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Authors: Maureen Lee
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ridiculous.’ Lena laughed.
‘There’s a few women in the British Parliament,’ he informed her. ‘There’s Ellen Wilkinson, Jennie Lee and Lady Astor – that’s three. There’s probably more, but I can’t remember their names.’
‘Really?’ He appeared very knowledgeable. She liked men who regularly read newspapers, not just the sport like Maurice, who was mad on football.
‘Do you fancy a drink, Mrs Newton?’
‘Well …’ Lena fancied a drink if only so they could go on talking, but she rarely touched alcohol. ‘I wouldn’t mind an orange cordial or a cup of tea.’ She felt so uplifted and moved by the picture that she didn’t care if they were seen together. As George had said, they were friends, that was all.
‘I’m afraid, Mrs Newton,’ he said regretfully, ‘there are no cafés round here open this late. I wouldn’t dream of inviting you into one of the local pubs, but there’s a nice place on Stanley Road called the Crown. It’s a hotel as well as a public house, and the clientele are entirely respectable. Would you care to go there?’
They’d been standing outside the Palace all this time, in everybody’s way as they left. He held out his arm for her to link, and she felt it would be awfully rude not to take it, so she did.
Although Tom Chance’s job as a barman kept him busy of a night, most mornings he caught the tram into town, where he stayed for hours, sometimes not coming home until it was time for tea.
Freda was unable to hide her curiosity for long, and one day just after Easter, when she was still on holiday from school, she couldn’t resist asking him what he did there.
‘Have you got another job in town?’ she enquired. He was about to leave the house with a khaki bag like a satchel on his shoulder. Having seen him unpack it from time to time, she knew it contained a collection of pencils, some of them coloured, and a notebook.
‘No.’ He smiled. Freda loved his smiles. She reckoned he kept his best ones for her. The ones he gave her mother and Dicky she was convinced weren’t quite so broad, and didn’t always reach his eyes. ‘I was thinking of writing a history of Liverpool. All I do is walk around and around making notes and drawings.’
‘A history of Liverpool!’ She was impressed. She’d never thought of the city having a history. It was just there and she couldn’t imagine it ever having been different – which, now she thought about it, was rather foolish.
‘Liverpool is one of the most important cities in the world and has been the first to do so many things,’ Tom went on. ‘For instance, it was the first to have a lending library, a lifeboat station, municipal trams and electric trains – which reminds me, the first railway tunnels in the world were built underneath you-know-where.’
‘Liverpool,’ Freda breathed.
‘Where else?’ Tom laughed. ‘Why don’t you get your coat and come with me? You’ll be back at school soon. I’m sure your mother won’t mind.’
Freda didn’t give a toss whether her mother minded or not. She collected her coat, wishing it was much smarter and a nicer colour than navy blue, and they set off. They caught a tram from Stanley Road into town. Tom paid her penny fare when she realised she hadn’t thought to bring money.
On the way, he told her that the Queensway Tunnel under the Mersey, linking Liverpool to Birkenhead, was sometimes described as the Eighth Wonder of the World. ‘Oh, and the first British person to win the Nobel Prize was called Ronald Ross, and he worked at the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine – which, incidentally, was the first school of its kind …’ He paused and looked at Freda, eyebrows raised.
‘In the world,’ Freda said triumphantly.
‘Right! Oh, we’re going to have a fine old time, you and me.’
They got off the tram outside St George’s Hall. ‘The finest neoclassical building in all of Europe,’ Tom said.
‘Not in the world?’ queried
‘There’s a few women in the British Parliament,’ he informed her. ‘There’s Ellen Wilkinson, Jennie Lee and Lady Astor – that’s three. There’s probably more, but I can’t remember their names.’
‘Really?’ He appeared very knowledgeable. She liked men who regularly read newspapers, not just the sport like Maurice, who was mad on football.
‘Do you fancy a drink, Mrs Newton?’
‘Well …’ Lena fancied a drink if only so they could go on talking, but she rarely touched alcohol. ‘I wouldn’t mind an orange cordial or a cup of tea.’ She felt so uplifted and moved by the picture that she didn’t care if they were seen together. As George had said, they were friends, that was all.
‘I’m afraid, Mrs Newton,’ he said regretfully, ‘there are no cafés round here open this late. I wouldn’t dream of inviting you into one of the local pubs, but there’s a nice place on Stanley Road called the Crown. It’s a hotel as well as a public house, and the clientele are entirely respectable. Would you care to go there?’
They’d been standing outside the Palace all this time, in everybody’s way as they left. He held out his arm for her to link, and she felt it would be awfully rude not to take it, so she did.
Although Tom Chance’s job as a barman kept him busy of a night, most mornings he caught the tram into town, where he stayed for hours, sometimes not coming home until it was time for tea.
Freda was unable to hide her curiosity for long, and one day just after Easter, when she was still on holiday from school, she couldn’t resist asking him what he did there.
‘Have you got another job in town?’ she enquired. He was about to leave the house with a khaki bag like a satchel on his shoulder. Having seen him unpack it from time to time, she knew it contained a collection of pencils, some of them coloured, and a notebook.
‘No.’ He smiled. Freda loved his smiles. She reckoned he kept his best ones for her. The ones he gave her mother and Dicky she was convinced weren’t quite so broad, and didn’t always reach his eyes. ‘I was thinking of writing a history of Liverpool. All I do is walk around and around making notes and drawings.’
‘A history of Liverpool!’ She was impressed. She’d never thought of the city having a history. It was just there and she couldn’t imagine it ever having been different – which, now she thought about it, was rather foolish.
‘Liverpool is one of the most important cities in the world and has been the first to do so many things,’ Tom went on. ‘For instance, it was the first to have a lending library, a lifeboat station, municipal trams and electric trains – which reminds me, the first railway tunnels in the world were built underneath you-know-where.’
‘Liverpool,’ Freda breathed.
‘Where else?’ Tom laughed. ‘Why don’t you get your coat and come with me? You’ll be back at school soon. I’m sure your mother won’t mind.’
Freda didn’t give a toss whether her mother minded or not. She collected her coat, wishing it was much smarter and a nicer colour than navy blue, and they set off. They caught a tram from Stanley Road into town. Tom paid her penny fare when she realised she hadn’t thought to bring money.
On the way, he told her that the Queensway Tunnel under the Mersey, linking Liverpool to Birkenhead, was sometimes described as the Eighth Wonder of the World. ‘Oh, and the first British person to win the Nobel Prize was called Ronald Ross, and he worked at the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine – which, incidentally, was the first school of its kind …’ He paused and looked at Freda, eyebrows raised.
‘In the world,’ Freda said triumphantly.
‘Right! Oh, we’re going to have a fine old time, you and me.’
They got off the tram outside St George’s Hall. ‘The finest neoclassical building in all of Europe,’ Tom said.
‘Not in the world?’ queried
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