Many a Tear Has to Fall, page 3
The carriage door opened and a man appeared in the doorway carrying a couple of suitcases. He had a boy with him whom he nudged into the carriage with his knee. ‘Go on, Jerry, get inside. The train will be leaving in a minute.’
The boy was carrying a very small case and hesitated at the sight of Maggie. She thought he seemed vaguely familiar. As for the man, how could she fail to recognize him when they had bumped into each other only that morning? He was dressed more smartly now, in a charcoal suit, the trousers of which had sharp creases. Unfortunately the cut of his jacket was spoilt by the folded newspaper sticking out of a pocket. His shirt was Persil-white and his dark blue and maroon tie she felt certain was silk.
Fancy them seeing each other twice in one day! He nodded in her direction as he lifted the suitcases on to the baggage rack. She watched him remove the trilby from curly fair hair. He placed the hat on top of a suitcase before sitting down on the seat opposite her. Had he recognized her? He didn’t appear to have done so, thought Maggie. Suddenly she became aware that the boy was staring at her. She smiled, increasingly convinced that she had seen him before. He was wearing a navy blue woollen coat, unbuttoned to reveal a grey pullover over a blue shirt, grey shorts and knee-length grey socks.
The boy lowered his gaze and placed his small case on the floor between the man’s feet, so drawing Maggie’s immediate attention to the man’s shiny black shoes. She liked polished shoes. Shoes could be so easily neglected, more so than any other item of clothing, in her opinion. Obviously, he was a man wanting to make an impression.
The boy placed his hands on the man’s thighs and leaned back against him. Now the look he gave Maggie was a measuring one.
‘My mammy’s gone to Heaven,’ he said.
‘Hush, Jerry! The lady doesn’t want to hear that,’ said the man, closing his eyes wearily.
‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ she said.
‘Why are you wearing a long frock?’ asked the boy. ‘You look like a princess.’
‘Don’t be personal, Jerry,’ murmured the man, without opening his eyes.
The boy threw back his head and gazed up at him. ‘Don’t know what that means, Daddy.’
Before his father could reply Maggie said, ‘I don’t mind answering his question. I’m aware that it’s not the kind of dress to wear on a long train journey. Unless it was the Orient Express, of course. But I’ve been at a fashion show and I didn’t have time to change because I was desperate to catch the train to Liverpool.’
The man opened his eyes and stared at her. ‘Haven’t I seen you before?’
‘Yes, this morning. I dropped my cigarettes and you helped me pick them up.’
His expression lightened. ‘I remember now. I gave you a light.’
‘That’s right. Although, to be honest, I had made up my mind to give them up. I’ve had acute bronchitis, which resulted in my having to stay in bed for a fortnight.’
‘That’s bad.’
‘You can say that again.’ She pulled a face. ‘But I survived, and so I decided I’d had enough of London and wanted to go home.’
‘Home being Liverpool?’ he said.
‘Near enough. I wanted my family around me. That might prove a mistake, but at least you know where you are with your family.’
‘I know what you mean.’ He leaned forward. ‘Nothing went right for me in London. I wish now I’d taken my chances and stayed in Liverpool, but my wife wanted to start a new life elsewhere. Just the three of us – but it didn’t work out.’ He sighed, reached out a hand and ruffled his son’s hair.
The boy shrugged his hand off. ‘Don’t do that, Daddy!’
‘Touchy!’ said his father, leaning back and delving into an inside pocket.
Maggie watched him produce a packet of Player’s and a Swan box of matches. She had smoked the last of her cigarettes earlier and vowed no more.
He caught her eye. ‘You’re welcome to one, but I don’t want to tempt you if your aim is to quit.’
She hesitated. ‘I’ll do without.’
‘Sensible girl. Bad for the bronchioles. So, where “near enough” in Liverpool d’you live?’
‘I was born in Bootle.’
‘Bootle!’ He smiled. ‘What’s a girl from Bootle doing in London?’
There was a note in his voice that caused Maggie to bridle. ‘What’s wrong with Bootle?’
‘Did I say there was anything wrong with it? I spent a bit of time there when I was younger.’
‘It was the way you said Bootle.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘I’ve heard Liverpudlians tell people to go to Bootle. Pretty much as if they were telling them to go to Hell.’
He shifted the cigarette to the side of his mouth with his tongue. ‘I wonder why that is? I grew up in a street off Scotty Road, and you’d have a job finding a place as tough to match it. Although, Mam worked hard keeping our house spick and span.’ He took his cigarette out of his mouth and gazed at its glowing tip, and then pinched it out and returned it to the packet of Player’s.
‘Why did you put it out?’ she asked.
‘Thinking about your chest. Don’t want to set you off coughing.’
‘That’s good of you.’
He changed the subject. ‘So what were you doing in London? How long were you there?’
‘Been working there for over three years.’
‘Doing what? It must have been something posh if the way you’re dressed is anything to go by.’ His blue eyes met hers. ‘You talk nice, too, but there’s still a trace of the accent there. I barely noticed it this morning because you didn’t say much, but I can hear it now.’
Before she could say anything in response, the carriage jerked sharply, throwing her back against the seat. The magazine slipped from her lap on to the floor and she bent to pick it up. Then the carriage jerked again and she was sent sprawling, and would have landed in his lap if Jerry had not been standing in front of him. The man shot out a hand and grabbed her, managing to hold her away from his son. ‘You all right, queen?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she said, a mite breathlessly. ‘At least we’re on our way at last.’
He released her and she sat down on her seat. ‘Thanks for preventing me from falling.’
He grinned. ‘I seem to be making a habit of helping you out. This being the second time today. Jerry, pick the lady’s magazine up for her.’
Jerry did as instructed and held out the magazine to Maggie. She thanked him and then gazed out of the window as the platform with its notice boards saying Euston slid out of sight and the station was left behind. The train was soon rattling past the backs of tall houses, their windows reflecting the sunlight.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s dark by the time we get to Liverpool,’ said Jerry’s father.
‘I was hoping it would still be light.’ Maggie opened her magazine. ‘I’ll need to make another phone call when I get to Lime Street.’
‘Hoping someone will come and pick you up?’ he asked.
‘That would be handy, but I only have my holdall with me and I wouldn’t expect my brother to come all the way into Liverpool when I can catch the train.’
‘Bootle’s not that far from Liverpool.’
‘I don’t live in Bootle now. In fact, I don’t have a place I can call home any more.’ She sighed.
‘Snap! Neither have I. Truth be known, I haven’t had a proper home for years.’
There was a long silence.
‘So you’ll be staying with your brother?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘My parents are dead.’ To Maggie’s dismay her voice quivered.
‘Miss them, do you?’
‘Yes. Especially my dad! He was the best dad in the world.’ Embarrassingly tears filled her eyes.
‘Don’t cry. Be glad he was a good bloke. I just wish I could say the same about mine. I hated him.’
His words put a stop to her tears. She was shocked. ‘Hated! That’s a strong word.’
‘That’s how strongly I felt. To be honest, I despised as well as hated him.’ His mouth tightened and his eyes were as hard and unyielding as pebbles. He took the newspaper from his pocket and unfolded it and began to read.
Maggie would have liked to have known why he hated his father and wondered how he felt about his mother. It sounded like his father was dead. Perhaps his mother was dead too, and that was why he had no place to call home in Liverpool. Although it could be that he had a sister or a brother who would provide him and his son with a bed for a few nights until he found a place of his own.
The silence between them stretched and was eventually broken by Jerry sighing and fiddling with the lock on his small case. ‘Stop that,’ said his father.
The boy ignored him.
‘What is it?’ asked the man, looking up from his newspaper.
‘I want it opened. I want my cars.’
‘In a minute. Just let me finish what I’m reading.’
There was a rustling of pages and the sound of Jerry tapping his fingers on the case. ‘Bloody hell,’ groaned his father. ‘Can’t you wait for just a few minutes?’
‘You said a minute, Daddy,’ said the boy. ‘And you swored.’
His father folded his newspaper and brought his face down to the boy. ‘You would make a saint swear.’
Maggie could not resist a smile.
‘What are you smiling at?’ said the man, sounding exasperated.
Her smile faded and she almost said ‘Nothing’, but that would not have been true. ‘He’s right, isn’t he? You did say a minute. But you’re not the only parent to make promises and break them. I’ve heard it said loads of times. My sister-in-law says it to her little boy when she’s busy.’
‘Alright, smart aleck! I bet you’ve no kids.’
‘No, I haven’t! I’m not married. Had a boyfriend … but we decided … to-to call it a day.’
‘Londoner, was he?’
‘No! As a matter of fact he’s one of us. The trouble was that he became a sailor and I’ve seen little of him since … the … then.’ Her voice stuttered into silence. She felt that painful ache inside her, just thinking of Norm. She took a deep breath and looked across at Jerry. ‘Your little boy is still waiting.’
‘All right, queen, I don’t need reminding.’ He took the case from Jerry and placed it on the seat and unlocked it.
The boy lifted the lid and removed several Dinky cars and began to run them along the seat, making brrrrm-brrrrm noises as he did so.
‘Happy now?’ asked the man, looking not at his son but at Maggie.
She nodded, her cheeks slightly pink. ‘I know enough about kids to realize that it’s more peaceful if they’re given something to do or what they want. Same with grown-ups really, I suppose.’
‘I wouldn’t argue. He won’t go to sleep without one of his precious cars.’ He paused. ‘You still haven’t told me what your job was in London.’
Maggie thought of saying that he hadn’t told her what he did for a living either. At least having a conversation was helping to pass the time. ‘I was a model but I got fed up, so I upped and left. Besides, a doctor told me I needed to get out of London for the good of my health.’
He frowned. ‘Would you say Liverpool is a healthier place?’
‘I’m going to be staying in Formby. My brother has a house out that way. He built it himself. My father was in the building trade, had his own business until he took ill. I was only a kid when he died.’ She sighed. ‘He was such a good man.’
‘So you’ve told me. You were lucky, queen. And you’re still lucky because you’ve a brother who lives in Formby.’ His eyes lit up. ‘I always liked going to Formby for a day out. We’d play jumping off the sand hills, but generally we only got halfway down and our legs would be buried in soft sand and we’d end up sliding on our bottoms to the foot of the hill.’
‘Did you ever swim in the sea?’
‘Yeah, but it was bloody cold.’
Maggie smiled. ‘You’re nesh!’
‘So what?’ He smiled slightly. ‘What’s the point of getting all goose-pimply when you can lie in the sun instead?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t argue with that,’ said Maggie. ‘But I take it you can swim?’
‘Course I can swim. Can you?’
‘Dad made sure of it because we lived not far from the Liverpool to Leeds canal when we moved to Litherland.’
He looked startled. ‘Litherland? I thought you said you came from Bootle.’
‘We did, but then we moved to Litherland. I know some people have never heard of it, but it’s next to Seaforth. You’ll have heard of Seaforth.’
‘Of course. There’s sands at Seaforth. And I have heard of Litherland. D’you still go back there?’
‘Occasionally. I know a family, the Gianellis, who live in Litherland Park. Dad used to worry about us falling in the canal because he remembered a woman drowning near Sandhills Bridge during the war.’
‘My dad was found floating in the canal,’ he said almost casually, taking out his cigarettes. ‘He got drunk, fell in and drowned.’
She was shocked. ‘That’s terrible.’
‘What’s terrible? Me changing my mind about having a ciggie?’
‘You know I don’t mean that. Your father drowning. Couldn’t he swim?’
‘No idea. He certainly didn’t teach me.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘The water used to be warm at the back of Tate & Lyle’s sugar factory. I was thrown in by a bigger boy and managed to doggy-paddle to the side. Someone pulled me out. Me mam had a fit when I came into the house dripping wet.’
Maggie was surprised that he could continue to talk about the canal and near-death experience so casually, after not only telling her about his father’s death, but due to his having just lost his wife. She decided to change the subject. ‘Do you think there were sand hills at Sandhills Station before the docks were built?’
‘Probably. I suppose in the old days it could have looked just like Formby does now. I remember it being a heck of a walk from Formby Station to the beach,’ he reminisced. ‘It felt like bloody miles.’
Jerry glanced up. ‘You swore again, Daddy.’
‘So I did, but it’s not your place to correct me, son.’
The boy jutted out his lip and his head drooped. After that there was a long silence. The man picked up his newspaper and began reading again. Maggie turned to her magazine, although she had trouble concentrating. She felt sad and aggrieved, knowing that a period in her life had come to an end and she just did not know what she was going to do next.
She closed her magazine, rested her head against the back of the seat and shut her eyes, allowing her mind to drift. Snatches of their conversation came into her head and she was dreaming of the time she had collapsed in the smog. She was roused by the murmur of voices and the carriage door opening. Her neck was aching. She opened her eyes and rolled her head, yawned and stretched.
‘You’ve had a good kip!’ said Jerry’s father. ‘It’s a good job I was keeping me eye on you and your holdall. You were completely out of it when a couple of other passengers came in.’
‘Thanks.’ She stared at him, remnants of her dream still clinging to her. ‘I was well away. You know what it’s like when reality and dreams get all mixed up?’ She paused.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘You wouldn’t remember helping a woman who collapsed the evening of that terrible smog we had a few weeks back? You’d be on your way to the hospital to see your wife who was very ill. An older woman helped you pick me up. I think her name was Mrs—’
‘Sinclair!’ He stared at her in amazement. ‘Was it you? Were you the woman?’
‘Yes! You told Mrs Sinclair to take me inside and she did. I remember she made me a cup of tea. I asked, were you from Liverpool, and she told me you were. Your son was asleep on the sofa and he was clutching a Dinky car. Watching him play with his cars before must have triggered the memory. I thought earlier he looked vaguely familiar,’ Maggie babbled. ‘And your voice, you calling me queen. You called me queen then.’
‘Bloody hell, fancy you remembering all that so sudden like!’
‘Fancy us meeting on this train. What a coincidence that is!’
They smiled at each other.
And suddenly Maggie felt lost for words because there was such charm in his smile. She waited for him to say something but he seemed lost for words too.
Then he said, ‘Next stop Runcorn.’
Maggie could scarcely believe she had slept that long. ‘You’re joking!’
‘No, queen, I’m serious.’
She felt herself relax and moistened her mouth. ‘Gosh, I’m thirsty.’
‘Here, help yourself.’ He handed her a thermos flask.
She unscrewed the top and poured out some of the coffee. It was still hot and sweet and she felt much better after she had drunk a cup. ‘Thanks for coming to my rescue yet again,’ she said, handing back the cup. ‘Do you have a place to stay tonight?’
He barely hesitated. ‘Me mam’s house. She never did like me marrying Bernie and had a blue fit when we left Liverpool.’
Maggie imagined an over-possessive mother who resented any girl to whom her son took a fancy. ‘So is Jerry her only grandchild?’
‘Yes, and now Bernie’s dead, Mam will welcome us with open arms. It’s what I need. Someone to take care of him while I’m working.’
‘You’ve a job to go to?’
‘I worked my apprenticeship as a motor mechanic. I’m planning on building up me own business,’ he said earnestly. ‘I was up in Liverpool the other week having a gander at suitable premises.’
‘I wish you luck,’ said Maggie.
‘Thanks!’ He grinned. ‘What about you? Will yer be able to get any modelling work up here? It sounds really glamorous.’
‘There’s really very little glamour about the job,’ said Maggie. ‘That’s why I’m glad to be out of it, although I’m not sure what I’ll do next.’
‘Have you thought of going on the stage?’ he said, leaning forward. ‘You’ve got the looks.’
She smiled. ‘Thanks, although I think there’s more to acting than just having a pretty face. I know Dorothy Wilson from Liverpool who’s an actress and has worked her way up and is now famous.’
