’s.’
‘The orphanage? Oh, my. Why?’
‘We’ve lost the house. Ma thinks they’re fine, but I don’t think they are. One of the nuns makes the children cut the grass with scissors. Ma’s . . . not good. How can she know what’s going on behind those walls?’
‘Your da was never the same after the Malakand. I’ll never forget that night. It felt as though the whole city was burning. Just one ship, and the sky was red for days. We all thought your father would never live through it. He was so badly burned. His arm . . . that scar . . .’
‘Yes. You think a person has recovered but unless they somehow get it out, they never really do, do they? He never talked about it.’
Alice got up and went over to the window, looking down at the barren field criss-crossed with wheel ruts from the lorries.
‘The views are wonderful,’ said Miss Quick. ‘I can see all the way over to the blue hills in good weather. Sometimes I’ll stand here all day with Pennywise and just stare out of the window. Thank goodness for the views.’ She gestured at the vast expanse of fields and then beyond, and smiled.
But what about the river? wondered Alice. Where was the long silver sleeve Mr Morley had spoken of?
‘Miss Quick, now that you know about me ma, I was wondering, is there space here for her and the kiddies? We’re in a tight spot.’
She looked startled. ‘Oh, Alice, dear. We’re not allowed. The rules are strict. Very strict indeed. No more slum overcrowding. I’m not even allowed to have Pennywise here, but I couldn’t bear to leave him. I’m so sorry. That’s why we’re all here. To live healthily with space and fresh air. If I could, I would, but I just can’t. Let’s hope you find a place soon.’
It felt like a crushing blow, another roadblock, but as Bernice said to her later while they sat shoeless on the sofa, ‘What did you expect, love? Miss Quick is hardly the type to be throwing open her doors to your feral brothers and sister. She wears the temperance pin as well. That’s not going to go down well with your ma and her potato juice. By the way, Matty came asking for you.’
‘Matty?’
‘Yes, love. He’s got two tickets for the Palace Ice Rink. Wants you to go with him. They’ve finally reopened it after the beating it got in the Blitz.’
Alice frowned. ‘Oh . . . I . . .’ Her eyes met Bernice’s nervously.
‘Is it me you’re worrying about? All right, I’m jealous. Of course I am. But Alice, I just like to tease him. I’m not stupid. I terrify him. Go on. It’s the Danny Adair quartet playing, and you could do with a night out. I think he’s a little bit in love with you.’
‘Matty and I could never be more than friends,’ Alice said, blushing and drawing her knees protectively up to her chest.
‘But you do adore him. And I mean in that way. I know you do. I’ve seen the way you look at him when he smiles at you, or when he does that thing when he rakes his fingers back through his hair. And when he rolls his sleeves up and sits with one foot crossing his knee and leans forward to listen to you . . .’
‘Stop! Bernice, stop. We’re just friends. Nothing more.’
‘I don’t see why not. He’s gorgeous in that sweet way that he doesn’t know he is . . .’ Bernice stopped as if a new thought had occurred to her. ‘Please God, it’s not Bob you’re worried about? After all he’s done?’
‘No . . . not Bob. But life is already so complicated.’
‘Morley? You’ve not been up to naughty stuff with old Morley?’ Bernice laughed, her eyes opening wide.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘Or his dreadful son? Rupert?’
‘Roddy. No. He’s appalling.’
‘Then go and meet Matty. Even if it’s just as his friend. The tram goes straight there from outside here. He said he’ll meet you outside at six. You’ll have fun. Skating is always a hoot. There’s always some poor devil sliding on their arse for you to have a good laugh at . . .’
‘Probably me. I’m useless.’
‘Well, there you are. I’m already laughing just at the thought of it.’
Palace Ice Rink, Alice read, as she stood outside the building on the corner of Hope Street and stared up at the bold black letters above the door. She looked both ways along the road, towards the cinema and then back towards the hostel for seamen and servicemen.
‘Alice!’ cried Matty, bounding out from inside. He had been waiting in the foyer. ‘You came! I didn’t think you would.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know . . . I . . .’ Was he going to mention Bob? He didn’t, and Alice was relieved.
She smiled. It made her happy to see him beaming at her.
They went in through the double doors with Matty’s arm around her waist and were immediately hit with a blast of music: someone playing a trumpet, a snatch of a tune she vaguely recognized, one of Gracie Fields’ songs maybe. The sudden drop in temperature made her shiver and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up stiffly.
Matty rubbed his hands together. ‘We’ll soon warm up.’
The crowd jostled forward and they pushed one another to the front of the queue and to the turnstile, where they bought tickets at the booth. ‘You all right?’ he asked, sensing her nervousness.
‘I’ll be hopeless at the skating. I only came because I didn’t want you to waste the tickets.’
‘You’ll be grand. I remember we once went skating on the lake at Sefton Park. You managed to stand up all right.’
‘That was Bob’s daft idea, wasn’t it? My ma went crazy and made me stay indoors and peel spuds for a week when she heard about a couple of kids falling into the pond when the ice broke. She always went as mad as a hen with Bob. Remember when we went bomb-watching?’
‘I do. I remember that an’ all.’
They went inside the cavernous ballroom. Around the edges sat older-looking women on chairs, some of them knitting, and men who were leaning on the rails with bottles of beer. Plenty of people had come just to watch and listen to the music, as the band were beginning to make a name for themselves. A few couples were already on the glittering ice, moving rhythmically to the musicians, who played on a dais under ruched curtains. They were getting under way with a version of ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’.
Alice and Matt leaned against the rails to watch the skating. The boys were in brightly coloured sweaters and the girls were wearing short plaid skirts and thick tights, performing dizzying spins and jumps, shards of ice showering the air as they skidded and looped and lunged. These were the ones who knew how to do it. The competition skaters. In a short time, the ice would be opened up to everyone else.
‘Your breath is like little puffs of smoke,’ said Matty, smiling down at her.
‘I’m not exactly sure why I’m here,’ Alice confessed, ‘seeing as I can’t skate.’
He grinned. ‘Come on. Our turn in a minute. Let’s get our skates.’ They each handed over their boots and took a pair of skates at the small booth. ‘I wasn’t much good when I first came. But don’t worry. I’ll teach you.’
She laughed. ‘My fingers are already cold,’ she said as she sat beside him on a bench, trying to fasten the hooks and eyes on the cumbersome boots.
They made their way to the gate as it opened, and Alice cautiously put one foot in front of the other as she stepped down onto the ice with Matty’s help.
‘You just hold on to me tight, and everything will be all right. It helps that you do it in time to the music. The main thing is to keep leaning forward.’
She carefully began taking tiny, awkward steps, scared to move away from the edge and further out onto the ice, clinging on to the handrail. But then, when he gently pushed her out in front of him, to her amazement she slid forward, wobbling a little but soon regaining her balance.
‘You won’t fall. I’ve got you – let me put my arm around your waist. Trust me.’
They went around like that for a short time. Slowly, hesitantly, but with his help and the help of the music, Alice found a rhythm, and astonishingly she remained upright. Relieved that she wasn’t such an embarrassment after all, flushed and smiling, she relaxed into something near happiness, with the music and the swish of the blades on the ice and the cool rush of air pinking her cheeks.
After nearly an hour of skating, with a short break for a lemonade for Alice and a cigarette for Matty, he retrieved their boots and her coat. She put it on and they went out into the cold night air. It had been raining softly, and the street lamps threw a buttery arc of light across the wet pavement.
‘That’s where we watched the bombs drop,’ he said, linking her arm as they climbed the steep incline towards the tram. He nodded into the distance. ‘Up there . . .’
‘Aye.’
He stared ahead as he spoke. ‘I remember Bob took your hand and told you not to be afraid.’
‘Did he?’
He paused, trying to unravel his tangled-up thoughts. ‘I’ve always wondered – if it had been me who had done that, would things be different? I always knew it was Bob who could make you laugh, but . . . well . . .’
‘What are you saying?’ she replied, turning to meet his eyes.
‘I just wondered. Did you ever think about that?’
‘Oh, Matty,’ she murmured. ‘You and me. We have to be friends. Just friends. We can never be anything else. I’m sorry.’
He nodded thoughtfully. Why? he wanted to ask, but instead he took a deep breath, and then they continued up the hill.
‘Alice. You know how I feel about you,’ he said after a few moments. He was looking ahead as they walked, concentrating on the gasworks with its plume of blue smoke. ‘But can you please separate me from Bob?’
‘Oh, Matty . . .’
‘And can you try to forget about me as the little kid always there with both of you, following you around, tagging on behind, from kick the can, to penny for the guy, swimming in the scaldies . . .’
‘Why would I want to do that? I didn’t see it like that. I wouldn’t have been without you.’ She looked at him, genuinely bewildered.
And then her mind turned to how it was Matty, not Bob, who had always listened so earnestly, watching her face when they had a conversation – just like he was doing now. How her heart fluttered when he slipped his hand in hers. How he always made her feel safe and adored. Of course, she had always wanted him there. She had needed him to be there.
She bit her lip. Tears were welling up in her eyes. ‘Those were the happiest times of my life. And you were the most important part of that, Matty. You still are. You always make me feel so . . . so . . .’ She stopped walking. She was breathing hard. ‘That’s why . . .’
Why what? What was the matter with her? For all these years, Matty had been at her side – from childhood to adolescence, and as a young man – and suddenly she was asking herself why she couldn’t allow herself to, what . . . love him? Why on earth not?
In that moment, it was as though she was seeing him for the very first time. And although it was rare for Alice to do anything in her life impulsively, somehow words had become useless, and she found herself leaning forward and kissing him, gently and quickly, on the lips.
A moment later, his tongue was twisting round her teeth and she was kissing him back, tearful, but feeling something strong and overwhelming; a tidal wave of – what was it? Longing? No, surely it was love. And as they stood holding each other, a tangle of limbs and mouths, the space around them became nothing. Bob had never kissed her like this. Alice didn’t want to make comparisons, but she couldn’t help it.
‘I love you, Alice. I’ve always loved you. But you’ve known that all this time, haven’t you?’ he said quietly.
She nodded. Because of course she had. And in turn, she had always loved him. She hadn’t the slightest doubt she loved him now, and it had been that way right from the beginning. Everything else along the way to this moment, standing under this street lamp with the rain softly falling on her flushed cheeks, had been a distraction. It was startlingly clear.
As Matty traced his fingers over her cheek and down the bridge of her nose and then gently slid them through her hair, they both felt such love, waves of it. And as Alice tilted her face to him, she realized just how much he loved her, how he had been carrying this burden for years, and now, as his lips found hers again, how they were both free. His breath was sweet, and she felt desire welling up inside her. And how strange. After years of pushing away Bob’s groping, pinching and grabbing, she would have allowed Matty to do anything with her. She would have allowed him to touch every part of her, opened herself to him as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘I love you. You’re just the most wonderful girl. Noble and truthful . . . and God, so flaming beautiful. Let me help you, Alice. Will you?’
Chapter 27
When Alice arrived back at the flat, Bernice was toasting a crumpet over the electric fire. The little room glowed orange.
‘So come on. Post mortem. Did he teach you how to swizzle? You do a little stroking?’
Alice blinked.
‘Don’t look so serious – they’re ice-skating moves. I’m only joking.’
‘Matty . . .’ Alice faltered.
Bernice quirked an eyebrow.
‘Matty and me, we . . .’ she began again.
‘Spit it out, love. Matty and you, what?’
‘Oh, Bernie . . .’
‘I’ll say it for you. You and Matty did a bit of swizzling and stroking, then progressed to the tonsil tennis, and you’ve finally admitted that you’re crazy about each other.’
‘Yes. Yes, yes! Bernie, I’m so sorry . . .’
‘It’s all right. I’ve known for months – I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t worry about me. I frighten the life out of him, and I would probably squash him if we ever went for a roll about in the hay.’
‘Oh, Bernie. You’re really not angry with me?’
‘Don’t be daft, Alice. If it’s written in the stars, no amount of thrusting my magnificent girls in his direction will change that. You’ll just have to find me a nice fella who won’t be scared of me. Preferably one in a uniform. Fireman top of the list, and a proper sailor second; none of your merchant navy fellas like Bob. Shiny buttons and gold tassels. Now come on, I want to hear every last detail. Is he a good kisser? I’ll bet he is.’
Alice set off on Monday morning for work, relieved that Bernice had been so generous. The day was bright, but it had been raining, which made the steps up to the office precarious. She was dressed in her coat and scarf, and had Bernice’s old cloche hat with a flower on it pulled down over her ears.
When she reached the third floor, Mr Morley was striding out of Kenneth Worboys’ office on his way to his own. On seeing her, he stopped abruptly and gave her a look before walking on while calling back over his shoulder, ‘I’d like a word, Alice.’
She checked the wall clock. She was a good ten minutes early. Even so, she was apprehensive as she followed him in. He was settling into his chair as she closed the door.
‘Now, Alice. I have news. We haven’t forgotten your triumph at the parish hall. February twenty-first I’m going down to London to prepare for the Ideal Home Exhibition.’ He opened a drawer and frowned into it, clearly looking for something that wasn’t there.
‘If it’s the Festival House file you need, it’s on the shelf marked “Festival House”,’ Alice offered.
He stopped, smiled and sat back in his chair. ‘Yes, of course it is. Alice, I wondered if you’d like to come with me. There’s a heck of a lot to do before preview day. What do you think?’
Alice had never in her life been further from home than Parbold, and the thought of London made her heart jump – but then she felt it fall to her boots.
‘I’m sorry, but I – I can’t,’ she stammered apologetically.
‘Whyever not? I thought you would jump at the chance.’
‘I’m sorry. I appreciate you asking me. And I would want nothing more, but just now – I really can’t. There’s just too much going on. Family, the usual, I’m afraid . . .’
The sentence tailed off into nothing. Alice felt heat rising to her cheeks. She dreaded him asking more questions, and willed him not to as she twisted her scarf and fiddled with the button on her glove.
