The Price of Love (14 page)

‘Your sister might, but I’m not sure that I do,’ Berky told him sharply. ‘There’s only one bedroom.’

‘That’s all right. She’ll use the bedroom and I’ll sleep in the living room on the sofa.’

‘Oh you will, will you? It probably hasn’t entered your thick skull yet that there isn’t a sofa.’

‘Oh!’ Sam looked around the room. ‘No, you’re right,’ he agreed. ‘In that case, I’ll have to pull the armchairs together and sleep on them, won’t I?’ he added cheerfully.

‘What sort of night’s sleep do you think you would get doing that?’ Berky asked crossly.

‘If that doesn’t work, then I can always make up a bed on the floor,’ Sam told her.

Berky shook her head. ‘That’s no good either, not with that gammy leg of yours. No, you need a proper bed. You could have the box room; it’s only a slip of a room and I’d have to clear it out. It’s the dumping ground for all the bits and pieces I don’t use, but I could find places for them elsewhere.’

‘You’d want more rent, though, and I’m not sure we can afford it.’

‘Another shilling a week, that’s all.’

Sam hesitated. Would they be able to afford to pay six shillings a week every week? He wasn’t at all sure they could. Lucy always tried to make every penny do the work of two as it was, and they certainly couldn’t cut back on what they spent on food. She did most of their shopping late on a Saturday night when the baker, the butcher and the greengrocer were literally giving things away because they knew they wouldn’t keep fresh over the weekend.

He knew Berky was waiting for his answer and he didn’t like the idea of losing such comfortable living accommodation but, remembering how they’d had to skedaddle in the middle of the night from Priory Terrace because they owed so much money, he didn’t want to commit them to more than they could afford.

‘What about we say sixpence a week more for the box room?’ he suggested.

Berky fixed him with a long stare, her bright blue eyes so hard that he thought she was going to refuse, and was wondering whether to agree to the six shillings if she insisted.

‘Very well, you win. Fool to myself, mind,’ she added wryly. ‘Five shillings and sixpence but I shall expect you to give me a hand to clear out that box room and also to pay for the bed to go in there. Is that a deal?’

‘I suppose so; it sounds fair to me,’ he added quickly.

‘If you are worried about how much a bed is going to cost you, then don’t be, because I know a second-hand dealer who will come up trumps; he’ll let you have one for a few bob. I’ll come along with you when you go to buy it to make sure he doesn’t palm you off with anything ropey.’

As they shook hands Sam felt that for the first time in a very long time he really had achieved something worthwhile. He knew how much Lucy hated living in Hans Court and he couldn’t wait to go and fetch her and see her face when she saw what he had found for them.

Lucy couldn’t believe her ears when Sam arrived home and broke the news to her. When he went on to describe everything she thought it must be too good to be true.

‘How much is she asking for the rooms?’ Lucy asked.

‘Five shillings and sixpence a week.’

‘How much? We only pay four shillings here!’

‘Get your coat on and we’ll go round to Horatio Street right away and you can see them for yourself,’ he told her. ‘I know you’re going to approve of the place and you’ll like Berky. She’s quite a character – as different from Mrs Sparks as chalk from cheese – but I’m sure you’ll take to each other on sight.

‘She has a son called Barry but he goes to sea and is not due home for a couple of months. So she said that if we want to move in right away then I can use his room until we’ve got that box room sorted out.’

‘It certainly sounds wonderful but she’ll want two weeks’ rent up front and I’m afraid I can’t quite manage that until I get paid on Friday,’ Lucy told him.

‘No, she doesn’t want any money up front. She said that she expected the rent to be paid promptly every Friday night and I told her I was sure that would suit you,’ Sam told her with a beaming smile. ‘In fact,’ he went on, ‘all we have to do is pack up our belongings and then tell Mrs Sparks that we’re leaving.’

‘What if I don’t like the rooms?’ Lucy said hesitantly. ‘They’re going to cost us a lot more.’

‘You will like them and they’re a hundred times better than what we have here. We’ll both have our own bedroom and everywhere is clean and well looked after. If you still have doubts and you want to see for yourself, then we can go now and do that right away.’

‘No.’ Lucy took Sam’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m sure you’re right and I am as pleased as you are that we are going to be able to get away from here.’

Together they packed up their few belongings, both of them eager to get away from Hans Court.

Mrs Sparks looked quite affronted when Lucy told her that they were leaving right away and that as she had paid two weeks in advance she wanted a rebate.

‘You can want all you like, but you won’t be getting it,’ Mrs Sparks told her. ‘What about all the wear and tear to my furniture?’

‘We haven’t caused any damage and as for wear and tear, well, that’s what we paid rent for, isn’t it?’ Lucy said defiantly.

They haggled for almost half an hour and in the end Lucy was quietly triumphant when Mrs Sparks finally agreed to refund them one week’s rent.

‘That will help to pay for the bed you have to buy for the box room,’ Lucy told Sam.

As they left Hans Court, Mrs Sparks came out and stood on the doorstep, her arms folded. ‘Sling yer hook, you toffee-nosed uppity pair,’ she called out after them.

Sam raised a hand to acknowledge they’d heard, but neither of them turned round or took the trouble to reply or say goodbye.

Eager though she was to move away from Hans Court, Lucy felt slightly dubious about what sort of place it might be that Sam had found for them. She knew he had also been looking for somewhere but she was a little taken aback that he had settled on somewhere without asking her to have a look at it first.

He was so enthusiastic about the woman called Berky and how good the rooms were that Lucy couldn’t help feeling it was all too good to be true.

As they cut through Ennerdale Street into Hawley Street and then turned left and began to walk along Scotland Road, she wondered where on earth he was taking them.

‘I hope it isn’t going to be much further,’ she said worriedly, ‘because it’s going to mean a long walk to work in the morning from here to Old Hall Street.’

‘Don’t worry, Horatio Street is the next turning,’ he told her cheerfully.

As they went up the steps to the front door she had to agree that it certainly looked a much better area and nowhere near as depressing as Hans Court.

Berky greeted her with such a warm smile that Lucy’s remaining doubts about Sam’s choice began to vanish. He was right about the neighbourhood and about their new landlady, who seemed to be so kind and motherly that Lucy took to her at once. If the rooms were as good as he said they were, then it really was going to be a great improvement on Hans Court.

‘Take your belongings upstairs, then, and settle yourselves in and once you’ve done that, come back down here and have a bite to eat and a cuppa with me,’ Berky insisted.

‘Well, what do you think?’ Sam asked eagerly after Lucy had had a chance to inspect their two rooms and unpack and put away their few belongings.

‘I can hardly believe we’ve been so lucky,’ Lucy told him, giving him a big hug. ‘Everywhere and everything is spotlessly clean and there’s even enough tea, sugar and bread to last us a few days to give me time to go shopping.’

Half an hour later they were seated around the table in Berky’s cosy kitchen tucking into shepherd’s pie and peas and chatting away as if they were old friends. Afterwards, Berky proudly regaled them with stories about her sailor son, Barry, and showed them a photograph of him in his uniform.

‘Now if there is anything you need, come and ask me, and if I’ve got it, you’re more than welcome to it,’ she told them. ‘That is anything except money,’ she added with a chuckle.

When Lucy took their first week’s rent down the following Friday night and asked how much they owed for the two extra days they’d been living there, Berky shook her head and told her that they owed nothing.

‘You’re more than welcome,’ she told her. ‘I’m enjoying your company. All the other rooms are let out to married couples and they keep themselves to themselves so it’s nice to have someone to talk to now and again.’

The following week Sam helped Berky to clear out the box room and, between them, he and Lucy distempered the walls and Berky found some bright chintz curtains to hang at the window. Then on the Saturday, the three of them went to Paddy’s Market, which was not too far away, and managed to find a second-hand single bed that was almost as good as new.

Lucy found that she was enjoying living with Berky. When they had been in Hans Court she had often felt lonely and miserable but now because she had Berky to talk to whenever she had the time to spare, she felt much more content.

In addition, their living accommodation was so much better and, now that Sam had a bedroom of his own, she often had their two rooms to herself and so she felt far more relaxed.

By the time Barry came home on shore leave in October both Sam and Lucy felt that Berky had told them so much about him it was as if they had known him all their lives.

He had Berky’s sunny nature but he was much slimmer than Lucy had thought he would be and not as tall as she’d expected. Indeed, he was not very much taller than his mother but she appeared to be shorter than she really was because she was so round and cuddly. He had her bright blue eyes and Lucy imagined that her hair had once had the same auburn tinge in it as his had.

They all got on extremely well and once or twice Lucy and Sam joined Barry and Berky for their meal in the evening and afterwards spent an hour down in Berky’s kitchen listening to his tales of where he’d been on his last trip.

The night before he was due to go back to his ship he asked Lucy if she would go dancing with him.

‘Sam can come as well, of course, if he’d like to,’ he told her when she hesitated.

‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ Sam told them. ‘I’d soon get fed up of having to sit watching you two circle round and round to the music and I don’t see any girl wanting to dance with a chap with a gammy leg and a walking stick.’

Lucy was about to protest but he gave her a look that brought the colour to her cheeks and she said nothing. Later, when they were on their own, and she was getting ready to go out, he said teasingly, ‘You didn’t expect me to play gooseberry, did you? Barry’s got a crush on you so watch your step.’

Lucy enjoyed her outing with Barry. He took her in his arms and she felt herself pressed against his strong body as they circled the dance floor and it brought back vivid memories of the times when she’d gone out dancing with Robert. It also made her realise that for the last eighteen months she had been so busy working and looking after Sam that she’d had no real life of her own.

When she told Barry how much she’d enjoyed their evening he looked pleased and said they should have gone out together before but he hadn’t wanted her to think he was being pushy. ‘Perhaps we could keep in touch,’ he suggested. ‘It would be nice if you wrote to me while I’m away; the only letters I ever get are from my mam.’

‘Of course, I’d like to do that, but I don’t want to upset your mam because she’s been so good to us. Perhaps you’d better include a message for me in your letters to her at first so that she gets used to the idea of us keeping in touch.’

They all missed Barry when he went back to sea. Twice in one week Berky invited them in for supper. ‘I forgot that young rascal had gone away again and I’ve cooked double the amount of grub I should have done,’ she told them.

‘Never mind, you can always have a second helping or else keep it for tomorrow,’ Lucy told her.

‘Eat the same meal two days running? I’d sooner finish it all up at one sitting, so why don’t you and Sam come and help me do that,’ she said.

Even though Lucy knew Sam would have preferred to spend the evening in their own rooms, she agreed because she suspected that Berky was missing Barry so much that she was feeling lonely.

‘My Barry seems to be writing to me a lot more than he ever used to do,’ Berky told them a few weeks later, a twinkle in her bright blue eyes. ‘This is the second time in about ten days that I’ve had a letter from him. There’s a message at the bottom for you, Lucy. You’d better let me know what answer I’m to give him.’

At Christmas, Lucy sent a parcel to Barry and he wrote back to her to thank her, and this established a regular spate of letters from him directly to her.

If Berky noticed that the number of letters she received had dwindled, she said nothing apart from commenting that there were no messages for Lucy these days.

Lucy smiled and said nothing, though she knew Berky must have noticed letters were arriving addressed to her in Barry’s handwriting and would know they were corresponding with each other. She hoped that she wasn’t drawing the wrong conclusion. As far as she was concerned, she thought of Barry as a friend and nothing more. Robert had broken her heart when he’d admitted that Patsy’s baby was his and she still didn’t think that she would ever trust any man again.

They spent Christmas Day with Berky. Lucy bought a large chicken and Berky roasted it along with potatoes and parsnips and served it with all the other trimmings to make it special. She’d also made a Christmas pudding and an iced Christmas cake and Sam added to the festivities with a bottle of wine, some Christmas crackers and a big box of chocolate-covered dates for Berky.

‘This is one of the best Christmases I’ve had in years,’ Berky enthused when she opened them later that evening and offered them around after they’d finished eating mince pies and Christmas cake. ‘I only wish Barry was here to share it with us. Have you any idea when he is next coming on leave?’ she asked, looking directly at Lucy.

Lucy felt her cheeks redden. ‘No, he hasn’t mentioned any dates to me, not as yet,’ she admitted. ‘You do know that he writes to me occasionally, then?’