Winter on the Mersey(61)

‘Oh,’ said Alfie, keeping any emotion from his voice. ‘My mistake. Only a while back in town one night, I thought she was meeting what’s-his-name, used to live near you.’ He drummed his fingers on the table, as if trying to remember. ‘Frank. Frank Feeny.’

Tommy laughed and spilt some of his beer. ‘Oh, no, you got that very wrong. He’s not her boyfriend.’

‘No?’ Alfie looked doubtful. ‘They seemed very friendly.’

Tommy shook his head. ‘They are friends; he’s like another brother to all of us. That’s all. I’d know if not. I think he’s got a girlfriend anyway, from where he works.’ He gave a small hiccough. Alfie didn’t seem to be sitting as steadily on his stool as he had been. His outline was becoming a little blurry. The whole room felt blurry. It wasn’t unpleasant, just odd.

‘Careful now, Tommy,’ said Alfie. ‘Nearly came off your seat there, you did. Don’t want you cracking your head on the floor now, do we?’

Tommy grunted. He was feeling odder still.

‘Well, I’m sure you’re right about Kitty,’ said Alfie. He realised he’d overplayed his hand. He had planned to get Tommy on his side, maybe persuade him to report back on when Kitty’s shifts were or which friends she was seeing, so he could get a better idea of her movements, but the boy must be completely unused to drink as he was swaying where he sat. ‘Come on, best get you back. I’ve places to go, I can’t be sitting around drinking beer all evening, much as I’d like to.’ He hauled Tommy to his feet and guided him across the near-empty bar and back to the car.

Tommy gave up after a few attempts to continue the conversation and dozed off, coming to with a start as Alfie pulled up at the kerb on the corner of the dock road, just down from the junction with Empire Street.

‘I’ll drop you here if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘Save me going out of my way. You all right to walk back from here?’

Tommy shrugged and squinted hard to make out where he was. It looked familiar. ‘Yes, course,’ he said, trying to open the car door and failing. Alfie leant across and did it for him.

‘Right you are then.’

Tommy scrambled out of the car and stood unsteadily. ‘Ummm … thanks, Alfie.’ Kitty would be pleased with him, remembering his manners like that, he thought. The cold breeze reddened his cheeks and helped sober him up a little as he turned to wave goodbye.

‘Make sure you tell Kitty I was asking after her,’ called Alfie as he sped off.

Tommy wasn’t sure he would say anything of the sort. He would have to explain where and how he’d been talking to Alfie, and he knew that would be a bad idea. He made his way along the main road and turned up into Empire Street, his feet unsteady. He wove along, narrowly avoiding falling over his shoelaces.

Sarah stood at the top of the road, watching the swaying figure’s progress, growing more alarmed by the second as she realised who it was. At first she thought she must be mistaken. The person was obviously drunk and it couldn’t be Tommy – he was far too young to get served in a pub. And yet the closer he got, the plainer his identity became. Sarah groaned under her breath. She couldn’t let him cope on his own. Even though she was exhausted after a shift that had gone on three hours longer than it should have, she knew it was her duty to see to him. Kitty wouldn’t be home yet and now there was no Danny to help his little brother.

Tommy looked up at her as he approached, his face confused. He squinted as if trying to make out who she was. ‘Sarah,’ he said at last.

‘Well done, Tommy,’ she said in exasperation. ‘Who did you think it was? Of course it’s me.’

‘Nurse’s coat,’ Tommy said, pointing.

‘Yes, I’ve just come from work.’ Sarah stepped closer and then recoiled at the smell of alcohol. ‘Tommy, where have you been? You’ve been drinking, haven’t you?’

‘I … I …’ Tommy appeared to be trying to explain but not getting very far.

‘Don’t bother, I can see you have been,’ Sarah said firmly. ‘Right, we’d best get you indoors. Do you have your key?’ Danny had told her they’d got one cut for his little brother for his first week at work, reasoning that if he was responsible enough to deliver telegrams, then he could be trusted with his own door key. Tommy had been proud and tied it to a cord around his neck. Now he brought it out.

‘I can do it,’ he said, but as he stumbled to the front door he missed the keyhole by a mile. He tried again but it was no good.

Sarah reached over. ‘Here. Let me.’ The sooner he was inside the better. She didn’t want anyone else to see him in this state – the likes of Vera Delaney would have a field day, and Kitty and Danny would like as not get the blame. She didn’t want that.

She took him by the shoulders and guided him into the kitchen, where she lit the gas lamp and bent to set fire to the kindling left in the grate. Tommy slumped into a chair and rested his head on the table. ‘I’m not very well,’ he moaned.

‘No, you’re drunk,’ Sarah pointed out. ‘Here, have a glass of water. Now, tell me, what’s going on?’

Tommy looked up at her and clearly decided he wasn’t going to get away with not explaining what had happened. So he recounted meeting Alfie and agreeing to get in the car, and ending up at the pub with him. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it,’ he said mournfully. ‘He was being nice, that’s all.’