Chapter Two
Eleanor Cummings’ house resided on a rustic country road called ‘Providence Lane’ and was everything that I expected a sixty-eight year olds’ house to look like. On the outside, tall and bright white with manicured hedges and a white-picket fence. On the inside its’ eclectic feel perfectly suited Eleanor’s personality: and I’d only known her about two hours! The living room and kitchen were both covered with flowers, fauna and everything floral. There were Doilies, crocheted afghans, throw rugs (none of which matched the other) portraits of famous royalty, fireplaces plastered with photographs and lots of cut-glass bowls of candy that sat underneath Tiffany lamps.
And Eleanor’s breezy air continued as she gave us the tour of the upstairs. “You’ll have to share the toilet,” she said, leading us up the narrow staircase. “It’s down the hall to you left. Unless of course one of you cares to be bothered with going downstairs. Annie, your room is the door on the left, and Claire this is yours…”
Ellie opened the door and turned on the lights. I stood in a room probably twice the size of what I was used to back in Brooklyn and the thought of living in such a place left me unable to speak.
Eleanor’s strange fetish with flowers was once again displayed: the wallpaper was all red Victorian roses, the white bedspread was covered with green and pale blue embroidered pansies. A cherry oak boudoir rested in the corner by the window next to an old fashioned roll-away desk.
“Not much of a view, I’m afraid,” she said, pulling back the sheer curtains which would surely have been pretty had they been lit by the sun—but the sun was nonexistent here.
I peered out the window and was greeted with a view of the street. The houses were all custom-made, but the front gardens all looked rather identical to Eleanor’s.
Now, as a city girl of Brooklyn breeding, the sight of a world comprised of greenery was a pleasant, if not strange sensation.
“It’s… it’s very pretty,” I said softly.
“I’m pleased you like it,” she said from behind me. I felt her take hold of my hand and I turned to face her. “You see that quilt on the bed?”
“It’s pretty too.”
“I made it going on… forty years ago. It’s one of my most prized possessions. And I want you in it as soon as we finish tea, do you hear?”
“Bed? But I’m not tired,” I said, lying through my teeth. My body was aching with exhaustion.
“Love, I’ve been on a flight like that before and you’ll be a disaster area if you don’t listen to your body.” A few minutes later, we were downstairs and seated on the soft velvet sofa in Eleanor’s living room and she set down a tray of finger snacks and handed us our cup and saucer: an awkward thing to handle properly if you’ve never done it before like my sister and I.
“One lump or two?”
Annie’s eyes were blank, so I told Eleanor we’d both have two please.
“Milk?”
I made a sour face. “Milk? In tea?”
“Certainly,” said Eleanor. “It’s the only way to drink it! Oh but I’ve forgotten: you Yanks drink in black.”
She sat down next to us and smiled warmly. “You must forgive my excitement. This house has been empty for years… but believe me, I am so very glad that you are here. I’ve never had any children of my own. Not that I didn’t want to, mind. I just couldn’t have them. And now look!” She laughed softly. “Now who says there are no such thing as miracles!”
**
Annie knocked on my bedroom door a little after two one in the morning. She wasn’t used to a whole room alone, nor was I, so the two of us bunked up in my bed. We felt safer— after all, we were the only two people we had left.
We didn’t sleep, of course, we just talked… and talked… and agreed the Eleanor was a very nice woman… and that we didn’t want to be here one bit. Annie eventually cried herself to sleep, and I simply didn’t sleep.
In the morning, Ellie cooked the two of us what she called a ‘traditional English fry-up’. She said it was ‘guaranteed to put some meat on our bones’ as she insisted we were sorely in need of.
She hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d called the breakfast a ‘fry-up.’ Everything from the potatoes to the fish was fried… and it was first for me to ever have fish for breakfast. (‘Kippers,’ Eleanor had dubbed it). Annie and I picked at our plates with trepidation, and I tried my damndest to look like I was enjoying it. Annie, however, seemed to be unable to hide her frown.
“Now, Friday is going to be very busy for all of us. We’ve an appointment at nine o’ clock in the morning to meet with the headmaster of the Woolton Girl’s Academy.”
I lifted my eyes from my strange looking breakfast plate. “What did you say? What’s ‘woo-ton’?”
“Oh!” Eleanor threw her head back in laughter. “Sorry! Woolton is where we live!”
“I thought this was Liverpool,” said Annie.
“Well, technically, yes. Woolton is a suburb really. A complete about-face from the city centre. Anyway, the Girl’s Academy is a splendid secondary school. It’s been around so long that I even attended it! Monday we’ll meet with your new headmaster, and then we’ll have to purchase your uniforms.”
I nearly choked on my potatoes. “Uniform?”
“Yes,” said Eleanor. “Of course. You have to wear one for school.”
“Not at home,” said Annie. “At our high school we could wear anything we wanted. Only the stuffy private school kids wear uniforms.”
Annie was right. I was insecure enough at PS 118. But going to a Girl’s Academy?
“Girls, I wouldn’t worry about fitting in.” Eleanor’s voice was light and airy as she poured herself another cup of tea. “The rules are quite simple: keep a stiff upper lip, betray no emotion and you’re in.” She winked at us. “Only who wants to play by the rules, eh?”
I smiled, genuinely eased by her whimsy.
“Now I want you both to tell me what you did at home for fun. I want to make sure that this place feels as much like home as possible.”
“Well,” I said. “We… we listened to the radio a lot. Played lots of records.”
“Good. I’ve a record player in the library— have fun with is because I’ve yet to figure out how the blasted thing words. And you’ll find radios in both your rooms. What else?”
Annie gladly put down her fork of suspicious looking meat. “Oh, uh, we did a lot of reading…”
“Wonderful! We’ll go to the bookstore on Monday! There’s a lovely one down in the city centre.”
I laughed. “I’m the one who did the reading. Annie prefers glossy movie magazines.”
“That is reading,” she said.
Ellie laughed. “Anything else?”
“Else? Oh… there’s the movies.”
“Lovely,” said Eleanor, “Now I won’t have to go to the cinema alone. You see, I read the movie magazines too!”
**
The aristocratic charm and appeal of Woolton seemed to stop abruptly at the end of Providence Lane. On the one side of Providence lane were the tall playful grassy fields with the stoic oak trees that carried distant smells of sea air. The sunlight was prevalent but never intense: always hazy and soft and filtered lazily through the trees.
The people of Woolton were hopelessly suburbanized, living happily and contentedly in their small, old fashioned world, going on about in their small, old fashioned ways. Gardening, buying out time for tea every day, taking evening strolls and playing games of bridge and gin rummy after every meal. These were the ways of Wooltonites. For a mind that had been molded by a metropolitan society, this came as a refreshingly tranquil change of pace.
But at the end of Providence Lane, the trees disappeared, the breezes ceased and the sun beat down relentlessly onto a long stretch of red dirt road which stretched upward so far that the eye had to squint to find its end.
At the end of that road was a magnificent, gothic-like piece of architecture. Spires stretched towards the heavens, conjuring up images of the tower of Babel. The gates were enormous: rod-iron dipped in gold and high front steps reached up to the ominous great entrance.
This was not our local church. This was to be our new school.
Lord help us all.
The latter word absolutely sent my stomach into knots. My dislike for the institution grew fervid at the mere idea of my having to attend school there, of all places! How in the world were my sister and I to survive that, when we were absolutely and positively completely ignorant of what we were supposed to act like.
We met with the headmaster, an emaciated-looking elderly man with a jaw entirely too large for the rest of his head. He explained to us the curriculum, that we would be starting on Monday, and then he went on about the way the British educational system operated (a cavalcade of unfamiliar jargon— something about ‘A’ Levels and ‘O’ Levels…) and told us about the required uniform.
The uniforms were just as dis-heartening as everything else about the situation: we were to wear gray, calf length pleated skirts, a crisp white blouse with a collar and buttons. A gray cardigan was to be worn over the white blouse (although navy blue was an option as well. Generous of them, eh?) We were to wear white socks or stocking only, with black shoes only. Oh, and the best part: a tie!
Eleanor took us shopping directly after our meeting with the headmaster ended: a tiny shop off what she called ‘the High street’ and an entirely too charismatic tailor fitted us for our new school uniforms. Eleanor remained purposefully optimistic, though I was sure she could sense the great apprehension in which we approached everything.
Annie and I hadn’t spoken more than two sentences since leaving the imposing, overwhelming Academy gates, and by the late afternoon, Eleanor was beginning to run out of things to talk about.
And I was feeling awful, because she was trying so very hard to keep our spirits up… I wanted to be as happy and carefree as she was… but I simply couldn’t allow myself.
“I know,” she said as we slid into the car with our packages from the tailors, “before we head back home, I want to show you one last thing.”
My heart sank: I wanted to go back to the house and pull the covers up over my head. But Eleanor was insistent.
“You’ll love it.”
Annie and I shared a look of mournful dismay, but Eleanor was bearing down the road, towards the same buildings we’d seen on our first drive into the city. We were most certainly back in the city centre of Liverpool— but it looked different today. Although it had been raining quite steadily for a good portion of the day, the late afternoon sun was now shining brilliantly, bursting free from the cloud cover with unabashed fanfare and its’ rays bounced off the slick cobblestone streets, and it shone off the narrow shop windows.
Eleanor parked the car, and we stepped out onto the pavement. “This is it,” said Eleanor. “Hessy’s Music Shop.”
Annie and I stood in front of a shop, no bigger than the tailor’s store, with the words “Hessy’s” painted in white over the windows which displayed two shiny Spanish guitars and a sign that read: JUST IN: BUDDY HOLLY ‘OH BOY’- 1’9
“I may be an old foagie, but even I know that this is one of the brightest spots in the city.”
She ushered us inside and we were immediate drenched in warmth and the distinctly pleasing, familiar aroma of freshly packaged vinyl. The area space was minimal and as a result, the guitars for sale hung from the walls and there were rows of shelves in the center of the room positively packed with records. About ten people, buys and girls, were huddled around the displays and had their noses pressed to the albums as the flipped through them.
“Go on,” said Eleanor with an encouraging nod of the head. “Go and look around. If you see something you like go on and pick it out!”
Annie and I stared at her. It had been… well… we couldn’t remember the last time we’d bought a record!
“You’re not serious,” I managed to say..
She laughed at me, and raised her eyes in surprise. “Don’t be silly, of course I am. Go on…”
She was going to buy us a record? Annie’s eyes were, for the first time in weeks, bright and animated. Mine must have been too, because Eleanor’s voice was eager now.
“Go on, anything you like.” She lightly pushed us forward. Annie and I gave each other a smile and then made a line dash for the records.
There were, of course, a number of artists whose names meant nothing to me like ‘Cliff Richards’ and ‘Lonnie Donnegan.’ But they did have several records that Annie and I were familiar with, and it didn’t take long for us to select ‘Oh Boy.’
Back at the house, Eleanor showed us the record player in the library and Annie and I delicately removed the black disk from its’ sleeve: we’d only ever owned three records back home (Be-Bop-a-Lula, Heartbreak Hotel and Maybelline) so Eleanor had no idea just how big of a deal this really was to us.
The record spun and Buddy Holly’s high, energetic voice beat from the player.
“You… don’t mind us listening to Rock and Roll?” asked Annie.
Eleanor laughed. “Certainly not! You see… I come from an era when it was ‘sinful’ to listen to jazz. And did we ever love it. So I figure that it’s the same with you kids today.”
I laughed— out of disbelief more than anything! I’d never heard an adult talk so casually about rock and roll music! Buddy Holly was singing, Annie was laughing, Eleanor was nodding most agreeably with the music… and I was smiling. Genuinely.
***
As it turned out, Eleanor Cummings was something of a socialite. She explained to us that she’d be gone Saturday afternoon for a luncheon out in the country. We were welcome to come, she’d said, if we fancied an afternoon with a group of the most ‘boring old hags’ in Britain.
We politely declined the offer.
“Oh,” she said, “and a friend of mine will possibly be stopping by later— there’s an envelope on the kitchen table that she’ll be picking up.” She gave us a wink. “It’s more of an excuse for her to come by because she’s been wanting to meet you both!”
Eleanor let and Annie and I took up residence in the library, spinning Oh Boy endlessly while Annie read aloud from the magazines Eleanor had brought home.
Life felt… good that soft, Saturday afternoon. For the first time since we’d arrived, I was beginning to relax. In fact, I hadn’t even thought of Dad all day… at least not very much.
The record ended again and Annie stood up. “I’m gonna get a glass of water, want one?”
I nodded wordlessly, and kept my eyes on the article in front of me. The fashions this spring are a return to the classic. Tweed will be the essential, not just for clothing, but accessories as well…
I grimaced. Tweed was definitely not a friend of mine…
“Claire!” Annie was standing in the hallway looking almost panic-stricken. “Someone’s at the door!”
“So answer it,” I said and went right back to my article.
There will also be a new take on the popular French Pleat haircut with…
“You do it!” Annie was now in front of my face. “Please? I’m… I’m…”
“You’re what, scared? Annie, she told us that her friend would be coming by.”
“Then since you know who it is,” she said, “you answer it.”
I let out a groan and pushed myself up, adjusting my skirt. “You’re something else, you know that?”
Annie was right behind me as I went to the front door and swung it open. We were greeted by a breeze of cool air, but that was it.
I stepped outside to find the front garden deserted, save for the wind rustling through the willow trees and the wind chimes playing a mournful melody.
I grimaced at Annie. “See? You waited an now they’ve gone.”
She straightened her posture. “Or maybe they just bolted when they got a look at your face!”
“Well if you weren’t such a baby about everything, I…” something caught my attention. “Do… you hear something Annie?”
We both listened hard— had it just been the wind chimes?
No… it was a definite tapping sound. But from where? To the right was just the quiet country road and to the left was—
“Ouch!”
I rubbed my arm which Annie had jabbed with the point of her elbow.
“Annie, what—“
But Annie was giving me the ‘Shush’ sign and pointed to our left with fearful eyes.
There were two men in blue jeans and white shirts trying to get in through Eleanor’s side window.
“My God,” I whispered, “they’re trying to break in!”
Claire, do something! They can’t break into Eleanor’s house!
“Let’s call the cops,” Annie said frantically.
“Yeah…” I turned to hurry inside but stopped abruptly. My eyes fell on a broom that was leaning next to the door and, without thinking, I grabbed it.
“Claire? What are you doing?”
“No way are they going to get inside that house, Annie. No way in hell.”
Not Eleanor’s house.
I gripped the broom and held it up, tiptoeing towards the culprits, scarcely breathing. I was right up behind them, ready to swing the broom with all my might when my foot snapped a twig. The taller of the two spun around so quickly that I let out a scream. That in turn made him scream, which frightened the shorter one, which frightened Annie, until all for of us were screaming at the top of our lungs.
Instinct grabbed hold of me and I swung the broom, with a might swoosh, and it hit the taller one square in the forehead sending him to the ground.
The screaming stopped and four bodies were perfectly frozen.
Annie was staring at me, a smile plastered on her face, and gradually a wave of pride swept over me.
The shorter of the two broke the trance and knelt to his fallen friend, checking his head. “John! All right, mate? John!”
“Gerrof,” said the one named John, pushing him away. “I’m fine, Pete.”
He got to his feet, albeit wobble, and revealed himself to be no older than myself: a lanky boy with light brown hair… and a very daunting frown.
“Right,” he said, “Now what in the bloody hell is—“
I held up the broom, and he instinctively took a jump back, holding up his hands. “Eh, take it easy there, take it easy!”
“I’m giving you exactly five seconds to get off this property,” I said through clenched teeth. “Or I am calling the cops!”
“What you playin’ at? Listen, I dunno what you’re thinking, but we—“
“I’m thinking that if you take another step I’m gonna have to teach you another lesson. Annie, go inside and call the cops.”
“Wait,” said the short one, raising his hand as my sister turned to go in the house. “Half a mo’, eh? If you’d both calm yerselves down, I could tell you—“
“What? Tell us why you were breaking into a poor old lady’s home? Stealing whatever it is of a life she has left? You’d better have an air-tight alibi, pal, you’re gonna need it: breaking and entering is what we call a federal offense back home. Annie, call the police now!”
“Just bloodylisten, will you,” said the taller boy.
There was enough desperation in his voice to make my sister pause.
“You must be off your chump or something, because we weren’t breakin’ in!”
“Oh?” Annie took her stand next to me. “Funny, because most people believe in using the front doors instead of windows.”
“She always keeps her window unlatched—“
“So you’ve done this before,” I shouted, not caring if I sounded unreasonable! This was Eleanor we were talking about! The sweet woman who’d taken us in and had gone out of her way to make us feel comfortable here. How dare these boys try to break in to the poor, defenseless, sweet woman’s home!
The taller one stepped closer, and his voice lowered as he narrowed his eyebrows. “Are you going to listen?”
I put my nose into the air and matched his stare happily. “Go on. You have thirty seconds before my sister and I gum the works.”
He looked confused, briefly, and then in an instant the intensity was back in his brown eyes. “Pete and I have known Ellie since we were in short pants. She told us that she’d have our money for the garden work we did a week ago in an envelope on her dining table and we were free to come around and pick it up. She always keeps her side window unlocked so we were trying to climb through it because we didn’t think anyone was home… since no one bloody answered the door!”
Uh oh…
My stomach began to churn unpleasantly and I felt myself lowering the broom. I vied to remain confident, although I could hear the doubt in my own voice.
“But… Eleanor said that her friend, that a girl would be by to pick up the envelope.”
“Aye,” he said. “Me Auntie, a friend of Ellie’s.”
I was crushed with guilt, the silence only worsening it.
The boy must have sensed it, because I saw him fold his arms. He cleared his throat. “I’m, er, ready for an apology any time you think you’re ready, that is.”
His arrogance set me off again. Any inkling of admitting that I was wrong disappeared. “Listen you—“
“The name is John.”
“Listen you. We don’t know each other, so let me just educate you right here: I don’t apologize.”
John’s friend laughed. “Not even when you’re wrong, eh?”
I’d heard Annie, of all things, laugh at those words, but she resumed her poker face when I shot her a look that screamed ‘traitor.’
“Both of you,” I said, “can take yourselves and your attitudes someplace else.”
John puffed out his chest somewhat. “Oh we can, can we? And just what are you planning to do about it, might one ask?”
I stepped right up into his face, never mind him being a good five inches taller than me, and met his eyes with dead seriousness. His thin, sardonic smile had vanished.
I kept my voice frighteningly calm and mustered up a smile. “Just so you know, there’s a sweet little pocket knife I make a habit of carrying with me and if you try to get smart with me ever again, then you and your little friend Pinocchio over there are gonna go limping home minus a lot of things that come in handy in everyday life. Get me? Bud?”
John remained perfectly still… he certainly must have felt the sincerity of my words. I could hear Annie breathing hard right beside me, but I never took my eyes off his.
Finally, after a good long minute, a smile appeared and he extended his hand, "I'm sorry, what did you say your name was?"
I raised an eyebrow, thoroughly taken aback, and all I could think to say was an eloquent, "Huh?"
"I told you what my name was. And this here is me best mate, Pete. But you didn't tell us what your names were."
It was a metamorphosis: from burgle suspect to arrogant to gentlemanly and friendly in a matter of mere seconds!
I absently took his hand slowly, "Er...my name's Claire."
"And does she have a name, or shall I just call her 'she.'"
"I’m Annie. Annie Delaney."
"You two mates?" asked Pete.
"No, we're sisters."
John raised a brow, "Oh? You don't look a thing alike."
"Thanks!" we replied in unison.
"So," said Pete, "where do you two live? John and I, we know all the faces around 'ere. You don't look at all familiar. I don't think we've seen you before."
"Well, maybe that's because we haven't been here before, Sherlock," said Annie.
"Yeah, we just moved in."
"Moved in where...here?" He asked, pointing to Eleanor’s house.
We nodded.
"What?" said John, "You're living with Ellie?"
"He catches on quick, doesn't he, Claire?"
John grimaced, "What I meant by that is...well...you're Americans, aren't yer?"
"Yeah, Annie. He's a regular Einstein."
John was getting frustrated, "Cut it out, you know what I'm trying to say. What're you two American girls doin' 'ere? With Mrs. Cummings of all people? Where're your parents?"
My mouth straightened into a pursed frown. “That’s really none of your business, is it.”
“Are all Americans as bloody rude as you two?” asked John.
“Are all English guys as nosy as you two?”
John was refusing to back down. “Then at least, are you just on holiday?”
“If you mean ‘vacation’, then… not exactly. Eleanor is our Aunt and we’re staying here… for a while…”
“Oh,” said John and he let out a sigh. “Whereabouts in America you from?”
"New York."
"Bloody hell,” said Pete, his eyes growing wide at the very mention of the word. “You’ve left New York City for this place?”
“Not out of choice,” I said firmly.
Pete’s voice was now dreamy and distant. “Gear… what I wouldn't give to go there… not just New York, mind, but anywhere…”
“Yeah,” said John, “You’ve got Evis, for one thing. Rock and Roll was born there!”
Pete agreed, "Aye, and Marilyn Monroe, and Jayne Mansfield!"
"...the gearest guitar and music shops! You can get into the music business overnight!"
"...and Jane Russell, and Doris Day!"
"...Disneyland! Hollywood! The movies!"
"...with Grace Kelly and Elizabeth Taylor!"
I surrendered a laugh at Pete. "Hold on there, Cowboy. Get a hold of your hormones!"
The laughter erased any sort of tension that our highly unusual meeting had caused. John owned a smile that could flicker from sarcastic to sweet in the blink of an eye, and as we laughed lightly at casual banter, the smile stayed more or less genuine.
“Well,” said Annie, “do you want your money or not?”
With that, they followed us inside the house and John happily picked up the envelope, and ripped it open. He and Pete both let out a satisfied yell.
“Arright, mate,” said Pete. “Look at ‘at! Two quid, the old darling!”
“Two what?” I asked.
“Quid,” said John blandly. “Quid, it means pound.”
“Pound,” I repeated slowly. “And that’s what you call your money?”
“Bleedin ‘eck,” said John, “you two are new here.”
“We haven’t even been here a week yet.”
“D’you know which school you goin’ to?”
“Yeah,” I said. “The Woolton Girls’ Academy.”
“Ooohhh,” said John, raising his nose into the air. “You must excuse our language then, didn’t know we was in the presence of ladies.”
I shook my head. “Take it from us, we don’t want to go.”
“Yeah,” said Annie eagerly. “At home we could wear blue jeans to school if we wanted. But now they’re forcing us into a monkey suit!”
John nodded. “Aye, well, you could always do what Pete and I do.”
“What’s that?”
“We just don’t bloody listen.”
I chuckled. “It figures that the two of you would be hoodlums.”
“Damn right,” said John, nose still proudly ascended in air.
“Glad you told us,” said Annie. “Now that we’re Academy girls we’ve our reputations to watch out for. Can’t be seen associating with the town troublemakers.”
John found this terribly funny. “I’m afraid you girls won’t have much choice in the matter. Not only do I live just up the street, but me Auntie and your Auntie are what you’d call best friends.” He laughed again and made turned to Pete. “Come ‘ead mate, we should get goin’.”
And with that announcement was a sudden and unexpected urge to protest. The two of them leaving was about the worst thing I could think of.
“You can stay for some tea if you want.” I wasn’t sure why I wanted them to stay so much, but Annie was certainly on the same page I was.
“Yeah,” she said, “it’s no trouble.”
But they were already at the front door. “Gotta go,” said John. “But we’ll be seeing you, I’m sure.”
I smiled at those words. “Yeah! Don’t keep yourself strangers!”
John’s hand paused on the doorknob, and his smile flickered once again. But it was neither sarcastic… nor sweet… it was impenetrable.
“If you insist.”
He pulled open the door, and the two of them stepped out of the house and made their way down the sidewalk.
Annie and I stood in the doorway, watching them turn into silhouettes, and I suddenly called out after them.
“And we promise to give you a much nicer welcome next time!"
Their slender figures turned again, their laughter reaching our ears even from their considerable distance, and then soon disappeared into the incoming evening sky.
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