Another Man's Child

by Another Man's Child (retail) (epub)

  ‘Aye, I suppose you can,’ she said dryly. ‘If you can survive a hurricane.’

  ‘A guardian angel that’s what I’ve got.’ He kissed her neck. ‘We sail from Birkenhead but you can see me off at the Pierhead. The sooner I go, Moll, the sooner I’ll be home.’

  There was no denying that, she thought. But how could he say he loved her when he was prepared to leave her so soon after not seeing her for months, as well as giving money to Ma before her?

  * * *

  The bed felt empty that night. Surprising how quickly you could get used to sleeping with somebody, thought Molly. How quickly you could get used to having them around. The next day she felt low-spirited and decided to catch a train to Blundellsands, hoping to see Jessica.

  But when she called at the back door Cook told her Doris had gone out for the day with Mrs Collins and they’d taken the baby. ‘They’re having trouble with her but the little love’s got a sunny nature as you know and’ll soon settle. God bless her,’ said Cook.

  Feeling utterly dejected, Molly returned home.

  The next day she decided she had to buck up her ideas. Putting on her Sunday best, she set off in search of the factory. She had been told it was situated off Vauxhall Road so walked down Athol Street in the direction of the docks. It was a long street and contained the local bridewell and fire station. All was hustle and bustle. It was here shipowners of the small trampers and bum-boats came to buy equipment from the marine chandlers, while ordinary seamen visited the grocers for straw to make up beds for when they were at sea. Mothers shouted at children with noses pressed against windows of sweet shops and herbalists. Yet they themselves paused to gaze at the displays in the pawnshops, which were a hotch-potch of the useful, the tawdry, and all that was most precious to those who had deposited items there.

  Men, moustached or with beards covering half their chest, puffed on pipes as they gazed at the tools in one open-fronted chandlers’ store with its hooks and shovels, buckets and cobblers lasts. The shop drew the eyes of small boys and Molly had a picture of her own son doing likewise one day in her mind. Could she be already pregnant? If she was, whose child was it?

  She reached Vauxhall Road. Here was where the wealthiest men had their businesses. Her fascinated eyes took in the names of seed crushers and oil refiners; merchants selling tallow, paper, coal, timber and marble. Soap manufacturers rubbed shoulders with beer distillers and sugar refiners, and they in their turn gave way to the Anglo-American Oil Company.

  She came to the factory, a red brick building with lots of windows. A short flight of steps led to the entrance. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and opened the door.

  ‘Can I help you?’ said a voice.

  Molly approached a hatch in the wall to her left and saw a young man leaning back in a chair, toying with an elastic band and a matchstick. ‘I need to see Mr Barnes,’ she said, putting on her poshest voice.

  He jumped to his feet and fixed her with a stare. ‘You were at the McNally s’ the other week. If you’re looking for a date, I don’t mind taking you out. There’s a good show on at the Roundy.’

  Molly could not help smiling. ‘I’m glad to see my efforts weren’t wasted. But I’ve come to see the boss.’

  ‘Oh, yeah! And why’s that?’

  She leaned across the counter and whispered, ‘I’m a secret agent from another factory and I want to know what magic makes his candles burn longer than any others.’

  He grinned. ‘You’re mad! Why are you really here?’

  She drew herself up to her full height. ‘I told you – to see Mr Barnes. He said there’d be a job for me here.’

  ‘You’re out of luck, luv. He’s gone to Yorkshire.’

  Molly’s face fell.

  The man looked sympathetic. ‘What job was it?’

  ‘In the Sewing room, I hope.’

  He scratched his thatch of fair hair. ‘In that case you could perhaps see Mrs Arkwright. She’s from up Lancashire, with an accent you can cut with a knife. You’re a woollyback, too, by the sound of it. You didn’t fool me with your put on accent.’

  ‘That’s rich coming from a Liverpudlian! You lot talk through your noses. We’ve a county steeped in history,’ she said proudly.

  ‘We’ve got plenty of that here too. If you’ll keep your eye on things, I’ll fetch her. Although I’m not supposed to leave my post unattended.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t be leaving it, should you, Jimmy?’ said a cold voice.

  Their heads swivelled.

  Molly stared at Nathan, her heart performing the most peculiar somersault. He was nursing a broken arm and did not look pleased to see her one little bit. ‘Mr Collins,’ she stammered. ‘You’ve hurt yourself.’

  ‘Clever of you to spot that. You’re the last person I expected to see here, Mrs Payne.’ His grey eyes reminded her of shards of broken ice, chilling her to the marrow.

  For a moment she was lost for words, remembering how he’d behaved when they had parted. Had he really loved her then? Or had he used her as Doris had said? Molly knew so little about men. At last she managed to find her voice. ‘I came to see your uncle. He said he’d give me a job.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Nathan placed a hand on a door marked WAITING ROOM. ‘You’d best come in here then. We’ll discuss it.’

  She hesitated only a moment before walking into the room, head bowed.

  He closed the door behind them. ‘You were flirting with Jimmy.’ His tone was definitely unfriendly.

  Her startled eyes lifted to his. ‘That lad? You must be joking!’

  ‘You were making eyes at him.’ Nathan flung the words at her as he paced the floor, right arm stiff between its splints.

  ‘I was being friendly, that’s all.’

  ‘You were distracting him from his work.’

  ‘Well, I like that!’ said Molly indignantly. ‘I thought dealing with callers was his work.’ She placed her hands hard down on a table in the middle of the room, never having thought they would be having such a conversation.

  ‘To do with business, aye.’ He paused on the other side of the table.

  ‘I am here on business. I told you, your uncle promised me a job.’

  His angry eyes rested on her flushed face. ‘It’s out of the question, your working here.’

  ‘Why?’ she said stubbornly. ‘I need the money.’

  ‘You’re a married woman. Let your husband keep you. I don’t want you here.’ He cradled his right arm in his left, looking exhausted all of a sudden.

  Her ready sympathy was roused and she moved round the table towards him. ‘Does it hurt?’

  ‘Of course it bloody hurts.’ He turned his back on her. ‘I think you’d best go now.’

  ‘But I don’t want to go. Let me explain about Frank…’

  ‘I don’t want to know. I just want you out of here. That’s an order. And I’m the boss here.’

  ‘Nathan, I had to go with him. He’s my husband.’

  She touched his shoulder and he turned, looking no friendlier than he had minutes ago. ‘Funny. There was me believing you a widow when all the time you were just a runaway wife, trying to make your husband jealous.’

  She was astounded. ‘That’s not true! I believed him dead!’

  ‘So you say,’ he sneered, lip curling. ‘But what does it matter in the long run? The end’s the same. You’re still married. So just go, Mrs Payne. I owe you some wages. I’ll see you get them.’

  Molly was so hurt she lost her temper. ‘You can stick your money where Paddy stuck his ninepence, Mr Collins!’ she said in a quivering voice. ‘I was no runaway wife and I am no liar! Good day.’ She flung the door open and marched out.

  ‘Molly, come back here!’ he yelled. ‘I haven’t finished with you.’

  ‘But I’ve finished with you! I’m not being spoken to like that.’ Her heart was thudding so fast she thought it was going to burst through her skin, lift off and take her with it. Who did he bloody think he was, calling he
r a liar? She heard footsteps behind her and, not wanting to speak to him again, she lifted her skirts and ran.

  She raced along Vauxhall Road, aware of feet thudding behind her. The interested faces of carters, labourers and dockers flashed by but Molly took no notice of them, putting on a spurt before darting down Lightbody Street by the gasworks. Her breath was burning in her throat, her face was hot and she could feel the perspiration beneath her hair and between her breasts. She stopped on the canal bridge, gasping.

  When Nathan caught up with her, chest heaving, he said, ‘I’ve a good mind to throw you in. It might cool that hot temper of yours.’

  ‘I haven’t got a hot temper.’ She turned on him, eyes flashing. ‘It’s you with the temper. You shouldn’t have chased me. People will think I’m a thief. Why did you have to follow me?’

  ‘I would have thought that was damned obvious. We hadn’t finished talking.’

  ‘You told me you wanted me to go. Well, I did as you told me although you’re no longer my boss, Mr Collins.’ She turned away from him, resting her chin on her arm against the handrail of the bridge. ‘I was not a runaway wife,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘I know! It was just something my mother said. I was so angry about everything, I wanted to believe it so I could hate you.’

  She whirled round and stared at him. ‘And do you?’

  He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. ‘I wish I could. It would be easier. Your husband’s alive and we thought he was dead.’

  She nodded. ‘I should never have gone to the factory. I realise now it was stupid, as you said.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Does he know you were visiting the factory?’

  She hesitated. What if she told him the truth? That Frank had already gone back to sea. That he would be away for months. Months when she would be alone. He had said he did not hate her. Did that mean he loved her? Would he see her words as a sign of encouragement for them knowingly to commit adultery this time? She wasn’t sure if she loved him or not. She fancied him. Wanted to kiss that mouth of his that curved so sweetly in a smile that caused her heart to flip over. To be wrapped in his arms and be possessed by him.

  She struggled with her emotions, her conscience, thinking of Frank leaving her so soon to fend for herself What had he thought she was going to live on? Did he think that by leaving her again the way he had she’d be forced to go and seek help from his mother? Perhaps. Even so, was that any excuse for her to break her marriage vows? She gazed at Nathan and managed to force out the words, ‘We’re hard up. Of course he knows. I’ll just have to find something else.’

  ‘You surprise me. A man who can’t support you. How can you love him? How can you respect him?’

  ‘He’s my husband. I have to love him.’

  ‘Have to?’ Nathan’s lips twisted in a humourless smile as he took a step towards her. ‘You mean, you should but you don’t?’ She was silent. He was only a breath away from her and her body swayed treacherously towards him. He caught her to him and whispered against her mouth, ‘Did you tell him what happened between us?’

  ‘Do you think I’m mad? He’d – oh, I don’t know what he’d do. He can be unpredictable. It might sound melodramatic but you must keep away from me – for both our sakes.’

  Abruptly Nathan released her, his expression fixed in stern lines. ‘I’ll pay you a month’s wages. I’ll give the money to Doris. I presume she knows where you’re living?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was dull. ‘I need my sewing machine too. Can you see it gets to me?’

  He nodded.

  She managed to stumble from the bridge and on to the tow path. She began to walk alongside the canal, her emotions and head in a whirl.

  ‘Molly May! Where are thee going, lass? Thee’ll be in the water if thee’s not careful.’ Two strong hands took hold of her and she looked up into Jack Fletcher’s face. She sagged against him. ‘Oh, Uncle Jack,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘Why does life have to be so darned difficult?’

  ‘There, lass. What’s wrong?’ His deep voice softened. ‘Is it that husband of thine?’ His sympathy was too much for her. Unable to speak she nodded, throat aching with the effort of holding back her tears though several rolled down her cheeks.

  He handed her a scrap of clean rag. ‘Maggie Block was telling me you’re lodging with her. Said your husband’s gone back to sea already?’

  She dabbed at her eyes, thankful he didn’t appear to have seen her with Nathan. ‘We need the money. He spent most of his searching for me. I have to find some work.’

  ‘Ask Maggie Block. She lost a lass last Saturday, just upped and went.’

  ‘I’m not a very good cook,’ sniffed Molly. ‘She’ll soon teach thee. Just simple fare. Scouse, pig’s cheek, spare ribs,’ He smacked his lips and patted the dish he carried. ‘Got a bowl of scouse here.’

  ‘Right,’ said Molly, pulling back her shoulders. ‘I suppose it’s worth a try.’

  She did not waste any time in approaching Maggie who seemed perfectly willing to take her on. She would work for her food and lodgings. It was not what Molly wanted out of life but at least it was better than living with Ma Payne. As for her daughter, far better Jessica was safely out in Blundellsands being brought up as a rich man’s child.

  Chapter Seven

  Molly pushed open the door of the grocer’s which stocked straw and took a deep breath of air laden with the fragrances of faraway places: nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice. A few weeks ago the smell of paraffin in the shop had turned her stomach but she was no longer suffering from morning sickness. So far she had managed to keep her pregnancy a secret from her employers and would carry on doing so as long as she could. The work was menial but not so demanding that it exhausted her. She washed dishes, peeled vegetables, waited on tables and at the counter, and she put in extra hours to earn more money. Which was just as well because Frank was still away.

  She thought of the letter postmarked Hong Kong, reassuring her of his safety. He described scenes vividly so she could almost visualise the ports he visited but the most important news was that he hoped to be home for Christmas. Molly had to find a house before then. He mentioned Ma and moving in with her if she didn’t. But that could wait one more day. As soon as Molly had changed the straw in her palliasse she was going to Blundellsands to see her daughter and Doris.

  Her friend was waiting at the station, wearing Molly’s old uniform which swamped her body, making her look tinier than ever. ‘Guess what!’ Her eyes were shining.

  ‘What?’ Molly smiled at Jessica, who was sitting up in the pram, playing with a wooden-jointed duck. ‘Sweetheart! Precious!’ She ducked her head under the hood and kissed her daughter, who wriggled and tried to push her away. Molly was upset. ‘She’s forgetting who I am. Oh, Lord! I dreaded this happening.’

  ‘Never mind that! Listen to me,’ said Doris. ‘This concerns you.’ Molly ignored her, her attention on her daughter, holding one dimpled hand and pressing it against her own cheek.

  ‘They want to see yer.’

  ‘They? Who’s they?’ said Molly absently. ‘The solicitor and Mr Collins! He asked me if I was still in touch with you and I said I’d be seeing yer today.’

  Molly straightened. ‘What are you talking about? Is it about my sewing machine?’ Doris wrinkled her nose. ‘Why should it be about yer sewing machine? Haven’t yer heard? Didn’t yer read it in the Echo?’

  ‘I don’t have time to read the papers. What’s happened?’

  ‘Mr Barnes died a week ago of an apoplexy.’

  Molly stared at her stupidly. ‘You’re joking?’

  Doris looked exasperated. ‘As if I’d joke about such a thing. He was a very kind man.’

  ‘I know he was.’ Molly felt even more upset now. ‘That poor man! I was very fond of him. He was good to me.’

  ‘He must have been fond of you, too, because as I said his solicitor and Mr Collins want to see yer. It has to do with the will.’

  ‘Th
e will?’ said Molly, still feeling stupified.

  ‘Mr Barnes’s will! Are you going daft or something? He left me twenty pounds! Wasn’t he a sweetheart?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Molly, thinking she still hadn’t mentioned the sovereigns to Doris. Of course, her friend might have found them and, having no idea where they’d come from, given them to Nathan.

  ‘Wake up!’ Doris nudged her arm. ‘Yer eyes have gone all glazed.’

  That’s because I’m in shock.’ Molly seized the handle of the pram. ‘Race you to the house!’ She took off, the hem of her skirt swirling about her ankles.

  ‘Yer crackers! And mean, ’cos yer know I can’t keep up with yer,’ shouted Doris, scuttling after her.

  Molly slowed to a walk, smiling at her daughter who was chuckling as she clung to the side of the hood. They continued at a more sedate pace with Molly in sober mood, remembering her last meeting with Nathan. So much for them keeping their distance! What had he made of his uncle’s remembering her in his will? That was a real turn up for the book.

  ‘Yer’ll find Mr Collins in the study most likely. At least, that’s where they were when I left the house,’ said Doris.

  ‘How’s he taken his uncle’s death? How’s his mother?’

  ‘You’ll find out yerself when yer see him. Here we are,’ whispered the maid, stopping outside the study door. ‘I’ll see yer later.’

  Molly stood a moment, smoothing her hair and straightening her felt hat with its wide brim. Her heart was beating uncontrollably fast but she hoped she presented a calm exterior. She took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

  ‘Come in!’ called Nathan.

  Her heart leaped at the sound of his voice and her knees shook. Don’t be stupid! she told herself. He’s only a man. When you see him you might find you don’t fancy him after all.

  She entered the room. A man she presumed to be the solicitor was seated on a chair to one side of the desk. Nathan sat behind it. At first glance he appeared cool, calm and collected but desirable for all that. ‘Please sit down, Mrs Payne.’ He waved her to a chair. ‘This is Mr Taylor, my uncle’s solicitor.’