Daughters of Liverpool

by Kate Eastham

  Alice was still frowning, wishing that they were houses, sitting firmly on dry land, but she’d already made her decision. So she took the hand that he’d proffered and stepped down into the small boat. As it lurched, he grabbed her and they both started laughing. But once she was sitting down, side by side with him, she began to feel a bit safer. She did clutch the side of the boat once they started to move, but she soon got into the rhythm of it, and once she could see how the vessel rode the swell of the water, she began to feel proud of herself for stepping into a boat, having never been out on any body of water in her whole life. Wait till I tell Tommy about this tomorrow, she thought, as they made their way across the harbour.

  ‘How far is Birkenhead?’ she said, concerned that the small boat seemed to be heading out to sea.

  ‘Just across the river. Don’t worry, we’ll soon be there. And then when we come back, we’ll take the ferry.’

  Alice nodded, still holding on to the side of the boat and beginning to feel the warmth of his body as he nestled against her.

  She started to smile as his arm crept around her back and she eased herself into a more comfortable position. He gazed at her and smiled in return. ‘I think you will like the park, Alice,’ he said softly.

  Before they reached the other side of the river, the old salt rowing the boat deftly pulled them alongside one of the ships moored at anchor.

  ‘I won’t be a moment,’ said Morgan, clambering out of the boat and up the ropes at the side. He was back within minutes clasping a wooden box under his arm.

  I wonder if that’s the smuggling Michael told me about that day on the ward, thought Alice, smiling to herself, as he placed the box carefully in the bottom of the boat and covered it with a tarpaulin.

  ‘A box of the best cigars,’ he said, looking up and instantly answering her unspoken question.

  ‘Right,’ she said, not sure what else to say.

  The closer they got to the other side of the river, the more Alice could see how different it was to the crowded city that they had left behind. There seemed to be more sky, more air somehow. Even before they landed, and Morgan stooped to help her out of the boat, Alice had begun to feel a lightness about her and she sprang out of the boat, catching him off balance. Laughing, they clung together for a few moments.

  There was a hackney carriage waiting nearby and, after a few words to the driver, Morgan came back and indicated with an outstretched arm that they were ready to move. As they drove, Morgan told her some of the history of Birkenhead Park, how agricultural land had been bought for public use. Alice could tell by the way that he was speaking, as if he himself had built it, that he loved the place. He even told her about the drains, of stone and tile, that provided all the water that supplied the man-made lake – a lake that contained aquatic plants, goldfish and swans. And the paths were rolled gravel on top of crushed stone and cinder.

  ‘And wait till you see the grand entrance and the pavilion, based on a Roman boathouse, right by the lake.’

  ‘How do you know all of this?’ asked Alice, with a smile.

  ‘I have inside information,’ he said at first, but then seeing her questioning face he continued, ‘my father worked on it. He was one of the navvies who dug out the paths and the lake, and he helped build the stone walls.’

  Alice was surprised. She’d thought he was going to say his father had been the architect or something like that. Maybe Michael had been right when he’d said that Morgan came from the streets of Liverpool. Rags to riches.

  As they arrived at the entrance and drove through the beautiful curved arch, Alice began to understand why he was so excited about the place. She’d got used to seeing all the grand buildings in the city, and this was nowhere near as ornate. But, for Alice, the line of the entrance was beautiful and it stood out, brilliant against the green, open space. They had nothing like this in the small rural town where she came from. She felt as though they were arriving at the Queen’s residence. All she could do was smile, and then she reached out a hand to Morgan, sitting opposite. ‘Thank you for bringing me here today.’

  She could tell that he was trying not to smile too much but was very pleased by the first impression that the park had made.

  Morgan opened the door and descended first, so that he could assist Alice out of the carriage. In that moment she thought that she actually was the Queen; nothing had ever happened to her like this before. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and there, waiting to hold her hand as she stepped out of the carriage, was the most handsome man that she’d ever seen. As she descended from the carriage, her heart was fluttering and when she looked around, it almost took her breath away. There was grass, stretching away in all directions, flanked by trees. And the air was clear, without a tinge of soot.

  She felt a bit breathless. All she could do was gaze around her, still holding his hand. Then she heard a jingling sound and when she looked around, there stood a group of donkeys, all saddled up with their tinkling bells and brightly coloured bridles, ready to take excited children on a ride across the park.

  Inside, Alice felt like an excited child herself. And as she took Morgan’s arm to stroll down the well-laid path, she took deep breaths of the clear air to try and steady herself.

  As she walked, she realized that she hadn’t really seen any grass or green trees since she’d moved to Liverpool. She had lived in amongst crowded buildings and smoke-blackened brick and smoke for so long, with the few trees being dark with soot, that she’d forgotten how much she’d missed the green fields, and especially the trees. Seeing them now almost moved her to tears.

  Their afternoon in the park went by like a dream. Morgan was a perfect gentleman: he took her arm, made conversation, paid her attention. And when they came to the Pavilion, Alice couldn’t help but stand back and admire the beautiful structure. Then, as they sat at a table set by the lake and waited for tea to be brought, she could hardly speak. Watching the lazy glide of the white swans on the lake, she thought that she might have found her heaven.

  ‘Where are you from, Alice?’ said Morgan, eventually.

  ‘I think you know that already, from your sources,’ she said, meeting his gaze with a smile.

  ‘Of course, yes, but I mean, where were you born?’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ she said, not seeing any reason why she shouldn’t give a full account of the rural town where she was born.

  ‘What do your family think about you having a baby?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, they don’t know, they can’t know. That’s why I’m still here. Well, that, and I need to finish my nurse training. But you know all about that, don’t you?’

  ‘Not quite all,’ he said. ‘I must admit I was rather surprised to see you on the ward when I came in to see Ray. I wasn’t expecting that. But I was glad that I could catch up with you, see that you were all right. If the cornermen trouble you again, Alice, just let me know.’

  ‘I will,’ she said, wondering what mysterious powers he had.

  ‘And what about you, Mr Morgan?’ said Alice, pouring herself another cup of tea. ‘What’s your story?’

  She saw him stiffen a little and draw back in his chair. She sat there waiting. She wasn’t going anywhere, she had time to listen.

  Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, a voice rang out behind them, ‘Morgan, old chap. How are you doing?’

  Alice could swear that his face was instantly relieved as he stood up and turned to greet the well-dressed gentleman who was heading in their direction. Morgan didn’t introduce her and she saw the gentleman give her a puzzled glance. Their exchange was short and all the while Alice could see that Morgan held his shoulders square, almost blocking her from view.

  ‘That was a … business acquaintance,’ he said, as he sat back down. ‘I’ve been in the import trade many years. I can’t go anywhere without bumping into somebody wanting to know when the next shipment of tobacco or brandy is coming in …’

  As he rested back in his chair and continued t
o speak about his work, Alice knew that she wasn’t going to get anything more from Mr Morgan about his personal life, at least for today. She could also see that, despite his easy demeanour, there was something in his eyes that told her that behind that smile, he was almost certainly hiding something from her. It didn’t put her off; in fact it made her heart beat a little faster. He intrigued her. And as they sat, and he poured more tea, she watched his manicured hands on the fine bone china and then lifted her eyes to his smiling face and it felt like nothing else mattered. She just wanted to melt into him and rest warmly there with her head against his broad shoulder, for ever.

  She could have watched him until the evening began to fall and the night closed around them, but in what seemed like no time at all, he was looking at his pocket watch and telling her that they needed to make sure to catch the ferry back across the Mersey.

  All too soon they were travelling back in the hackney carriage and then boarding the ferry. And she could see that he looked a little distant now, as if he had other things on his mind. But he was still attentive, still making sure that she was comfortable.

  As the shores of Liverpool loomed closer, Alice took a moment to savour the time that she’d spent away from her usual life. She’d missed seeing Victoria but she hadn’t worried about her, not once, and she knew that she had never felt such ease with any man before. Even Jamie, who she’d grown up with.

  As they arrived back, the light was starting to fade. Alice knew that the day would soon be over but she felt perfectly content. There was no pressure from him, and even though she hardly knew him, she felt secure. The afternoon out had been exactly what she needed. And as she walked along, her arm linked in his, she felt light, as if she was still drifting in a dream or some other woman’s life. The life of a lady.

  She had asked if they could walk back through the city, to make the day last as long as possible. When they reached the top of the alley, Alice hesitated. She didn’t want to be saying goodbye to him outside the blue door of the house and have some customer stepping around them, so she requested that he leave her there.

  ‘As you wish,’ said Morgan, glancing down the alley one more time to make absolutely sure her way was clear. And then he was starting to smile. ‘I have never met anyone quite like you before, Alice Sampson.’

  Alice straightened her back and looked him in the eye, almost hypnotized. It was uncanny. Even after all the years that she’d known Jamie, she’d never felt anything like this. It was like magic.

  ‘Not one, just like you,’ he repeated quietly, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips.

  Alice had to smile and take a deep breath, otherwise her knees might have given way there and then. She felt the tingles of that kiss reach down all through her body.

  ‘Until the next time,’ he murmured, and all she could do was smile and make herself walk away from him with her knees weak and her heart pounding. She wanted to look back, desperately wanted to, but she would not. If he meant all of the things that he’d just said, he would be standing there, gazing after her. If he didn’t mean it, well, he’d have turned and walked away. Right then, she didn’t want to know the reality. In her head, she could see him, gazing after her until she disappeared out of sight.

  Today had been exactly what she needed; it had been heaven. But Alice knew that she had to be careful. She was a mother, and her every waking moment was taken up by doing the right thing for her child. Days like this one were for taking time off and for dreaming, only dreaming.

  13

  ‘… a strong practical … interest in the case, how it is going on. This is what makes the true Nurse. Otherwise the patients might as well be pieces of furniture.’

  Florence Nightingale

  ‘Ha, ha,’ laughed Tommy Knox on the ward the next morning. ‘Even I don’t like going out on those small boats into the harbour, they’re rocking all over the place.’

  ‘Really?’ said Alice. ‘Well, the sailor with the oars told me that they were safe as houses …’ Tommy didn’t answer, he was still shaking his head and laughing, but then his face began to crease with pain and Alice knew that she would have to try and calm him.

  ‘It’s all right, Tommy, all right, just rest back on your pillows, that’s right, now let me have a look at the dressing. Mmm, it looks ready for another change,’ she said, keeping her voice steady but immediately concerned by the colour of what she could see oozing from the wound.

  ‘I’ll leave you now and go to find Sister. We need to get you some more laudanum for the pain, and we’ll see about changing that dressing, when the pain is more manageable.’

  ‘Aye aye, Captain,’ gasped Tommy, trying to smile but only able to manage a grimace.

  Alice knew that his pain was severe; she needed to find Sister Law straight away.

  ‘I see,’ said Sister, after listening carefully to everything that Alice had to say. ‘The wound is showing signs of suppuration but Mr Knox doesn’t seem to have much of a fever and it isn’t showing any sign of healing. It might mean that the lump we removed was indeed cancer and that it is still active.’

  Alice was trying to make sense of what Sister was saying.

  ‘We might need to try some other treatments, some lead or arsenic paste, in that case,’ said Sister as they made their way to the cupboard containing the laudanum. ‘And if that doesn’t work then there probably won’t be any more that we can do. We’ve seen these cases before. Unfortunately, all we can do is wait and see. But I’m sorry to say, Nurse Sampson, that things don’t look all that good for our Mr Knox.’

  Alice felt shaky inside. She wanted to cry, there and then. But what good would that do Tommy? He was lying there on his bed waiting for some pain relief. The best she could do for him was take him the laudanum and do everything in her power to make him comfortable.

  Sister Law picked up the medicine but then caught sight of one of the probationers, Nurse Fry, struggling to help a patient out of bed. ‘You take it, Nurse Sampson, administer the drops and then let me know when he’s settled enough for us to do the dressing.

  ‘Give him a tot of brandy as well, Nurse Sampson,’ she called. ‘I’ve left the bottle by his bed.’

  Back at Tommy’s bed, Alice was moved to tears when she saw how he was trying to help himself as much as he could. He’d leant back on the pillows, closed his eyes and was taking deep breaths, just like she’d told him.

  ‘But there’s no shifting this pain without the laudanum,’ he grimaced, opening his mouth to gratefully receive the drops.

  ‘Now take this as well,’ she said, offering him a swig of brandy from the small bottle by his bed.

  ‘I thank you kindly, Nurse Sampson,’ he said, his face still puckered with pain. ‘But can you please remind Sister Law that I much prefer me rum.’

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ said Alice, trying to smile, but fighting to hold back the sadness of what Sister Law had just told her. ‘I’ll be back to do the dressing, just as soon as the pain starts to ease.’

  ‘Aye aye, Captain.’

  Moving across the ward to Mr Swain’s bed, Alice found a similar situation. He was lying, gritting his teeth, with such a look of agony on his face that Alice didn’t even have to ask if he needed anything for the pain.

  She spoke gently, telling him that she would get something for him, desperately wanting him to be out of his misery. His jaw was so tightly clenched that he could barely speak, and his body was rigid beneath the hospital sheet.

  ‘I wish now I’d told him to chop the bloody thing off,’ he muttered.

  Alice felt her heart ache for him; he sounded completely without hope.

  She was just about to go ahead and administer some drops from the bottle she still clutched in her hand, when she heard Miss Houston’s voice behind her. ‘Hold off with those for the moment, Nurse Sampson,’ she said. ‘I saw this patient earlier and I’ve asked Dr McKendrick to come and have a look.’

  Alice turned, relieved to know that some action was about to
be taken. Ada came to the head of the bed, telling Mr Swain that she was sorry that he was in so much pain, then quietly explaining that the doctor would be there very soon to assess him, and there was definitely something that they could give to help him.

  Even before she had finished, Dr McKendrick appeared, carrying a small wooden box. He took one look at the patient and then spoke softly to him. ‘Mr Swain, you don’t seem to be getting much benefit from the laudanum drops that we’ve been giving. I want to try some new treatment. I have been administering what are called hypodermic injections to severe cases. I use a needle to inject some morphine just beneath the skin. Is it all right if we try this for you?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ muttered Mr Swain through clenched teeth, his whole body starting to shake now with the sheer effort of withstanding relentless pain.

  ‘Hypo means under, and derma is from the Greek for skin, so hypo-dermic,’ murmured Miss Houston.

  ‘Hypodermic injection,’ repeated Alice, as she observed Dr McKendrick open the wooden box and take out a glass tube with markings down the side, which had some kind of plunger fitted to it. Then he fished in his pocket and removed a small bottle containing some liquid. ‘I already prepared a third of a grain of liquefied morphine,’ he said to Miss Houston. ‘From what you’d already told me, I felt sure we’d need it.’

  Ada nodded.

  Then he removed a needle from the velvet-lined box and screwed it on to the syringe. Removing the stopper from the small glass bottle, he held it with one hand and then inserted the needle into the liquid, pulling up the plunger to draw up the liquid. Once he had it all, Dr McKendrick held the syringe up to the light, gave it a few taps and then depressed the plunger a little, until there was a drop of the liquid at the tip of the needle.

  Miss Houston moved to the patient’s head. ‘We are going to give the injection into your right thigh, just beneath the skin, Mr Swain,’ she said. ‘It should be given to the affected area but due to the rawness of your wound, that is impossible.’