Lovers and Liars

by Josephine Cox

  Everyone agreed that Rosie looked beautiful. But the most beautiful part of all was her smile, for she had come to love John very deeply, and this was the day when, in the eyes of God and the world, he would take her as his wife: ‘To love and to cherish from this day forth, till Death us do part.’ Strong words, for a strong love. She knew John had loved before, and she had long suspected that he still felt great affection for Emily Ramsden.

  When they first became good friends, before the friendship turned to love – at least on her part – John had begun to confide in her; not all of it, but enough for Rosie to realise that for whatever reason, he had walked away from the girl he adored. Once he and Rosie had decided to get married, he would not be drawn on the subject. So because she needed to, Rosie came to believe that he had finally got over that first, special love. She didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know what the answer might be.

  Keeping her gaze on the man who was about to become her husband, Rosie walked slowly down the aisle, pacing herself with the man who walked arm-in-arm with her – her father, of whom she felt so proud. Her hero.

  Leaning ever so slightly against her as he took each careful step up the aisle, Lonnie Taylor was determined to walk his daughter right up to the altar where her future husband waited. Situated at the top pew to reassure him was his bath-chair, where he would sit during the service.

  Behind them came the older sister, Rachel, dressed as maid of honour in a pale blue gown and carrying a pretty posy of pink and white tulips, to match those of the bride.

  And right there in pride of place next to Harriet, was Lizzie.

  Having travelled up from Salmesbury and spent a couple of nights at Harriet’s, getting to know her, and rejoicing in John’s company, she was refreshed and smart in her new outfit of long coat and matching hobble skirt that finished at the ankles and allowed the merest sighting of her brand new, black boots. The only problem was, the left one pinched so badly that she had to keep wiggling her toes to keep the blood flowing. ‘Take it off!’ Harriet whispered. ‘I’ll bend it about a bit. It’ll be all right then.’

  Hoping no one could see, Lizzie unhooked the half-dozen buttons with the button-hook hidden in her little reticule, slipped it off and, true as her word, Harriet ‘bent it about a bit’. When Lizzie surreptitiously eased it back on again, it was much more comfortable, and she was able to watch the service in relative comfort, though she secretly vowed that the minute she got back to Harriet’s, she would exchange the boots for the comfy old shoes she had travelled up in.

  Harriet herself was looking neat and tidy in an oyster-grey skirt, the wide belt with its silver buckle emphasising her considerable bosom. The bushy iron-grey hair was scooped up and rammed out of sight beneath a straw boater with an oyster-grey silk band and huge jet hatpin. Archie’s eyes had gone out on stalks at the magnificent sight of her!

  The service was conducted by a frocked priest who, when it was over, blessed the newlyweds and led them to the vestry, where they signed the register as man and wife.

  Afterwards, when they emerged into the bright March daylight, everyone shouted and laughed and threw rice, before setting off on foot or climbing into their carriages to be whisked off to the grand inn on King Street, where the celebrations were soon under way, with the invited and the uninvited mingling to drink to the couple’s happiness, and dancing until late.

  In the ornamental garden at the back of the inn, hung with Japanese lanterns for the occasion, Rosie told John how happy she was. ‘You do love me, don’t you?’ she asked nervously. The feeling that he would rather be somewhere else was haunting her.

  John thought she looked lovely and told her so. He took her in his arms and kissed her softly, and whispered in her ear, ‘Of course I love you.’ And he did. But not in the same way he had loved Emily – though he didn’t tell Rosie that much. He was too fond of her ever to hurt her. That would be too cruel. She was his wife now, and he would care for her and look after her.

  Yet for him, there would always be something missing.

  ‘I know you can’t love me in the way you want to,’ she told him with understanding, ‘but it won’t matter. We have all the time in the world.’

  Sliding his arm about her slim waist, he walked her to the pond. ‘I do love you,’ he said honestly. ‘There are things I want to tell you, but I can’t, not yet. Though like you said, we have all the time in the world and we’ll use it to get to know each other, as well as any man and wife can know each other. The kind of love you deserve will follow, I’m sure.’

  ‘We’ll make it happen!’ she murmured, nibbling his ear. For now she was content to know he loved her enough to take her as his wife.

  ‘We will,’ he said. ‘With the help of God, we’ll make it happen.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘Meanwhile, Mrs Hanley, we have guests to tend, and Harriet’s beautiful cake to cut.’

  As they walked back to the guests, John could not deny there was a certain sadness in his heart. But when he walked through the door and everyone turned their heads to look at them, his handsome, ready smile gave nothing away. Instead, when the music started, he took his wife by the waist and waltzed her across the floor.

  Before they, too, paired up and joined the dance, the guests allowed the bridal couple a few minutes on their own, during which time they held each other and seemed for all the world like two people deeply in love.

  Lizzie knew the truth. She watched them for a long time, praying that her anger and lies had not ruined four young lives.

  ‘We’ll have to leave soon,’ John told Rosie, taking her aside. ‘We need to get moving before it grows dark.’

  Rosie was intrigued. ‘Leave for where?’ Then she groaned. ‘Oh John, don’t tell me you forgot to book us in here for the weekend?’

  ‘I didn’t forget,’ he said. ‘I just didn’t book it.’

  ‘So where are we spending our honeymoon?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘I knew something was going on,’ she said with a knowing smile. ‘Though I didn’t like to mention it, we haven’t had any wedding presents. Is everyone in on this surprise of yours, whatever it is?’

  ‘Don’t ask questions, Mrs Hanley,’ he gave her a wink, ‘… and you’ll get told no lies.’

  Half an hour later, while Rosie was thanking the guests, John went to the landlord and collected the portmanteau he had brought here the day before. ‘We need to get changed,’ he explained. ‘Is it still all right for us to use that back room?’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ the landlord confirmed. ‘There you are, son.’ Handing the portmanteau over, he wished John well. ‘You found a good ’un there,’ he commented, gesturing to where Rosie was laughing at Archie’s little joke.

  Catching Rosie’s eye, John held up the portmanteau and she understood. While she drew the conversation with Archie to an end, John made his way to the back room. By the time Rosie arrived, he was changed and ready to leave. ‘I just need to have a word with Lizzie,’ he told her. ‘Harriet says to leave our wedding clothes here, and she’ll take care of them.’

  Rosie was impressed. ‘You seem to have organised everything,’ she said suspiciously. ‘I wish you’d tell me what you’re up to.’

  ‘You’ll soon find out. Be as quick as you can. I’ve put your clothes on the chair.’ He had the portmanteau with him. ‘I’ll take this.’ It held all their necessities for the night.

  First stop was Archie. ‘I hope she likes what I’ve done to the cottage,’ John said to his old mate.

  ‘She’ll love it!’ Archie had no doubts on that score.

  Going quickly round the guests, John thanked them all, and they wished him well, and then it was Lizzie. ‘Are you happy, son?’ She was concerned for him, and Rosie too. Ever since she had received his invitation, Lizzie had wondered if her nephew was making the biggest mistake of his life. ‘Now I’ve met her, your Rosie seems a nice enough lass – a lot like Emily, I think. But I’m so worried you might have got wed for the wrong
reasons.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m doing what you told me. I’m getting on with my life the best way I know how.’

  Lizzie looked at him through tearful eyes. ‘I so much want you to be happy.’

  ‘How can I not be happy,’ he said, holding her hand, ‘when I’ve got you?’

  Just as he’d hoped, she smiled through her tears. ‘Go on with yer!’

  ‘That’s my Lizzie!’ He held her in his arms awhile. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he promised, and as he walked away, she seemed a little more content.

  By the time he’d organised a carriage, Rosie was ready to leave.

  Outside, everyone waved them off. ‘What are you up to, John Hanley?’ Rosie was loving every minute.

  ‘Just you sit back and relax,’ he told her. And she did, mainly because her feet were aching from all the dancing after the wedding, and her new shoes didn’t help either.

  When they reached the boatyard, they boarded the waiting barge, and were soon on their way. ‘Now I really am worried!’ she said, only half-joking. ‘You’re surely not making for the site, are you?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Do you intend setting me to work, is that it?’ she laughed.

  ‘I might.’

  ‘My God! I’ve married a bully-boy.’

  Negotiating the barge through the waters, he smiled at her from the tiller. ‘I hope you like your wedding present.’

  ‘What if I don’t?’ She knew now it must be to do with the cottage. It was common knowledge how he had busied himself behind the screen for months on end, not even allowing herself to enter.

  ‘Archie says you’ll love it.’

  ‘Oh, I see!’ She feigned indignation. ‘So Archie’s seen it, has he?’

  ‘Apart from myself he’s the only one.’

  ‘Well, hurry up, then, husband. Get me there quick, before I faint from curiosity.’

  On arriving at the cottage, John carried her over the threshold. ‘I can’t believe it!’ Rosie could hardly trust her own eyes. Running from room to room, she was overwhelmed. ‘It’s beautiful!’ She flung her arms round him. ‘Oh, John! It’s just perfect. Thank you. Thank you!’

  A couple of the men had been in to lay and light the fires, keeping an eye on them until the hour John had said he’d be back. Rosie threw off her warm, outer clothes and danced jubilantly around the small house, exclaiming with delight at each new treat, while John lit the lamps and put the brand new kettle on the range for a welcome pot of tea – their first in the new home. He was tired but very pleased with Rosie’s – his wife’s – unfeigned pleasure. He wanted her to be happy.

  Later, when the first rush of excitement had settled to a feeling of contentment, they opened their presents together.

  There was a flat-iron; a blue and cream china tea-set; a pair of cushion-cases; a pretty lamp; lavender bags that scented the air and other useful items that were made to suit different rooms in the house. ‘You asked them to buy things for the cottage, didn’t you?’ she said, and this time, when she threw her arms round him, she didn’t let go. Guiding his hands, she helped him to unbutton her pretty lilac blouse and to slide it off her shoulders. The single strand of pearls he had given her as a present gleamed in the soft light and he gazed at the fullness of her breasts beneath the virginal chemise.

  ‘Make love to me,’ she whispered naughtily. ‘I’m your wife and I demand it.’

  ‘You’re a hussy!’ He smiled at her boldness. ‘But you’re so pretty, how can a man refuse?’

  There and then on the peg-rug in front of the fire he took her to himself, with reluctant passion at first. Inevitably, and much because of Rosie’s unbridled enthusiasm, the passion deepened and in spite of his misgivings, he could not hold back. To Rosie, and to John, the lovemaking was both satisfying and beautiful.

  Afterwards they sat together on the rug, looking into the fire. ‘Got another little surprise.’ John opened the lid of the portmanteau and reaching inside, extracted a bottle of best wine. ‘Compliments of the landlord,’ he quipped. There were two glasses, a bottle-opener and a large pork-pie as well.

  Filling the glasses, John handed Rosie one and holding his glass to hers, he said quietly, ‘Here’s to happiness and contentment.’ Though without Emily, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find either.

  ‘I’ll make you a good wife, John, I promise.’ It was as though Rosie had read his thoughts.

  ‘I know,’ he answered. ‘And I’ll do my best to make you a good husband.’

  ‘And we’ll build our business up to be even bigger and better.’

  ‘The best in Liverpool, if not the world,’ he teased her.

  ‘And later, we’ll have children, won’t we?’

  ‘Dozens,’ he laughed. ‘All pretty and hardworking, like you.’

  ‘Oh, so that’s why you married me, is it?’ she demanded with a playful dig in the ribs. ‘Because I’m a work-horse?’

  ‘Of course. Why else would I marry somebody who can’t fry an egg without burning it to a cinder?’

  She laughed out loud. ‘I wish I hadn’t told you about that now.’

  Their laughter rippled across the room, before in a more sober mood she reminded him, ‘I know we didn’t marry altogether out of love … and I know it was my idea to merge the businesses and make our relationship more permanent.’

  John recalled the very conversation. ‘It was a good idea,’ he confirmed. ‘It secured two of our best contracts. Merging the businesses was the best thing we ever did.’

  ‘I agree,’ she said. ‘Only I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. But I did, and to tell you the truth, I couldn’t be happier.’

  He smiled at that. ‘I’m glad, Rosie,’ he said sincerely. ‘You deserve to be happy.’ And so she did, he thought. Rosie was a delightful person, with a heart as big and kind as he had ever known, and though he didn’t feel the same kind of joy with Rosie as he used to when he was with Emily, he thought a great deal of her, in his own quiet way.

  Touching her hand to his face, she stroked it gently. ‘My happiness would be complete if only you could feel the same way,’ she whispered.

  Draping an arm round her shoulders, he drew her closer. He didn’t speak, because just then Emily came into his mind and subdued him.

  Rosie sensed his sadness, and curling into the crook of his arm, she let him know she was there for him. No matter whatever else might happen in the future, she would always be there for him.

  That night Lizzie’s conscience would not let her rest. Long after she had said good night to Harriet, she paced the bedroom floor, thinking and worrying, and realising, not for the first time, how she had been wrong all along. Wrong to turn her back on Emily; wrong to have jumped to conclusions when what she should have done was talk with the lass, try and help, instead of damning her from the outset.

  And she was even more wrong to have sent John away, believing the shocking lie that Emily was already wed. Maybe if she hadn’t interfered in such a high-handed manner, John and Emily might have salvaged something good from a bad situation, and neither of them would now be wed to someone else. They belonged together. They had always belonged together, and it was she who had driven them apart.

  It was striking two o’clock when Lizzie finally fell into bed, but even then she didn’t sleep. Instead she lay awake fidgeting and fretting, and wondering how she could put things right. She heard the hallway clock strike three, then four, but heard no more until Harriet tapped on the door at half-past seven.

  ‘I thought you might like a cup of tea,’ the big woman said, poking her face round the door. ‘For breakfast there’s toast, bacon and egg, muffins and porridge. Which do you fancy?’ Entering the room, she placed the cup and saucer on the bedside cabinet, surprised to see Lizzie making no effort to sit up. ‘Just tell me what you want and I’ll have it up here quick as a wink.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t face breakfast,’ Lizzie answered faintly. ‘Thank you for the te
a though. It’s just what I need to get me going.’

  Having opened the curtains wider, Harriet seated herself on the bed. She noticed how slow Lizzie was in sitting up, and how, when she took hold of the cup, it rattled against the saucer. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked worriedly. ‘Did you not sleep well?’

  ‘I’m a bit woozy.’ Lizzie laughed it off. ‘I must have drunk too much wine last night.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’ Harriet chided. ‘You had one glass, same as me, and you hardly ate anything, so it can’t be the food that’s upset you.’

  Lizzie brushed aside the other woman’s concern. ‘I’m allus slow to wake,’ she lied. ‘I’ll be right as rain, once I’ve had this cuppa tea.’ In truth she didn’t feel at all well, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

  ‘If you’re sure?’ Harriet had no choice but to take her at her word, though she thought the old dear looked pale and worn. ‘I’ll leave you to get washed and dressed.’

  It was an hour later when Lizzie came down. Harriet had served breakfast to her one remaining guest, apart from Archie, and was just saying goodbye to him. ‘See you next month,’ she said, closing the front door and fishing out her tin of snuff for a welcome pinch or two.

  On seeing Lizzie, she explained, ‘He’s one of these unfortunate men who go round the shops trying to sell merchandise … He arrives here once a month and stays for two nights. Always seems worn out, poor thing. It must be hard making a living trying to sell things to them as don’t want them.’

  Eager for a womanly natter, Harriet soon had Lizzie and herself seated at the kitchen table, with a fresh brew in front of them. ‘Your nephew is a real credit to you,’ she said.

  ‘John is my pride and joy,’ Lizzie answered, her eyes shining. ‘He came to me as a little lad, and I took him in as my own son. It wasn’t easy, mind. We didn’t have much money and there were times when I thought I’d never manage. But we got through, and I’ve never regretted one single minute of it.’

  ‘And what do you think of Rosie?’ Dipping a shop-bought biscuit in her hot tea, Harriet tutted when it got sodden and fell in.