After the War is Over (8 page)

‘How on earth does she do it?’ Adele asked when the meal was over and they were seated around the table lazily finishing off the wine. The men smoked. Iris was actually enjoying herself for once. At this point of a meal, she was usually longing for the guests to go home so she could go to bed, where she would lie and think what a disaster the meal had been. ‘Such basic food, but she made it taste delicious.’

Cyril agreed, but Constance looked suspicious, as if she’d been tricked in some way and the meal had contained secret ingredients that had made it exceptionally nice.

‘Perhaps Nell could come and cook for us next time we have guests for dinner,’ Frank suggested.

Constance glared at him. ‘I can make my own dinners, thank you,’ she snapped.

‘I shall definitely ask her to make mine in future,’ Adele enthused, while her husband nodded his approval. ‘She’s such a lovely young woman. Not so much in looks, but gentle and ladylike. Do you think she would agree, Iris?’

‘I should imagine she’d be only too pleased,’ Iris confirmed. ‘She loves cooking. I’ll ask her, shall I?’

In the kitchen, Nell had removed her apron and was wearing Iris’s old green pinafore while she dried the dishes.

‘There’s no need to do that,’ Iris protested. ‘I know I’m a hopeless cook, but I can manage to wash and dry dishes.’

‘I thought I may as well.’ She dried the final plate and put it on the dresser shelf. ‘I’ll be off now. I hope everyone enjoyed their meal.’

‘They did indeed. In fact my mother-in-law would like it if you’d do the same for her next time she has a dinner party. She’ll pay, of course.’

Nell confirmed that she’d love to. ‘I’ll save the money up for when I go to London. I’m bound to get there one of these days.’

‘I hope you do, Nell.’ Iris squeezed her arm. ‘Oh, but what will I do without you!’ It wasn’t just the cooking, but the friendship too. In a curious sort of way, she needed Nell more than she did Tom.

Maggie hadn’t meant for them to go all the way, but she couldn’t help it. Their kissing had become more heated and abandoned, his hands touching her in the most intimate places, making her body quiver with delight. She couldn’t remember taking off her clothes and was amazed when she realised that Chris was undressed too. It didn’t seem possible that the feelings she had could become even more passionate, but they did, because by then Chris had slipped inside her and it didn’t hurt a bit, when all along she’d been told the first time was really painful. She screamed with pleasure and delight. What seemed like ages later, though turned out to only be minutes, ended like an orchestra building up to a grand, overwhelming climax. She lay back on the bed, exhausted, while Chris collapsed beside her.

‘Whew,’ he gasped. ‘Let’s get married soon.’

‘How soon?’

‘Next week.’ He sat up and laid his hand idly on her breast. ‘Tomorrow? How about now?’

They were in his mother’s place in Everton Valley. Betty had gone to London the day before, accompanied by most of her possessions in a trunk. Soon, she would come back for the last of her things. In a few weeks she would be established in Susan’s flat in Crouch End and her own flat would belong to her son, whose name was already on the rent book. Chris had approached the man who was opening the picture house in Walton Vale and applied for the post of manager. He had been assured the job would eventually be his. As from now, there was nothing to stop him and Maggie from getting married.

Thinking about this now, Maggie had no idea why she should suddenly feel apprehensive. Despite having been so close to Chris, as close as a man and woman could be, thereby putting a seal on their relationship, she was aware that she didn’t know all that much about him. They hadn’t discussed all sorts of important things; politics, for instance. Because of her father, Maggie was more aware of politics than most women. For which party had Chris voted at the last election? Another thing, did he want children? Maggie wanted at least four and didn’t care what sex they were. One thing was for sure, it would be impossible to raise four children in a fourth-floor flat with two small bedrooms, so where would they live when their babies began to arrive?

Why hadn’t she thought about all these things before?

She slid from underneath Chris, who seemed to have fallen asleep, picked up her clothes and went into the main room. There were no lights on, but the curtains were open and a pale moon was visible through the window; the nights were gradually getting lighter. As she dressed, she listened to the traffic on the road below; horns sounded, people shouted, tram cars trundled past.

What was she to do now? Should she tell Chris she wanted to wait a bit longer before they got married? It was also essential that she discuss it with Mam and Dad before a date was set. They’d met him, Mam liked him, Dad didn’t, but they had no idea that their daughter getting married so soon was on the cards.

‘Oh!’ Maggie sat down, feeling sick. What a terrible mess she’d got herself into. People were always saying she was too headstrong. Only minutes ago she’d been soaring through blissful heaven; now she felt panic-stricken and full of worry.

In the bedroom, she heard Chris stir, and next minute he walked into the room completely naked. She wasn’t prepared for it. He should have worn something, even if it was only underpants or a towel, she reasoned. She had never seen a naked man before.

Oh, Jaysus! I’m a madwoman, she thought. Chris was coming towards her. She could tell by his face that he wanted to kiss her. But he had nothing on!

Maggie grabbed her coat and handbag and fled from the room. She ran downstairs with Chris shouting, ‘Maggie, Maggie, what’s wrong?’ from the fourth-floor landing. ‘Come back,’ he called plaintively as she raced through the front door.

She waited on Scotland Road for a tram, half expecting Chris to come running around the corner, having forgotten he hadn’t any clothes on. But the next tram that came was heading for Bootle. Maggie got on with a relieved sigh and a racing heart, thankful that she was going home.

Angry voices were coming from the parlour of the house in Coral Street. The loudest voice belonged to Auntie Kath, who always shouted when she argued about politics with people who disagreed with her.

‘What’s going on in there?’ Maggie asked her mother, who was in the living room. There was no sign of her brother, and Bridie would have gone to bed hours ago.

‘Phelim Hegarty has decided to resign, so there’ll be a by-election. Our Kath is trying to talk your dad into standing for the seat,’ her mother said tiredly. ‘There’s half a dozen Labour Party members in there, all sticking their oar in.’

‘Me dad, go into politics!’ Since before Maggie was born, Phelim Hegarty had been the Member of Parliament for the Bootle Docklands constituency in which the O’Neill family lived. A few weeks before, he’d had a heart attack. ‘Flippin’ heck.’ She dropped on to a chair with a bang. ‘That’s a desperately good idea.’

‘Oh, I do wish you’d sit down in a normal way, girl,’ Sheila said tetchily. ‘One of these days, you and the chair will go right through the floor. And I don’t meself see anything good about your dad going into politics.’

‘Are you all right, Mam?’ She noticed how pale her mother was and how weak and tired she looked. The baby wasn’t due for another two months and the pregnancy was wearing her down. She was anaemic according to the doctor, who’d prescribed an iron tonic that didn’t seem to have done any good at all.

‘I’m just a bit weary,’ she said now. ‘I won’t half be glad when this baby is born. Anyroad, you’re home early. We weren’t expecting you back until gone ten.’

Maggie had no idea what time it was. The clock on the sideboard chose that moment to strike, announcing that it was quarter past nine. She was trying to think of a reason to explain why she was home so early when Auntie Kath shouted, ‘You’ve got no guts, you useless man. If I thought they’d elect a woman, I’d bloody well stand meself.’

‘That’s your poor dad she’s talking to.’ Sheila pulled herself to her feet and made to go into the kitchen. ‘They’ll be out in a minute. I’d best make some tea.’

Maggie pushed her mother none too gently back into the chair. ‘You’ll do no such thing. I’ll make it.’

Not long afterwards, the tea made, the parlour door opened and Auntie Kath came into the room. ‘Paddy’s agreed to stand for Labour at the by-election,’ she said triumphantly. ‘I’ll be his agent, naturally.’

‘You’re nothing but a bully,’ Sheila told her sister. ‘Since when did Paddy ever say he wanted to go into Parliament?’

Kath grinned. ‘Just now, Sheil, in your very own front parlour.’ She rubbed her hands together gleefully. ‘He’s bound to get elected. Your Paddy’s one of the most popular men in Bootle. Once Phelim Hegarty makes a statement to say he’s resigning, we’ll tell the
Bootle Times
about Paddy.’

‘How many cuppas do you want?’ Maggie shouted from the kitchen.

‘None.’ Auntie Kath poked her head around the door. ‘There’s still some of that sherry left that I got your mam and dad at Christmas. We’ll finish it off with a toast to your dad.’

‘No sherry for me, thanks. I’ve already got a splitting headache,’ Sheila said sourly. Once again she attempted to struggle out of the chair, this time successfully. ‘I’m off to bed. It doesn’t matter about wasting a whole pot of tea, by the way,’ she finished crossly.

Auntie Kath frowned worriedly at her sister as she lumbered out of the room. ‘I’ll come round and see her tomorrer afternoon,’ she muttered after she’d gone. ‘Bring her some flowers or summat.’

Maggie waited until her mother had got into bed before going up herself. Her previous worries had returned to haunt her and she wasn’t in the mood for drinking sherry. Anyroad, after thinking about it for a bit, the idea of her dad becoming a politician seemed too far-fetched for words. It was up to the entire membership of the local Labour Party to choose the candidate, not just Auntie Kath, even if she was the biggest bully on earth.

Once in bed, Maggie tossed and turned, knowing there was no chance of falling asleep. Bridie was well away, and she could hear her mother breathing heavily in the next room. She was worried about Mam and felt guilty for being out with Chris so much that she hadn’t noticed how exhausted she was. From now on, she’d help every day with the housework. As for Chris, tomorrow was Saturday and she’d go and see him first thing and apologise for behaving the way she had. They would have a proper discussion about getting married, name a date – later in the year, say, after Mam had had the baby. She felt uneasy that marrying Chris, which that morning had seemed an infinitely desirable thing to do, now seemed terribly wrong.

She turned on her back and gazed at the ceiling. Downstairs, Auntie Kath was laughing loudly – well, someone was pleased that Phelim Hegarty had had a heart attack!

Ryan came in. He was still going out with Rosie Hesketh, who wasn’t at all his sort of girl. Maggie had tried to tell him, but he’d just laughed and told her to sod off.

It was at this point that she fell asleep. When she woke again, it was early morning and the house was completely silent. For some strange reason, she’d been dreaming about Edna Wilcox, who’d joined the army at about the same time she had, but had left after a year.

Why had she left? And why dream about Edna Wilcox out of all the other girls that she’d known for much longer?

Maggie racked her brains. In the dream, Edna had been digging a garden – not a garden that Maggie recognised, but that was the way with dreams. She couldn’t remember if they spoke, but the reason why she’d left came to her quite clearly. Edna had discovered she was having a baby.

‘It’s just not fair.’ The tearful words carried over the years. ‘After all, we only did it the once.’

Her father, a small, square man with tight, bad-tempered features, had come into the hut to collect her. He stood over her while she packed her bag.

‘Bye, everyone,’ Edna had said when she left. Her father said nothing. The other girls stood staring at the door after Edna had gone, feeling desperately sorry for her.

Maggie and Chris had only done it the once. The possible consequences of that act hadn’t crossed her mind until now, though there must have been some sort of awareness or she wouldn’t have dreamt about Edna Wilcox.

She knew little about the inner workings of a woman’s body. Her imagination took over, and she visualised Chris’s seed already inside her womb, in the process of turning itself into a baby.

She was pregnant. She was convinced of it. It would kill her mother and ruin her father’s political career. The entire family would be disgraced. ‘I see Paddy O’Neill’s girl is up the stick,’ people would say. In no time at all, it would be all over Bootle.

The only thing to do was to marry Chris after all – as quickly as humanly possible.

Chapter 4

Next morning, Maggie burst into the Desmonds’ back yard and through the door into the house.

‘Nell!’ she yelled.

‘She’s not here, Maggie luv.’

To her amazement, Mr Desmond was seated on a pouffe in front of the living-room fire, a skein of wool stretched between his thumbs, while Mrs Desmond, who had spoken, wound the wool into a ball. ‘She’s at her friend’s house in Rimrose Road,’ Mrs Desmond went on, adding a touch smarmily. ‘The one that’s married to the doctor.’

‘Is it all right to go out the front door?’ Maggie asked, wondering what on earth Nell was doing at Iris’s so early in the morning – it had only just gone nine o’clock. Another mystery was why Nell’s mam and dad were getting on so well when they were supposed to be mortal enemies.

Mr Desmond nodded towards the hallway. ‘Help yourself, luv.’

‘Ta.’

Maggie ran in the direction of Rimrose Road until she got a stitch in her side and had to stop. She leaned against a wall, panting hoarsely and waiting to get her breath back. Nell was the only person in the world who she could confide her troubles in and not be criticised or blamed, but told that everything was going to be all right. She knew it was unreasonable to expect her friend to be at her beck and call, but she couldn’t help feel put out that she was with Iris just when Maggie needed her.