Winnie of the Waterfront (33 page)

‘Your legs are withered because the muscles haven’t been used for so long,’ she explained. ‘Also, the circulation is poor due to the fact that
your
legs are not being used. Will you let me try massaging them to see if we can improve them?’

‘Will it help me to walk? Peg used to massage them for me sometimes, but it didn’t do any good. Perhaps she wasn’t doing it right?’

Joy shrugged. ‘A lot depends on how much effort you put into the exercises, of course.’

At first Joy’s ministrations seemed to be making no difference at all. Winnie felt disappointed, but she was prepared to go on trying for as long as Joy was willing to cooperate.

Twice every week, Joy massaged them for an hour, and Winnie noticed that very gradually the withered look seemed to be disappearing. They would never be shapely, or even straight, but the fact that they were losing their shrivelled-up look made her feel much happier in herself.

‘Do you think it’s all this oil stuff you rub into them that is plumping them up?’ Winnie asked her tentatively.

Joy smiled. ‘It could be all the exercises you’ve been doing,’ she said encouragingly.

Winnie went on persevering. She was even beginning to think that there was an improvement in her movements. Her legs really did feel stronger and much more supple. Equally important, in her eyes at least, they looked more and more different.

As her confidence increased she began to leave her irons off for longer and longer periods, and she felt sure this was helping to strengthen them as well.

She said nothing to Sandy about what was happening, and she always made sure that she wore
her
irons whenever she went to Walton Jail to visit him. Nevertheless, she was hoping that by the time he came out of prison her legs would have improved so much that she would be able to manage without her irons completely.

Her greatest ambition of all was to be able to wear silk stockings, like any other young woman, and to be wearing them when she went to meet Sandy the day he was released from prison.

Chapter Thirty-five

WEDNESDAY 25TH APRIL
1928 was a red-letter day for Winnie. She set off for work as usual, pleased that the morning was bright and sunny. She hoped it meant that spring had arrived and that trade would be as brisk as it had been the previous weekend. Sandy would be out of prison quite soon now and it would be so nice for him to come home and find that the café was doing well.

Not that things were improving generally. Most businesses were in the doldrums. Even Frisby Dykes, the popular departmental store on Lord Street, was on the verge of going bankrupt. Unemployment on Merseyside was amongst the highest in the country and the only places that were really thriving were the pawnbrokers. By midweek their shelves were overloaded with Sunday suits and best boots, and then by Saturday night most of them were redeemed again so that families could dress up to go to Mass on Sunday.

She’d made a point of warning Sandy about all of these things when she went to visit him so that they wouldn’t come as too great a shock when he came out of prison. Being shut away for eighteen months was a long time. He’d missed so much of what was happening. The voting age for women had been lowered to twenty-one, which meant
that
next year she’d be able to vote. There was also a pension now for people when they reached sixty-five, something that would have delighted Peg. She had always claimed that people were entitled to a reward after working hard all their lives.

Winnie finished supervising activities in the kitchen then came through into the café to make sure that everything else was in order before customers began coming in for mid-morning coffee.

When she heard the door open she looked up smiling, ready to explain that they weren’t open for another five minutes, but the words died on her lips.

‘Sandy!’ Her eyes opened wide with shock. For a moment she felt rooted to the spot and all she could do was stare at him, not sure if it really was him standing there or whether her imagination was playing tricks. He looked so different from when she’d seen him inside prison. He was wearing the same clothes as when he’d been arrested, only now they hung on him so loosely that they made him look gaunt. And his face was so white that he really could have been a ghost. Even his red hair seemed to be dull and lifeless.

Then she was moving forward, holding on to the backs of the chairs to steady herself, not bothering with her sticks in her haste to greet him.

‘Sandy, Sandy! Is it really you? Why didn’t you tell me you’d be out today,’ she exclaimed excitedly as she flung her arms around his neck.

‘I wanted to surprise you.’ He kissed her then held her away from him, frowning as he looked her up and down as though bemused.

She felt her cheeks colouring. She was glad that
she
was wearing a dress that was the same colour turquoise as her eyes, and that she’d brushed her hair back from her face so that it hung in shiny black waves to her shoulders.

It wasn’t her face or her hair that Sandy was staring at, though. It was her legs.

He seemed to be unable to take his eyes away from them, and she felt so pleased that her skirt only skimmed her knees, and that she was wearing light-coloured artificial silk stockings.

‘Where are your irons? Why aren’t you wearing them?’ Sandy asked when he finally managed to meet her eyes.

Winnie laughed delightedly. ‘You have noticed then! I’ve been keeping it a secret because I wanted to surprise you.’

‘You’ve done that all right,’ he said curtly. ‘What’s been going on?’

‘I’ve been having some treatment and doing lots of exercises. It’s taken months, but it has paid off, hasn’t it?’ she gabbled delightedly. ‘I can still hardly believe it myself.’

‘Neither can I!’

‘I still need my sticks, of course, but my legs are so much stronger, and it feels wonderful to be without my irons,’ she told him eagerly.

He frowned. ‘Where have you been going to get this treatment?’

‘The masseuse comes to the house. Gregg Hibbert …’

‘Gregg Hibbert?’ Sandy frowned heavily. ‘Do you mean the man who saved you from those tearaways when they robbed you?’

Winnie nodded.

His face darkened. ‘What the hell are you thinking about, letting him mess around with your legs!’

Winnie giggled. ‘Gregg hasn’t touched my legs! He only suggested that I might be able to manage without my irons. He said they made me look hobbledehoy because they were so clumsy.’

‘What bloody difference did that make to him?’ Sandy said angrily.

Winnie looked taken aback. ‘None really. We were talking and he expressed an opinion.’

‘Bloody cheek! What other changes has he suggested you should make to please him?’

‘I didn’t make any changes to please Gregg Hibbert,’ Winnie said defiantly.

‘He told you where to go for treatment, though, did he?’

‘Well …’ She hesitated, the smile wiped from her face, her heart pounding uneasily.

‘Oh don’t tell me any more,’ Sandy snapped. ‘I’m fed up with hearing what this bugger Gregg Hibbert has said, and what he has told you to do. Trying to fill my shoes, is he?’

‘No, of course he isn’t trying to do anything of the sort. He’s simply been a friend trying to give me good advice,’ Winnie said hotly.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Things were going all wrong. This wasn’t how she wanted to welcome Sandy back! For months and months she’d dreamed of how it would be. She would meet him at the prison gates, then they’d go home where she’d have a special meal waiting for him, and after that …

The dreams of what took place after that were something she indulged in every night. She knew every detail, from their first kiss until they made passionate love. Then, happy and fulfilled, they would fall asleep entwined in each other’s arms. The next morning they’d wake up together, make love again, and then they’d be able to spend the day enjoying themselves. If the weather was good they could take a trip to New Brighton and have a meal. They’d have so much to talk about, and Sandy would be so pleased to be back home again, and with her, that they’d both be blissfully happy.

She’d expected Sandy to be stunned by the improvements in her legs, and to be delighted that they looked almost the same as other women’s legs. She certainly hadn’t expected him to be annoyed and resentful, or so terribly upset.

She looked at his angry face and then placed a tentative hand on his arm. ‘Sandy, I did it for you,’ she said gently.

‘For me?’ he repeated cynically. ‘Just for me? Are you sure about that?’

‘Well, for myself as well. I hated wearing those irons. They were ugly and clumsy and hurt like hell.’

‘You’ve never complained about them before! Not until this Gregg fellow poked his nose in. One word of criticism from him about how you look and you bend over backwards to get rid of the damned things.’

Winnie felt her own temper rising. ‘It wasn’t all that easy, you know. It took a lot of time and effort on both my part and Joy’s.’

He looked puzzled. ‘Who the hell is Joy?’

‘The woman who has helped me all these months. She’s given up her precious free time every week to massage my legs and to show me what sort of exercises I must do. She’s a professional masseuse.’

‘A what?’

‘It means she knows all about massaging legs. She’s properly trained, Sandy. She works in a hospital and it’s what she does all the time. That’s why she was able to tell me what exercises I needed to do.’

‘So where did you meet this Joy person?’

‘She’s Gregg’s girlfriend.’

Sandy opened his mouth to speak then snapped it shut. ‘I might have known that bugger would be involved,’ he said sulkily.

‘You’ll like both of them when you meet them,’ Winnie assured him with a tentative smile.

Sandy shook his head. ‘Forget it. They’re the last people I want to meet. A pair of do-gooders, by the sound of it, so keep them out of my hair. If you don’t then I’ll give them short shrift and say something they won’t like, and nor will you.’

‘Sandy!’ She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled into him. ‘There’s really no need to be like this. They’re both lovely people and they’ve helped me so much. Things haven’t been easy since Peg died.’

Roughly he pushed her away. ‘And I suppose you think that life’s been a picnic for me! Well, it hasn’t. Banged up in a cell with three other sods who’d pinch the laces out of your shoes given a
chance,’
he scowled. ‘Living on lousy prison stodge and being browbeaten by screws night and day. Those sadistic-minded swines get their kicks out of making life hell for those in their charge.’

Winnie hobbled back into the kitchen, her legs were aching and tears prickled her eyes. Sandy’s homecoming was so different from how she’d imagined it would be. She wished she could close her eyes and he would disappear. Not for good, but so that they could stage his return all over again in the way she’d planned.

She heard the door slam. When she looked out into the café it was empty.

Had it all been a figment of her imagination, she asked herself. Was she so tensed up about Sandy’s homecoming that she’d dreamed he’d been there?

When Gregg and Joy came to help push her home that night she said nothing to them about Sandy’s release from prison. Once they reached Skirving Court, Gregg took her key and opened the door. Joy took the bag of aromatic oils and other paraphernalia from off Winnie’s lap and carried it inside, leaving Gregg to manoeuvre her chair into the hallway.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ Sandy’s roar stopped them all in their tracks.

Winnie was the first to recover. ‘Joy, Gregg, this is my husband, Sandy. These are my friends, Joy and Gregg, that I’ve been telling you about, Sandy.’

There was an awkward moment before Gregg stretched out a hand. ‘Glad to meet you at last, Sandy. Your Winnie has told us so much about
you
that you feel like an old friend. Isn’t that right, Joy?’

‘It certainly is!’ Joy’s plump round face beamed. ‘I bet you were pleased when you saw how well she was walking without her irons.’

Sandy hesitated so long that Winnie held her breath, afraid of what he was going to say. Their eyes met and her heart raced as she saw the cold bitterness in his gaze slowly change to one of warmth and pride.

‘Yes, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Couldn’t take it in when I first saw her.’ He smiled at Joy. ‘I understand we’ve got you to thank?’

‘It was Gregg’s idea! He had a brother who was crippled. Nowhere near as bad as Winnie, but enough to make him a laughing stock at school. He brought him along to Moorfields for treatment. I work there and that’s how we met,’ she added with a loving look in Gregg’s direction.

‘It’s been nice meeting you,’ Gregg told Sandy, ‘but now me and Joy will be on our way since it’s your first night at home.’

Sandy nodded. ‘Give me a few days to get myself together and then perhaps the four of us can go for a bevvy one night.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Gregg smiled. ‘Whenever you feel like it.’

‘Pop into the café in a few days’ time then and we’ll fix it up,’ Sandy told him.

‘It seems I got the wrong end of the stick about him,’ Sandy said gruffly after Gregg and Joy left.

‘Easy-enough done; you weren’t to know what they were like,’ Winnie agreed magnanimously.

‘Miserable bloody sod, aren’t I,’ Sandy muttered, gathering her into his arms. ‘Being in that place has soured me. It’ll take me time to get my mind round being back in the normal world. Do you think you can cope with it?’

‘I’ve not got much choice, have I?’

‘You could always walk out on me, now that you can use your legs again,’ he quipped.

‘Not yet, I’ll need a lot more practice. You’d catch me before I reached the end of the street.’

He looked at her solemnly. ‘Who says I’d bother?’

They grinned at each other and then Sandy swept her into his arms and his mouth claimed hers.

Winnie sighed softly as their lips met. This was more like what she had imagined his homecoming would be. She sank her hands into his thick hair, drawing him closer as she felt his hands move demandingly over her body.