The Mersey Girls

by Sheila Riley

  ‘Your mother would never have given me houseroom if she knew I had a child out of wedlock.’

  ‘You made the sacrifice,’ Henry said. ‘It couldn’t have been easy leaving your child in the care of another woman.’ He pulled her close to him, knowing times were different back then.

  ‘People were not forgiving in a time when living hand to mouth was a way of life.’ Meggie sighed. ‘I had no choice.’ Henry had secreted her child away under the cover of darkness. No questions asked. ‘I had to let the baby go so I could earn enough money to give him the upbringing and education he deserved, I couldn’t expect another woman to pay for my flesh and blood.’ Meggie’s voice cracked. ‘I didn’t realise I would be denied the chance to raise my own child. But now it’s too late to do anything about it.’

  ‘I wish things could have been different…’ Henry whispered. ‘I wanted to raise the child as my own, but who’d have thought Mother would live such a long and healthy life.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘A lifelong hypochondriac, she was as strong as a battleship and may still be here yet, had she not been concentrating on getting across the road to the Tavern and knocked down by that tram.’

  ‘Your mother would have disinherited you if she knew you married a woman who bore another man’s child. You had no choice either.’ She shook her head, her pragmatic voice returning. ‘I would never have been able to bear the guilt of you losing the business you and your dear father had worked for.’

  ‘That’s what I meant when I said you made the ultimate sacrifice – for me.’

  ‘And that is why I know you will agree with me, when we’ve saved the business, I can put the rest of the money away.’

  ‘To give the young’un the best life we can,’ Henry said, holding her close and looking out of the kitchen window, gazing at the fading sign his father had put up the day he was born fifty-two years ago. Skinner and Son – Hauliers and Stablemen. 1898.

  He understood why Meggie needed to give her offspring the things denied her.

  ‘I know you had to pay most of your wages over to the woman raising your child every week. It is a parental instinct to look after your young, I believe.’

  Well, well, well, Susie thought, this is getting more shameful by the minute.

  Having heard every word, Susie guessed Skinner was not the father of the child. If Meggie’s past became public, it would mark her down as a liar and a fraud. And that would not go down well with her friends in the church. They would snub her in the blink of an eye. And Meggie, who had always prided herself on her good works, while looking down her nose every time she deigned to come into the office, would find the fall a lengthy one. And what was all that talk about an office manager?

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Susie muttered, ‘bloody cheek!’

  5

  Saturday morning dawned bright and sunny and seeing her ankle was good as new, Evie decided to go and see Mr Skinner about the job Danny mentioned, hoping the position was still available. It would make everything so much simpler if she worked close by, and it would save on the tram fare.

  Wanting to look her best, she removed the steel grips from the Catherine-wheel pin curls she had put in the night before. She had grown accustomed to sleeping on clips, securing her pillow in such a way they didn’t dig into her head, but last night they seemed to take on a life of their own and she woke up a few times, so it was a relief to take them out and draw the wide-tooth comb through her shoulder-length hair.

  Evie’s hair fell in pleasing waves round her oval face and she secured it with a pretty ribbon. Her pale complexion making her sprinkle of freckles and aquamarine eyes stand out, she needed a bit of colour in her cheeks. Remembering the tube of lipstick her mother once wore, she rooted through the sideboard drawer until she found it. Even though it had lain untouched for the last three years, it was still useable. Feeling no compunction in applying a slick of red to her generous lips, she then dabbed a spot on each cheek.

  She pressed her lips together, wiping the corners with the pad of her little finger before rubbing the red spot on her cheeks, the way she had seen Mam doing it, wanting to look her best when she went to see Mr Skinner, not like a corpse who had just been dug up.

  The beaming sunshine enhanced the smell of horses and hay and timber when Evie entered Skinner’s haulage yard. And her taste buds tingled when the unmistakeable smell of hot treacle wafted from a small shed where the horses’ feed was made up at the end of the stables, making her stomach growl.

  The office was tucked away in the corner of the cobbled yard which was busy with several cart lads and van boys mucking out the stables or dropping bales of straw from the loft to the stalls below for the horses’ bedding. The entire place was a hive of activity, and Evie knew this job was in complete contrast to her usual office overlooking the River Mersey, where boats and ships of every shape and size sailed each day.

  When Evie tapped on the half-glazed green door, signposted with the word Office in black lettering, there was no answer, so she gave another timid knock and turned the handle of the door. It was locked.

  Meggie put the breakfast dishes in the sink and, scooping toast crumbs from the tablecloth, she glanced out of the window. ‘Isn’t that the Kilgaren girl?’ she asked, not waiting for an answer. ‘The poor thing looks like the cat who’s lost her kitten.’

  Opening the back door, Meggie shook the crumbs from the breakfast tray into the yard for the birds.

  ‘He’ll be with you now, love,’ Meggie called across the yard, and Evie lifted her hand in a friendly wave. ‘Go on, now,’ Meggie said to her husband as she bustled about the kitchen. ‘Don’t keep the girl waiting. Like as not, she’ll be jittery.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Henry said, draining his cup and placing it in the sink along with the rest of the morning crockery, ‘she doesn’t look the type to get the jitters – she’s not like that daft mare, Susie…’ He lowered his voice, ‘You never know, this one might be the answer to our prayers.’

  ‘What prayers?’ Meggie asked, her brows puckering. ‘And why will she be the answer to them?’

  Henry shook his head and beamed a loving smile that told Meggie all was right with the world. The business accounts, though, were another matter and he would keep them to himself to save upsetting her. He had a notion, though, Evie Kilgaren was the girl to fix them. She had been through more than most, and didn’t trouble herself with other people’s business. Unlike Susie.

  Meggie accepted his kiss, as she did every morning, knowing he had been her strength from the hour she met him, and even though she had made a noble sacrifice, Henry had done his best to make her happy. Having no children, he made her his entire world and Meggie’s love for him would last until the end of her days.

  Reaching for the latch on the door, she noticed a twinkle light his dark eyes when he said, ‘Trust me, I will never let you down again.’

  ‘You’ve never let me down…’ Meggie said, returning his reassuring smile.

  He and Meggie told each other everything. They were two halves of the same being, which meant that keeping this one enormous secret from her was the biggest burden he had ever known.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Love,’ he said, believing Evie Kilgaren was the answer he so needed.

  ‘So, you’re Jack’s big sister?’ Mr Skinner said in that pragmatic way he had about him and Evie nodded. ‘He talks of you – proud as punch he is of you and what you’ve achieved over the last few years.’

  ‘I’m enormously proud of him, too,’ Evie said, knowing that, at the crossroads of right and wrong, Jack had made the right decision and, like herself, wanted to hold his head high.

  ‘Susie was supposed to be in today, but she’s off sick – again. Typical, that is.’ He took a bunch of keys from the pocket of his baggy, brown corduroy trousers and, finding the right one, opened the office door. ‘You want a special invitation?’ Skinner called from inside the office and Evie all but crept into the dim interior. Her eyes adjusting to the gloom when Mr Skinn
er pushed back his flat cap and flicked an electric switch by the door. The dim forty-watt bulb hanging in all its naked glory from the ceiling made the myriad lights in Mr Walton’s office back at the D’Angelo Shipping look like the famous Blackpool illuminations.

  The room was not so bleak that she couldn’t see the wooden desk piled high with papers, folders, files and other office detritus. And, if she was not mistaken, there was an overpowering smell of fish.

  ‘How can anybody work in this mess?’ she blurted, hoping Mr Skinner hadn’t heard her astonished outburst when he headed towards the far window.

  ‘Sit yourself down wherever you please,’ he said, removing a blackout blind, a remnant of the war years, allowing a shaft of piercing sunlight through the sash windows, illuminating the dancing dust particles.

  Evie tried to summon the enthusiasm to force a smile as he sauntered over to the chaotic desk, but then she caught sight of a stack of dust-covered files and documents lining the cabbage-coloured walls, and noticed a half-eaten pilchard sandwich that appeared to be welded to a copy of Picture Post magazine: her enthusiasm plummeted.

  Mr Skinner scowled, rolled up the misused magazine and manky sardine butty, throwing the whole lot in to the wastepaper bin, but doing so did nothing to ease the smell of rotten fish.

  She didn’t have ideas above her station, by any stretch of the imagination, but even on her poorest day, Evie made sure her surroundings were clean. This place was worse than the borough tip.

  Smoothing her skirt, she sat on the only available chair, staring at the distempered walls, adorned with dog-eared posters advertising horse feed, out-of-date calendars and a sign that was still advising people to ‘Be like dad and keep mum!’ – five years after the war had ended.

  ‘I think there’s been some mistake,’ Evie said, taking in a dull grey coating of dust covering every surface except the black, business telephone. ‘I don’t clean offices any more.’

  Evie had studied for years, passed every examination with distinction, and yet Mr Skinner thought she was here to clean the office. Not that she was above rolling up her sleeves and getting stuck in. Her lips pinched together and the sting of tears at the back of her eyes gave her cause to blink rapidly. She thought Danny was being kind when he said there was a job going. She thought…

  ‘I am a bookkeeper!’ Her nostrils flared as the words shot out of her mouth like bullets from a tommy gun and Evie took a deep breath before standing up to leave. ‘I studied at night school you see…’ She heard the wobble in her own voice. ‘I’ve got qualifications… lots of them.’ She swallowed hard.

  Mr Skinner held up his hand, looking bewildered. ‘Hey up! Who said I was after a cleaner?’ His grey eyebrows pleated above inquisitive eyes.

  ‘Danny didn’t mention what the job entailed… This place…’ She took in the entire room with one sweep of her eyes. ‘It’s…’ she hesitated to say the word filthy, ‘…in need of a spring clean.’

  ‘Aye,’ Henry said, looking round as if seeing it for the first time, ‘I dare say, but it’s had none of that since my Meggie stopped working in here. The girl told me she doesn’t skivvy.’ Evie assumed the girl was Susie Blackthorn.

  ‘Though, if she had any nous about her, she’d tidy up now and again.’ Evie’s words tumbled over themselves to leave her lips. ‘You won’t catch me spending eight hours a day in this tip!’

  ‘Aye, well, that’s by the by,’ Mr Skinner continued, unabashed. ‘I’m looking for a first-class bookkeeper. Danny said he knew just the girl… Angus vouched for you an’ all, said you’ve been doing a sterling job with the Tavern’s accounts and I’ll level with you,’ he lowered his voice, ‘the accounts are in a right state, it’s too much for Susie, she can’t cope on her own and,’ he tapped the side of his head, ‘I don’t think she’s got enough upstairs to do much more than type a letter or answer the telephone.’

  ‘She’s a glorified receptionist,’ Evie said, knowing it took much more grey matter to run a successful business than filing and typing.

  ‘I said I’ll level with you and I will,’ Mr Skinner said, perching on the edge of an overflowing desk. ‘I’ve let the business slide, I’ve had a lot on me plate and trusted the wrong people, made some bad decisions.’ Although, he stopped short of telling Evie that he was being squeezed for money. At first, the sum was manageable, but for the last few years it rose to a remarkable level. If he carried on making payments much longer, he would go bankrupt. ‘I need to know where the business stands financially.’ Henry lowered his eyes to the floor. ‘Truth be told, I’m asking for your help.’

  How could she refuse, Evie thought, Mr Skinner had been good to her and her family when they needed it most. He had put food on their table, and given Jack a steady job when things could have gone so wrong for him. And now his business was in trouble and she would like to help in any way she could.

  ‘You can count on me, Mr Skinner,’ Evie said, and felt a rare sense of pride, knowing Angus had vouched for her, but pride didn’t put bread on the table. ‘I’ll let you know if the job suits when you tell me what the pay is. I won’t take a cut in me wages.’

  ‘Does eight pounds a week suit?’ Henry asked without hesitation.

  ‘Aye, it’ll do. And I think you’ll find I’m worth every penny.’ Eight pounds a week! That was two pounds more than she was paid now. And where she got the courage from, to say such a thing, was beyond her, but, she assumed, Mr Skinner was a straight-talking man and seemed satisfied. ‘But I’m telling you one thing, I’m not working in this chaos. It’d drive me scatty!’ She spotted a brown overall hanging behind the door and she put it on over her best clothes, and taking her scarf from her bag, she tied it turban-style, covering her corn-coloured curls.

  To think, she was nervous at the thought of working here, but this chaotic muddle soon put paid to those feelings. Then, in her no-nonsense way, she rolled up the overlong sleeves.

  ‘I’d be obliged if you’d fetch me a cloth, a bucket of hot water – and a wheelbarrow.’

  ‘A wheelbarrow?’ Mr Skinner cocked a quizzical eyebrow. He liked this girl; she had that same air about her as his Meggie did when she was a young lass. ‘What in hell’s bells d’you want a wheelbarrow for?’

  ‘To chuck this lot in.’ Evie nodded to the out-of-date wall hangings and the stack of knee-high documents leaning against the wall that looked as if they’d not been touched for decades. She went over to the wall and wrote ‘Clean me’ in the thick layer of dust, making Mr Skinner throw his head back and howl with laughter.

  ‘I doubt you’ll get Susie scrubbing out. She spends most of her time filing fingernails instead of invoices.’

  ‘Susie’s first job on Monday morning will be to sort out this little lot,’ Evie gave a definite nod to the reams of cardboard folders, ‘manicured fingernails or no bloody fingernails,’ she said, ripping the curling, yellowed posters from the walls. ‘I’ll let you in on a secret, Mr Skinner,’ she said as she began ripping them to pieces, ‘we might not have much, but what we do have is clean.’

  ‘Aye,’ Henry said in a voice filled with admiration, ‘Danny said the King can eat off your floor.’

  ‘Did he now?’ the unexpected remark took the wind right out of her sail.

  ‘Listen, lass,’ Henry said on a sigh, ‘you can do as you please in your own office. You’re in charge.’ His weathered face stretched in a grin, ‘You might even get that Susie to do a bit of work. We can live in hope… I’ll go and fetch that water.’

  Hands on hips, Evie looked round the ten feet by ten feet room. She would have this place gleaming by the time she finished. And as for Susie, she would have liked to see her face on Monday morning, but she would be working her notice at D’Angelo Shipping.

  Fetching cold water from the copper tap in the back room, Evie flicked water over the floor to stop the dust from choking her before grabbing the sweeping brush. With a good dollop of elbow grease, she would have the office just the way she wanted it.
r />   My office. My very own office.

  When Mrs Skinner came into the office carrying a tray laden with tea and a plate of delicious, home-made fruit cake, she seemed flustered. But looking round her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened.

  ‘Hey, lass, you’ve done wonders with the place.’ The office was sparkling. The windows were dazzling, and her face was visible in the Mansion-polished mahogany desk situated on the rust-coloured floor. The colour was impossible to define before Evie got down on her hands and knees to scrub and polish it to a spotless sheen. Meggie’s appreciative eyes were never still as she took everything in, ‘I didn’t know that desk could look so beautiful.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Evie found Meggie’s praise heartening, she had never been complimented on her cleaning before and it gave her a warm glow. ‘I’ll soon have this office shipshape.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, lass.’ Meggie knew Henry had made the right decision investing some of the money they got from the sale of the land to employ Evie. ‘You’ll be worth your weight in gold.’

  ‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Evie smiled, ‘but I’ll do my best.’

  ‘We know that.’ Meggie offered Evie a cup of tea, knowing the girl could be the godsend Henry was hoping for. ‘How’s your ankle?’

  ‘Good as new,’ Evie said, ‘but, I’ll have to let Mr Walton know I’m leaving and work my notice.’

  ‘Of course,’ Meggie said. ‘I won’t mention anything to Susie about you coming to work here, either. If she thinks somebody else will do the work, she will try every trick in the book to get out of it, so beware.’

  ‘I know her of old,’ Evie said, determined not to let Susie slack, wanting to run the office in the same way as Mr Walton at the D’Angelo Shipping office.

  Susie Blackthorn thought she had come into the wrong office when she unlocked the door on Monday morning. Looking through gleaming windows, she noticed Danny driving into the yard. She waved but was most put out when he didn’t wave back, knowing you could see everything through this glass, suspecting Meggie had been busy.