Day 19
Overnight thunderstorms have given way to a muggy day threatening more rain and Billy hadn't wanted to accompany Maria to the hospital. He'd said the weather made it difficult to breathe and she didn't argue too much, even though she'd been looking forward to them making an afternoon of it. In some ways she's happy he is staying home, it means she needn't struggle with little Rose. At two, the toddler would be difficult to take on the buses and carry round town, and she'd take no benefit from seeing Alice, who's been ill for most of the youngest's short life.
Ruth and Brian, the two older children still living at home, aren't able to take time off work, so Maria scrubs Lizzie, Tommy and Ann, dresses them in their Sunday best, and marches them round the corner to the bus stop.
Tommy whines 'Can we sit on the top deck?' over and over while the four stand at the stop, despite filthy looks from the queue and Maria's pleas for him to be quiet. To avoid embarrassment she capitulates when the bus arrives and they climb the stairs, Tommy and Ann taking the front seat, Maria and Lizzie the one behind.
The boy, like all seven-year-olds, delights in every sight, grinning and pointing out each bald head, shop window and bicycle to his long-suffering sister, Ann, who, at twelve, would rather keep her nose buried in her book than take in the scenes of east Manchester.
Maria stops his antics for a moment and points down a side street to a building with a three-storey brick cube at each end and a yard between.
'That's where your dad works, the one nearest us. It's the sorting office. The one on the other side is the telephone exchange.'
The children crane their necks, even Ann, who's taken Billy's sandwiches there more than once when he's left without them in the early hours.
The middle child asks if they can get off the bus and go to see her father.
Maria snorts. 'Do you have nothing at all between your ears, Elizabeth Garner? Didn't we leave your dad at home only twenty minutes ago?'
This sets Tommy laughing at, and teasing, his sister, even after Ann tells him to be quiet and not so cruel to Lizzie. The boy continues, on and off, until the bus arrives in the city centre, leaving him open-mouthed, looking down on Piccadilly from his window, pointing out all the buses, trams, cars and people beetling across the square. His mother's been travelling this route for weeks and taken in nothing, all her thoughts with Alice. In the moment, she's sure the lad's right and the world can be a wondrous place when you're young.
There are so many on board it takes the family almost as long to file off the bus as it did to travel the last two stops. On Oldham Street, even Ann tucks the book under her arm to wander open-mouthed round Affleck and Brown's. All the children know not to pester Maria to buy them anything, though Tommy shoots a glance at her whenever something catches his eye. They've witnessed their mother and father arguing about money often enough to know there's none to spare for impulsive spending.
After an hour they've all had enough and Maria gets her wish to rest on a bench in Piccadilly Gardens. They've brought a bag of stale bread and Tommy runs around, scattering the crumbs for the hordes of pigeons, whilst Ann tries to concentrate on her book. Liz, as always, sits by Maria's side and stares into the middle distance. The afternoon is hot and Maria mops her brow then turns to Ann.
'Look after these two for a minute, I need to fetch something.'
Soon she returns, carrying four small ice-cream cones topped with raspberry sauce. 'Your dad slipped me half a crown before we left and told me to treat you. Make it a proper day out, he said.' She passes the cones round. 'Tommy, you sit down and stay still for five minutes, don't be dropping it or else.'
The boy does as he's told and the four sit in silence, savouring the drips as they run down the sides and on to their fingers. As each child finishes, Maria wipes their chin and hands with the handkerchief she's pulled from her handbag. A man's, large, starched and brought especially to keep the children presentable for their visit. When all are done she tells them to form a line in front of her for inspection.
'You'll do. As long as no-one looks too close.' She glances at the terminus clock and stands. 'Come on, we'd best be moving else we'll miss that bus.'
*
Maria leaves Ann, Tommy and Lizzie in the yard and climbs the stairs to Alice's ward where a nurse accosts her at the door.
'You must know by now Mrs Garner that visiting isn't until six o'clock.'
'But Sister McKenzie told me she'd make an exception if I was bringing the children.'
The nurse tut-tuts and tells Maria to wait in the corridor. Minutes tick past before the sister comes out.
'You might have warned me of the time, Mrs Garner, Alice isn't ready. Come through and give me a hand.'
Maria follows her inside and the two tidy Alice's bed before wrestling it through the double doors on to the veranda.
'You can have half an hour. No more.' Sister McKenzie's parting shot is clear and Maria knows she means it. She could weep at the knowledge there's never enough time. Even with so little left.
Maria leans over and waves to the children below. 'Is she there?' Ann shouts.
'She is.'
Tommy leaps up and down, clapping. 'Can we come up Mam, can we?' 'Not today son. Maybe next time.'
His mother turns away, knowing her daughter will be laid out at home soon enough. They'll all see her then. Even Billy.
'Give me a minute and I'll get Alice so you can see her.'
Maria slides her arm behind her daughter's back, lifts her, and slides another pillow behind. She repeats the exercise until Alice is almost sitting upright, then hugs her close, tilting the girl so her face can be seen over the balcony. Maria looks over and sees tears streaming down Ann's cheeks. Tommy, bewildered, joins her. Lizzie stares upwards, unmoved.
*
Will I tell my girl the next bit? What's the harm after all this time? Poor lass probably can't hear a word in any case, state she's in. Why am I doing this, pouring my heart out to her in a hospital bed? It's not as if I've talked about any of this before, not to any of them. They don't even know I'm Irish. The older ones think I was in an orphanage because my parents died, that's what I told them. When the nuns visit I pretend I'm over the moon, it's what's expected. Perhaps that's it. I bottle it all up to protect the children, so they won't know there's so much evil in the world. Or perhaps it's myself I'm protecting, burying it all away so it doesn't hurt. I hope she won't think badly of me for this.
*
Daisy Farina threw her arms around me as soon as I entered her café. 'Maria, how are you?' She moved me back to arms' length and checked me out. 'My God, you're looking good. So fit. What have you been up to?'
I gave her the full story over tea, salad and brown bread, which Daisy dished up. It was a quiet time, an hour after the busy lunch period, and her husband dealt with the few customers who came in while we were chatting. She laughed her head off when I told her the story of the munitions factory explosion and when I'd finished telling her about the bicycle works she rested her chin on her hand and raised an eyebrow.
'So you'll be looking for work?' 'I am. Do you know of anything?'
'Actually, you've come at a good time. That girl, Sally, the one who was here before you left, you remember her? Pretty in a skinny kind of a way. Blond.'
I nodded. She'd been friendly with all the customers, though always hanging around gossiping with Mr Farina when she wasn't busy.
'She got herself in the family way and I've had to let her go. Stupid girl. And no father to look after her and the child.'
'Would you be interested in the job?'
I thought about it for less than a second. 'Well it would be better than that old factory. At least you'd not be poisoning me or breaking my arms every day.'
Daisy laughed. 'I'd hope we wouldn't anyway. Can you start Monday?' So I did. Big mistake.
*
Daisy's husband, Tony, or Antonio as she'd call him when telling him off, was so good looking. And so persuasive. When you're young and the handsome older man pays you attention it has the desired effect. He wasn't aggressive, just persistent. Nothing happened for the first month, then there were just the two of us in the café one day when Daisy went to the bank. There were no customers and he asked me to sit with him and take a cuppa. I refused at first, saying I'd get on with the dishes, but he insisted.
'Ah, always the busy Maria. Leave them for now, they'll still be there when we're finished.' His words rose and fell, almost like he was singing. He'd been in Liverpool a while and his English was good, but there was still the trace of his Italian accent. 'We've been on our feet all the morning. Don't you think we deserve a break?'
I poured us two cups and piled three sugars into his, the way he liked it. I suppose I should have suspected something wasn't quite right when he stood and flipped the snib on the front door.
'There, we'll not be disturbed now.'
*
The first couple of times it happened we just chatted. He'd ask me about Ireland or Morecambe, then tell me about Sorrento; the sun, the Bay of Naples and the volcano rumbling away only a handful of miles from the town. He'd talk of how he'd like to get away from Liverpool, anywhere. He hated the place and hated working in his wife's café.
'It's so dreary, Maria. Day after day making the same cheap food for the same poor people. I'm meant for something better than this.'
I'd say something encouraging, telling him he should be proud being able to cook so well, but he'd shrug it off.
'Oh, don't. Isn't that the point I'm making. Stuck here when I should be in a smart restaurant, cooking for rich people who'd appreciate me.'
Then came the line I later figured out he'd used a dozen times before.
'But she won't let me.'
'Who?'
'Who do you think? Daisy. She doesn't understand, never has. The lady thinks it's all about making money, not the artistry. You understand though, don't you, Maria.'
The first time he said this I told him to hush and not talk that way, that Daisy loved him and he loved her, but in bed at night I'd wonder if he meant what he was saying. Then I began to watch. Although Daisy was my friend, as well as my employer, I could see that she sniped all day at Tony. He'd be taking too long with an order, the eggs were overdone, or he'd let them run out of potatoes, any little thing she might pick
up. It soon began to seem to me that he was the one doing all the work while she was just bring out the food and chatting with the customers. In my silly head he looked like a slave and was the butt of all of her jokes. I suppose I was gullible and it didn't take too long for Tony to convince me to meet him in the evenings.
He had the habit of going out for a drink around seven o'clock, so said Daisy would never suspect anything was going on. In the café I tried not to blush whenever I spoke to either of them, for different reasons, and I made up stories to tell her about what I'd been doing on the nights I was out with Tony.
Mostly he and I would go to the park or round the back streets, somewhere we'd not be seen. Never the pictures or the pub. It would always be only for an hour because he'd need to go to have at least one pint so Daisy wouldn't wonder why he didn't smell of beer. The third time we'd met, I'd made a real effort, buying new lipstick and scent for the occasion. Tony stayed an arm's length away the whole time we were out, instead of linking like normal. When I asked him what was wrong he said Daisy would get a whiff of my perfume if he came any closer. Next day she looked at me oddly once or twice and I was expecting her to say something, but she didn't.
After that he was bolder, he must have taken my wearing of the scent as a signal that I was very keen on him. He'd pull me into the bushes in the park and plonk a kiss on my lips whenever he could. We then started meeting more often, sometimes two or even three nights a week, and we'd find a quiet corner where we could cuddle without fear of being seen by anyone we knew.
One lunchtime when Daisy was out at the bank again, he called me behind the counter.
'Can we meet tonight?' he whispered.
'But it's Wednesday, we never meet on Wednesday.' It was cheap night at the City Picture House so I'd go every week to laugh at the antics of Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, or imagine myself alongside Douglas Fairbanks on one of his adventures.
'No, but tonight's different. Daisy's going out at six and won't be back until ten o'clock. We can be here by ourselves where no-one will see us.'
I'll never know why I agreed, it was obvious even to me that it wasn't a good idea. But what do they say? Love is blind, and by this time I was very much in love with my Antonio, or so I thought. Since then I've learnt differently. Love isn't about some childish crush on a man who talks nicely to you.
He'd prepared a salad and plonked two glasses of wine on the table. How could I fail to be impressed? We ate slowly and talked the whole while, him repeating over and over how pretty he thought I was and how he loved the sound of my voice. After the meal, he poured something he called grappa into small glasses and told me to drink. I thought I'd faint with the smell. Later, when I was as drunk from the flattery as the alcohol, he asked me to go to the bedroom with him, and I followed without protest.
*
A few months later the bump started to show when I slipped out of my nightdress in the mornings. I'd only been with Tony the once but I'd caught easily. So it always was. With Billy I began to think I only had to pick up his trousers to wash them and I'd fall, no sooner over having one than expecting again.
I wasn't stupid, but I was innocent. There'd been enough banter in the factory and on our weekend excursions for me to know the way of the world, though I'd never been with a man the whole time until Tony. To hide my condition from Daisy I considered binding myself like they did to the girls at St Gregory's, though it didn't seem right. I didn't want a baby but I didn't want to hurt it either. It was mine.
I was looking forward to telling Tony before he spotted it himself. He'd been cool with me after that first night and I'd told him we couldn't do it any more, that it was a sin and a betrayal of his wife. He'd begged, then he'd sworn, then he'd just shaken his head, telling me it was fine, that he understood. I was so sure he was in love with me I lay awake for nights worrying about how Daisy would take it when he told her he was leaving her for me. Pathetic really. I cornered Tony when she was out.
'How can that have happened?' he whined. 'We only did it the once.'
Beneath the fear there was anger in his voice and I knew he'd not be leaving Daisy to set up home with me. I felt my neck flush. 'Well once must have been enough.'
'How can I be sure it's mine?' I think it was the questioning grin he adopted, as much as his words, which made me react. I slapped his face and stormed to the door.
'You're not going to tell Daisy are you?' he bellowed after me as I left. He could have sacked me there and then but then he'd need to tell his wife why he'd done it, and that would have been difficult. She knew there were no problems with my work.
Of course, it didn't take long for Daisy to notice my condition. Even under my overall it became obvious in a few more weeks. One morning she called me through to the storeroom, closing the door behind us. She pointed to my swelling waist.
'I thought you were my friend.'
My shoes suddenly became very interesting.
'I am.' I mumbled. 'Why would you think I'm not?'
Daisy laughed. A harsh, mirthless sound. 'You're not the first, Maria, and don't think you'll be the last. Did you think I didn't guess something was going on between you two? You wearing cheap perfume and not being able to look me in the eye. He's a charming man is Tony and I love him dearly but he can't keep his pants buttoned up if there's a sweet, innocent girl around the place.'
'I'm sorry, Daisy. I -'
'You know he even brought me flowers the morning after he'd been with you. And me awake half the night smelling you in our bed. I wasn't sure whether to be insulted because he thought I wouldn't know or because he thought a few flowers would buy me off.'
She folded her arms and gave me her decision.
'Anyway, you'll have to go. No-one will say I put a pregnant girl on the streets so you can stay until the baby is due. If anyone asks just say its daddy was killed in the war. Buy yourself a cheap ring and no-one will know the difference, God knows there's plenty more in the same situation.' Another of those laughs. 'You'll probably get more tips if you do that.'
Daisy turned her back and began tidying shelves. She was done with me.
At lunchtime I did as she'd suggested and went to Mr Cathcart, the pawnbroker at the corner of Smithdown Road, and bought a thin gold wedding band which some poor soul hadn't been able to redeem. I've still got it with the other bits and pieces I collected in those years. I wore it every day until I married Billy. Took it off outside the church when I knew I wouldn't need it any more.
*
Poor Billy. Such a nice, kind man he was back then. I wonder if he ever really knew what he was taking on? Another man's son, and me with so much sadness inside. I can only imagine I did something good at some time to deserve him. We've had our ups and downs, the Lord knows, who hasn't, but I'm sure little Josie and me would never have survived without him. The times we were in when we met.
Here's that sister again. She'll shoo me out in a minute and I'll not give her the satisfaction. Just remember, none of the others know any of this so keep it to yourself if they come to visit. Night, night, my darling girl, I'll see you tomorrow.
Maria didn't have a chance, like so many at the will and whim of men like Tony! And her 'friend' really wasn't going to rock the boat to protect Maria from her predatory husband!