Liverpool Annie (4 page)

were about to cry. Then she turned on her heel and left the parlour without a word.

Annie put the photo back in the drawer and resolved never to look at it again.

When Annie was eleven, she sat the scholarship. The entire class were to take the exam, but she was one of the few expected to pass. Passing the scholarship meant attending a grammar school instead of an ordinary secondary modern.

Marie was contemptuous. 'Seafield Convent! You'll never catch me at an all-girls' school. When / sit the scholarship, I'll answer every question wrong for fear I pass.'

The exam was set for nine o'clock one Saturday morning early in June. Annie's dad, who rarely became animated, was concerned she wouldn't arrive on time.

'I'll wake you when I leave,' he said in his flat, tired voice.

'Don't worry. Dad,' Annie said cheerfully. 'It's like any other day, except it's Saturday. I'm never late for school, am I?'

When the morning came, she was woken by the pressure of his hand on her shoulder. 'It's seven o'clock,' he whispered. 'There's tea made. Mam's still asleep,' he added somewhat superfluously, as if Mam were likely to be of use if she were awake.

'Rightio.' Annie snuggled under the clothes. She heard him manoeuvre his bike into the back entry and the wheels creak as he rode away. Sunlight filtered through the thick brown curtains. She lay, dazzled by the long bright vertical strip where the curtains didn't

meet. She didn't feel at ail nervous. She liked exams and was looking forward to the scholarship. They'd been doing special homework for weeks.

But after a while, she began to feel uneasy. Something was wrong. The bed felt sticky and her nightie was glued to her legs at the back. Annie stayed there for a good five minutes trying to work out what it was, then, gingerly, she got up. She gasped in horror. The sheet was stained with blood! Terrified, she twisted her nightdress round, and found it even bloodier.

She was going to die!

There was a dull, tugging ache in the pit of her stomach, as if heavy weights were suspended there about to pull everything out. Annie shook with fright and uttered a thin, high-pitched wail. The sound disturbed Marie, who turned restlessly and pulled the eiderdown over her head.

'Marie!' Annie shook her sister awake. She had to talk to someone.

'Whassa matter?' Marie sat up, pushing her dark hair from her eyes.

'Look!' Annie pointed to the bed, then to her nightdress.

'Jaysus!' said Marie in a startled voice. 'It must be that thing.' Despite being younger, Marie was better versed in the ways of the world than her sister. Months ago, she'd described how babies were born.

'What thing.-*' Annie cried piteously.

i can't remember what it's called, but it happens to everyone - women, that is.'

'Why didn't you tell me!'

Marie shrugged. 'I thought you already knew.'

Her sister's lack of concern calmed Annie somewhat, though she still felt frightened. So, she wasn't going to die, but would she bleed like this for the rest of her life? The thought was infinitely depressing,

'What shall I do?' It didn't cross her mind to approach her mam.

'Tell Dot,' Marie said promptly, which was what Annie had already decided as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

The questions in the scholarship paper didn't make sense. Annie read and re-read them, but all she could think of was the lump of old petticoat between her legs and the fact that blood might come rushing forth and drown the whole class. She forgot entirely how to do decimals, and couldn't remember what an adjective was. The two and a half hours dragged by interminably. When the time was up, she left the paper on the desk, knowing she had failed miserably.

Tommy opened the door to Annie's knock. The eldest of Dot's boys, at seventeen he was as tall as Bert, though as thin as a rake like his mam. He wore a blue shirt under his best suit, and his ginger hair was cut Tony Curtis style. If he hadn't been her cousin and she hadn't felt so wretched, Annie would have thought him immensely attractive.

'I'm just off into town to the pictures,' he said vaguely as she entered the house. Music came from a wireless upstairs; Alma Cogan sang 'How much is that Doggie in the Window?' In the kitchen Dot was singing along at the top of her voice. There was no sign of Bert, and Annie had already noticed the younger boys playing in the street.

'Hallo, luv,' Dot smiled, but the smile faltered when she noticed Annie's tragic expression. 'What's the matter?'

'I've failed the scholarship!'

Dot's face fell, but only slightly. 'It's not the end of the world, luv, I don't believe in grammar schools,

anyroad. Most kids pay to go and they're just a crowd of snobs. You'll be far better off in an ordinary secondary modern like the boys.'

'It's not only that,' said Annie tearfully, 'it's . . .'

Mike came banging down the stairs, pushed Annie to one side, and began to clean his teeth m the smk. Alan had taken up the singing where Dot left off, and he was trying to mimic Alma Cogan's gutsy tones in a way which, at any other time, would have made Annie smile.

'What, luv?' urged Dot, then seeing Annie's eyes flicker to her cousin, she said, 'Come on, let's go in the parlour.'

The parlour had long been returned to its former glory. The three-piece suite was in its prof)er place and the polished gatelegged table in the centre took up an inordinate amount of space considering it was only used on special occasions. In the corner, in pride of place, stood a new addition, a television, covered with a brocade cloth and a statue of Our Lady. A few days ago, at least twenty p>eople had crowded into the room to watch the coronation of Queen Elizabeth and listen to Richard Dimbleby's commentary, almost drowned out at times by Dot's vigorous condemnation of royalty and all it stood for.

As she sat in the grey moquette armchair, Annie began to weep the tears she'd longed to weep all day. 'When I woke up this morning, the bed and me nightdress were covered in blood . . .'

'Oh, you poor love!' Dot dropped on her knees and stroked Annie's face with her chapped hand. 'And you weren't expecting it?'

Annie shook her head dolefully. 'That bloody Rose, I could strangle her!' Dot raged. 'I should have told you, shouldn't I? It's just that having boys, it didn't cross me mind.' She began to cry, her emotions seeming to swing

wildly from sympathy for Annie, anger with Rose, and recriminations against herself. After a while, she wiped her face with her pinny. 'Tell you what, let's have a treat! A little drop of whisky each, eh? Do your tummy good and calm your nerves.'

She opened the sideboard, took out a half full bottle, and poured an inch of liquid into two glasses. 'I often have a tot meself,' she said, cheerful again. 'But only one, mind; more, and I'm not responsible for me actions. Bert'll kill me when he finds it half gone.'

Annie choked on the whisky at first, but it seemed to warm her insides and she began to relax.

One of the boys suddenly yelled, 'Mam, where's me blue shirt?'

'Jaysus!' gasped Dot. 'I'm sure that's what our Tommy went out wearing. It's in the wash!' she screamed.

'Oh, Mam!' the voice said mournfully.

Dot grinned. 'Do you feel better now, luv?'

Annie nodded. She felt pleasantly light headed.

'I'll fit you up with something before you go,' Dot promised, 'and tell you what to buy each month.'

'You mean it's not for ever? It stops sometimes?'

'It's just a few days once a month, that's all. You'll soon get used to it,' Dot said comfortably. 'Some women look forward to the curse.'

'The curse!' Annie smiled for the first time that day. 'You won't tell me dad, will you?'

'No, luv, but what about your mam? Are you going to tell her?'

Annie avoided Dot's eyes and shook her head.

Dot gave a disgusted, 'Humph! You've been having me on, haven't you, Annie? Rose playing Snakes and Ladders! You must think I was born yesterday. I never said anything, because Bert told me to mind me own business. He said as long as you and Marie seemed all

right, I shouldn't interfere.' She absent-mindedly poured herself another glass of whisky.

Annie fidgeted with a loose thread of grey moquette on the arm of the chair. She noticed faint smudges of crayon in the rough loops of the material. It must be from the kitchen, where she and Marie used to draw.

'Will me mam ever get better?' she asked Dot directly. It was something she'd wanted to know for a long time.

As if it had provoked a chain of thought, instead of answering. Dot said, 'Oh, your dad! He was a real ladykiller in his day, just like our Tommy. He'd got more girls in tow than a sheikh with a harem.'

Annie resisted the urge to laugh. Dad, her stooped, weary father with his peaked face, the man who brought meat home in his saddlebag and spent the weekends doing housework - a ladykiller!

Dot noticed her incredulous expression. 'He was, Annie,' she said indignantly. 'He attracted women like a flypaper attracts flies. Out with a different girl every night he was, until he met your mam. Then, wham, bang! It was love at first sight.'

Annie recalled the wedding photograph in the sideboard drawer, the couple sharing a great secret.

'I'm glad I didn't fall in love like that!' Dot said primly. 'I love Bert with all me heart, but with our Ken and Rose, it was too hungry, too . . .' she searched for another word, 'too overwhelming,' she finished.

'Dot,' Annie said cautiously, knowing her aunt was slightly drunk and might reveal things that ordinarily she wouldn't, 'what was me dad up to the night Johnny was killed? You said something about it once . . .'

'I remember,' Dot said darkly. She leaned back in the chair and finished off the whisky. Suddenly, the wireless was switched off and Mike and Alan came stamping down the stairs like a pair of elephants.

'Tara, Mam,' they shouted. The front door slammed, then there was a clatter, and 'Tara, Annie', came through the letterbox.

Dot smiled and looked as if she might cry again. 'Aren't they lovely lads? I'm a lucky woman, what with Bert an' all.' She didn't speak for a while, and Annie thought she'd forgotten her question, until she leaned over and took her niece's hand. 'I suppose you've a right to know, luv. You're nearly grown up, specially with what happened today.' She took a deep breath. 'Your mam and dad had their own house off Chestnut Grove in those days. The night Johnny died, your dad was late; he should have been home long before the siren went. The shelter was only at the bottom of the street and Rose got all the things together you need for a baby. She took them to the shelter, meaning to come straight back for Johnny, and . . . well, you know the rest. She'd only set foot inside when the bomb fell. If your dad was there, they'd have taken Johnny with them.' Dot paused and eyed the whisky bottle, but made no move to touch it.

'And what was me dad up to?' whispered Annie.

Dot stared into her empty glass. 'He was an awful weak man, your dad. He couldn't resist a pretty face, even if Rose was the only woman he wanted. It came out he was with someone else, and no, Annie, I don't think your mam will ever get better, because she's too eaten up with jealousy and hatred, all mixed up with terrible love, and in my opinion, it's nowt to do with Johnny dying, but because your dad betrayed her.'

'I see,' said Annie, wondering if she did. Her aunt was still clutching her hand, and now her grip tightened, so hard that Annie winced.

'He's me little brother, and he did an awful thing, but no man has paid more thoroughly for his sins than our Ken.' Dot's voice began to rise and became grating,

almost hysterical. 'Sometimes I wonder if it's all a sham with Rose, if she's putting it on, trying to squeeze every last drop of remorse out of him. But no-one could put on an act like that for so long, surely? No-one could be so twisted as to wreck so many lives, including their own, could they, Annie?'

Annie wished she'd never raised the subject. Dot frightened her. Her eyes glinted strangely and she looked almost unhinged. She tried to extricate her hand, but her aunt's grip was too strong.

'She was already expecting you when it happened,' Dot said hoarsely. 'We thought another baby'd do the trick, bring her back to her senses, but it made no difference. As for Marie, she was an accident.' She laughed bitterly and eyed the whisky bottle again.

Annie managed to drag her hand away. She returned the bottle to the sideboard and said brightly, 'Shall we have a cup of tea. Auntie Dot?'

Later, when they were having the tea. Dot recovered her good humour. 'I'm sorry, luv, for letting off steam just now. I should never have had that second glass of whisky,'

Annie was relieved her aunt was back to her amiable, good-natured self. She was glad she'd come, after all. She'd learnt a lot about Mam and Dad, though she doubted if it would help to understand them better.

When the letter arrived to say she'd failed the scholarship. Dad merely shrugged his shoulders wearily and didn't say a word.

Grenville Lucas Secondary Modern school had been built after the war. It was a light, airy two-storey building with modern desks and equipment. The walls were covered with drawings, the work of the pupils themselves, done in the art room overlooking the tree-lined playing fields.

Annie went into the top stream, though soon discovered she was no longer a star pupil. There were many boys and girls cleverer than she would ever be. After a while, being clever didn't matter. What mattered was making friends, being one of the 'in-crowd'. The worst thing that could happen was not being invited to join a clique, being an outsider.

To her surprise, she found herself quite popular, and eventually attached herself to Ruby Livesey, leader of a nameless sisterhood of about a dozen girls. Ruby was stout, with the gait of a heavyweight boxer and the reputation of being a bully. It seemed wise to be in her good books, though Annie was to regret this decision in the years to come.

Also, she was flattered to be asked. The other girls in Ruby's gang were all in their second year. When she asked why they'd chosen her, the reply was astonishing. 'Because you're so pretty.'