Megan of Merseyside (12 page)

In that, Megan proved to be right. Even Lynn had to admit she had never seen the place so crowded.

‘See if you can grab a table while I go and look for Flash,’ she told Megan.

‘You’ll never find anyone in this mob,’ Megan said in a disgruntled voice. ‘For goodness’ sake let’s stay together.’

She was too late. Lynn had already gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Megan looked round nervously at the jostling mass hoping she might see someone she knew, but wherever she looked they were all complete strangers.

The music had not yet started, but the noise was deafening as they shouted to friends or talked to each other at the top of their voices to make themselves heard.

The heat, combined with cheap perfume, was overpowering. The atmosphere was tense. As the band began to tune up the noise became even more ear shattering. Megan found it hard to believe that Miles liked such places. She wondered if he would be here tonight. If he was she resolved she would ignore him. Afterwards she’d tell him that she’d done so because she didn’t want any of her friends to see them together.

Lynn returned, her mouth pulled down at the corners in disappointment. ‘I can’t find Flash anywhere,’ she grumbled.

‘We are very early, the place has only just opened,’ Megan pointed out. ‘Give him time.’

‘He always comes in early. He only stays for about an hour and then just vanishes,’ Lynn said petulantly.

Megan looked at her, puzzled, but said nothing. What was wrong with Liverpool boys? she wondered. They all seemed to behave as if they were living double lives. Flash sounded no better than Miles and yet both she and Lynn were infatuated by them.

‘I’ll go and get us some drinks,’ announced Lynn
restlessly
, ‘he may have arrived by now and be at the bar.’

As Lynn disappeared again, Megan looked round nervously, wishing herself anywhere but here. The sound of the saxophone was reverberating through her head and she didn’t think she could stand it for much longer. If Flash wasn’t there perhaps she could persuade Lynn to change her mind and they could go to the pictures instead, she thought hopefully.

There was so much jostling as people tried to locate their friends that Megan found herself pushed right up against the stage. As she looked up her gaze locked with that of the drummer and she felt a blind whirling panic as she recognised him. It was the chap who had followed her from the Copper Kettle the night she’d been there looking for Lynn. She averted her gaze quickly, hoping he hadn’t recognised her.

‘Hi there, kiddo! You’ve come looking for me, then.’ Without pausing in his beat, he bent forward, his face contorted by a self-satisfied smirk.

Megan shrank back, embarrassed.

‘Don’t run away, I’ll see you later,’ he called out, loud enough for her to hear above the music.

Quickly she elbowed her way through the crowd, determined to find Lynn and tell her she was leaving. As she reached the bar, a scuffle broke out. Raised voices, flying bottles, girls screaming and men shouting and swearing, rapidly turned the place into a battlefield.

Her heart pounding with fright, Megan climbed onto a chair to try to see if she could spot Lynn.
At
that moment the crowd surged wildly, sending the chair crashing.

She screamed as she felt herself falling.

‘You’re OK, I’ve got you.’

A pair of strong hands grasped her round the waist and steadied her. The voice was so familiar that she turned her head sharply and found herself looking up at Robert Field.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I could ask you the same question,’ he said drily. ‘I thought you said you didn’t like the Stork!’

‘I don’t!’ She grimaced. ‘I came with Lynn, but I can’t see her anywhere now.’

‘Stay put while I find her. Then I think we should all get out. There’s going to be real trouble here tonight.’

By the time Robert returned, with a very dishevelled Lynn, the fracas had built up into an ugly scene.

‘Come on.’ Robert grabbed their arms and began to steer them towards the door. As they drew abreast of it they were blocked by the formidable bulk of a uniformed policeman.

‘Looks as though there’s going to be a spot of bother here tonight so we’re leaving,’ Robert told him disarmingly.

The policeman gave him a penetrating stare, then with a curt nod let them pass.

‘What do we do now?’ Lynn asked with a pout once they were outside. ‘The evening’s ruined and it was meant to be Megan’s birthday treat!’

‘We could go to the Philharmonic,’ Robert suggested.

‘Huh! I would sooner go home and play my gramophone, thank you very much,’ Lynn told him scathingly.

‘Go on then, and I’ll take Megan to the Phil,’ he teased.

‘Don’t be daft! We could go to the pictures, though,’ she suggested.

‘All right. That’s if there’s anything good on.’

‘Could we go to see
The Gold Rush
, the new Charlie Chaplin picture?’

‘Hold on! Megan might not fancy seeing that. She might prefer to see
The Sheik
. Rudolph Valentino is in that.’

‘You mean
you
would!’ Lynn grinned cheekily.

‘Well, which is it to be?’ Robert looked questioningly at Megan.

After the fracas at the Stork Club, Megan would have much preferred to go home, but she realised Lynn would be upset if they did.

‘
The Gold Rush
, I think,’ she murmured, and was rewarded by a whoop of delight from Lynn.

Robert sat between them and Megan tried to pretend that it was Miles, not Robert, sitting there.

When they left the cinema the streets were still full of noisy revellers and she was glad Robert was with them, especially when Lynn insisted they should go to one of the brightly lit milk bars before they went home.

‘You managed to find the girls, then.’ Mrs Williams winked at Robert conspiratorially when they arrived back.

In the kitchen, as she made a hot drink for them
all
, Megan felt annoyed that it had all been planned behind her back.

It was a long time before Megan got to sleep that night and when she finally drifted off her mind was a dense tangle of disquieting thoughts as for the hundredth time she compared Robert and Miles.

She woke early next morning. There was a Sunday hush over the house and the road outside. She managed to get dressed without disturbing Lynn, and she left a note propped up on the mantelpiece to say she had gone out for the day.

Liverpool was shuttered, the pavements deserted. Even the lorries that were usually unloading at the warehouses were absent. It was so early that the trams hadn’t started running. Boys delivering newspapers, and a few people hurrying off to early morning Mass, were the only signs of life.

A hazy sun promised heat later in the day. Feeling as if she was on holiday, now that she was out of their stuffy flat, Megan walked towards the Pier Head.

She found the New Brighton ferry didn’t start sailing until mid-morning so she went on the
Royal Iris
to Seacombe, hoping that she could get a tram from there to New Brighton. The boat was almost empty. As they pulled away, she went up on the top deck and walked round, fascinated by the view of Liverpool from the river.

She leaned her arms on the rails as she studied it all, happily accepting that it was all part of her new life. The Liver Building with its clock face and
huge
gilt Liver birds dominated the waterfront, towering over the Docks and Harbour Board offices and the massive Cunard Building. On either side were the long lines of warehouses with boats at anchor, waiting for Monday morning.

As the
Royal Iris
bumped to a stop against the landing stage at Seacombe, and the gangplank was lowered, Megan felt a heady sensation of freedom as she made her way up the floating roadway to the waiting trams.

The New Brighton one pulled away almost immediately. A panorama of shops, Wallasey Town Hall, and road after road of imposing houses running down to the river flashed past.

At the New Brighton terminus, a milk bar was just opening up. Suddenly hungry, she went in for a hot drink and something to eat. When she came out again the sun was breaking through, turning the grey Mersey to liquid gold, the tide-damp sand into dappled silver.

Megan set off at a brisk pace along the promenade, past the domed Winter Gardens Pavilion and the ribbon of small hotels towards Wallasey Village.

When she reached the point where the Mersey widened and became one with the sea, she paused. There, ahead of her, high on the sandstone cliff, were the imposing houses she’d first seen when she’d walked along the promenade on Boxing Day.

She stood transfixed, staring at the turreted one that was right at the tip of the headland … the one where Miles Walker lived.

‘Out and about early after your late night.’

Robert’s voice brought her out of her reverie.
Megan
swung round, staring at him in disbelief.

‘What … what are you doing here?’ she gasped, flushing with embarrassment.

‘I live here, remember? And,’ he added, ‘I always take a walk along the prom on a Sunday morning.’

Megan bit her lip and looked uncomfortable.

‘Fancy a guided tour? I’ll include those houses up there in Warren Drive. You are wasting your time, though,’ he added gravely. ‘Miles Walker is a heartbreaker. It would be best to forget him.’

Anger and misery choked her as she realised Robert had guessed her feelings for Miles. Tears blurred her eyes and she blinked them away quickly. The joy she’d felt when she’d set out, the elation she’d experienced when she’d boarded the tram at Seacombe Ferry, knowing that it was not just taking her to New Brighton but towards where Miles lived, had turned to ashes. The day that had promised to be so fulfilling was completely ruined.

‘Take a look over there!’ Robert told her, pointing to where purple shadows, almost like clouds, were massed on the skyline. ‘Those mountains are on the other side of the river Dee.’

‘Does that mean they’re in Wales?’

Robert Field nodded. ‘Why don’t you let me take you over there for the day,’ he suggested. ‘It would be the next best thing to actually being in Beddgelert.’

Chapter Thirteen

KATHY WILLIAMS WAS
uneasy. She was filled with a vague disquieting feeling as if her dreams were unravelling like an old jumper.

All the time she had been living in Beddgelert she had hankered to be in Liverpool. Now that she was back in the city where she had grown up, it was something of a let down.

The moment Watkin had told her they were moving to Liverpool she had looked forward to being in touch again with all her old friends. Remembering the fun and escapades she and Ruby Adams had enjoyed after they’d both left school and started work, she’d imagined they’d be able to have more great times together. Like all the other people she had once known, though, Ruby had married and moved away.

That wasn’t the only reason for Kathy’s disenchantment with her new life. She had grumbled about the many short-comings of their cottage in Beddgelert but that had been a palace compared to the dreary, poky little flat they were living in now, she thought ruefully.

Looking back, the only thing she had really disliked about Beddgelert was the fact that nothing ever seemed to happen there. You saw the same people, day in, day out; except in
summer
when holiday-makers visited the area.

In those days she had longed for the big shops or a market to browse around looking for bargains. Yet now that the big stores were only a few streets away, they had lost their attraction. The initial thrill of looking at wonderful clothes, or exciting things for the home, quickly faded when you were doing it on your own. Unless you intended to buy something, and you couldn’t do that all the time.

Before Lynn had started work she had occasionally met her from school and they would window-shop on the way home. Lynn liked nothing better than to go in the big stores and try on everything from shoes to hats if they took her fancy. The two of them used to have a good laugh because Lynn always had such outrageous comments to make about the new fashions.

For all that, Lynn would have bought most of them if she’d had the money, Kathy thought as she made herself a cup of tea. Little spendthrift was Lynn. Now that she was working, most of her wages were earmarked before she got them. And if they weren’t spent on clothes then the money went on gramophone records or visits to the Stork Club.

Not like Megan, Kathy mused. She was cautious with her money. She had inherited Watkin’s thrifty nature and no mistake. When Megan bought something new it was carefully chosen to fit into her existing wardrobe, as well as being practical enough for work.

Except the time when she’d bought a full-length blue evening dress, the night she’d gone to the
New
Year’s Eve dance at the Tower Ballroom. That must have taken every penny of her savings, reflected Kathy. Either that or Watkin had given her something towards it.

Lynn had said she looked like a duchess in it and wondered who she was trying to impress.

It certainly couldn’t have been Robert Field, sighed Kathy as she refilled her cup, even though he’d been the one who had taken her.

This was something else that was continually bothering her, Kathy thought tetchily. Keeping tabs on Lynn and Megan was much harder here in Liverpool than it had been in Beddgelert. There they had spent most of their time together and she had been able to rely on Megan to keep an eye on Lynn. Not any longer, though. Now it was as if there was some sort of feud going on between the two of them.

When Lynn had still been at school it hadn’t been too bad. Now that she was working at the Copper Kettle, though, she had no idea how she spent her spare time, or who she was with when she wasn’t at the café. She left home before Megan in the morning and often it was nine o’clock at night before she came home again. Kathy frowned, remembering how insolent Lynn had been when she’d tried to talk to her about it.

‘I’m working, Mam. It’s not like being at school, you know.’

‘I know that but you don’t have to do a twelve-hour day! It’s probably illegal at your age, anyway.’