Megan of Merseyside (3 page)

With a deep sigh, Megan checked the time. There was still twenty minutes before she was due at the Walker’s Shipping Company’s offices.

It was the fifth job she had been after in the three weeks since she had come to live in Liverpool and each time it had been a dismal failure. At the end of each of the interviews they’d said, ‘We’ll let you know’, but she’d not heard a word from any of them.

This time it would be different, she told herself optimistically. Her father had heard about the
vacancy
from his co-driver, Robert Field, even before it was advertised in the
Liverpool Echo
, and she was determined not to let him down.

The chiming of the clock on the Liver Building brought her back to the present with a jolt. Turning her back on the Mersey, she began to make her way up the steep road between the warehouses and offices.

As she turned into Old Hall Street she caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the plate-glass windows. Hastily she removed the chiffon scarf that she’d tied over her head before leaving home to make sure her hair stayed in place because Lynn had insisted on styling it into a face-framing bob to try to make her look more ‘with-it’.

‘I’ve combed on plenty of sugar water to make certain it stays in place,’ Lynn had explained with a grin as she’d stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Megan knew that having a new hairstyle should have made her feel more confident, but it didn’t. As she stood outside the revolving doors, etched in gold with the name Walker’s Shipping Company, she still had to take a long, deep breath to try to calm the panic she felt building up inside her. Her legs seemed to turn to water as she tried to summon up the courage to go inside.

‘Give it a good hard push. Or let me do it for you. It can be a bit stiff sometimes.’

Megan jumped at the sound of a man’s voice in her ear.

Turning sharply, she found herself staring up into a pair of brilliant blue eyes belonging to a
good-looking
young man in his early twenties. He had black wavy hair, thick dark brows, a bold nose and firm chin with a cleft right in the centre of it. He was dressed in a well-cut grey suit, pale-blue shirt and was wearing a grey and blue striped tie.

‘You were going in?’ he questioned.

Megan nodded, wishing she wasn’t so tongue-tied, longing to be able to say something smart and witty.

He grinned as though amused by her reticence and she noticed how white and even his teeth were.

‘Indeed, yes … I have an appointment at half-past ten,’ she blurted out.

‘Really! And have you come all the way from Wales for this interview?’ The blue eyes twinkled and his eyebrows shot up questioningly.

‘There’s clever of you to know that I’m from Wales.’ She grinned shyly.

‘But you are living here in Liverpool now?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted with a hint of a sigh.

‘And you’ve come after the junior clerk’s job?’

‘That’s right! I’ve got an appointment with a Miss Pearce … and I’m terribly nervous.’

‘I don’t think you need to be, she won’t eat you,’ he reassured her.

‘I know that, but it’s tremendously important to me that I get the job, see.’ She bit her lip, wondering whatever had come over her that she should confide in a complete stranger.

‘Stop looking so anxious.’ He grinned. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

‘You really think so?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Well, let’s say you deserve to get the job.’ He smiled encouragingly.

‘The trouble is I’ve no previous experience and there’s bound to be plenty of local girls after it who have. There always are.’

‘As far as I know, it hasn’t even been advertised yet, and you know what they say about being the early bird,’ he said solemnly.

She stared at him for a moment in silence, then managed a weak smile.

‘Come on,’ he guided her through the swing doors, ‘I’ll show you where to go.’

‘Thanks. I hope it’s not taking you out of your way.’

‘No. I work here.’

‘Are you in the office?’ she asked as they made their way up a flight of stairs and along a corridor at the top.

‘Sometimes, but mostly I’m down at the docks.’

‘What do you have to do there?’

‘Check the bills of lading, sort out problems with customs, that kind of thing.’

‘It all sounds very complicated.’ Megan sighed. ‘I suppose that’s why when they advertise they always say that they want people with experience.’

‘It’s surprising how quickly you get into the routine and know what to do,’ he told her cheerfully.

‘Was this your first job? Did you start here straight from school?’ Megan asked.

‘My family have always been in shipping,’ he said evasively as he escorted her through the maze of corridors. ‘I grew up listening to people talking
about
it so I knew quite a lot before I actually started work.’

‘That probably did help,’ Megan admitted. ‘I’ve never worked in an office or known anyone who did.’

She was tempted to tell him that her father also worked for Walker’s as a lorry driver, but she thought better of it.

‘So where were you living before you came to Liverpool?’

‘Beddgelert in North Wales. It was beautiful there, magnificent mountains and quite near the sea.’

‘And no office blocks.’ He laughed.

‘The only offices were at the slate quarry. It wouldn’t have been too bad working there, mind. More homely, see. And I would have known most of the people, anyway.’

‘You’ll soon make friends once you start work.’

‘I hope so. I feel like a fish out of water. You’re the first person, outside my family, that is, that I’ve really spoken to since we moved to Liverpool. Back home everyone had time to talk to each other, but here everybody seems to be so busy. They haven’t even got time to say good morning!’

‘Here we are, then.’

They came to an abrupt halt outside a dark oak door marked
GENERAL OFFICE
. Megan stared at it fearfully, feeling her mouth go dry.

‘Tell the receptionist who you are and she’ll phone through and let Miss Pearce know you’ve arrived.’

‘Thank you. I’ll do that.’ She hesitated nervously.

He frowned. ‘If you want to tidy up first, the
ladies
room is the last door on the right at the end of this corridor.’

‘Thank you.’ Megan smiled gratefully.

‘Good luck with the interview.’

She smiled at him shyly. ‘Thank you. I feel a lot better about it after talking to you.’

‘Then I shall expect to find you working here next time I come into the office.’ He grinned, his vivid blue gaze mesmerising her.

Before she could answer he had disappeared down the passageway and she was left standing outside the general office. Heart thudding anxiously, she hesitated for a brief moment and then scurried along the corridor to the ladies room.

Colour rushed to her cheeks the moment she caught sight of herself in the cloakroom mirror. No wonder he had suggested she might want to tidy up before her interview. The carefully constructed hairdo now looked a complete mess. The strong wind had played havoc with it since she’d removed her headscarf.

In desperation, she wrestled with the tangled mess, trying to restore it to the smooth face-framing style Lynn had created. It was hopeless. Frustrated, she combed it back behind her ears, wishing she’d never let Lynn touch it.

It was a wonder that such a good-looking young man had spoken to her at all, looking like she did, Megan thought grimly. She wished she knew his name. It would be the first thing Lynn would want to know when she told her about meeting him. She could imagine the look of disgust on her sister’s face when she said she didn’t know.

She sighed, remembering how handsome he’d been. He was very different from Ifan Jenkins. Certainly the sort of chap Lynn would go overboard for, all right.

Lynn thought that Ifan, with his massive shoulders and heavy build, was a joke. It was something they constantly argued about.

‘I don’t know why you bother with him, Megan. He’s a real clod-hopper,’ Lynn told her time and time again.

‘He can’t help being a bit clumsy. He’s big framed,’ she always claimed in his defence. Lynn was right, but Ifan was good-hearted and she didn’t like her sister criticising him.

‘And fat with it. He eats like a pig.’

‘He needs lots of food to keep his strength up. He’s out working on his father’s farm before six every morning.’

‘I know.’

‘And then he has another stint to do when he gets home after school.’

‘What sort of life is that?’ Lynn would jeer. ‘He’s nothing more than a labourer.’

‘He’ll own the farm one day.’

‘Scratching for a living, chasing sheep all over the mountains, milking cows night and morning and mucking out the pigs. That’s no future.’

‘It’s not all work. He goes hunting and shooting with his father and sometimes they go fishing.’

That didn’t impress Lynn in the slightest. ‘How can you like someone who enjoys killing animals?’ she would sniff contemptuously.

‘I suppose you’d prefer a chap who dressed up
in
a smart suit and a white shirt to go to work and still looked clean and smart when he came home at six each night.’

‘Of course! Especially if he brings home a fat wage packet at the end of the week.’

It’s a pity Lynn isn’t the one who has come for this interview, Megan thought ruefully. Nothing ever disconcerted her. She’d be so much more confident than I am. If she didn’t know the answer to any of the questions they asked then she’d bluff her way.

‘And that’s exactly what I had better do if I’m going to make sure of getting this job,’ Megan muttered aloud as she made a last critical scrutiny in the mirror to check that her lipstick hadn’t smudged and that her nose wasn’t shiny.

She passed the comb through her hair again, wondering if she should have left it like Lynn had styled it for her. She supposed it had looked more sophisticated framing her face, but she felt more comfortable with it neatly tucked behind her ears in the way she always wore it.

She frowned at her reflection. There was still something not quite right about her appearance. Perhaps it would be better if she took off her raincoat and carried it. It was her school one and didn’t really go with the smart image she was trying to create.

She took a deep breath; what was she worrying about? It was only another interview and it would probably come to nothing anyway.

That was the whole problem, of course. This time it did matter, quite a lot. Her father was counting on her making a good impression.

Still, she told herself, if a complete stranger thought she was right for the job when her hair was all windblown and she’d been looking a complete mess, then surely, now that she’d smartened herself up, she stood a pretty good chance of being successful.

Head high, ignoring the butterflies inside her, Megan made her way back to the general office, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

All she had to do was convince Miss Pearce that she could cope with the work, she told herself firmly.

From what the young man had told her it seemed she might be the first applicant. If she put her mind to it, concentrated really hard, answered the questions in a clear voice and didn’t get flustered, there was no reason why she shouldn’t be successful. And then he would find her working there next time he came into the office. She felt a frisson of excitement at the thought.

Chapter Three

THE WAITING SEEMED
interminable. As the days slowly passed and there was no news from Walker’s, Megan’s hopes dwindled. She had been on cloud nine when she’d walked down Old Hall Street after her interview. Her mind had been full of dreams, thinking what it would be like to set out for work each morning, to be part of the teaming throng that made up the city’s life.

The interview had gone so well. Valerie Pearce was a rather plain, stocky woman in her early thirties, with tightly marcelled fair hair and hazel eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses. In her trim navy suit and high-necked white blouse, she had looked rather prim; yet Megan had felt at ease with her, happy to answer her barrage of questions.

For her part, Valerie Pearce liked the quiet, serious young girl with the wide-set, intelligent brown eyes. Her neat appearance and the absence of heavy make-up or jewellery had impressed her. She’d even liked her soft, lilting accent, which made a pleasant change from the Merseyside voices she heard most days.

Walker’s was a staid, family firm, and the last thing they wanted was one of the new-style flappers, with their short flouncy clothes and doll-like hairstyles. Girls who thought more about what
they
looked like than about their work, and distracted the men. She would have liked to have given Megan the job right away, but knew she was expected to talk the matter over with Mr Walker before making a decision.

Megan wanted the job so badly it hurt. In the days that followed she found it was hard to keep her mind on anything else. Lynn was at school so most days she went window-shopping with her mother.

As they looked at the fashionable clothes in Owen Owens, C&A, and Lewis’s, Megan ached for her first pay packet. It would be wonderful to be able to buy some of them, she thought wistfully.

‘To help pass the time, why don’t you try your hand at decorating that dingy little bedroom you and Lynn are sharing?’ her father suggested.

‘I’ve never done anything like that before,’ Megan demurred.

‘There’s a first time for everything and I’m sure you could manage to paint the woodwork and put some emulsion on the walls.’

It was hard work and took much longer than they had expected, but they were all thrilled by the results.

The pale pink walls and fresh white gloss woodwork transformed the tiny room, making it seem larger as well as much more light and airy.

‘It looks good,’ her mother agreed. ‘How about having a go at decorating the living room? I’ll give you a hand, if you like.’

They started on it right after breakfast the next morning. It took them several days but once again
they
were all pleased by the results.