The Mill Girls of Albion Lane (15 page)

Rhoda passed her other hand lethargically over her forehead. ‘Across here. It's nothing. I wish you wouldn't make a fuss.'

‘And is your stomach upset as well?'

‘Not so much. Let me sleep off this nasty pain in my head then I'll be right as rain.'

‘That's just what she said to me.' Walter shook his head. ‘But you didn't see her, Lily. She was up half the night and she was being sick even when she had nothing to be sick with. I thought at one time she was going to pass out.'

‘You should've called for me,' Lily told him. ‘Mother, is there anything that you'd like – a cup of tea or something to settle your stomach?'

Rhoda slowly shook her head and withdrew her hand from Lily's, seeming to have just enough strength for this but with none to spare for more words. Instead, she turned her face away and closed her eyes.

‘Now, lass, this isn't like you,' Walter said, clearing his throat as he bent over her. ‘Arthur needs you up and about, making his tea for him.'

Lily laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Leave her now – she needs to sleep. Me and Evie can make Arthur his tea.'

Walter quickly backed down. ‘Aye, that's right,' he agreed. ‘The girls will look after the littl'un, Rhoda. You have a nice rest.'

Rhoda's eyes flickered open and she gave Walter a weak smile and Lily saw in that brief moment the twenty-odd years of history that her mother and father had shared – the days of courtship on Ada Street, their early married life on Canal Road, the years of toil and conflict on Albion Lane – all rolled together in a lingering look and a smile.

‘You'll be back on your feet before you know it,' Walter promised as he stood up and, clasping his hands in front of him, clumsily backed out of the room.

Lily waited a while longer, watched her mother's eyes close and saw her drawn features relax in sleep. Gently she adjusted her covers then kissed her cheek and with a thousand things she wanted to say left unsaid, she closed the door and went downstairs.

‘I didn't think I'd be able to come out tonight,' Lily told Harry as they walked arm in arm along Canal Road. ‘Mother's poorly. I thought I should have to stay in and look after her.'

‘Can't Evie do that?' he asked. He'd dressed up in his best blazer and a pair of flannel trousers that he'd bought with his last week's wages and he'd topped them with his long grey raincoat, but now he felt he'd overdone it for what was after all only an evening at the flicks.

‘That's just what Evie said, once Father had taken himself off to the Cross. She told me Mother would do very well without me hanging over her and she was old enough to look after Arthur by herself, ta very much!' Lily smiled up at Harry, feeling that she'd better pinch herself to make sure she was actually walking out with, let's face it, the best looking young man between here and Overcliffe. On top of this, she was slowly starting to realize that the Monday-night kiss she'd spent so much time turning over in her mind might not have been an accident after all.

‘That's right – let Evie do some of the work.' As they walked by the locked gates of Napier's scrap metal yard, Harry patted the gloved hand that rested in the crook of his arm.

Just wait until she told Sybil and Annie about her night out with Harry, Lily thought. It would have to wait until they got together for a natter the following week and of course they would tease and crow over the fact that they'd guessed right about Harry and Lily, roll their eyes and tease again, but she wouldn't care.

‘It's grand to see you smiling,' he told her as they walked on towards Brinkley Corporation Baths.

‘Yes, I'm glad I came out.'

Harry smiled back and considered slipping his arm around Lily's waist then thought better of it. That should come later, he decided, after the film when they were walking home. Slow and steady with Lily – that would be the best way. ‘You'll like this picture,' he promised. ‘It's to do with a soldier in the Great War. He gets badly wounded and lets the girl he loves think that he's dead so she can get on with her life without him—'

‘Hush!' Lily unhooked her arm to put both hands to her ears. ‘Don't tell me the whole story and spoil it for me.'

Harry grinned, grabbed her hand back then steered her towards the wide, brightly lit entrance of the modern picture house where there was a giant poster showing the star of the film, Gracie Fields. ‘She's not bad-looking but she's not a patch on you,' he told Lily.

‘Flattery will get you nowhere,' she protested to hide the fact that she was flustered. Why did this keep on happening with Harry – the tremulous quickening of her heartbeat over some silly remark or the special way he looked at her? And hadn't she better keep her feet on the ground for now until she was sure of where she stood with him?

He squeezed her hand then kept his fingers curled around hers. ‘All right. I expect Gracie can beat you hands down in the singing stakes, unless you've got hidden talents, Lil.'

‘No, I can't sing a note,' she confessed as they joined the queue.

Buoyed up by the lights and the glamorous, brightly coloured posters inside the foyer, Lily could hardly wait to get inside the cinema and when they took their seats amongst a crowd of other young people with smiling faces, ready to watch the newsreel that came on before the main picture, she felt as if she'd entered a fairy-tale world. Gone from her mind were the sooty streets and bleak moors and taking their place was a plush warmth and dimmed lights, the hum of expectation drowned now by the notes of the organ positioned just under the giant screen. The organist played a romantic waltz to get people in the mood for the night's entertainment. As the notes swelled to the ceiling and filled the auditorium, Harry made a bold move and slid his arm along the back of Lily's seat and left it there, his fingers resting on her shoulder. ‘This is a bit of all right,' he said with a smile.

She smiled back at him and thought of nothing when the curtain went up and the newsreel played, only of Harry sitting close beside her, his hand lightly touching her shoulder.

Then the film came on, with Gracie Fields – a Lancashire lass who could make you laugh and cry in a second, who sang like a bird, her voice pure and high, soaring higher still. The words brought to mind blue skies and a girl called Sally's smiling face. Sally with a heart of gold, soldiering on alone after the war.

Of course Lily cried when the wounded soldier returned, even though she thought he looked old and staid and not at all her idea of a romantic hero. She was still crying and drying her eyes when the film ended (in an embrace, of course) and the lights went up.

Harry stood and let his hinged seat fold sharply upwards, offering Lily his hand. He turned, and keeping tight hold of her, led the way along the row of seats, up the steps towards the exit.

And then they were through the foyer and out on the cold, dark street. A tram rattled by, followed by a Ford car and two men on bikes.

‘Hey up, you two!' Ernie called as he wobbled to a halt outside the entrance to the baths. The grin on his face was the widest Lily had ever seen. ‘I was wondering when you'd get round to asking Lily out,' he told Harry. ‘In fact, I bet Billy a tanner you'd never pluck up the courage. It looks like I'm out of pocket.'

‘Not so fast,' Lily shot back, her eyes twinkling. ‘You can tell Billy Robertshaw it was the other way around – it was me who asked Harry to come to the pictures with me.'

‘Never!' a flabbergasted Ernie cried.

‘No, she's kidding.' Harry put him right straight away while Lily laughed at the look on Ernie's face. ‘I'll tell Billy you owe him a tanner next time I see him.'

‘Which might be sooner than you think, worse luck.' Ernie gestured behind him at the small, noisy group of people still lingering outside the Victory. ‘Billy's back there with your Margie.'

It was Lily's turn to be astonished. ‘Margie's been to the pictures with Billy?' she asked. ‘You mean, we were sitting there in the cinema without knowing they were there?'

‘It looks like it,' Ernie said, checking his cycling clips were firmly in place before getting ready to set off again. Then he put on a tragic face and bemoaned his fate. ‘Margie's ruined her chances with me good and proper this time.'

‘Never mind, Ernie, there are plenty more fish in the sea,' Harry sympathized. ‘There's Hilda Crabtree for a start.'

‘Stop right there,' Ernie ordered. ‘I'll choose my own girl if you don't mind.'

And so Harry and Ernie joked along while Lily tried to catch sight of Margie outside the cinema. The group was dispersing and eventually Lily spotted her sister in her green coat and matching hat, jauntily crossing the road hand in hand with Billy in his Saturday-night-out tweed jacket and best cap. She ran a few steps towards them and called Margie's name. Margie glanced round and though she heard and saw Lily, she kept on walking.

‘Margie, Billy – wait a sec!' Lily cried. She had to let a tram trundle by then run again to catch up with them.

Billy greeted her with an open, cheery grin. ‘Well, if it isn't Lily Briggs! Fancy seeing you here.' He looked across the street to spot Harry saying goodbye to Ernie and following Lily across the road. ‘It looks like I've won myself a tanner,' he said with a wink.

‘I never knew you were coming into town,' Lily said to Margie, who had stopped reluctantly.

She narrowed her eyes as if warning Lily not to overstep the mark by plunging into the all-important but forbidden topic of conversation. Lily was offended that Margie felt it necessary to drop the hint. ‘Anyway, how's Granddad?' she asked coolly.

‘The same as ever,' Margie said with a frown. ‘He goes out every morning, and comes back in at teatime. He doesn't bother much with me.'

‘That's all right then. But Mother's in bed poorly,' Lily told her, sharing family news while Billy and Harry carried on with the joke about the sixpence. ‘She's not been herself lately and I'm worried about her. I'm going to tell Father to call Dr Moss if she's not better by Monday.'

Margie raised her eyebrows. ‘You think you can get him to pay for that?'

Lily nodded. ‘He's worried too, I can tell. Of course, Mother won't hear of it – you know what she's like. We'll have to go behind her back.'

‘You hear that, Margie?' Billy broke in. ‘Harry thinks I should take you to see Boris Karloff in
Frankenstein
next week.'

Glad of a change of subject, Margie put on a bright, flirtatious smile. ‘Why's that, Harry?'

‘Boris will frighten the life out of you,' Harry promised. ‘You'll be glued to your seat, hanging on to Billy for dear life.'

Margie tilted her head back and grinned. ‘Horror films don't bother me so there'll be no hanging on to anyone.'

As Margie played along, Lily saw that she was using it as a way of keeping her distance. And of course Lily was bursting with questions. Billy must have taken himself off to Ada Street after their conversation earlier, but had Margie been pleased to see him? Might Margie have confessed everything to Billy about the baby? Because in Lily's mind Billy was by far and away the most likely candidate to be the baby's father.

Lily's fertile imagination ran through the possibilities then came to a sudden halt when Billy dragged her back into the conversation. ‘You'll go to see
Frankenstein
with Harry, won't you, Lil? We can all four go together – you and Harry, me and Margie.'

It struck her then with the force of a blow to her chest – Billy wasn't a man troubled by the sudden prospect of unwanted fatherhood. He was himself – carefree and joking, handsome and pleasant enough but not someone you took seriously or who had hidden depths. No, Billy was still Billy, never thinking beyond his daily routine of getting himself off to work, doing his gardening job for Stanley Calvert, taking his pay at the end of the week and getting out on a weekend to have a high old time.

So Margie hadn't told Billy anything, Lily decided, and she was glaring at her again, demanding that she kept her secret and of course Lily couldn't do anything else, even though it seemed wrong for Margie to take up with Billy again as if nothing was the matter. After all, how long could it go on before she had to confess and then what would happen? Lily had to stop herself from shuddering when she imagined that moment.

‘I don't know about Boris Karloff,' was all she said in reply to Billy's question, casting her eyes down at the pavement to avoid Margie's hard stare.

‘Maybe we'll go dancing instead,' Harry suggested as he picked up the tension in the air and began to steer Lily away. He turned to Billy. ‘Are you two taking the tram up to Overcliffe, or are you walking home with us?'

‘Tram,' Margie said, leaving Billy no option but to carry on to the stop with her. ‘Cheerio, Harry. Ta-ta, Lily,' she called over her shoulder. ‘Don't do anything I wouldn't do!'

They were off in the opposite direction, leaving Harry to walk Lily home along the increasingly deserted streets.

‘We'll only go dancing if you'd like to,' Harry acknowledged gently. ‘I hope you don't think I was jumping the gun.'

‘No – I mean, yes I would like to.' She sighed, her mind still taken up with Margie.

‘You can tell me if you've got something else on,' he insisted, walking without taking her hand and trying to judge her mood. He'd felt happier and more confident when they were in the cinema, when he'd stolen glances at the light reflected from the big screen flickering on to Lily's face and watched her surreptitiously wiping a tear from her eye. ‘We're coming up to Christmas – there's always plenty going on.'

They'd reached the corner on to Ghyll Road and could see the entrance to Calvert's ahead of them and the tall, square memorial tower rising into the dark sky. ‘No, Harry, I mean it. I'd like us to go out again.'