It's Now or Never (8 page)

‘You look shattered,' said Jeanette sympathetically.

‘I'll survive. There's been a spate of robberies in the Old Swan and Tuebrook area. A couple of post offices and a shop have been broken into.'

‘That's bad,' said Hester, frowning. ‘Anyone hurt?'

‘Not so far,' replied Sam, sitting down and easing off his shoes. ‘Have there been any phone calls?'

‘Dorothy phoned,' said Jeanette. ‘You probably know that if you've been in touch with the hotel.'

His head lifted slowly. ‘She wasn't at the Lynton. Apparently she's gone to London. What did she have to say?'

‘That she was sorry,' said Jeanette, darting a glance at Hester.

‘At least she phoned,' said Hester swiftly.

‘Who took the call?' asked Sam.

‘Me,' said Jeanette.

‘Then she didn't phone until this evening.' His voice was expressionless. ‘Did she say whether she got the part or not?'

‘No, but she sounded tired. I wrote down what she had to say and left it by the phone,' said Jeanette.

‘There weren't any messages there.' Sam glanced at Ethel who was dozing in the chair. ‘I bet she took it and threw it on the fire. You might as well tell me what it said, Jeannie.'

‘She was sorry but her agent told her that the casting director had asked specially for her to audition, so she felt that she couldn't say no.'

Sam was silent but his face told them what he was feeling and thinking. Hester went up to bed and Jeanette fetched his dinner and then scooted upstairs, having decided she had enough to cope with, thinking about moving into Betty's flat if her father agreed, without worrying about Sam and Dorothy's love life.

The following morning Hester wasted no time: after waving Jeanette off and giving downstairs a quick tidy, she left the house. The rest of the household were in bed as her father and brother were on later shifts and Ethel never got up early these days.

She crossed Whitefield Road and paused outside Skelly's Printers and thought that she must visit there on her return journey and order her wedding invitation cards to be printed. Opposite the printers was Barker & Dobson's sweet factory.

She took a deep breath, thinking there wasn't anything quite like the smell of chocolate and boiled sugar and mint. She remembered being told the story behind the discovery of one of the firm's most popular sweets, the Everton toffee mint, by a boyfriend who had been a football fan. It was said that even Queen Victoria had a fondness for the striped humbug with toffee inside. It seemed incredible to think that the original toffees had first been produced in a tiny shop way back in 1753 when Everton was just a village. It just went to show that some good things last and the sweet had even provided Everton football team with its nickname, The Toffees.

Hester headed on up Lombard Street where, once a week, she visited the dairy there. The owner kept cows in the back and she purchased buttermilk from him for her father who'd had a taste for it from childhood. Having done that she crossed the street to the number on the business card and banged the knocker.

She waited, tapping her fingers on the railings that enclosed a small tiled area overlooked by a bay window. The movement of a net curtain caught her eye and she realized that she was being observed. Was that because Lynne Donegan was being extra cautious, thinking her daughter just might have been followed home? She waved a hand and the curtain dropped.

Moments later the door opened and a smiling Lynne stood there. ‘It is Constable Walker, isn't it?'

‘Yes,' replied Hester. ‘Go on, say it! I look different out of uniform.'

‘You do, but I can still tell it's you,' said Lynne. ‘Do come in!'

She opened the door wider, pressing herself against the lobby wall to allow her visitor to pass. Hester wiped her feet on the coconut mat.

‘I hope all is well with you and your daughter and she hasn't had any more scares. Have you spoken to the headmistress at her school? You can't be too careful these days.'

‘Not yet, but I will,' said Lynne hastily, leading the way into the parlour where a small coal fire burned in a tiled fireplace.

Hester glanced about the room which contained a Singer sewing machine on a table, four dining chairs and a single comfy chair, over the arm of which lay a garment with a needle and thread hanging from it. In the alcoves either side of the fireplace were shelves containing various objects, such as reels of cotton and material samples, tin boxes and box files, as well as what could be pattern books. Beneath the shelves were cupboards.

‘Would you like a cup of tea, Constable Walker?' asked Lynne.

‘Call me Hester,' she replied. ‘Yes, I'd love a cup of tea.'

‘Then perhaps while I make a pot, you'd like to look at my portfolio of wedding gown designs.' Lynne removed the garment with the attached needle and thread and placed it on the table. ‘Please sit down.'

She took a file from a shelf and put it on the arm of the comfy chair. ‘I'll be back soon. Will you be needing a trousseau as well, because if you do …'

‘I'm not sure yet.' Hester smiled at her and sat down and picked up the portfolio.

Lynne left her alone and hurried to make a pot of tea, thinking it was probably best if Nan stayed out of the way until Hester had left. Her grandmother was still in bed, so Lynne decided to take her a cup of tea and tell her she had a prospective customer. Hopefully, Hester would see a gown she liked in the portfolio. The household needed every penny they could get what with Roberta at grammar school and Nan not able to help Lynne the way she used to do.

Hester lifted her head from her perusal of the designs she had been presented with and listened as light footsteps went up the stairs. Then she heard the murmur of voices overhead and wondered who else was living in the house beside the daughter. Then she remembered something having been said about a grandmother.

It was not long before she heard footsteps descending the stairs and a few minutes later Lynne appeared, carrying a tray with two lovely delicate china cups and saucers patterned with dark red roses. There was a matching milk jug and sugar basin, teapot and side plates, as well as a plate of buttered scones. She poured out the tea and told Hester to help herself to sugar and a scone.

‘What a lovely tea set,' said Hester, helping herself to sugar.

‘It belongs to my grandmother and it was her mother's before her. It's Victorian.'

‘How old is your grandmother?'

‘She's admitted to being over eighty but she has to be a lot older than that, although I don't know her exact age. She's in bed with a bad chest.'

‘I left an old lady in bed, too,' said Hester, stirring her tea. ‘My great-aunt; she's physically fit but we think she might be starting to go senile. It's a worry.'

‘Nan's mind is as sharp as a needle,' said Lynne. ‘It's her body that's letting her down. It's not just her chest; she has bad rheumatism, as well. Do help yourself to a scone.' She pushed the plate closer to Hester.

‘These look home-made. I don't have much time to bake myself, although I enjoy doing so. I'm hoping to do more of it after the wedding when I move up to Whalley.'

‘Nan used to love baking but my daughter does some of it now, when I don't have time,' said Lynne, moving a chair away from the table so she could sit closer to Hester. ‘Will you have to give up your job when you get married?'

Hester sighed. ‘Yes. I love my work but my future husband is from the area where we're going to live. He came out of the army a few months ago and is a motor mechanic and has started his own business. My friend Emma, who owns the cottage we're renting, used to sell teas and light meals during the better weather, so I'm hoping to carry on doing that. I think I mentioned she lives in Formby now but not that she's having a baby.'

‘I bet she's thrilled.'

‘Yes,' said Hester, smiling. ‘She and her husband, Jared, both want children.' She paused. ‘How old is your daughter?'

‘Just thirteen,' said Lynne, accepting the change of conversation. ‘I worry about her because she's my only.'

‘So you definitely will speak to the headmistress about the man hanging around outside the school?'

‘Yes, of course,' said Lynne, although she was not looking forward to doing so.

‘Girls that age are so vulnerable and some men can be swines. One can't be too careful,' said Hester, a shadow crossing her face. ‘Is there a school friend she can come home with?'

‘No, there isn't anyone, although my daughter tells me a whole crowd of them get on the bus together from school.' Lynne hesitated. ‘It's her getting off at the other end that is the problem. Perhaps I should go and wait outside school for her.'

Hester agreed it might be an idea, finished her scone and drained her teacup.

‘Did you see anything you liked?' asked Lynne, touching the floral wallpaper-backed file.

Hester nodded. ‘There's several I quite fancied but I'd want some alterations if I decided to use your services.'

Lynne's mouth set firm. ‘Tell me what they are and I'm sure we can work out a new design together if necessary. An original dream of a wedding gown like no other.'

Hester felt a rush of pleasure. ‘When you speak like that I must admit that it makes me want to have a go at something different. It sounds fun. What about material?'

‘That depends on what you're prepared to pay. Silk, for instance, doesn't come cheap.'

‘I was thinking of ivory figured satin.' Hester hesitated before adding, ‘I feel at nearly thirty that white is a bit …' She blushed and did not finish.

The blush caused Lynne to wonder if she was no longer a virgin but that was none of her business – and who was she to criticize anyway?

‘White doesn't suit everyone,' she said softly. ‘It seems to me that there's a hint of warmth in ivory that isn't there in white. When you consider that at the beginning of the century, and even during the last war, there were lots of brides who chose to marry in their Sunday best because they couldn't get the clothing coupons. Besides it was much more sensible to make or buy a dress or costume that you'd get more wear out of.'

‘Is that what you did?' asked Hester.

‘No.' Lynne glanced down at the open portfolio and lied glibly. ‘Nan worked in the theatre as a dresser and was able to get her hands on a lovely gown from a play that had been on the Royal Court. It was in the Edwardian style and made of blue voile over white satin and trimmed with lace flowers.'

‘It sounds lovely,' said Hester enthusiastically. ‘Do you have a photograph?'

‘No, everything happened in such a rush because Robert's ship was due to sail in two days.'

‘What a shame! How long did your grandmother work in the theatre? My brother's girlfriend is an actress and has done a lot of theatre work.'

‘Absolute years! She married late and then was widowed in her forties and was left with a young son and had to go out to work. Then when he married, she joined a repertory company. After Robert was killed and my daughter was born, we travelled with her and I helped her out with the costumes and much else besides. My daughter slept in a drawer when we were in digs.' Lynne changed the subject. ‘What's your brother's girlfriend's name, although I don't suppose I'd recognize it? She was probably after my time in the theatre.'

‘Dorothy Wilson. She's done a lot in theatre but has also been on television and in a film,' said Hester, putting down her cup and going over to Lynne and looking over her shoulder at the design she had turned to in the portfolio.

‘The name sounds familiar.' Lynne presumed she must have seen the name in the theatre and film reviews in the
Echo
.

Hester bent forward and turned a page. ‘Now this is the one I was thinking about. I really like the neckline and the way the bodice hugs the waist before the skirt flares out. But I don't like all those little bows; too fussy for someone my size.'

Lynne glanced up at her and, as she was accustomed to guessing sizes, said, ‘I reckon you're about five foot seven. Am I right?'

Hester nodded. ‘My future husband is only two inches taller, so I'd wear low heels.'

‘That makes sense,' said Lynne, setting aside the portfolio. ‘Listen, would you like me to sketch a design without the bows and get samples of material for you to look at? I go to a suppliers near T J Hughes in Stafford Street. If you give me your address, I could pop an envelope through your letterbox with the design and samples inside.'

Hester smiled. ‘I'd appreciate that.'

‘Will you be having a honeymoon?' asked Lynne.

‘We're not sure about that yet. If so it would probably be just a couple of days up in the Lake District. Were you thinking I might want a going-away costume?'

Lynne smiled. ‘It's usual. You could take my portfolio with my personal designs home with you if you like?'

‘Thanks, that would be lovely.'

‘Another cup of tea?' asked Lynne.

‘No thanks. It's time I was going,' said Hester. ‘I've more shopping to do and work later.'

Lynne stood up and took a slip of paper and a pencil from the mantelpiece. ‘What about your address?'

Hester reached for the pencil and paper and wrote it down. ‘I'm only five minutes away.'

So you are
, thought a pleased Lynne.

After she had closed the door behind Hester, Lynne went upstairs to her grandmother's bedroom. ‘You ready to get up, Nan?'

The old woman gazed at her from faded blue eyes. ‘So, have you a new customer?'

‘I think so,' said Lynne slowly. ‘She seemed interested and I'm going to get some material samples and do a drawing, redesigning a gown slightly.'

‘Well, that's promising.'