Laceys of Liverpool Read Online Free PDF Page A

then. What was to become of her, of John, of their children? How was she to convince John that she loved him? Would she continue to love him if he remained the angry, glowering, suspicious person, nothing like the man he used to be? Could you love someone who made your children unhappy? Did he love her? What had happened was awful, but as Maeve had wisely said, he had no right to take it out on his family.
    ‘White Christmas’ was being sung not far away. ‘Just like the ones we used to know . . .’ Not any more, we don’t, Alice thought bleakly. This Christmas has been nothing like the ones we used to know. The first after Mam died had been bad enough. Dad was gutted, but he’d done his best to brighten things up for his daughter. He’d bought her a new frock, taken her to the pantomime on Boxing Day. She was eight, an only child.
    Alice knew she wasn’t a clever person. She hadn’t a single talent she could think of. She was often tongue-tied, stuck for something to say, slow-witted. She had achieved just five things in her life: she had married John Lacey, whom all the girls at Johnson’s Dye Factory had been mad about, and she’d had four beautiful children.
    But if she was to get through the years to come and stay sane, she needed to do something else. Time passed so quickly. Pretty soon the girls would start getting married. There’d only be Cormac left and what if Johnwas still the same? Things at home were unbearable now and they’d be even more unbearable with the girls gone.
    Yes, she had to
do
something. But what? At the moment, even her job was on the line and it wouldn’t be easy getting another, not with servicemen coming home, wanting back their jobs in the factories, and women all over the place being given the sack – women used to earning a wage and unwilling to return to being housewives. Bernadette said there’d been forty-two applications when the Gas Board where she worked had advertised for a wages clerk. Most were from women who’d been in the Forces, but it was a man who’d got the job. Not that Alice was fit to be a clerk of any sort, she couldn’t even add up.
    ‘We’ll not go round our John’s next Christmas if things there don’t improve,’ Billy Lacey said as he walked home through the fog with his family. ‘I’m glad you said we were having someone round to tea, luv, even if it were a lie. I couldn’t have stood another minute in that house.’
    ‘It wasn’t a lie,’ Cora said coolly. ‘Mr Flynn’s coming to tea.’
    ‘Mr Flynn, the landlord!’
    ‘The very same.’
    Billy grimaced at the idea of another meal accompanied by stilted conversation. They were passing O’Connell Street where they used to live and which Billy much preferred to where they lived now. ‘I think I’ll drop in on Foxy Jones. I haven’t seen him since he came out the Army. I’ll be home in time for tea, luv.’
    ‘Like hell you will,’ Cora muttered as her husband, hands in pockets, whistling tunelessly, made off down the street. She wouldn’t see him again until the pubs closed. Not that she cared. The less she saw of Billy the better.
    ‘Dad!’ Maurice called plaintively, but his dad ignored him.
    Cora gave her son a little shake, annoyed he wanted his dad when he had her. ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’
    Maurice took the words literally. ‘A bone, Mam?’
    ‘How many times have I told you not to sit on your Grannie Lacey’s knee? I can’t stand to see her maul you.’
    The little boy felt confused. Gran had sat him on her knee. He’d had no choice in the matter. ‘I’m sorry, Mam.’ He apologised to his mother a hundred times a day. He was always getting things wrong, though was often mystified as to what they were.
    ‘You will be sorry when you get home.’
    His stomach curled. He knew what the words meant and could tell by the way Mam walked, very quickly, shoulders back, lips pursed, that she was going to hit him with the cane. For the rest of the way home