Many a Tear Has to Fall, page 4
‘That’s the way to do it. Have someone to put a word in for you.’ He paused. ‘Your boyfriend … d’you think you’ll ever make things up with him?’
Maggie did not immediately answer and then she said in a hard voice, ‘I doubt it. He’s engaged to someone else now. They could even be married, unless she’s changed her mind about him, because it’s no fun having someone who regards the sea as his mistress and is away for months on end.’
‘I never fancied living on a ship meself. Confined with a lot of men, having to take orders and every move you make being watched. No, the seafaring life was never for me, although I have seen a bit of the world.’
‘Where’ve you been?’ asked Maggie with real interest. ‘I have a cousin in California.’
‘Been to Australia but then I started feeling homesick.’
‘Did you meet your wife when you came back to England?’
He said smoothly, ‘That’s right. It seems yonks ago now.’
‘I know what you mean about time. Sometimes it goes so quickly and at other times it drags.’
He agreed.
They fell silent as the train began to slow down as they approached Runcorn. Soon they had crossed the bridge over the narrow stretch of the Mersey and were on the final part of the journey.
‘You know what, queen, I wouldn’t mind meeting up again,’ he surprised her by saying. ‘I’d like to know how you get on.’
Her sore heart lifted. Here was a man who had put himself out for her twice, but what about him only just having lost his wife? And what would his mother say if he told her he was meeting a woman he had met on the train?
‘I know it might sound strange to you, me suggesting such a thing, but I’ll need to get away from things and life has been tough the last few months. It’s not going to be easy for Jerry and me living with Mam.’
Maggie said slowly, ‘I do understand how you feel. I know it won’t be easy for me either. It can cause difficulties when it’s not your own place.’
‘So how about it?’ he said. ‘What about us meeting up? Say in a month’s time?’
‘All right! Easter will be over by then and the weather should be getting warmer.’
‘How about a Saturday evening outside Exchange Station? Would seven thirty suit you?’
‘I should imagine so. Is that three weeks this coming Saturday?’
He nodded.
Maggie took a deep breath. ‘There’s only one thing more I’d like to know and that’s your name. Mine’s Margaret Gregory.’ She held out a hand.
He took it. ‘I’m Tim. Timothy Murphy.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Tim Murphy.’
They shook hands, and she liked it that his grip was firm but not hand-crushingly so. ‘Let’s hope we have lots of good news to tell each other by then,’ he said.
Four
Maggie wasted no time heading north across the city after parting from Tim Murphy and his son. She had not bothered phoning her brother as there had been queues outside the telephone kiosks. Neither had she taken the time to change in the Ladies toilet at the station. She soon realized that was a mistake, having forgotten just how long the walk was to Tithebarn Street, but she did feel a need to stretch her legs after the long train journey. Last time she had come home she had taken a taxi to Exchange Station, but now she decided she needed to watch her pennies. Not that she was short of a bob or two, but she had been brought up by her mother to make a habit of saving even a little a week.
As Maggie walked across St John’s Gardens to the rear of the soot-encrusted walls of the neoclassical St George’s Hall, she was aware of the signs of spring about her. She liked flowers and noticed the spears of the daffodils were showing buds. Maybe they would be in flower for Easter. Several beds were planted with tulips and wallflowers. She could almost imagine the heady scent of wallflowers. She and her mother had always made sure of planting them in September so there would be a good display in the garden of the house in Litherland. Emma liked wallflowers, too, and no doubt there would be a border of them in the Formby garden, and maybe also up at the cottage in Whalley which Emma had inherited from her grandfather and was where she had grown up.
Maggie left St John’s by the exit opposite the museum on William Brown Street. She remembered one of her old school teachers telling the class that the building had been severely damaged by firebombs during the blitz, and that there were still parts of the museum in the process of renovation. She thought of the museums and art galleries in London that she had not taken the time to visit, and knew that her cousin, Betty, would have thought her crazy not to make the most of her opportunity. Especially when her digs had been within a short walking distance of the V&A and Natural History museums. Maggie hadn’t visited a single one, but then she was no culture vulture, unlike her artistic cousin.
As Maggie passed the entrance to the Mersey Tunnel and headed up Dale Street, she found herself wondering, not for the first time, how Betty was managing as a mother. She found it difficult to imagine her cousin balancing motherhood, her beloved painting and being a housewife all at the same time, and in a new country far away from her family.
By the time the Exchange Hotel was in sight, Maggie was limping. She had paused in front of the window of the Wizard’s Den, which was filled with a hotchpotch of jokes and tricks, such as itching powder and artificial poo. She thought of her nephew and how this was just the kind of place small boys, and big boys, enjoyed.
As she went through the high arches next to the entrance to the Exchange Hotel, which led to the railway station, she gritted her teeth, suspecting that a blister was forming on her left heel. Why was it that one foot was bigger than the other, so that one shoe was always tighter or looser, instead of an exact same fit? Despite being in pain, she decided to wait until she was on the train before changing into her old comfortable shoes. She would phone Jared when she arrived at Formby Station as there was a bit of a walk to the house.
Maggie was sitting in a carriage inspecting her bloodied heel beneath her torn stocking when a voice said, ‘That looks nasty!’
At the sound of the man’s voice, Maggie’s heart seemed to flip over. She looked up into the familiar handsome face that was so like Norman’s that for a moment she felt breathless. Then she noticed the walking stick resting against the wall of the carriage.
‘Oh, it’s you Pete,’ she said huskily, lowering her foot.
He gazed at her intently. ‘Are you all right, Maggie?’
She tilted her chin. ‘I just thought you were your Norm for a moment. We’ve split up, you know?’
‘No, I didn’t know.’ He frowned. ‘Norm and I aren’t as close as we used to be. He hardly ever writes and I don’t know where to get in touch with him so I can keep him abreast with what’s happening at home.’
‘Doesn’t he write to your mother?’
‘Now and then, but not recently,’ Pete said.
‘So you don’t know that he’s got himself engaged to someone else,’ Maggie blurted out.
‘You’re kidding!’
‘Would I joke about such a thing?’ There was a tremor in her voice. ‘He wrote and told me. I received the letter this morning.’
‘That’s not on,’ Pete said angrily. ‘What’s he playing at?’
She sighed. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he’s planning on surprising you by turning up with her out of the blue?’
‘Possibly.’ Pete stared at Maggie. ‘When did he last write to you before the letter this morning?’
‘I hadn’t heard from him for a while and it’s months since I’ve seen him. I was getting worried.’
‘A lousy way of letting you know he’s still alive,’ Pete said grimly. ‘It must have come as a terrible shock.’
‘Obviously. Especially as I’ve been ill.’
‘I thought you looked pale. Have you had the flu?’
‘No, acute bronchitis,’ she replied. ‘The doctor told me I needed to get out of London, so I decided to take his advice and come home to recuperate. I’ve just got off the London train straight from a catwalk job.’
‘You must be tired.’
‘I am a bit. Anyway, it’s good to see you, Pete. I believe congratulations are in order. Emma wrote to me about you and Peggy getting married.’
He smiled. ‘I bet you were one of those who thought it would never happen. It might not have, if Peggy hadn’t run away and her father died.’
‘I heard she’d gone missing. Anyway, I couldn’t be happier for the pair of you. I bet your mam was made up.’
‘She was over the moon. Even more so as we’re living with her until we can find a place of our own.’ He eased his lame leg and winced. ‘Not easy with the housing situation the way it is. I bought a car last year, but that money would have come in useful for a deposit on a house.’
‘I remember your Norm saying you could do with a car.’
His face clouded at the mention of his brother. ‘I suppose you’re on your way to Formby?’
‘I’m staying with Jared and Emma while I decide what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. No more living in London and no wedding on the horizon.’
Pete looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Did you really want to marry our Norm? I’ve always thought of you as a career girl, with your heart set on becoming a famous model.’
‘Apparently that’s what he thought, too.’
They were silent for a while and then Maggie said, ‘Tell me – do your mam and Peggy get on all right? I’ve heard there can be problems when two women share a kitchen.’
He smiled slightly. ‘They have their moments, but Irene decided the sensible thing to do would be for the girls to take turns at cooking the evening meal.’
‘Irene! What’s it to do with her?’
‘She has our spare room. You do know her mam died not long after she remarried and moved into her new husband’s house, and the children’s home was closed down where Irene worked?’
‘I think Emma mentioned it in a letter and that Marty had decided to rent the house after Irene and Jimmy’s mother moved out. Jimmy had gone back to sea and Irene had been offered a job by Betty in California.’
‘That’s right. Then Irene’s mam took ill while Irene was out there so she came back but had nowhere to live, Jimmy had been putting up at Billy and Dot’s when he was home from sea, so Mam offered her our spare room. Our two mams having been great friends for years. Irene’s now working at Litherland Nursery. She’s not going to be at ours in Bootle much longer. She’s hoping to get married this year.’ Pete glanced out of the window and took hold of his walking stick and stood up. ‘I’d best make a move. This is my stop. See you again, Maggie.’
‘See you.’ She had been about to ask who Irene was marrying, but decided it could wait until another time. Although no doubt Emma would know the answer.
Several people entered the compartment, and it was only when a woman looked at her askance that Maggie realized she was still in her stocking feet and had her holdall on the seat beside her. She took out her comfy shoes and put them on and placed the high heels in the holdall. Suddenly she could not wait to see Jared, Emma and Owen, although no doubt her nephew would be in bed by the time she arrived at her brother’s house.
Maggie was not feeling in the best of moods as she replaced the receiver on its cradle in the booth at Formby Station. Emma had told her Jared was working late, finishing a job, so would not be able to give her a lift. She picked up her holdall and, at the same time, put her shoulder to the door of the telephone box. It scarcely budged so she shoved really hard. She heard a yelp and then the door gave way; she would have fallen to the ground if a man clutching his stomach had not thrust his free arm across the opening.
‘Didn’t you see me?’ he demanded.
Embarrassed, but not wanting to show it, and telling herself that he shouldn’t have been standing so close to the door, she said stiffly, ‘No, I’m sorry. Could you move your arm?’
He lowered his arm and stepped aside. She brushed past him and set off down the hill towards her destination, wincing at every step she took, despite having changed her shoes, and wishing her brother could have finished work early. She took deep breaths of lovely fresh air. Formby village was surrounded by farms, and was close enough to the sea to catch the occasional blast of salt-laden air when the wind was blowing in the right direction.
Twenty minutes later, she arrived at the house. She realized that Emma must have been watching out for her, because the front door opened almost as soon as Maggie unlatched the gate. Her sister-in-law was brown haired with pleasant features, and possessed a smile that made her look almost beautiful at times. She walked slowly down the path towards Maggie.
‘I saw you limping. What have you done to yourself?’
‘I should have changed my shoes earlier,’ Maggie said. ‘I was wearing these gorgeous high heels.’
‘Pride comes before a fall,’ said Emma, linking her arm through Maggie’s. ‘But never mind, you’re here now and can put your feet up. Jared’s on his way. He telephoned a few minutes after you did.’
‘I hope you don’t mind my coming to stay? I just had to get out of London. I didn’t mention it to our Dot but the doctor told me I have a TB scar on one of my lungs!’ The full horror at the mention of TB hit her again, and Maggie swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.
‘When did you find this out?’ asked Emma, sounding shocked.
‘A few weeks ago. I had a terrible bout of bronchitis and spent a fortnight in bed. The doctor sent me for a chest X-ray.’
‘Your landlady should have let us know,’ said Emma, frowning.
‘I didn’t want her to worry you. In fact, I pretended to myself it didn’t really matter about the TB scar because it was in the past, but now – now it scares me.’ Maggie followed Emma into the house.
‘You mustn’t worry,’ Emma said firmly. ‘Weren’t you inoculated against TB when you were at school?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘No buts. Even if you hadn’t been inoculated and it reoccurred, which isn’t likely to happen, I’m sure they have drugs to treat it these days.’
‘The doctor was concerned because I’ve had several bouts of bronchitis since living in London. The smog can be really bad.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Emma said. ‘But now you’re here for a little holiday, you’ll have plenty of fresh air and soon be back at the job you love. Spring’s arrived, and even in London the smog will be a thing of the past.’
Maggie decided not to mention she had no plans to return to London and that they might need to put her up for much longer than a little holiday.
‘Maybe you should visit our doctor while you’re here,’ suggested Emma, leading the way into the kitchen. A few moments later, a tantalizing smell of hotpot assailed Maggie’s nostrils as Emma opened the oven. ‘I hope you’re hungry,’ she said.
‘Starving,’ replied Maggie, remembering she’d had little to eat that day. She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the back of one of the chairs at the Formica-topped table in the centre of the room.
‘Well, if you’re that hungry, I won’t make you wait until Jared comes in,’ Emma said, setting plates and cutlery on the table.
Maggie sat down and gazed around at the welcoming home her brother had designed and built. Emma had stressed that the kitchen must be big enough to have their meals there. Although she’d also wanted a dining room for when they entertained guests, and that was situated off the lounge that ran the width of the house, with windows that looked out over the front and rear gardens. One day Maggie would like such a house herself.
Emma removed the lid from the casserole dish, and Maggie was reminded of the times she had travelled further north in Lancashire to stay at Emma’s cottage in Whalley. She remembered how she had upset her sister-in-law by eating so little of the good food she had served up. It had been years since Maggie had eaten heartily of any food put in front of her. Always in her thoughts had been the need to remain svelte.
As her sister-in-law ladled out the hotpot, Maggie said, ‘I wish I was as good a cook as you, Emma.’
Her sister-in-law looked at her askance. ‘There’s nothing stopping you from learning. One of Jimmy and Irene’s stepsisters, the daughters of their mother’s last husband, wants to go to catering college after she leaves school. She has a bit of a way to go before that happens, but it’s nice to know that some of the old skills can still come in useful. Not everyone wants their food out of tins, packets or a freezer.’
‘But they all come in handy, Emma, when you live in the depths of the country or you’re on your own and out working all day,’ said Maggie. ‘I wouldn’t want to cook a meal from scratch in such circumstances. But I have to admit that your cooking is better than any I’ve tasted from a packet or a tin.’
‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so they say,’ said Emma in a teasing voice. ‘I remember Norman Marshall turning up at the cottage years ago with his older brother, Dougie. It was the weekend, and I’d only just started in the business of offering light meals and teas for hikers and the like. Norm’s twin Pete was in hospital and Dougie and Norman had brought their bikes up on the train. They wolfed down everything I put in front of them.’
‘Norman and I have broken up,’ said Maggie abruptly, reaching for a spoon.
Emma dropped the ladle, splattering gravy on the table. ‘Why?’
‘He’s found someone else.’
‘While at sea?’
‘Tankers have to dock sometime.’
Emma was silent a moment and then she murmured, ‘D’you think he thought you’d want to carry on with your career in modelling after you were married and didn’t like the idea?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘We never discussed marriage, and we never will now, because he’s engaged to this other girl.’
Emma sat down and picked up the ladle. ‘Engaged! That’s a bit much!’
‘That’s what I thought when I received his letter.’
