Laceys of Liverpool Read Free

too disappointed if he turns out like some of the others, will you, luv?’
    ‘Like
most
of the others, you mean. All
I
want is company, all
they
want is . . . well, I can’t think of a polite word for it. Men seem to think a young widow is game for anything.’ Her usually cheerful face grew sober. ‘Oh, Al, I don’t half wish Bob hadn’t been killed. I feelguilty going out with other men. I get so lonely, but not lonely enough to jump into bed with every man I meet. If only we’d had kids. At least they’d make me feel wanted.’
    ‘I know, luv,’ Alice said gently.
    ‘We kept putting them off, kids, until we got a house. We didn’t want to start a family while we were still in rooms. Then the war started, Bob was killed, and it’s been horrible ever since. And I’m still living in the same rooms.’
    Alice squeezed her shoulders. ‘Don’t forget, you’re welcome round ours tomorrer if you feel like a jangle. Don’t be put off ’cos it’s Christmas Day.’
    ‘I’m going to me mam’s, Al, but thanks all the same.’ Bernadette reached up and touched Alice’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, luv, for being such a moan. You’ve got enough problems of your own these days, what with John the way he is. It’s just that you’re the only person I’ve got to talk to.’
    ‘Don’t you dare apologise, Bernadette Moynihan. You’re the only person I’ve told about John. Today was your turn for a moan. Next time it’ll be mine.’
    The final customer of the day arrived; Mrs O’Leary, with her ten-year-old daughter, Daisy, who was in Maeve’s class at school and whose long, auburn ringlets were in need of a good trim. By now, Myrtle was fast asleep and snoring.
    ‘Would you like me to do it?’ an embarrassed Alice offered. ‘I won’t be long with Bernie.’
    ‘Well, I haven’t got much choice, have I?’ Mrs O’Leary laughed. ‘At least you’ll probably cut it level both sides. Myrtle’s usually well out. I sometimes wonder why we come. I suppose it’s because it’s so convenient, right at the end of the street, but I think I’ll give that place in Marsh Lane a try. Each time we comeMyrtle’s worse than the time before. And it’s not just the drink. She’s every bit as useless if she’s sober. If it weren’t for you, Alice, this place would have closed down years ago.’
    ‘Hear, hear,’ cried Bernadette. ‘It’s Al who keeps it going.’
    Alice blushed, but she had a feeling of dread. If Myrtle’s closed, what would she do? She’d started four years ago, just giving a hand: sweeping up, wiping down, putting women under the dryers, taking them out again, washing hair, fetching towels, putting on gowns. Lately, with Myrtle going seriously downhill in more ways than one, she’d been taking on more and more responsibility. It was impossible to work in a hairdresser’s for so long without learning how it was done. Alice was quite capable of giving a shampoo and set, a Marcel or Eugene wave, a perm – the new method was so much simpler than having to plug in every curler separately, a procedure that took all of four hours – and she seemed to have a knack with scissors. It was just a question of holding them right.
    She only lived in the next street. It was easy to pop home when business was slack to make the girls their tea, keep an eye on them during the holidays. She usually brought Cormac with her. An angel of a child, he’d been quite happy to lie in his pram in the kitchen, play on the pavement outside when he got older, or sit in the corner, drawing, on the days it rained. But it wasn’t just the convenience, or the extra money, useful though it was. Nowadays the hairdresser’s provided an escape from the tragedy her life had become since last May. For most people the end of the worst war the world had ever known was a joyful occasion, a reason to celebrate. For the Laceys it had been a nightmare.
    Myrtle’s was an entirely different world: a bright, cosy,highly dramatic little world