Extract
from It Never Was You by William E.
Thomas
Liverpool,
England 1946
The new guest
lounge of the Grand Hotel was a large and well appointed room, elegant in a
rich, ponderous, rather formal way. The heavy damask curtains were tied with
thick silk braided cords; the walls, papered in striped red and gold, were hung
with a number of quite respectable originals, still life studies and landscapes
in gilded frames; the furniture, which stood on a large red Bokhara carpet,
consisted of suites of Chesterfield sofas and club chairs set around low
occasional tables; and a black Bösendorfer grand piano stood in one corner. The
ensemble was lit by a central, cut glass chandelier and several matching wall
fittings. It was a room not so much furnished as assembled according to rules.
Only one guest
remained in the room at this time. A man in the uniform of the merchant marine
sat at the piano, quietly playing.
‘Can I get you
anything else before we close up?’
Startled, Harry
Williamson looked up at the young cocktail waitress who had served him earlier.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Do you want
another drink before the bar closes? It’s half ten.’
‘No...thank you,
I shall be going up directly, it’s past my bedtime, anyway.’
She tilted her
head to one side and watched his sheepish smile. ‘Well, the drink is’n gonna
get ya, that’s for sure. You’ve been nurs’n that one all night. If it gets any
flatter you’ll be able to stick it between a couple of slices and have it for
supper. D’ya wan’ a livener?’
He was faintly
amused by her broad ‘scouse’ accent. ‘No, thank you.’ He pointed to the glass.
‘But I think you’d better take that away before I am tempted.’
She regarded him
with a slightly critical, unsmiling look. ‘Right.’ She took the glass from the
piano and placed it on her tray. ‘Good night then. See you at breakfast, that’s
if you’re not too hung over.’
As she turned to
go he called her back. ‘Excuse me...er, miss?’
She stopped,
tilted back her head and let out a very audible sigh then turned slowly to face
him. ‘Going to be a devil, are we, and have a nightcap?’
‘Sorry?...Oh, I
see. Good Lord no, thank you...but didn’t I see you at breakfast this morning?’
‘That’s right.
Why? Did I serve you coffee instead of tea or something?’
‘No, nothing
like that. I simply thought...you appear to work very long hours.’ She smiled
at him for the first time and he remarked to himself how attractive she was.
‘Now where d’ya
get that idea? Just because you see me graft’n at seven in the morn’n and
eleven at night you mustn’t jump to conclusions. No, see, they’re very good to
me. They undo me ball and chain at ten and me time’s me own till six. It’s
called a spread-over. When I’ve got some service in I can go on permanent days
then I’ll only have to work for ten straight hours. I mean, what more could a
girl ask for?’ Still smiling, she began to slowly wipe the top of the piano. As
he watched he felt strangely attracted to her. She appeared to linger.
‘How do you
spend your time off?’ he asked.
‘You chat’n me
up?’ She did not look at him but continued wiping with slow deliberate
movements.
He seemed
perplexed. ‘I’m sorry?’
She put the tray
down on the piano and turned to face him, a hand on one hip. ‘What do you keep
apologis’n for? What you done, for crisake?’
‘I’m sorry?...Oh
God, I...’ They laughed. ‘It is a peculiar form of speech, I do agree. I think
perhaps I might have picked it up in the United States.’
‘Well, if you
ever go back I’d drop it back there again, if I was you.’ She winked as he
laughed at her quip and pulled herself onto the stool beside him. She watched
while he continued to play. ‘We’re not supposed to do this, you know.’
He turned his
head to look at her but she was still staring at his hands. ‘Do what?’ he
asked.
She looked up.
‘Sit down with the guests. Fraternis’n, they call it.’
‘Good heavens.’
He chuckled. ‘I thought that only applied to ex foes.’
‘What’s exfoes?’
He turned to
face her. ‘Germans.’ They lingered, silent for a moment, gazing at each other.
‘Well, I shan’t tell if you don’t,’ he whispered conspiratorially. Turning
back, he began to play again.
She smiled and
seemed to relax. ‘You’re a funny bugger, you are, and no mistake.’
‘I am? Why do
you say that?’
‘I’ve seen you,
before like, on your own, reading, playing the piano, quiet, sort of shy, like,
arn’ ya? Anyway, since you ask, I sometimes go shopping, take me books back to
the library, go to the flicks, you know, the usual stuff.’
‘Do you never go
home?’
‘Home?’
‘Yes, home.
Where do you live?’
‘Y’know, you’re
a bit of a nosy sod. Where do you think I live?’
‘Well, you are
obviously a local girl...no, you are quite right, I am being a nosy sod, I apologise.’
‘Well, that’ll
make a change, won’ it?’ She giggled. ‘Sorry, love. No, I live here, live in
staff, they call it. I share a dungeon in the basement with another “live in”.’
She watched his fingers as they moved across the keyboard. ‘That’s a nice
number. What is it?’
He smiled. ‘It
is called, “It never was you”. It is by Kurt Weill.’
‘Kurt who?’
‘Weill.’
‘Vile? What kind
of a bloody name is that to go to bed with?’
‘No, not ‘vile’
with a V, Weill with a W and two Ls. W-E-I-L-L. It is a German name. He is the
composer who collaborated with Berthold Brecht. You know, “The Threepenny
Opera”?’
She shook her
head. ‘It might be German and spelt with a frigg’n W and two Ls, and only cost
threepence, but it still says “vile”, right?’
He smiled. ‘If
you insist.’
‘OK! So the song
is by some vile square ’ead who writes operas for some other bloke on the
cheap, right?’
‘More or less.’
‘Well, you’ve
lost me now, whacker.’ She tilted her head. ‘Love song, is it?’
Still smiling,
he raised his head. ‘More a song about unrequited love. The lover searches in
vain for his sweetheart. He sings, “Ich bin durch Regen gelaufen”...“I have
been running through rain”. He thinks he sees her many times, but it’s always
someone else. Hence the title, “Es war niemals Du”...“It never was you”. Don’t
you think that’s awfully romantic?’
‘Is that
German?’
‘What, being
awfully romantic?’
‘No, you soppy
bugger, those words you said?’
‘Yes.’
She sat silent
until he finished the tune then, yawning, slid from the stool. Gathering her
things, she said, ‘Look, I gorra go, I’m knackered.’
‘Yes, of course,
forgive me, I am delaying you.’ He rose quickly. ‘Goodnight...er...I’m
sorry...’ He shrugged, grinning sheepishly. ‘I seem to have forgotten your
name.’
Shaking her
head, she smiled. ‘Well that’s original, son.’ As she walked away she called
back over her shoulder. ‘It’s Mary, and you’re forgiven. Good night, love, see
you tomorrow.’
He watched as
she crossed the room, his head slightly to one side, curious, the smile
lingering upon his lips. When she reached the swing doors to the staff area she
turned and as she moved back through the doors she winked at him then
disappeared. He sat motionless for some moments watching the doors swing to a
stop. Gathering himself, he too left the room.
Part two of the Cypress
Branches trilogy, It Never Was You
is the eagerly anticipated follow up to the acclaimed Pegasus Falling by William E. Thomas.
Harry Williamson is an ex-merchant seaman, a successful businessman
and a loving family man. When he disappears from a ferry in the middle of the
Irish Sea, his grieving family are left with more questions than answers.
Who on earth is Mary Robinson?
Why did Harry leave her a small fortune in his will?
Had he been unfaithful to his beloved late wife, Lesley?
As they delve into his past, they discover he’s been harbouring a
secret which threatens to tear apart the very fabric of their history.
What unfolds is the heartbreaking story of a quiet, middle class
merchant seaman and his unexpected and tragic relationship with a beautiful,
exuberant waitress from the Liverpool docks as they struggle to reconcile their
feelings for each other with the ever changing attitudes and culture of
post-war Britain.
It Never Was You continues Thomas's epic and panoramic saga of how ordinary people
coped with some most extraordinary and devastating events of the 20th century.
Pegasus Falling and It Never Was You, the
first two parts of the Cypress Branches
trilogy are available to buy in paperback and ebook
Where to buy Pegasus Falling:
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/PXbf5X
Amazon UK: http://bit.ly/R4IdCG
B&N Nook: http://bit.ly/Sytq6Y
Kobo: http://bit.ly/PXbf5W
Smashwords: http://bit.ly/PXbf5V
Where to buy It Never Was You:
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/12HSoE5
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/11BS6gO
(Other retailers
coming soon)
Catch up with and follow the rest of the It Never Was You blog tour on the Acute Angle books blog: http://bit.ly/YxZDcU
About William E Thomas:
William Edward Thomas was born in West
London in 1925.
He left The Brompton Oratory School when he
was 14 and started work as a messenger at the BBC. When war broke out, his
mother insisted he left central London and went to work with his father at a factory
in Harrow. While still a teenager, William joined the army and was soon
recruited in to the parachute regiment. By the time peace had been declared in
Europe in May 1945, he had been "dropped" in to a number of key
battles and become a much decorated soldier. He was still only 19 years old.
Following the war, William served in
Palestine until 1948.
He has always believed passionately that
education leads to opportunity. He has studied part time for both a Bachelor of
Science and a Bachelor of Arts degree and was one of the first students to
enrol with The Open University.
William has six children. As they were
growing up, he was working and studying in shifts as a merchant seaman and an
engineer, working his way from factory shop floor to management. In his mid
fifties, he decided to work full time as a lab technician at his Alma Mater,
The Open University and remained there until his retirement. It was during his
retirement that he decided to set himself the challenge of writing a novel. The Cypress Branches is the result.
William's health started deteriorating
shortly after finishing The Cypress
Branches and he was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. In the summer
of 2009, his health deteriorated to the point where he could no longer live at
home. He is now cared for at a home in central Milton Keynes in the UK where he
is visited by family and friends on a daily basis.
William’s illness means that he is unable
to pursue his dream of seeing his books in print. With the backing of the
entire family, his grandson, Mike Harris, has taken on the task of publishing
them on his behalf.
Connect with Mike, William and the Cypress Branches trilogy online:
Twitter: @CypressBranches
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CypressBranches
William’s Goodreads Author page: http://bit.ly/129cxiu
William’s Amazon Author page: http://amzn.to/15TL4sD
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