Many a Tear Has to Fall, page 9
‘Damn,’ muttered Maggie.
‘Was it urgent?’
‘Not life and death.’ Maggie shrugged elegant shoulders. ‘I’ll just have to wait until she gets back. I’ll see you around.’
‘OK! I’ll mention it to Lenny anyway. He’s often in touch with her.’ Bobby smiled. ‘I’d best get back to work. See you.’
Maggie watched her go into the kitchen but did not immediately leave. Instead she rested her aching back against the wall, thinking the pain was probably due to digging over a flowerbed and putting in fresh plants.
Suddenly she realized the jukebox had fallen silent, but the level of noise had risen. It was ages since she had been as carefree as these college kids. In fact she doubted if she had ever been as carefree. Life had been fairly tough and, after the war, what had made it even worse was her father taking ill. Her mother’s sister, Lizzie, had come to their rescue by putting money into buying them a big house in which the Gregorys and Lizzie and her daughter Betty had made a home. It was because of her sister’s generosity that Maggie’s mother had been able to leave her children an inheritance.
‘Oh, you’re still here, Maggie.’
Maggie looked at Bobby, who was carrying a tray of tasty but extremely fattening fried sausages, bacon, egg and beans on a couple of plates. ‘I’m glad you’re still here actually,’ she said. ‘Lenny told me that I should have taken your address and phone number. Perhaps you could write it down – if there’s any news from Dorothy he’ll be in touch.’ She hurried away to a nearby table with the tray, saying she would be back.
Maggie was in the act of writing down her brother’s address and phone number when a voice said, ‘Hello, Miss Gregory. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.’
She glanced up, straight into the lively brown eyes of Lenny’s nephew, Josh Colman, who was in army uniform. ‘I-I thought you’d left,’ she blurted out.
‘Couldn’t wait to see the back of me, I suppose?’ he said mournfully.
Maggie felt colour flood her cheeks. ‘Don’t put words into my mouth,’ she said stiffly. ‘Just because we got off on the wrong foot …’ She stopped abruptly. Josh had raised an eyebrow, and she wondered how he could do that. It had always fascinated her when film stars had done so on the silver screen. Now he was wiggling his eyebrow and a giggle rose in her throat. ‘Don’t do that!’ she spluttered.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you off your stride,’ he said, straight-faced. ‘I’ll be going now.’
‘Back to barracks?’
He smiled. ‘I knew you were clever as well as dishy.’
The smile died in her eyes. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’
He looked surprised. ‘Why d’you say that?’
‘Because …’ She could not finish. How could she tell him that she couldn’t believe someone like Josh Colman could believe that of her? He was several years older and had been out in the world. He must have met more sophisticated women. She didn’t feel a bit clever or dishy. If she had been, then Norm wouldn’t have dumped her.
She turned abruptly and left the coffee bar, recalling that she had a date with someone with whom she had hit it off right away. She decided that she would have a less fattening ham salad in Lewis’s restaurant. It was not until she arrived there that she remembered she had forgotten to give Bobby the scrap of paper with her brother’s address and phone number on, although it was possible that Bobby would see it on the table where she had left it.
After her lunch she made her way along Charlotte Row and then took a short cut through St John’s Market to the Royal Court in Roe Street. During her walk she found herself thinking about Tim Murphy and his dead wife and whether he was still in love with her. What had she been like? Had she been a blonde like Maggie? She imagined her as good looking and as well dressed as her husband, with wavy blonde hair and an hourglass figure. Maybe a bit like Marilyn Monroe in the film Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which had starred the sexy brunette Jane Russell as well. Perhaps she was more like Jane than Marilyn Monroe, thought Maggie.
Was it true men preferred blondes?
If it was true, then why had Norm thrown her over and got himself engaged to another girl? Why had blondes been pigeonholed as dumb; it didn’t make sense and was as bad as classing all redheads as having fiery tempers.
Maggie decided she was being dumb, thinking such thoughts. Instead she should relax and look forward to her afternoon at the theatre. She had always wanted to see The Merry Widow, having been told that the music was great, as were the costumes.
The reports on The Merry Widow proved true. The plot was amusing, romantic and full of misunderstandings. A few hours later, Maggie left the theatre humming ‘The Merry Widow Waltz’. The operetta had met all her expectations and she wished that she could see it all over again. As it was, she went along to the box office at the Empire and bought two tickets for the concert starring Paul Anka next week.
Imagining herself in the role of the merry widow, Hanna, who had been left a fortune, Maggie set off in the direction of Dale Street, thinking to treat herself to a long-playing record of the music. She had a feeling there had been a film, years ago, with Jeanette MacDonald playing the leading role. She wondered if it was the kind of music Tim Murphy enjoyed, and looked forward to telling him about it. Of course, he might not be at the meeting place. She would be a bit disappointed if he was not there, but she would wait twenty minutes; if he had not arrived by then, she would catch the train to Formby.
Maggie’s pulse was a bit uneven as she approached the blackened arches of the Exchange Hotel that led to the entrance of the railway station. She could see no sign of Tim, so it looked like she might be catching the train to Formby in half an hour or so after all. Then suddenly a man hove into view from behind one of the pillars. Her heart lifted as she recognized the bearded and smartly dressed figure. He strolled towards her, coming to a halt a foot or so in front of her.
‘It is you,’ he said, smiling.
Maggie returned his smile. ‘I’m glad you recognize me.’
‘How could I forget you?’ he said, gallantly. ‘Jerry said after you left that you reminded him of a princess in a pantomime.’
Her smile grew. ‘I wish.’
‘I’m not kidding.’ His blue eyes were lively. ‘You look just as good now as then. That suit is a great colour, and as for the cut …’ He gave a low whistle.
She gave a twirl. ‘Glad you like it. You don’t look so bad yourself.’
He grinned and took her hand and drew it through his arm. ‘I take it things have worked out for you.’
‘Pretty well.’ Maggie’s heart fluttered like a sparrow’s wings hovering over the bird table in her brother’s garden as her hand rested on the worsted fabric of his sleeve. ‘How about you? Did your mother welcome you and Jerry with open arms? And how is business?’
‘Business is going well. I could have worked this evening but I didn’t want to let you down.’
‘You were so certain I’d come?’ she said.
‘Why should you agree to meet me if you didn’t want to see me again? Wouldn’t you have been disappointed if I hadn’t turned up?’
‘Yes! I was thinking if you didn’t come I’d treat myself to some fish and chips on the way back to my brother’s house.’
‘We could have a fish-and-chip supper here in town later if you’d like?’
‘I’d enjoy that. Have you any idea where you’d like to go before then?’ Maggie asked.
‘You like music, don’t you?’
‘Do I like music? I’ve just been to a matinee at the Royal Court. Have you ever seen The Merry Widow? It was fabulous!’ Her eyes shone.
‘Can’t say I have, but the word “Merry” in the title and your reaction makes me want to see it,’ he said. ‘But not now. I was thinking more about jazz.’ He cocked an eye in her direction.
‘Jazz?’ Maggie laughed. ‘I should have guessed you were a fan.’
‘I thought we’d go the Cavern. Ever been there?’
She shook her head. ‘What’s it like?’
‘It’s one of the best venues for jazz in Liverpool. It’s situated in a cellar and I had no idea it existed until I came back from Australia.’
She thought it sounded exciting. ‘Then let’s go! Although, I’m telling you now, I’m more of an Elvis fan than of Chris Barber.’
‘You mean ol’ jelly hips,’ said Tim.
She glanced at him. ‘Don’t you like Elvis?’
He grinned. ‘Did I say I didn’t? I can tell you that I admired his guts for saying he wanted to be just an ordinary soldier when he was called up.’
She hugged his arm. ‘I did too. He could have enlisted in Special Service, you know, and just entertained the troops.’
‘I know. I read it in the newspaper. I hope you’ll still enjoy this evening if you’re into rock’n’roll and operetta.’
‘I like most music. I even enjoy skiffle,’ she said.
His eyes lit up.
‘I used to go to a club in London with some friends where the musicians played both jazz and skiffle,’ said Maggie. ‘My friends up here, though, are more into rock’n’roll, and some have formed a group. One of them, Jimmy, has had to drop out because he’s gone back to sea. You do know that Tommy Steele used to be a sailor, don’t you?’
‘No, but I do know he had a hit with “Singing the Blues”.’
‘That’s him. I’ve seen him in the flesh,’ she said with a hint of pride. ‘I’ve been to the Two I’s coffee bar where he was discovered. Have you ever thought of learning an instrument or singing with a jazz group?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah! My father would never allow us to have a go at a musical instrument. I was told to shut up even if I sang along with a tune on the wireless. He was a right misery.’
There was a silence, which she broke by asking about Jerry and Tim’s mother. ‘They get on fine,’ said Tim.
Maggie glanced at him. ‘She’s not finding him too much to cope with? I know my nephew can be a holy terror sometimes. I can manage him now, but then I’m not as old as your mother.’
‘She has complained now and again that he’s running her into the ground, but I remind her that he’ll be going to school later in the year and so it won’t be forever.’
Maggie nodded. ‘It’s the same with Owen, but my sister-in-law is having another baby, so it’s going to be all go, even when Owen starts school.’
‘Mam tells me that I was a little imp like Jerry when I was small, but I grew out of it, so I don’t doubt he will too.’
‘I never realized what hard work kids are,’ Maggie sighed.
‘I know what you mean,’ he said with feeling. ‘I couldn’t make up my mind whether it was harder coping with Jerry before Bernie died or afterwards.’
‘What d’you mean?’
His brow furrowed. ‘There were problems in our marriage but we could never have got divorced.’
She stared at him. ‘Are you a Catholic?’
He nodded. ‘I think we would have separated eventually. To be frank, I regret her death, because it shouldn’t have happened and sometimes I feel to blame.’
‘Why?’ She stopped abruptly, thinking she might have overstepped the mark. ‘I’m being nosy. You’ll be wishing you hadn’t suggested we meet up.’
‘No, I’m not. I’ve often put my foot in it. I’m glad you’re not perfect.’
She laughed. ‘Now you’ve definitely put your foot in it? Didn’t you know I am perfect?’
He said, ‘Of course you are. But what a topic, hey? Let’s drop the subject of death and dying. Anyway, we’re nearly there.’
They had arrived at the narrow thoroughfare that was Mathew Street. Maggie gazed up at the buildings on either side, which were tall and dark and seemed to swallow up the air. She took several deep breaths.
‘Are you OK?’ asked Tim.
‘This street reminds me of a horror movie.’
‘I like horror movies,’ he said, smiling.
‘So do I when I’m sitting safely in a cinema seat.’
There was a sound that reminded her of hollow footsteps, and she clung to his arm. ‘What was that?’
‘Nothing to worry about. Here we are.’
In front of them was a doorway. Maggie offered to pay for her own ticket but Tim told her to keep her money. They went inside and down some steps. Even before they reached the cellar, she wanted to get out of there, but knew there was no way she could tell him how she felt when he believed he was giving her a treat. There were already plenty of people in the cellar, and the atmosphere was fuggy with cigarette smoke. A number of people were leaning against the pillars that held up the arched ceiling while others were seated. All were listening to the music being played by a group performing on a small stage. Tim managed to find Maggie a vacant seat and she sat down. He bent over and whispered, ‘I just want to listen to this number, and then I’ll fetch you a drink. They have a rule here that they only serve soft drinks, by the way.’
‘That’s all right with me,’ she whispered, easily able to imagine a stampede if a fire broke out due to a dropped cigarette butt by a drunk. She concentrated on listening to the music, so as to shut out the thought of the lack of fresh air in the cellar. The acoustics were pretty good, although she had no idea of the name of the song being played.
It was not until she had downed half a glass of orange juice to ease a throat that felt as dry as dust that she asked about the song. ‘Am I right in thinking it’s about a man in love with a woman who was that fat he needed to chalk how far he had to reach round her when he hugged her?’
He nodded. ‘It’s called “Huggin’ and Chalkin”’. It’s been round for a while, came from the States, and was recorded by Hoagy Carmichael.’
‘Who?’ she asked.
He looked amazed. ‘You must have heard of Hoagy Carmichael. He’s a musician and composer and has been in films. He wrote the music to “Stardust” and “Georgia on My Mind”, as well as loads of other stuff such as “Lazybones”,’ enthused Tim.
‘You mean “Lazybones, sleeping in the sun”?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘But that’s not jazz, is it?’
‘Hoagy started off in jazz and moved on to ballads and the like.’ Tim squeezed her shoulder. ‘Now hush! They’re about to play again.’
The vocalist launched into ‘Mack the Knife’, and Maggie found herself comparing the way it was sung to Louis Armstrong’s rendition, which she had heard on the radio.
‘Why does most jazz come from America?’ she asked once the song finished.
‘That one didn’t. It started off as a song in the German version of The Threepenny Opera, about a highwayman,’ said Tim.
Maggie was impressed by his knowledge. ‘I never knew that.’
Before she could ask any more questions, the group launched into the hit made famous by the king of skiffle, Lonnie Donegan’s ‘Puttin’ on the Style’.
‘Come on, let’s dance,’ said Tim.
‘I don’t mind if I do,’ said Maggie, draining her glass and placing it under her chair.
There was not much room to let oneself go, but they managed a sort of shuffle and jive in an extremely small space. Maggie realized that for the first time in a long time, she was feeling carefree and really enjoying herself. This despite a certain soreness in her throat, due no doubt to the cigarette smoke blending with the body odour generated by the heat of so many people packed into the cellar.
It was to be another hour before she felt compelled to tell him that she would have to go. He did not try to persuade her to stay, but escorted her outside and walked with her in the direction of Exchange Station. She was hoping that he would ask her out again. She was not disappointed, and when he suggested them meeting up again, she said immediately, ‘I bought tickets for the Paul Anka concert which is on at the Empire next week. Say you’ll come?’
For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, but then he agreed. They arranged a time and place to meet and then he kissed her lightly on the mouth and walked away. She could feel that kiss on her lips all the way to Formby.
It was not until she left the train and was walking past the fish-and-chip shop that she remembered they had not had that supper he had suggested. So she went inside and bought a portion of fish and chips and managed to eat the lot before reaching her brother’s house. It had been quite a day, but Maggie had made up her mind not to tell Emma about Tim. She would say she had met an old friend and they had gone to the pictures together.
Ten
‘Jared and I are going to the cottage this weekend,’ said Emma. ‘We thought you might enjoy coming with us. The country air will do you good.’
Maggie could not argue with her sister-in-law’s reasoning, although she hardly knew the couple emigrating to Canada. Still, she would have gone if she had not arranged to meet Tim.
‘I’ve made other arrangements,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘What arrangements?’ asked her brother, glancing up from his newspaper.
‘I’ve bought tickets for the Paul Anka concert at the Empire.’
‘Who are you going with?’
For a moment Maggie would really have much preferred to tell the truth, but it struck her afresh that her brother might not be overjoyed at the idea of his little sister dating a man whom she had only met on the train from London a short while ago. She would have to continue keeping quiet about Tim.
‘A girl I know from school. I bumped into her when I was in town last week.’
‘All right, I hope you have a good time,’ said Jared. ‘But I am planning on dropping Emma and Owen off at the cottage in time for the Whit weekend, as she wants to make the tearoom and shop ready for the bank holiday. I’d appreciate it if you come as well and stay with her and Owen to help her out.’
‘Will Hester and Ally have vacated the cottage by then?’
‘Aye, they’re going to spend some time with their families before they leave the country,’ said Emma.
‘OK, I won’t make any arrangements for then,’ Maggie promised.
‘Good.’ Jared smiled at her. ‘You’re not a bad kid.’
