Rainbow's End (28 page)

‘Yes, but this . . . this is different,’ Liam said desperately. ‘This time I’m askin’ you to come out wit’ me, Maggie. And I’ve bought you sweets,’ he added hopelessly. He was making a mess of this, how on earth had they come to be talking at such cross purposes?

‘Me? You’ve bought me sweeties?’

‘Yes,’ Liam said, far too loudly. ‘An’ I’m goin’ to hold your hand when we’re in the picture house,’ he continued at full volume. ‘An’ very likely I may kiss you!’

He stopped, abashed. He had no idea why he had said that, particularly as the thought of kissing Maggie had never entered his mind until he had looked at her just now and seen her eyes like saucers and her mouth, dropped a little open, looking so sweet and tempting that kissing it seemed the only, the obvious, thing to do.

‘Oh, Liam,’ Maggie murmured. She looked down, then up at him through the thick veil of her lashes. It was a very seductive look, though it was delivered with total innocence, Liam knew that. ‘Oh . . . I would like to go to see the fillum with you . . . whatever you do when we get there!’

‘Right. But I don’t want them twins makin’ a meal of it, so not a word, right?’

‘Oh, yes, right,’ Maggie said at once. ‘I’ll pretend I’m goin’ out wit’ Annie from next door, then if I happen to mention the fillum to the twins they’ll t’ink I went wit’ her.’

‘Good idea. That reminds me,’ Liam said, walking over to the fire and peering at the pan which Maggie was struggling to haul over the heat. ‘The twins said somethin’ about you goin’ out tonight. Well, I t’ink that’s what they said, you know what they are, though.’

‘Divils,’ Maggie said. ‘You can’t believe a word they say.’

Immensely relieved, Liam nodded a wise head. ‘Not a word,’ he said solemnly. ‘We’ll meet on the corner of Francis Street, then. I’ll go out first an’ you follow.’

Maggie was so excited that she could scarcely eat a mouthful at supper, though she put up a good showing. Then she washed up and cleared away, put Ticky to bed – the twins saw themselves off to bed now – told Mrs Nolan that she was just popping out with Annie for an hour or so, and finally went into her room and began to get ready.

It was strange, getting ready to go to a picture house with Liam, who knew her so well, knew the extent of her wardrobe as well as she and who had always made it plain – painfully plain – that he thought of her as a sister. I wonder what changed his mind, Maggie thought, as she put on a crisp white blouse with a frill down the front and a tightly waisted ankle-length skirt. Rather reluctantly, she added her heavy black cloth coat and her blue wool scarf, because there was no sense in freezin’ to death, not even to impress Liam. But whatever it was that had changed Liam’s mind, made him decide that she was not, after all, his sister, this was her chance to make him see her as a person, a real girl, someone who was worth taking out. And if her best clothes helped to make her seem less approachable, more . . . more
mysterious
, then that was all to the good, for Maggie was sure that a degree of feminine mystery was needed in her pursuit of Liam.

Not that I pursued him tonight, she reminded herself as she stole quietly down the stairs. I had no thought of going to the cinema with him . . . what a piece of luck that I didn’t do the wrong thing and put him off, somehow. Oh, dear God, let us have a lovely evenin’, so that he wants to take me out again!

She reached the corner and stood waiting. She imagined that he would be some time, but in fact he was only seconds behind her.

He came up to her, smiled down at her and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘Oh, Maggie,’ he said. ‘We’re goin’ to have a good time, so we are! We’ll have chips after . . . I do like chips when I’ve been to a really good fillum!’

It was a good film, Maggie decided ecstatically as they walked slowly home, arms round each other’s waists, in the faint, sparkling starlight. And Liam had not only held her hand, he had put his arm round her and tucked a proprietorial thumb into her waistband, which seemed a very intimate act to Maggie. But she liked it; she liked it very much.

They had sat in the cinema in the interval eating Liquorice Allsorts and chattering about the film, and Liam had bought them an ice-cream each . . . naturally, one behaved very correctly in the interval, because it would have been a dreadful thing, so it would, to hold hands then. But afterwards, when the picture house was dark again, when the figures on the screen were mouthing with increasing urgency at each other and the pianist’s fingers were whizzing over the keys like greyhounds round a track . . . then that was the time for Liam’s arm to slide round her again and for Maggie to lean against him and – very daring – to rub her cheek against his shoulder.

So now they strolled and talked softly, until they reached their tall tenement, and then Liam pulled her gently into the shadow round the side of the house and put his arms round her. And Maggie, who had never been out with a feller before and was deathly afraid of doing the wrong thing, stood there like a clothes pole, waiting.

Liam knew what to do, fortunately. It’s that redheaded Sally, Maggie thought sadly, she’s taught him all these t’ings. Because he put his arms round her and smoothed his hand across her back and shoulders, just gently stroking round and round until she was in an ecstasy of gentle pleasure. I know why cats love bein’ stroked, so I do, Maggie told herself, and purred, pressed closer to Liam and lifted her face the better to enjoy what he was doing.

And was kissed.

It was strange, she mused afterwards, how her body knew what to do even though her mind kept professing its ignorance. Her body curved in a very supple, naughty sort of way against Liam’s, and when his mouth descended on hers her lips softened and she gave a little fluttering purr again, which for some reason made him do a number of other strange things, all of which excited her, whilst at the same time a miserable, naggy little voice inside her head said warningly, ‘Careful, Maggie; you don’t want to go gettin’ into trouble now, do you?’

Maggie’s ideas of trouble were hazy, but she did believe that in order to have a baby one had to remove one’s coat and this Liam had not asked her to do. However, presently Maggie decided that she was being a little too easy; Liam’s hand had slipped under her coat and though it was only caressing her neck, Maggie felt a halt had better be called whilst she was still capable of staying ‘Stop!’ So she gently pulled herself out of his arms and reached up and smoothed her palm down his cheek. ‘Oh, Liam . . . that was a lovely evening, so it was,’ she declared. ‘Who’ll go up first? Because it wouldn’t do if we went up together; they’d never stop coddin’ us.’

Liam looked down at her. In the moonlight his face was very black and white, the expression difficult to read. ‘Oh . . . Maggie, Maggie, Maggie,’ he murmured. ‘Sure an’ why didn’t I realise before what a pretty t’ing you are?’

‘I don’t know,’ Maggie said truthfully. ‘I’ll go up first then, Liam.’

And she turned quickly away from him, because it was the last thing she wanted to do, she could have stayed down here in his arms all night, and went into the building, across the entrance lobby and up the stairs.

Mrs Nolan was in the kitchen, making herself cocoa and a bite to eat before bed. She looked up as Maggie entered the room. ‘Oh, you’re back,’ she said. ‘Did you enjoy your evening?’

She did not sound as though she cared very much, but Maggie had had such a splendid time that she felt she could afford to be magnanimous. ‘Yes, I had a lovely time,’ she said demurely. ‘Oh, I’d love a cup o’ cocoa, Mrs Nolan, if there’s enough hot water in the kettle.’

‘There’s plenty,’ Mrs Nolan said. ‘How’s Annie?’

‘How . . . oh, she’s fine, just fine,’ stammered Maggie. ‘Yes, she’s fit an’ well again is Annie. It were just a chill, nothin’ more.’

‘Good,’ Mrs Nolan said. ‘Well, I’m off to bed. Damp the fire down before you go off, there’s a good girl.’

‘Right, right,’ Maggie said. She took off her coat and hung it over the back of a chair. Her clothes were all kept in her room but she would not go along there with the coat yet, in case she woke Ticky. And anyway, if she lingered here, laying the breakfast table, getting out the porridge oats, checking on the milk, then she might still be here when Liam came in.

But although she waited for quite twenty minutes, he did not come into the kitchen and suddenly she realised that he would have heard herself and his mother talking and would have gone straight to his room.

Feeling a little foolish, but still warmly glowing from her wonderful evening, Maggie finished all her tasks, picked up her coat and went along to her room. In their bed, Ticky was sprawled on his back, snoring. He had a head-cold, so his face was gummy and his nose had run all over it. Maggie, who loved him, got her flannel and gently wiped it clean, more or less, then turned him on to his side. He grunted but stopped snoring and Maggie stripped off her lovely blouse and best skirt and sat down on the bed in her petticoat and shift so that she could slide off her garters and roll down and remove her smart red stockings. Then she brushed out her hair, braided it and finally got into bed.

Ticky mumbled and rolled on to his back again. Immediately he began to snore. I hope to God the missus doesn’t expect me to sleep wit’ Ticky when he’s a man grown, Maggie thought apprehensively as she tried to turn the child again and he lashed out, kicking her so hard on the kneecap that she had to bite back a cry. He’s too big to share wit’ me now, really, but the boys’ room isn’t that big. Ticky kicked out again and Maggie patiently turned him away from her, put her arms round him and hugged him into submission and soon Ticky was snoring gently once more.

There were no curtains in Maggie’s little room so the starlight, and the faint moonshine, flooded in now, lighting up the picture on the wall, although it was all black and white, without a speck of the beautiful colours which Maggie loved. That picture is the only thing Mrs Nolan’s ever give me, Maggie thought. I wonder how she’ll feel if Liam an’ me . . . when Liam an’ me . . . no, if . . .

Her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep, was that if she and Liam did decide to get married Mrs Nolan would stop paying her immediately. A daughter-in-law would be a nice free skivvy all over again, she pondered as she tipped into slumber.

Chapter Nine

Liverpool, Summer 1914

It was a beautiful summer day and Donal and Deirdre were sauntering along Heyworth Street, considering what they should do, since they were both, for once, at a loose end. Donal had suggested going swimming, but as the baths had sessions for boys and girls on separate days, that would have meant swimming in the canal, which Deirdre felt, as a working girl, she was a bit old for.

Donal could have pointed out that, at ten, she was scarcely a woman grown, but he did not.

‘Little kids go there . . . or fellers,’ she pointed out as they sauntered along. ‘You don’t see big gals like me down the scaldy.’

Donal gave a snort, but a quiet one, and Deirdre didn’t challenge him. She knew that she wasn’t particularly big and that ten years old was scarcely grown up, but she did have a holiday job, even though it was with Auntie Anne and not with a regular employer. And it was true that girls of Deirdre’s age didn’t usually swim with the fellers in the scaldy, so she wasn’t surprised when Donal sighed but said nothing more. They would have loved to go down to New Brighton or somewhere else by the sea, but they had, as usual, no money. But it was so scorching . . . Deirdre longed for the feel of cool water on her hot skin and knew her twin felt the same . . .

So they had discussed various ploys but were still undecided. Donal was in favour of skipping a leckie and just going wherever it took them, but Deirdre was in a peaceful, pensive sort of mood and preferred to walk. And anyway, as she pointed out, they would probably hang on only for a couple of stops before they were spotted and pushed off, which wouldn’t get them very far.

‘Why don’t we walk up to Stanley Park an’ throw stones at the ducks?’ Deirdre suggested. ‘Not to hurt ’em, just to see ’em flap an’ squawk.’

Donal gave her a cold glance. ‘Because it’s a waste of a fine day and because tomorrer you’ll be workin’, an’ I’ll be by myself again,’ he said, suddenly gloomy. ‘I’m not sayin’ I like school all that much – when we leave I shan’t shed no tears – but I does like the holidays, when I can be wi’ me pals, like.’

‘When we’re a bit older and earnin’ more from our holiday jobs we’ll be able to do all sorts,’ Deirdre reminded him. ‘We’ll go to New Brighton every weekend in summer, an’ camp on Morton Shore, an’ go to the cinema every night . . .’

‘Mam won’t let us. She’ll take our money off us,’ Donal said. Despite the sunshine, Donal was cross, Dee thought – and she knew why. Because she was working in her aunt’s shop she did have some money, even though it wasn’t very much. Donal, on the other hand, hadn’t managed to get a holiday job. In fact, his discontent had started when he had applied for a job delivering laundry around the city and had been turned down on account of his size.

‘Too small,’ the man interviewing for the job had said briefly. ‘The bike’s heavy. Next!’

And to make matters worse, Donal’s pal Rupert had got the job. Admittedly, Rupert was at least a foot taller than Donal, but when they fought – which they did often – Donal always won which meant, of course, that he was the strongest. Yet he hadn’t got the job, which paid five bob a week, and Rupe had.

And it simply crowned his unhappiness when Deirdre had been taken on in the blooming cake shop, so there was Donal left alone for a good part of the summer holidays. And consequently sulking.

‘Donny, you’ll get summat, acourse you will, an’ besides, I’m only workin’ for Auntie Anne when she needs me, which may not be all that often, and anyway, we’ll share the spondulicks,’ Deirdre had offered when she had first started work as a counter hand. ‘And Freddy ain’t workin’ yet. You can play wi’ Freddy when me an’ Rupe’s at work.’