It's Now or Never (22 page)

Dorothy hesitated. ‘I might be able to fit it in,' she said cautiously. ‘It would have to be soon.'

‘Monday evening?'

‘Monday's a bank holiday. How about Tuesday evening?'

‘That's fine. See you around.' Lynne left the Ladies, feeling slightly shaky, wondering how she had managed to keep her cool.

She was immediately pounced on. ‘We've had so many compliments about our frocks,' said Jeanette. ‘Hopefully you'll be inundated by women asking you to do sewing for them.'

Lynne flushed with pleasure, but even so she felt slightly alarmed. What if she couldn't cope with a sudden influx of work? For a few minutes she and Jeanette talked about clothes and the younger woman's hopes for a wedding next year. Then they were interrupted and Lynne was left alone once more.

Only three women came up to her and talked about dropping by at her house and seeing what patterns she had and asked what she charged so she gave them her card. Not for the first time did it occur to her that more and more people were beginning to buy off the peg and the days of dressmakers like herself being self-employed were numbered.

She decided to forget business and enjoy the wedding celebrations. She felt that in Emma she had made a new friend, as she had Hester, but just how much she would be able to see either of them in the future was another question altogether. She had responsibilities as she had told Dorothy and couldn't just flit off when she wanted. She thought of her grandmother and daughter, wondering what they were doing now and of the son that Dorothy had given away. Where was he now?

‘Cruising down the river on a Saturday afternoon,' sang Nick, resting back in the rowing boat with his hands behind his head.

‘You've the words wrong,' said Chris, wielding the oars expertly. ‘It should be Sunday afternoon.'

‘Yes, but it is Saturday, so don't be picky,' grinned Nick. ‘You could have said we're not cruising.'

‘So I could. You'd better watch yourself,' said Chris. ‘We'll be coming to the bridge soon.'

‘I don't think I'm going to bang my head,' said Nick, looking up at the bridge just ahead. As he did so he noticed a girl and an old woman on the bridge watching them. They waved to him in a friendly manner and he waved back but it was not until the boat shot under the bridge that he realized who the girl was. He twisted round as the boat shot out into the sunlight and looked up, wondering if she might have recognized him. It was as he thought and she had crossed to the other side of the bridge and was gazing down at him, waving madly.

‘Hi, Nick!' she shouted. ‘It's all right for some, messing about in boats.'

‘I've done my bit of rowing,' he shouted. ‘See yer!'

‘Who's that?' asked Chris.

‘It's that girl from the coffee bar. The one called Bobby. I remember she said that she lived off West Derby Road, which isn't that far away,' said Nick. ‘Watch out for that duck!'

‘It can swim, can't it!' Chris rested on his oars. ‘Anyway, we'll have to take the boat back soon. What do you want to do next? Or is your dad expecting you home early?'

Nick looked up at the sun and thought about the hours he'd put in at the shop earlier that day. His dad had given him a handful of change and told him to go and enjoy himself for a few hours. ‘I think I'm OK for a while yet. How about getting some chips and going into town to the Tatler cinema?'

‘If you like,' said Chris. ‘But you can stop lazing about and take over the rowing again.'

‘I don't mind if I do, although I was starting to get blisters.' Nick carefully changed places with his friend and rowed back to the landing stage where they had hired the boat.

They bought chips in Tuebrook, lavishly sprinkled with salt and vinegar, and ate them out of the newspaper as they waited at the bus stop to go into the city centre. At that time of day there appeared to be more people coming from town than travelling into it, so they were soon in the cinema and settled comfortably in plush seats, watching a Tom and Jerry cartoon. They roared with laughter as the mouse again managed to outwit the cat who, despite the punishment each meted out to the other, lived to fight another day. There was also a cartoon of Daffy Duck whose catchphrase
This means war
reminded Nick of what he had been thinking the other week when he had arrived home from the coffee bar.

He had gone in the back way and overheard his uncle suggesting that Kenny take Nick out of the Liverpool Institute and enrol him on a scheme for teenage boys to go to South Africa.
It'll be the making of him
, Dennis had said.
You don't want him to turn into one of those Teddy Boys and get into trouble. I bet they're behind the break-ins that you read about in the Echo. Do you know what Nick's doing right now?

Nick had been furious and had burst in on them. ‘I'm here now, Uncle Dennis. What was that you were saying about Dad not knowing where I am?' He had glared at him. ‘And I was helping him in the shop most of the day! Isn't that right, Dad?'

‘Yes, son,' Kenny had replied.

Of course, his uncle had blustered his way out of that by saying he only wanted what was best for Nick. Not for one minute had Nick believed that. He was a very unpleasant man, always seeking to undermine anything Nick was good at. He had never shown any kindness or thought for anyone other than himself before. Nick had told his father about Dennis hanging about outside the coffee bar. His manner had been really cool to his brother since then and Dennis had left pretty sharply after the exchange. Afterwards Nick had been told that the FOR SALE notice had gone up at the house in Wales and his father had made an appointment with a solicitor.

The cartoons finished and the newsreel flashed up on the screen with images of Sir Anthony Eden who was taking over from Winston Churchill as Premier of Britain and more about the disturbances in Cyprus and the latest on Princess Margaret's activities. Suddenly Nick noticed the time on the clock on the wall. It was later than he thought.

‘I'll have to be going,' he whispered to Chris.

‘Let's go then,' said his friend.

It was dusk by the time they parted on the corner of Balmoral Road where Chris lived. They exchanged tarrahs and Nick headed for home. The shop door was locked and the blinds down, so he made his way to the rear of the shop. To his surprise the yard door swung open at his touch. He could only presume his father had forgotten to latch it. He ran up the yard and came to an abrupt halt when he saw that the door was ajar. The wood around the lock and the door jamb was splintered and there were bits of wood on the step and the paving in the yard. He remembered an article in the
Echo
about recent break-ins.

His heart began to thud as he pushed the door wider and stepped inside. He was about to shout his father's name when it occurred to him that whoever had broken in could still be there. He froze and listened intently but could hear no sound coming from inside the building. He hoped to God that those responsible had not heard him coming and were waiting for him on the other side of the storeroom door. He made no move for what seemed ages and then when still there was no sound he decided he had to act. What if they were well away, having left his father lying there unconscious?

Cautiously Nick opened the door that led to the shop a couple of inches and, all being silent, he opened it wider. Despite the gloom due to the blinds being drawn, he could tell that the place was in a mess. He fumbled for the switch and light flooded the interior, illuminating the chaos the intruders had left the shop in. He looked towards the counter and his heart seemed to leap inside his chest as he saw his father lying across it. Stupidly, for a moment, Nick thought he was doing one of his stretching exercises and then he swore at his own foolishness. The blood was pounding in his ears and he thought he might faint. Somehow he managed to stumble across the room, tripping over lengths of wood and nearly going flying when he put his foot on some scattered nails.

‘Dad!' he said hoarsely, placing a trembling hand on his back.

There was no answer, which really shouldn't have come as a shock because there was a chisel protruding from Kenneth's back. Choking back a sob, Nick turned and hurried out to summon the police.

When the music group struck up for the first dance with ‘There's No Tomorrow', Lynne had few expectations of being asked to dance but she had not reckoned on Hester introducing her to a couple of her male colleagues from the police force. Lynne accepted their offers to dance but warned them that she was not much of a dancer. After treading on their toes several times, she was not asked to dance again.

She had been sitting alone for a short while when she saw Betty enter the room on the arm of a man who looked a few years older and she wondered who he could be. She watched the couple exchange a few words with Hester, and then Betty caught Lynne's eye and she and her escort made their way over to her.

‘Hi, Lynne,' said Betty, smiling. ‘Would you mind if Lenny and I sit with you?'

‘No, I'd be glad of the company to be honest,' she said warmly.

‘Good!' Betty hung her handbag on the back of the chair that Lenny had pulled out for her. ‘This is my boss from the coffee bar,' she added.

‘Good to meet you, Lynne,' he said, holding out a hand.

‘It's nice to meet you, too,' she said.

‘Can I get you both a drink?' he asked.

They both thanked him and asked for Babycham and he went off to the bar.

‘So that's your boss,' said Lynne, smiling.

‘Yes, Lenny's a decent bloke, even though he never listens to me. I've lost count of the times I've told him he should apply for a licence for live music and dancing.' Betty blew out a breath.

‘So there's nothing serious between the pair of you?' asked Lynne with a twinkle.

‘Hell's bells, no! I'm fond of him but he's a bit too old for me. Besides I'm not looking to go steady with anyone,' she said firmly. ‘I was hoping that by bringing him here, he might change his mind when he hears the group play.'

‘Is that your only reason?' asked Lynne.

Betty smiled faintly. ‘I did want to apologize for not ordering anything from you. I mean it was one of the reasons I asked you and Bobby along to my flat and I didn't even give her the time that I intended to, to discuss her art.'

‘You were distracted.'

‘Too right I was.' She pulled a face.

‘I was sorry to hear that you're thinking of giving up painting and not going to Italy,' said Lynne. ‘What did your art tutor say about your decision?'

Betty sighed. ‘That I should take some time off and give it more thought.'

‘That sounds sensible to me,' said Lynne. ‘We've had a postcard of the Trevi Fountain from Stuart.'

‘I had one from him, too.' She sighed again. ‘He wrote down his itinerary in very small handwriting. I wish he hadn't. It made me feel …' She did not finish her sentence.

Lynne felt a surge of concern for her. ‘I imagine you've got some money saved?'

Betty nodded.

‘Then why don't you go to Italy now?' urged Lynne. ‘Don't think about work or the future. Have a holiday! See the sights. Relax in the sun and enjoy yourself.'

Betty gaped at her. ‘But I can't do that!'

‘Why not?'

‘Because I can't just go abroad like that! Besides I'd be letting Lenny down.'

‘I'm sure Lenny would be able to find someone else to take your place for just a fortnight. It would do you a lot of good,' said Lynne firmly, covering Betty's hand with hers.

Betty was silent for a long time and then she said, ‘No, I can't do it. I was going to travel with Tony's family, stay with their relatives. They wouldn't be expecting me this early.'

‘Have a word with Tony this evening and he could pass a message on to his parents and see what they have to say. Don't put it off or you'll probably think up another reason why you shouldn't go!'

‘You mean it's a case of now or never?' said Betty.

‘Yes!' Lynne smiled. ‘What have you got to lose? You'll be spending less than you planned in the first place.'

‘But the whole point of my going to Italy was because of my art,' said Betty.

‘There's nothing stopping you enjoying art for art's sake,' said Lynne. ‘It's what most tourists do.'

Betty nodded and rose to her feet. ‘You have a point. I'll just go and have a word with our Jared and Emma. I know they've been worrying about me and I want to reassure them that I'm OK.' She walked away.

‘Where's Betty gone?'

Lynne glanced up at Lenny who held a tray bearing their drinks. ‘She went to talk to Emma and Jared. I presume you know who they are?'

‘Yes!' He placed the tray on the table. ‘She's very fond of them and hasn't been a bit like herself and when she burst into tears because I made her favourite fried mushrooms and tomatoes in butter on toast the other evening, it all came out that there had been a family tiff. She wasn't even going to come to this do but I told her she was cutting off her nose to spite her face. I know she's been wanting me to listen to her friends' music, so I told her that I'd come with her.'

‘That was kind of you,' said Lynne, reaching for her glass and thanking him before adding, ‘And what do you think of the music?'

‘Not my kind of thing but I can see how it appeals to the kids.' He downed half of his beer. ‘She also mentioned that the actress, Dorothy Wilson, was going to be here and I thought I'd like to see if she's as attractive as her photo.'

‘You're a fan?' asked Lynne.

He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘I love film but I went to see her on stage when I read a review in the
Echo
and discovered she was a local girl and I knew her in the old days. Ages since I've seen her, mind, and her voice has changed. She's almost managed to lose the accent.'