Chapter 7
SEVEN
ALICE
Alice had already been up for over an hour and was pondering how she might spend the day.
She had considered taking a bus to Sefton Park and having a gentle stroll. She loved that park, with its soothing lake and Palm House reminiscent of Victorian days gone by. As a child, she had walked there regularly with her parents, especially on a Sunday after church.
It wasn’t the closest park to their house, but her mother loved it so much her father would drive them there. There was a huge house overlooking the park that her mother dreamt of living in, and her father would smile and say, ‘Maybe one day.’ But they never did live on the leafy street.
The park visits held such lovely memories for Alice that she would occasionally catch a bus or train, and enjoy a trip down memory lane.
There was a tree there that looked old and gnarly to her young eyes, but her father told her of an even older tree at Calderstones Park called the Allerton Oak and had taken her there to see it.
She read recently that the tree was now around a thousand years old.
Alice often pondered why a tree could live for hundreds, even a thousand years, but humans, if they were lucky, had seven or eight decades.
At ninety-one years old, Alice felt extremely grateful to be alive and in such good health.
The problem with living as old as an oak tree, though, was that most of her friends had departed this earth, including her beloved husband, George.
She looked forward to seeing them in the next life and hoped that the Bible stories she remembered from Sunday school were true, when they spoke of Jesus resurrecting people and giving them eternal life. She had so much to tell George.
She had heard the clattering of footsteps on the stairwell as Jess flew down with her daughter, and after hearing her plight, decided she would take a trip into the city centre instead of going to the park.
That way she could treat herself to a new dress for Friday evening’s dinner, as well as helping her neighbour out.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, after Alice had finished listening to a discussion about animal welfare on the radio and whether horse racing ought to be banned, she pulled up outside the school gates in a white taxi, to find Jess already waiting.
She had considered the horse debate but was unable to take a side, which was unusual for Alice, who was never one to sit on the fence.
As a child, she had been taken to the horse racing with her parents and had viewed the Grand National from a private box.
Watching the horses gallop through her binoculars and shouting the name of the horse her father had allowed her to have a little flutter on was exhilarating.
There had been no indication during those joyous days that horse racing would have such an impact on their future lives.
‘Is everything okay now?’ asked Alice as Jess took a seat beside her in the back of the white cab.
‘Yeah, all sorted.’ Jess told Alice all about the incident with the pencil case.
‘And the girl’s mother was okay really, after Maisie apologised. I told her about what Maisie said about being pushed first, so she made her daughter apologise too. Lottie did look a little shamefaced, so I am inclined to believe Maisie was telling the truth.’
‘I’m glad it has been sorted,’ said Alice.
‘Me too. And at least I know there won’t be any more problems regarding personal possessions.’
‘I must say, it sounds as though some schools are far too liberal these days. No wonder there are so many issues with behaviour,’ mused Alice.
‘At least that’s what I gather from reading the news.
We had to work in silence when I was a child, although admittedly that is probably going a bit too far. Children like to chat.’ She smiled.
‘Tell me about it.’ Jess laughed thinking of Maisie’s constant chatter and questions about the world, but she wouldn’t have her any other way.
Alice was appalled that teenagers were carrying knives these days, and the news of a teenager recently being stabbed outside a high school had led her to no longer tune in to the local evening news.
‘I feel sorry for the teachers sometimes,’ said Jess. ‘Half the time the parents take the side of their little darlings, even when they are in the wrong.’ She shook her head.
‘Well, they are making a rod for their own back, believe me. Spare the rod, spoil the child,’ said Alice sagely.
‘Too right, love,’ said the taxi driver, eyeing them in his rear-view mirror. ‘The behaviour of some of the kids I have had in this taxi would make your hair curl.’ He shook his head.
‘Such a sad state of affairs, although I like to think that most young people have good hearts,’ said Alice. She had to believe that, or the next generation did not bear thinking about.
Ten minutes later, after generally putting the world to rights, Alice and Jess stepped out of the taxi and Alice settled the taxi bill. She unknowingly dropped her purse onto the pavement then, and a passing teenager in a school uniform picked it up and handed it to her.
‘Oh my goodness, thank you,’ said Alice, peeling a five-pound note from her purse and handing it to the boy. She always carried some cash, and today she was glad that she did.
‘I guess you are right about not all teenagers being bad, hey?’ said Jess. ‘I think maybe we only hear about the disruptive ones.’
‘I suppose that’s true. They are the ones that make the news, after all. And I do feel sorry for those that have no guidance.’
‘I can’t thank you enough for the lift,’ said Jess as they walked. She glanced at her watch. ‘And I am actually fifteen minutes early. I think I’ll go and grab a takeaway coffee.’ She gestured to the coffee shop they were standing outside. ‘Fancy one? It’s the least I can do.’
‘That’s very kind, but no thank you. I will get a pot of tea somewhere later, when I have finished my shopping.’
‘Okay. See you later, then. Enjoy your shopping, and thanks again.’
‘You’re most welcome. Have a good day at work.’
Heading towards Ranelagh Street, Alice looked up at the old Lewis’s Building and the memories came flooding back, as they always did.
There was a statue of a naked man on a ledge, called the Liverpool Resurgent, but known locally as Dickie Lewis.
Couples used to meet beneath it for a date and Alice wondered if they still did.
Thinking about it, the statue was probably considered quite risqué back in the day, yet it was a popular meeting place for couples. Alice had even met George there in the early days of their relationship.
The building had been destroyed in the blitz, and when it was rebuilt the statue, a constant talking point, had been added. Sadly, Lewis’s Department Store was no more and was probably earmarked for development into city dwellings.
Alice strolled along, taking in the new restaurants and bars and was thrilled at how the city seemed to be thriving despite an economic crisis.
There was a freshness to the city, a feeling of hope for the future that was almost palpable.
When she was fifty, Alice wished she were many years younger, but now she enjoyed her age, grateful to still be here.
She was happy when people held doors open for her and offered her seats on trains, accepting of her age without the vanity she would have displayed twenty years ago when she thought people deemed her old enough to need assistance.
Walking through an art deco style arcade towards Liverpool One that housed some designer stores and an art gallery, a dress in the window of Mint Velvet caught her eye.
It was a mock wrap-over and had the colours of the sea in a swirling pattern.
She stepped inside and was greeted warmly by a young shop assistant.
‘Ooh that looks gorgeous,’ said the girl when Alice emerged from the dressing room. ‘It really brings out the colour of your eyes.’
It might have been a sales pitch, had Alice not thought the same thing when she glanced in the mirror.
‘Well, that was easy,’ she said to the chatty assistant who placed her dress in a bag and took her payment at the till. ‘The first dress I laid my eyes on, and I bought it.’ She smiled. ‘I hope I don’t see another one and regret it.’
‘Buy two, treat yourself,’ the assistant replied with a wink.
‘Do you know, I might just do that,’ said Alice. ‘Or at least buy a new pair of shoes.’
That was what Alice enjoyed about shopping in the city.
She loved the interaction with people. The chats with the store assistants, the servers at the coffee shops, the demonstrators in the town squares.
She had learnt a lot from a Syrian woman who had educated her about women’s rights in her homeland on her last visit, handing leaflets out at a demonstration.
She had chatted to a young busker with the voice of an angel, after dropping some coins in her violin case, when she took a break. The young woman was at the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts and hoped to have a singing career one day. Alice had no doubt that she would.
At home, especially in her large house near the sea, she had no such social interaction. The only sound of another human’s voice came from the radio or television.
After an hour window shopping, feeling lucky she had bought the dress as she had not seen another she liked, she headed to a café and ordered a pot of tea and a bowl of vegetable soup, that came with some delicious home-made bread.
The restaurant window table gave a view of the Anglican Cathedral, a sight she marvelled at every time she headed into the Georgian quarter, the imposing Gothic-style building a sight to behold.
In her younger days, Alice had climbed a staircase in the cathedral that led to a viewing platform giving a view over the majestic city.
It was something she could not quite manage now, at her advanced years, but thankfully there was a lift should she have the desire to view the city in all its glory once more.
The walk to the café had been a little tiring as it was slightly uphill, but Alice thought it important to keep moving and as she walked she looked forward to sitting down with a pot of tea.
The young server at the café had been perfectly pleasant and asked if everything was alright with her food.
She reminded her a little of Jess from the apartment block.
Not for the first time in her long life, Alice felt the regret of never having been a mother.
She considered herself blessed in so many other ways, though. You could not have everything in life.
As she headed back towards the centre, the walk downhill easier, she passed an unkempt man sitting on the pavement, a paper cup in front of him hoping for some coins. She reached into her handbag and tossed three pound coins into the cup.
She knew some people discouraged this, arguing the money would only be spent on drink or drugs, but who was she to say how he should live his life?
If she could bring some small comfort to his miserable day, then she would.
Perhaps one day the man would be in a position to pay her kindness forward.
Alice had learnt from an early age the importance of doing just that, after someone in her life had helped her immeasurably.
The man thanked her and smiled, an almost toothless smile, and she could not help wondering what his story was and how he had ended up on the street.
Another time, she would have stopped and chatted with him, but having decided to take the train home, she needed to keep going if she was to be at the station on time.
The train platform was busy, and Alice stood back cautiously not wanting to be caught up in a scramble to get on the train. Luckily, a young man offered her his seat when she eventually boarded the crowded train, for which she was grateful.
As the train pulled out of the station, she thought of the homeless young man and all the other lost souls out there and once more counted her blessings.
She was excited for her dinner party and was grateful that the residents had had the good grace to accept her invitation. People were so busy these days, she hadn’t been sure that they would.
As she gazed out of the train window she reflected that she really did have a lot to be thankful for. It was important to stay positive.