Megan of Merseyside Read Online Free Page B

or jewellery had impressed her. She’d even liked her soft, lilting accent, which made a pleasant change from the Merseyside voices she heard most days.
    Walker’s was a staid, family firm, and the last thing they wanted was one of the new-style flappers, with their short flouncy clothes and doll-like hairstyles. Girls who thought more about what they looked like than about their work, and distracted the men. She would have liked to have given Megan the job right away, but knew she was expected to talk the matter over with Mr Walker before making a decision.
    Megan wanted the job so badly it hurt. In the days that followed she found it was hard to keep her mind on anything else. Lynn was at school so most days she went window-shopping with her mother.
    As they looked at the fashionable clothes in Owen Owens, C&A, and Lewis’s, Megan ached for her first pay packet. It would be wonderful to be able to buy some of them, she thought wistfully.
    ‘To help pass the time, why don’t you try your hand at decorating that dingy little bedroom you and Lynn are sharing?’ her father suggested.
    ‘I’ve never done anything like that before,’ Megan demurred.
    ‘There’s a first time for everything and I’m sure you could manage to paint the woodwork and put some emulsion on the walls.’
    It was hard work and took much longer than they had expected, but they were all thrilled by the results.
    The pale pink walls and fresh white gloss woodwork transformed the tiny room, making it seem larger as well as much more light and airy.
    ‘It looks good,’ her mother agreed. ‘How about having a go at decorating the living room? I’ll give you a hand, if you like.’
    They started on it right after breakfast the next morning. It took them several days but once again they were all pleased by the results.
    For the first time since they had moved into the flat it began to feel like a home, although it would never be as cosy as their cottage in Beddgelert, Megan mused as she soaked in a hot bath to get rid of the aches and pains and soak away the paint stains from her hands and arms. Although she’d tried to work carefully, she’d even got paint in her hair.
    She ran some more hot water into the bath and slid down until it covered her shoulders. Then she closed her eyes and gave herself up to dreaming about the young man she’d met when she went for her interview.
    She wished she’d asked him his name. He wasn’t a John or a Jim, or a Bill or Bob, she felt quite sure about that.
    If she knew his name then she could ask her father if he’d ever met him. If he knew him then perhaps he could ask him if the job at Walker’s had been filled yet. It was the uncertainty of not knowing that she couldn’t stand.
    She sighed dreamily, remembering the young man’s vivid blue eyes, strong nose and firm jaw. He’d had such an unforgettable face. There couldn’t be all that many chaps working at the docks who looked like him. He’d stand out from the crowd, she reflected, remembering the smart cut of his grey suit that seemed to mould itself to his broad shoulders and long, lean legs. If she got the job at Walker’s, and they met again, she wondered if he would remember her.
    The sound of her mother calling her roused her out of her reverie. She hooked out the plug with her toe, and reached for a towel. She’d ask her father tonight if he knew him. So far, the only person he’d ever mentioned was his co-driver, Robert Field.
    ‘Didn’t you hear me shouting you?’ her mother grumbled as Megan emerged from the bathroom.
    ‘I was just coming. What’s up?’
    ‘There’s a letter come for you. It’s got Walker’s name on the envelope. Come on, hurry up and open it, let’s hear what they’ve got to say.’
    Wrapping herself in the towel, Megan followed her mother into the living room. Heart in mouth, she opened the letter and drew out the single sheet of headed notepaper. The words danced in front of her eyes.
    ‘Well … have you