Liza

by Irene Carr

  ‘Thank you for telling me,’ Liza said. Iris had talked of resting, but how could she after a lifetime of work? ‘I’ll talk to her next time I come.’

  ‘I wish you would, Miss. She won’t listen to us.’

  They settled into the Vauxhall and drove off up the hill, chased by a crowd of cheering children for the first hundred yards. Then they crossed the bridge over the river and went down to the sea. There they left the car and set off on foot along the shore. Liza kept her hat tied on because there was a blustery wind, and they walked from the pier to the fishermen’s cottages at Whitburn.

  ‘The word Iris wanted with you, is that a secret?’ William asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Something about me?’

  ‘You’re fishing.’

  ‘I am.’

  They both laughed but he probed again: ‘Well? Was it about the feud? Or was she warning you about the sailor with a girl in every port?’

  Liza decided this had to be stopped. ‘She was very complimentary, and I’ll tell you what she said a week today.’

  ‘Why a week?’

  ‘To test your control over your curiosity.’

  He frowned. ‘Is this some game?’

  Then a sudden gust blew her into his arms and they laughed again. But he held her, gazing down into her face and she said breathlessly, ‘I’m all right now. Please.’

  He released her reluctantly and they walked on, but now he kept her arm in his. ‘Very well, I’ll wait until Sunday,’ he said.

  She knew that next Sunday she would be gone.

  * * *

  On Monday Liza and Elspeth worked ostensibly as pupil and teacher, but in fact they were a team. They were washing and polishing glasses in the crowded kitchen. The cook was preparing lunch, with the assistance of the scullery-maid and a lethargic Doreen, while Gibson and Cully, the gardener, had their mid-morning tea. It was a situation familiar to Liza from her experience in many such kitchens and she sank into it happily. Furthermore, her presence was now accepted by the others.

  At one point she caught a sulky look from Doreen and murmured, ‘She doesn’t seem very happy today.’

  Elspeth sniffed. ‘I’m not surprised. I gave her notice while you were away. She’s working it out, and doing as little as she can and still be paid.’

  Liza bit her lip. She knew how it felt to be given notice; that was what had brought her to this place. She was sorry for Doreen, despite the hatred she knew the girl felt for her. ‘I hope it wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘No,’ Elspeth said brusquely. ‘She’s nobody to blame but herself.’ She glanced at Liza. ‘When you run a house like this you sometimes have to dismiss a girl or a chap. It might be for laziness, incompetence or theft, but you still have to do it.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ agreed Liza, but was no happier about Doreen’s fate.

  Now she had a trayful of sparkling glasses. She picked it up and carried it, balanced on one hand, through the crowded kitchen to the front of the house to return them to the cupboard from which they had come.

  * * *

  Elspeth watched approvingly, but then two creases came between her brows and she thought, That’s strange — at which point Doreen shoved a pan carelessly on to the kitchen table. It slid off the edge and boiling water sluiced over the kitchen floor. Elspeth exploded: ‘For God’s sake, girl, can’t you do anything right?’ In the commotion she forgot what she had been thinking about.

  * * *

  William came home in the early evening when Liza was bathing, preparing to dress for dinner. He rapped on her door. ‘Yes?’ she called.

  ‘I’ve had enough for one day. Let’s go to a show and have some supper afterwards. Or are you too tired?’

  ‘No!’ She was not tired at all now. ‘Let’s do it — please!’

  They had a light meal, then drove into town and settled, just in time, into the stalls at the Empire. Later they had supper at the Palace Hotel, then walked on to the bridge and leaned on the balustrade, looking down on the river. The shipyards were still and silent now, the coal staiths standing gaunt against the sky.

  ‘Will you leave us when you inherit?’ William asked.

  Liza had not been ready for that. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t given any thought to it,’ was all she could say. Anyway, she was going perforce.

  He turned her to face him. ‘I would like you to stay. I—’

  ‘Don’t say any more, please. I’ll answer any question you like next Sunday.’

  His brows came down.

  ‘Will you wait? Please?’ she whispered.

  ‘Very well,’ he agreed reluctantly, but she shut his mouth with her own, on tiptoe and clinging to him, arms round his neck. Then she broke away and he followed her back to the Vauxhall.

  * * *

  Before he slept William recalled their conversation of the previous day and wondered if the new Cecily was reverting to her old ways and toying with him. He had dealt with that two years ago when he had bundled her out of his room, and would again if need be. He would be no woman’s poodle. He would have answers on Sunday or they would go their separate ways.

  * * *

  Liza stared at the ceiling. She had struck a bargain with Cecily in gratitude for her life, and had paid her debt. She would leave this man and this house because she must, and Cecily would claim the place that was rightfully hers.

  * * *

  The train pulled into the station in the dusk and a porter strode along the platform, bawling, ‘Monkwearmouth! Monkwearmouth!’ It was in Sunderland, on the north shore of the river Wear. Jasper Barbour emerged from the train, materialising out of a cloud of smoke and steam like an evil genie. He was bearded now, his coat collar turned up. Flora Gibb was by his side, in a cape with a fold of it across her face. They escaped the porter’s notice and carried their own luggage — they had between them only one small case and Jasper’s new Gladstone bag. Outside the station, with its Greek columns, Jasper growled, ‘Now, where’s this house you’ve rented?’

  Flora hurried along by his side. ‘Across the road and down Barclay Street. Just a couple of minutes’ walk.’

  They found the villa, walked up the path through the little garden and let themselves in with the key. Jasper glanced around perfunctorily, then passed through the narrow hall and out of the kitchen into the yard. There was the usual lavatory and coal-shed with a wash-house in one corner. He ignored them. There was also a strip of garden some eight feet by four, and he thought he would find a use for that. He opened the gate and stepped out into the cobbled back lane. It was dark, without a light except for the gas lamp that stood in the street running across the end of it.

  At his side Flora asked, ‘Did I do right? Is it how you wanted?’

  ‘Perfect. You can get a body in and out of here without a soul seeing you.’

  ‘A body!’ Flora gasped. ‘Oh, Jasper, I wish—’

  ‘Just a manner o’ speaking. I’m talking about her, Cecily Spencer that sent me down. And don’t you worry, I’m only going to give her a leathering, like I’ve told you before.’

  ‘But how will you do it?’ Flora persisted. ‘There’ll be police all over and they’ll know who did it.’

  ‘I’ll find a way,’ he told her impatiently. ‘Now, get that bottle out o’ the case. We’ll have a drink and then you can earn your keep.’ He pushed her ahead of him towards the house. He knew that she believed him — if only because she wanted to.

  * * *

  On Tuesday morning Liza ran down the stairs in time, as usual, to join William for breakfast before he drove to his offices. He looked up from his newspaper and grinned. ‘Ah! The celebrity.’ He held up the paper. ‘Last night’s Echo.’ She saw that The Times had been laid aside. ‘I brought this home last night but never read it. I fear Jock or Mrs McAvoy has told the press of your exploits, probably a reporter from one of the Newcastle papers and they passed it on to the Echo. There you are.’ He pointed to a paragraph headed: ‘Young Lady’s Sea Adventures’.
Liza read. It was all there, how Miss Cecily Spencer had crossed to the Frances Hopkinson to assist the tearful Bridget McAvoy, and later plunged into the sea in an attempt to rescue Mickey from drowning.

  ‘How awful!’ she said. ‘They only say I was "assisted by Captain William Morgan", when it was you who pulled the pair of us out.’

  He dismissed that. ‘It’s probably how Jock told it. Never mind. You’re famous now. How does it feel?’

  She was flattered, pleased. Then she remembered her position. Before, her impersonation of Cecily would have been a prank within the family. There would have been some annoyance, but it would all have been in the family. Now it was public property. Suppose a reporter from the Echo turned up and asked for her version of the story, then saw a different Cecily a week later? That would be another story. How would Arkenstall, the lawyer, and William see that?

  William must have read her feelings in her face. ‘You’re not happy.’

  ‘I don’t like the idea of people reading about me, staring.’

  He took the paper from her and threw it into the fire, held it there with a poker until it was ashes. ‘You’ll still be a celebrity for a time, but no reporters. We’ll send them away.’

  ‘Thank you.’ But Liza feared the damage was done.

  Elspeth entered, beaming. ‘I was reading the Echo last night and there was a bit in there all about you, Miss Spencer. You’re famous. Aren’t you the grand lass?’

  Liza smiled lopsidedly. ‘If that’s what you think, may I be excused this morning? I’d like to call on Iris.’

  Elspeth laughed. ‘I expect the rest of us will manage.’

  So Liza walked down through Mowbray Park and found the tagareen shop open and Iris sitting in the kitchen as usual: ‘If anybody wants to buy owt they know where to find me.’

  And then: ‘I read about you in the paper last night. There’s a little daredivil y’are.’ Liza had to tell the story again, and gave William the credit he was due. Then she gave a true account of her doings in London, the arrest of Una and Piggy, and the release of Cecily and Mark.

  ‘What is she like, this Cecily?’ Iris asked.

  ‘You’ll have to make up your own mind about that,’ Liza replied diplomatically. ‘I think she’s found a good man.’ That had been her assessment of Mark Calvert.

  ‘You’ve answered my question. Still, I doubt if she’ll be coming down here. But talking o’ good men, I liked what I saw o’ Billy Morgan. I’d heard plenty but that was the first time I’d met him. Is he the one for you?’

  ‘That’s out of the question — ridiculous.’ She rose to go.

  Iris walked through the shop with her. ‘I don’t see what’s ridiculous about it. Looks to me like you were made for each other.’

  ‘I’ll come again in a day or two,’ Liza said.

  ‘You mark my words,’ said Iris.

  Liza had already done so.

  * * *

  Flora said there was a carter just a street away who had a pony and trap he hired out, so Jasper walked round to the stables to inspect them. He found the one placid, the other clean and smart. ‘I gave it a coat o’ paint just a week ago to freshen it up,’ the carter said.

  ‘Pity you couldn’t paint the pony,’ said Jasper. ‘It looks to need freshening up.’

  ‘There’s nowt wrong wi’ that pony. If you wanted a bloody racehorse you should ha’ said so. Now Bobby here,’ and he slapped the pony’s rump, ‘he’ll do whatever you tell him. Stand all day, walk, trot or gallop.’

  But Jasper had seen enough. He did some token bargaining, because it was expected and might have been wondered about if he had not. ‘I’ll hire it for a week.’ He would be gone inside a day or two, if he got the chance, but he might take longer and did not want to keep coming to this man every day. ‘You’ll feed and bed him? And can I get in if I want him early?’

  ‘Oh, aye. The lad sleeps ower the stable. He’ll let you in.’

  Jasper paid and drove the pony and trap out of the yard. He picked up Flora at the end of the street and she directed him through the town. They stopped outside Spencer Hall, then Jasper turned down a lane and behind a copse that screened them from the house and the road. They could see through the trees to the open gates and the grounds beyond. The house itself was hidden by more trees. They saw several visitors, tradesmen for the most part, and a slight young girl who walked up from the tram stop. ‘That might be her,’ Flora said.

  Jasper agreed. ‘Might be, can’t remember for sure. She’ll ha’ changed in five years.’

  Then, late in the afternoon, another girl hurried out, slouching, her eyes on the ground. ‘Maybe,’ Jasper said doubtfully.

  Flora shook her head. ‘Naw. She’s one o’ the maids, I reckon.’

  The girl disappeared down the road. Darkness fell, and Jasper jumped down from the trap. ‘You wait here. I’m going to take a look.’

  ‘Be careful.’

  He crossed the road and passed through the gates. He saw they were in good condition but did not appear to have been closed for some time. One or two weeds had escaped the gardener and twined round them. He walked up to and around the house and decided it would be easy to force an entrance, but what then? He did not want to steal a few baubles. No matter. He marked a ground-floor window or two that would suit his purpose. He would go on from there.

  He retraced his steps, but had to scurry into the shelter of the trees before the house as a motor-car drove in through the gateway. A man sat at the wheel and he steered it round the house to the rear. Jasper remembered seeing a stable block and garage there. He emerged from the copse and rejoined Flora.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  He nodded. ‘Aye, but I need to know where she sleeps.’ ‘How will you find out?’

  ‘Don’t know, but I will. I’ll settle this score if it takes me a year.’

  ‘You need to get to know somebody inside,’ Flora said.

  ‘I know that damn fine,’ he snapped impatiently. ‘It’s doing it.’

  * * *

  Flora had an idea, but said nothing. She still hoped he might abandon his thoughts of vengeance; they could be happy if they fled the country and started a new life abroad.

  22

  WEDNESDAY, 13 FEBRUARY 1907, SUNDERLAND

  ‘Lord knows what yon Doreen will be up to while I’m away.’ Elspeth shook her head. ‘I’ve given her a few jobs but who’s to see she does them? Cook won’t have her in the kitchen after that calamity with the saucepan. And when I come back there’ll be nothing done and her with a list of excuses. It’ll be a blessing when she’s worked her notice and we’re rid of her. I’m looking forward to Sunday and seeing her out of the door.’

  Liza was not. She had only a few more days to play her part in this house and then she would be free. Once she had looked forward to that, but now?

  She and Elspeth were going into town to view the venue for the party on Saturday night, the ballroom of the Palace Hotel. They were to discuss the menu for the buffet, the wines, the flowers and where they were to be sited. Then, with the leader of the orchestra, they would agree upon the music to be played.

  ‘You’ll be needing a new dress for this occasion,’ William had said.

  ‘I bought one when I was in London,’ Liza had replied.

  ‘I look forward to seeing it.’

  Now Elspeth was helping Liza into her coat in the hall. Gibson was waiting outside with the carriage and they went out to him and climbed in. ‘Well, we’ve made an early start,’ Liza said brightly.

  Elspeth sniffed. ‘I hope they aren’t all still in bed at the Palace.’ And the carriage, pulled by Gibson’s beloved horses, rolled out of the gates on its way to the town.

  ‘Why did Uncle Edward insist on the gates always being open?’ Liza asked.

  ‘He was afraid some poor devil, gypsy or tramp, might die outside if the gates were closed for want of a drink or a bite. He was a good man. The captain is following in his footsteps, another good man. Lucky the
girl who gets him.’

  * * *

  They were not the only ones to make an early start. Jasper, Flora by his side, sat in the trap, hidden behind the copse across the road from the gates. He watched them go and muttered hungrily, ‘That young lass looks like she could be the one.’ Flora nodded in agreement: as far as she could see, the girl in the carriage was well dressed. They waited and watched while Bobby cropped the grass.

  A succession of tradesmen came and went, but it was two hours later that another young woman came out. This one was shabby and hurrying on foot, with occasional glances behind her. She took the road into the town, walking a few paces then running, teetering on high-heeled buttoned boots. She carried a parcel under one arm.

  ‘There she goes,’ Jasper growled. ‘We’ll try her, see if she’s needing a few bob extra. Out you get and follow her.’

  Flora jumped down from the trap and set out after the girl, a basket in her hand as if she were going shopping. Jasper wheeled the trap out on to the road and followed Flora at a distance. He was rarely in sight of the girl, who hurried on unsuspecting.

  In the town he caught up with Flora, standing on a corner. ‘She went down that alley and in a back door,’ she reported. Jasper gave her the reins of the pony and went to see for himself. He stood at the end of the alley, hands in his pockets like some idler, and a minute or two later the girl came out and walked towards him. He turned his back to her and let her pass him. She carried no parcel now. He grinned to himself, then went after her. He seized her arm above the elbow and steered her towards Flora.

  She tried to pull away. ‘Here! Who are you? What d’ye think you’re doing?’ He only held her more tightly. ‘You’re hurting me! Leggo!’