Free Memories Are Made of This by June Francis Page A

expression froze. ‘I must try that myself. After all, she is getting on.’
    â€˜How old is she exactly?’
    â€˜She must be kicking seventy at least.’ Hester yawned. ‘What are you doing today?’
    Jeanette grimaced. ‘I’m confined to the house because of what happened on Friday. If it wasn’t Sunday, she would have me scrubbing floors. Instead, I’ll be preparing the vegetables and washing dishes. By the way, Sam knows about my part-time job but neither Ethel nor Dad does.’
    â€˜OK, but I don’t know how long you think you’ll get away with it,’ warned Hester.
    â€˜I wish I could—’ Jeanette stopped abruptly.
    Hester smiled. ‘What do you wish?’
    â€˜I wish I could get my hands on my savings book,’ said Jeanette in a frustrated voice. ‘If I had the money I’d be off like a shot. Not because I’m not fond of you, Sam and Dad, of course. All through the film the old witch kept elbowing me as if I needed to be reminded constantly what happened to girls that went astray. I wonder what she was like at my age?’
    â€˜Or mine,’ murmured Hester.
    â€˜You should find yourself a fella, get married and leave home,’ said Jeanette.
    â€˜Talking about fellas,’ said Hester, reaching for her cup of tea, ‘what about the one who was hit in the face?’
    â€˜What about him?’ Jeanette said with a sigh. ‘He’ll probably be scarred for life and it’s all my fault. I should have minded my own business,’ she added, not for the first time. ‘I think he’s a sailor. I wonder if it’s possible for me to discover the name of his ship?’
    â€˜How?’
    â€˜I’ll have to think about that.’
    â€˜The trouble with sailors is that they can have a girl in every port,’ said Hester. ‘He could also be a lousy letter writer, and a girl has to have something to cling on to for a relationship to work.’
    Jeanette nodded, hoping her sister was wrong on both counts. Summer would soon be over and with only Christmas on the horizon, it would be great to have a boyfriend, even one who wasn’t around all the time; someone to exchange letters with, and to talk about to Peggy, assuming they were still on speaking terms.

Five
    Jeanette was attempting to concentrate on typing a sheaf of bills of lading for various consuls throughout the world the following morning, but her mind kept wandering. She would be glad when she had finished the task. The paper was very thin and inclined to slip sideways between the rollers, and so did the carbon paper if she wasn’t careful. She had come in early and checked Friday’s arrivals, but the two ships that might possibly have had her rescuer amongst their crew had left on the early tide on Saturday.
    She sighed and glanced out of the window, which had a view of the Liverpool Dock office. If she turned her head she could just about see the River Mersey. It looked like the weather was clearing and so she made up her mind to eat her sandwiches down at the Pierhead instead of in the windowless room where there was a kettle to make tea or coffee.
    So far there had been no sign of Peggy, but then she was a staff member of a subsidiary branch of the warehousing company that employed them both, so that was not surprising.
    â€˜I’ve a bone to pick with you!’
    Jeanette started at the sound of Peggy’s voice and thought,
Talk of the devil!
Aware that the other shorthand typist was looking their way, she whispered, ‘D’you mind keeping your voice down? I don’t want everyone knowing my business.’ She carried on typing.
    Peggy placed a hand over the typewriter keys. ‘Ashamed are you for causing a fight and getting me and Greg into further trouble? My dad almost had a fit when a policeman came knocking at our door!’
    â€˜Will you stop that?’ hissed Jeanette, shoving Peggy’s hand