Lime Street Blues Page 6

  ‘My uniform is terribly expensive, Max,’ Jeannie said reasonably. ‘Dad’s not made of money.’

  ‘He’s not short of money, either. He earns far more than an ordinary gardener. And we don’t pay rent like most people.’ Max was determined not to give an inch.

  The long summer break passed by dreamily. Jeannie was very much aware that an important part of her life had ended and a new one was about to begin. It was almost like the end of childhood. Groups of girls, who would always be her friends, but no longer the most important ones, gathered in each other’s houses or gardens, went swimming in Holly Brook, played cricket with the boys on the green. There was no sign of Rita McDowd, who normally tagged along. She and her mother were picking fruit on the local farms, someone said.

  ‘Thank the Lord!’ said another. ‘At least you’ll be rid of her, Jeannie. She had a thing about you.’

  ‘That’s because Jeannie was the only one prepared to put up with the evil-smelling little bitch.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’ Jeannie protested. She felt sorry for Rita, about to start Philip Wallace without a single ally.

  She managed to stay calm during her first chaotic day at her new school. She was allocated a peg in the cloakroom to hang her royal blue blazer, and a space in which to keep her outdoor shoes – the girls had to wear special, lightweight shoes inside.

  The new intake was addressed by the Headmistress, Dr Farthing, a tall, regal woman, who welcomed them to her highly regarded establishment. Afterwards, the girls’ names were called out and they were separated into three forms; 1A, 1B, and 1-remove. Jeannie was in 1-remove along with about thirty others.

  A young, red-haired teacher introduced herself as Miss Appleton, their form mistress, who would also take them for Art and History. She led them along a corridor, up two flights of stairs, and into a classroom where she stationed herself behind the desk at the front.

  ‘Stay!’ she yelled when the girls streamed in after her and made for the desks. Everyone froze. ‘Before you grab a desk, this will be your form room for the next year. Wherever you sit, it’s where you’ll stay. I want no chopping and changing in the months ahead. If you fall out with the girl next to you, then it’s just too bad.’

  There was a chorus of urgent whisperings. ‘Can I sit by you? Please!’

  As Jeannie knew no one, it didn’t matter where she sat. She chose a desk in the middle and not long afterwards was joined by a pretty girl, healthily tanned, with warm brown eyes and dark hair plaited in a thick pigtail halfway down her back.

  ‘Hello, I’m Elaine Bailey. Do you mind if I sit by you?’

  ‘I’m Jeannie Flowers and I don’t mind a bit.’

  ‘That’s a pretty name!’ The girl threw a shabby leather satchel on to the desk. Her gymslip wasn’t new and looked like a hand-me-down, as did her blouse, which had a frayed collar.

  ‘Elaine’s pretty too,’ said Jeannie. She reckoned her new companion must be very poor, but when they remained together in the dinner hour, eating their sandwiches together in the canteen, it turned out Elaine’s father was a doctor and she was the third of six children – four brothers and a sister called Marcia. Elaine’s uniform had belonged to Marcia, who was in the fifth form of the same school, and she didn’t mind that the gymslip was too short.

  ‘Mine’s too long.’ Jeannie grimaced. ‘My mother wanted to take it up a few inches, but Dad wouldn’t let her. He said there’d be a mark when it was let down.’

  ‘And she let him stop her,’ Elaine gasped. ‘My mum doesn’t take a blind bit of notice of Dad. Mind you, gymslips are the last thing on his mind. It takes him all his time to remember our names, let alone notice what we’re wearing. Oh, gosh!’ She clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Did that sound rude? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to criticise your mum and dad.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Jeannie said stiffly.

  ‘Oh, look! I’ve hurt your feelings. I’m terribly sorry, Jeannie.’ Elaine was genuinely upset. ‘In fact, your gymslip looks very smart, almost the New Look.’

  ‘The New Look went out years ago.’ Nevertheless, she smiled. She liked Elaine and had already made up her mind she would make a very good friend.

  At her old school, Jeannie had always been top of the class, but she quickly discovered she was nothing out of the ordinary when compared to Elaine Bailey, whose brain power was prodigious. She only had to scan the pages of a book and be able to remember every relevant detail, whereas Jeannie had to read it over and over, making notes, then study the notes before she felt she knew it properly.

  Elaine wanted to be a doctor, like her father, but specialising in psychiatry. She was quietly studious and didn’t show off by always putting up her hand when the teacher asked a question, as some girls did, though Jeannie didn’t doubt she knew the answer.

  Despite her phenomenal memory, Elaine was terribly absent-minded. She consistently forgot to bring the right books to school or the homework that was due to be handed in that day. Fortunately, the Baileys only lived a few minutes away in Walton Vale, so there was usually time to rush home for whatever Elaine had forgotten.

  The two girls formed an unspoken partnership. Jeannie, who arrived early at school, waited by the gate for Elaine and checked she’d brought everything, while Elaine explained to her the more obscure points of algebra and geometry.

  At the end of the second week Elaine invited Jeannie to tea after school the following Wednesday.

  ‘I’d love to, but I’ll have to ask my dad first.’

  ‘What’s her name again?’ Tom wanted to know when Jeannie told him about the invitation.

  ‘Elaine Bailey. She lives in Walton Vale, only a little walk from Orrell Park. She’s terribly clever.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re a very respectable family, Tom, if their daughter goes to Orrell Park Grammar.’ Rose was watching the proceedings anxiously.

  ‘Hmm! What time will you be home on Wednesday?’

  ‘I dunno. About half past six, I suppose.’

  Tom Flowers regarded his own daughter sternly. ‘I hope you didn’t learn that off this Elaine Bailey.’

  ‘What, Dad?’ Jeannie asked, mystified.

  ‘ “Dunno”. It should be two separate words, if I remember rightly.’

  ‘She probably got it from Max.’ Max was so often in trouble, it didn’t matter if he was blamed for something he might not have done.

  ‘All right, you can go. But enjoy it while you can, girl, because you’ll not be having tea with anyone once winter comes. I’m not having you walking home from the station by yourself in the dark.’

  ‘Thank you, Dad!’ Jeannie noticed her mother’s look of relief.

  The Baileys’ big, four-storey house was behind a cinema in Walton Vale. It had a brass plate on the front door and the two front rooms had been turned into a surgery and a waiting room that was half full of patients when Elaine and Jeannie arrived. Mrs Bailey acted as her husband’s secretary and receptionist, as well as looking after their six children. She was a jolly, surprisingly placid woman, considering the hectic life she led.

  The three younger boys – Elaine referred to them as ‘the terrible trio’ – had already eaten by the time the girls arrived and could be heard creating bedlam in the handkerchief-sized back yard. Jeannie was taken into a large kitchen where the worn wooden cupboards and old-fashioned brown sink contrasted oddly with a tall fridge, a washing machine, and a spin dryer. A big pan of stew simmered on the stove and Jeannie was given a plate and told to help herself.

  Elaine explained her mum and dad wouldn’t eat till later. ‘Come on, the dining room’s in here. Our Lachlan will be home in about half an hour. He has a violin lesson after school.’ Lachlan’s name was pronounced ‘Loklan’, though the spelling made it look quite different, Elaine said. He was fourteen and hadn’t passed the eleven-plus due to the fact that, as far as anyone knew, he had never read a book in his life. All he thought about was music.

  Marcia, the oldest member of the family
, was seated at the table when the two girls went into the dining room. Jeannie had already met Marcia, fifteen, and bearing no resemblance to Elaine, being fair-haired, tall, and slim. She seemed to hold strong opinions about every subject under the sun, which she expressed in a loud, grating voice, oblivious to whether someone’s feelings might be hurt. She and Lachlan were going to the pictures later that night to see Marilyn Monroe and Joseph Cotton in Niagara.

  ‘Have you seen it, Jeannie?’ she enquired.

  Jeannie was forced to confess she’d been to the pictures only once in her life, to see The Wizard of Oz one Christmas.

  Marcia looked astounded. ‘Only once? But you’ve seen films on telly, haven’t you?’ she insisted. ‘Alfred Hitchcock’s The Man Who Knew Too Much was on the other night. They say it’s not as good as the remake with Doris Day and James Stewart, but we haven’t seen that yet.’

  ‘We haven’t got a television.’

  ‘It sounds like it’s still the nineteenth century in your village,’ Marcia sniffed disdainfully.

  ‘Oh, no! Loads of people have televisions, it’s just that my father doesn’t believe in them.’

  ‘What about your mother?’

  ‘She doesn’t either.’ Jeannie wasn’t convinced if this were true. Mum had lately been finding an excuse to call on the Taylors, who lived next door but one, for half an hour or so during the evening. It was Max’s theory she was watching their telly.

  ‘She only goes the nights Hancock’s Half Hour is on, and I Love Lucy,’ he pointed out.

  Elaine was annoyed with Marcia’s attitude towards her friend. ‘Jeannie can play the piano really well,’ she boasted. ‘That’s a proper achievement, not like watching telly and going to the pictures night after night. One of these days, you’ll get square eyes.’

  ‘I can’t play all that well,’ Jeannie said bashfully.

  ‘Let’s see how well you can. You’ve nearly finished tea, so play something for us. There’s a piano in the upstairs parlour.’

  ‘She’s not here to entertain you, Marcia!’ Elaine was even more irritated. ‘I don’t ask your friends to put on a show, not that you’ve got many.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’ Jeannie was anxious to avoid a row. She’d play Minuet in G, one of the first real pieces she’d learned. Nowadays, she was able to include several of her own little flourishes. She ate the remainder of the meal and asked to be shown the piano. Despite her bashfulness, she could play well and was keen to impress Marcia.

  The parlour was large and shabby, and the piano had been sadly neglected. She ran her fingers along the yellowing keys; it urgently needed tuning.

  ‘Don’t you need music?’ Elaine asked.

  ‘Not for this. I know it by heart.’ Her father often asked her to play for visitors. Jeannie had no ambition to become a professional pianist. She enjoyed playing, but it wasn’t a passion. Even so, if she was in the mood, she was able to put real feeling into a tune. She did so now, playing the gentle melody with the image in her head of crinolined ladies and men with powdered wigs bowing and curtseying to each other before beginning their minuet.

  To her astonishment, she was halfway through, when she found herself being accompanied on a violin. A boy, very like Elaine, appeared beside her, grinning, a violin tucked under his chin, wielding the bow with great enthusiasm. It could only be Lachlan, who’d never read a book. She grinned back, and they managed to finish together, at exactly the same time.

  Elaine and Marcia laughed and clapped their hands, and Marcia demanded they play something else.

  ‘Do you know this?’ Lachlan closed his eyes and began to play a haunting tune she’d never heard before. Jeannie watched. The sleeves of his grey shirt were rolled up, revealing slight, suntanned arms. Taller than Max by at least six inches, his face was slightly leaner than his sister’s, his mouth thinner and wider, curled in a slight smile. He was quite clearly lost in the music. She realised guiltily that she’d been watching for far too long and hoped no one had noticed. With one hand, she began to pick out the notes then, gaining confidence, added the bass. She thought she’d made an adequate job of things by the time they’d finished.

  ‘What was that?’ she asked.

  ‘ “Love Me Tender”.’ Lachlan’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘It’s an Elvis Presley song.’

  When Jeannie said she’d never heard of Elvis Presley, Marcia screamed, ‘Honestly, Jeannie! You can’t be real. Everyone’s heard of Elvis Presley.’

  ‘I haven’t, but I love his song.’

  ‘It’s from a film of the same name,’ Lachlan said. ‘It’s on at the Plaza the week after next. Why don’t you come to see it with me and Marcia?’

  ‘Only if Elaine comes too.’

  ‘I’ll go if you go, Jeannie.’

  ‘I would have loved to hear you and Lachlan play together,’ Rose said wistfully when Jeannie told her what had happened. ‘It would be like having a little concert in our own home.’

  Jeannie had an idea. ‘Why not ask Elaine and Lachlan to tea, and Marcia, I suppose, though I don’t like her much. They could come next Sunday, while the weather’s still nice. I can meet them at the station.’

  ‘I’ll see what your dad has to say.’

  At first, Tom regarded the request with suspicion. ‘How old is Lachlan?’ he enquired of his daughter.

  ‘Fourteen.’

  ‘Hmm!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t like the idea of you being involved with lads at your age. You’re only eleven.’

  ‘Oh, Dad! We played a duet, that’s all. And I’ll be twelve in December.’ It would be best not to admit she felt quite enthusiastic about seeing Lachlan again. He was the first boy she’d ever noticed out of the scores of boys she’d known.

  ‘Your mother said something about going to the pictures. I’m not sure if I can allow that. These people are strangers. I know nothing about them.’

  Jeannie knew he was only being protective, but it would be highly embarrassing to have to tell Elaine that her father had forbidden her to go to the pictures, endorsing Marcia’s belief that life in Ailsham was positively Victorian.

  ‘Why don’t we at least ask them to tea, Tom?’ Rose suggested. ‘We can see what they’re like? I’d love to hear Jeannie and Lachlan play.’

  ‘I don’t suppose there’d be much harm in that,’ Tom said grudgingly.

  ‘I doubt if our Lachlan will come,’ Elaine said. ‘Marcia will, because she’s dead nosy and she hasn’t many friends of her own, but Lachlan always goes to the Cavern on Sundays.’

  ‘What’s the Cavern?’ Jeannie enquired.

  ‘A club in town, Matthew Street, where they play music – jazz and skiffle. I’m dying to go, but Lachlan won’t take me. He goes with a crowd of boys from school and says I’m much too young.’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Jeannie didn’t show her disappointment. ‘It’ll be nice to have you and Marcia.’

  Elaine returned to school next day with the surprising news that Lachlan had accepted the invitation. ‘It’s not like him; he’s not usually the sort of person who goes to tea. I don’t quite know what’s got into him.’

  Jeannie hoped it was because Lachlan wanted to see her again as much as she did him.

  There was no need to meet the Baileys at the station as their father was bringing them in the car – perhaps he felt the need to see what sort of family his children were associating with. They arrived on the dot of three in the big, black, pre-war Humber that was its owner’s pride and joy, according to Marcia. ‘Dad thinks more of that car than he does of us,’ she grumbled.

  Dr Bailey was a tall, prepossessing man with a luxurious moustache and a warm bedside manner even with people who weren’t his patients. Jeannie had neglected to mention that her friend’s father was a doctor, and Tom Flowers was quite bowled over by their distinguished visitor. He humbly showed him around the impressive garden and picked a bunch of chrysanthemums for him to take to ‘your good wife’. The doctor left, promising to return at half past six
.

  Earlier, Max had announced he was going out, having no desire to meet a couple of girls and a boy who played the violin and was bound to be a cissy. Jeannie had pleaded with him to stay and at least be introduced. ‘It would look rude, otherwise.’ To her chagrin, Max and Lachlan liked each other on the spot, and disappeared into Max’s bedroom to talk about football.

  The girls went for a walk through the village. It always looked particularly pretty in autumn, even though today was rather dull, without a glimmer of sun. The gardens were bulging with russet flowers and the numerous trees had started to shed their golden leaves, providing a crisp carpet for them to walk on. But Marcia wasn’t remotely impressed and loudly proclaimed her astonishment that people were able to breathe in such a deadly dull atmosphere.

  ‘There’s no one around, only us. I’m convinced nothing but corpses live here.’

  ‘Corpses don’t live, Marcia,’ Elaine said scathingly.

  Marcia ignored her sister’s intervention. ‘It’s like that film, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It was about a village just like this, ’cept it was in America, where the people were gradually being taken over by aliens and weren’t human any more.’

  ‘What about Jeannie’s family?’ Elaine enquired. ‘Aren’t they human any more?’

  ‘Yes, but only because the aliens haven’t reached the part where they live yet.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Marcia.’ Jeannie burst out laughing. Yet in a way, although she wouldn’t have admitted it, she knew what Marcia meant. Today, Ailsham was silent and deserted. It did look dead, and she gave a little shiver, wondering what people were doing behind their front doors and blank windows.

  It would be nice to live somewhere like Walton Vale, with a cinema around the corner, loads of shops, and trams running to Liverpool every few minutes. It would also be nice, she thought traitorously, to have a dad like Dr Bailey, instead of one who raised a hundred objections every time his children wanted to go out. Perhaps it was because he was old; he’d forgotten how to enjoy himself and didn’t realise she and Max wanted a good time. She kicked at a pile of leaves. There was nothing she could do about it. She loved her father and, if she said anything, it would only upset her mother, whom she loved most of all.