by Lyn Andrews
Olivia was annoyed and impatient. ‘Phoebe-Ann Parkinson you are the most ungrateful . . . stubborn . . . unimaginative person I’ve ever met! Do you want to look drab and dull all your life? You always used to say you’d give anything to look like me and now you’re refusing the chance! How insulting! I know you would look wonderful with the right clothes and the right hairstyle! You could even find yourself a young man to sweep you off your feet and take you away from all that!’ Olivia threw out a hand to indicate Phoebe-Ann’s plain clothes and demure hat. ‘You could you know and don’t tell me you would pass that up!’ Olivia didn’t really believe her own statement but she was annoyed that Phoebe-Ann would ruin her plans and besides, maybe Papa wouldn’t be quite so difficult to handle if Phoebe-Ann’s hair had been cut too.
Phoebe-Ann was finding that her alarm and trepidation were fading as she caught some of Olivia’s excitement. She couldn’t refuse such generosity. She’d be mad to pass up this opportunity and maybe she really could find a nice young man who wasn’t short of money. Not dressed like this she couldn’t, but in an outfit like Miss Olivia’s . . . ‘Well, if you really do think . . .’
Before she had time to protest further she was steered towards the chair. A fluffy white towel was draped around her shoulders, her hat removed, the hair pins withdrawn and her hair brushed out.
When the first blond tress fell to the floor, her heart sank and she tried not to think about what her mam would say, but as Olivia darted from side to side exclaiming with little cries of delight, she forgot all about Lily.
When Monsieur had finished she couldn’t believe it was really herself staring back at her from the mirror, for a shining cap of bouncy blond hair framed her face. ‘It doesn’t look like me! I feel . . . new!’
‘You will be “new” when I’ve finished with you! Next stop Cripps and then De Jong et Cie!’ Olivia was in her element. She was wondering if she could pass Phoebe-Ann off as a new friend? Wouldn’t that be fun! Maybe to Abbie; she was a bit dense.
Phoebe-Ann followed Olivia out into the street as the entire staff of the salon waved them goodbye. Her head felt curiously light and she looked around to see if anyone was looking at her. Quite a few heads turned in their direction.
Olivia sank down in the velvet covered chair the deferential assistant in Cripps set out for her. ‘We want to try everything, please! And hats and shoes and gloves as well!’ she demanded imperiously.
Two hours later they emerged carrying numerous parcels and Phoebe-Ann felt as though she was walking on air. A pert straw cloche hat with a large satin bow on the side covered her hair and matched the coral-coloured dress with the dropped waist which made her look taller and even more slender. It had a handkerchief hemline that was shorter than she’d ever worn before. Her legs were encased in silk stockings and she wore cream kid shoes with an hour-glass heel and a strap over the instep. Her uniform had been packed in a box.
When the doorman held open the door and murmured ‘Good afternoon, madam’ she nearly giggled. He hadn’t even given her a second look when they’d gone in. ‘Do I really look . . . like a lady?’ she whispered.
‘Oh, every inch! Now, let’s have some tea. I’m quite worn out.’ Olivia feigned exhaustion.
As she followed Olivia into the tea rooms, Phoebe-Ann began to feel apprehensive. What if she did something wrong and made a terrible gaffe and embarrassed Miss Olivia and made a complete show of herself? ‘Can I just sit here and not have any tea?’ she whispered as Olivia smiled up at the waitress who was enquiring what ‘modom’ would like.
‘Don’t be silly! A pot of tea for two and . . . I think some scones?’
‘Cream and jam, madam?’
Olivia nodded. The waitress scribbled on her pad and walked away. Olivia glanced around to see if there was anyone she knew to whom she could show off her handiwork. There wasn’t. She sighed irritably. How disappointing.
Phoebe-Ann ate very slowly, praying the cream wouldn’t ooze out nor the jam slide off and on to her dress. Olivia drank her tea quickly and then started to tap her fingers on the table impatiently. ‘What shall we do now? It’s far too early to go back.’
‘We could go down to the Pierhead and perhaps go for a sail on the ferry?’ Phoebe-Ann suggested. She, too, was loath to return to Upper Huskisson Street. She wanted to be admired and stared at.
Olivia looked disdainful. ‘With all those common people! It’s such a crush!’ Then she smiled. ‘Yes, we will go to the Pierhead! There’s bound to be one of Papa’s ships in. We could ask someone to take us on a tour.’
‘The Mauretania’s in. I do know that,’ Phoebe-Ann supplied, thinking of the Malones.
‘She’ll do. Finish your tea and collect your things! We’ll take a taxi.’
Phoebe-Ann did as she was told for she’d never been in a taxi before. Olivia was offering another treat.
The Pierhead was crowded but, as she followed Olivia to the Princes Landing Stage and craned her neck to see the towering black hull and four red and black funnels of the Mauretania, she felt her spirits soar. ‘Oh, miss, wouldn’t it be wonderful to be sailing on her?’
‘That’s what we’ll do! We’ll pretend we’re just starting off on a cruise. It could be fun! I don’t know why I never thought of that before. A cruise! Yes, I think I’d like to go on a cruise.’
‘She doesn’t do that, miss. She only goes to America.’
Olivia cast her a withering look. ‘I know that! I was just pretending! Use your imagination!’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I could go on another ship. One that does cruise. I might even take you with me.’
When they reached the bottom of the gangway, Olivia tapped the arm of the young officer. ‘My name is Olivia Mercer.’ She paused waiting for his reaction.
Instead he scanned the long list of names he was holding. ‘Sorry, miss. I can’t find you on here.’
‘Don’t be impertinent! I’m not a passenger! My father is Richard Mercer, he owns this ship!’
He stared at her hard.
‘Well, he is a director of the Company! I . . . we would like to “look around”. Do a tour of inspection, so to speak.’
He was sceptical and became flustered for other passengers were milling around and starting to complain. ‘I’d better get the Chief, miss.’
Olivia was annoyed. ‘Get whoever you wish but don’t take all day about it!’
The confusion at the bottom of the gangway had been spotted and another officer appeared. ‘What’s the hold up?’
‘Er, this lady says she is Mr Richard Mercer’s daughter and she and her friend would like to look around before we sail.’
George Moore, the Chief Electrical Officer, gritted his teeth and was sorry he’d intervened. God Almighty! Wasn’t there enough confusion and enough work to do before they sailed without having to escort two spoiled brats around a ship already crowded with passengers and their families and friends who had come to see them off! But if she complained to her father, and by the look on her face she would do just that, he shrugged. ‘Would you follow me, ladies?’ He even managed a smile. Spoiled bitch!
Phoebe-Ann was more excited than she’d ever been in her entire life. He had called her a ‘lady’! She just wished the brothers Malone could see her now. Their eyes would be like doorstops but they’d be down in the engine room.
Along the miles of crowded corridors they went. Through the second and third class smoking rooms and dining rooms. Up the magnificent sweeping staircase and on through the first class lounge with its ornate glass ceiling, wood panelled walls, brocade covered chairs and sofas. Its long windows were draped with velvet hangings while rich carpet covered the entire floor. She’d never seen such magnificence and splendour and glancing at Olivia she could see even she was impressed.
Each room was more sumptuous than the last, she thought, and it was so big. In fact it wasn’t like being on a ship at all. She was mesmerized by the beauty and the activity as stewards and stewardesses and bellboys and passengers rushed past them.
<
br /> When they reached the promenade deck and she looked down over the side she felt dizzy. They were so high up!
With the end of the tour now in sight, George Moore hastily pointed out the landmarks of the Liverpool waterfront and those on the opposite bank of the Mersey. Olivia didn’t seem interested but Phoebe-Ann hung on his every word.
They both jumped as the ship’s whistle blasted out. A great bellow of sound that obliterated all other noises. They’d seen the bellboys beating their gongs and shouting ‘All ashore that’s going ashore!’ but like everyone else they’d ignored them.
‘Time to leave,’ the chief ‘sparks’ announced. ‘We sail in a few minutes. Better get ashore or you might find yourselves passengers,’ he joked.
Phoebe-Ann thought how wonderful that would be but already he was walking briskly ahead of them and they joined the crowd of people assembling at the top of the gangway.
She would have liked to have watched the ship leave but Olivia hustled her towards the taxi rank as it was dusk. She’d been so engrossed that she’d lost track of the time. As she leaned back against the seat in the taxi she felt as though the whole day had been a wonderful dream. It had been glorious. ‘I can never thank you enough, miss, for today. It’s been . . . Oh, I wish I could find the right words!’
Olivia smiled. Phoebe-Ann’s naive enthusiasm was becoming tiresome and she was now absorbed in a new plan. She would see Papa about it this very evening. A trip to America, that’s what she wanted him to sanction. To New York, Boston. Why had she never thought of it before? She had been very impressed with the Mauretania. Of course she knew the Cunard ships were the best, the fastest, the safest, but she’d never really realized just how luxurious they were. She had also been attracted by the number of young men she’d seen in the palatial public rooms; men who had looked at her with open admiration. She’d been under the impression that only old men and wealthy spinsters or dowagers went cruising. There were, of course, all those second and third class passengers, but she would never even contemplate having anything to do with them. She fell silent, engrossed in her thoughts and schemes.
As they reached the bottom of Brownlow Hill the cab stopped.
Olivia leaned forward. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘Don’t like the look of this crowd, miss.’
‘Don’t be stupid! Drive on!’ she demanded.
The cabby ignored her.
Phoebe-Ann looked out of the window and gasped. Ahead of them there was a mob of about a hundred people, shouting and jeering. She could hear the sound of breaking glass and then she remembered the newspaper. ‘Oh, miss! The police are on strike! Don’t you remember the newspaper?’
‘What has that to do with us for heaven’s sake!’ Olivia snapped.
‘Sorry, ladies! I ain’t goin’ any further and if you take my advice you’ll get out and run back to Church Street.’
‘I am not running anywhere and neither are you! Drive on!’ Olivia shouted.
To their consternation he got out and opened the passenger door.
Olivia lost her temper. ‘Oh, go away! Run away if you want to! I’m not frightened of those . . . those common people!’
‘You should be! They’re drunk and capable of anything! Give me your parcels and we’ll all scarper! Hurry up!’
‘I’ll do no such thing! You get back in the driving seat and do what you’re paid to do – drive!’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid! This cab is my living but if I try to drive through them I’ll have no bloody cab and no bloody life either! Now get a move on! I’m not waiting for much longer!’
Phoebe-Ann was afraid and she tugged at Olivia’s arm. ‘He’s right! I mean if he’s willing to leave his taxi he must be right!’
‘He’s a fool, that’s what he is! And a coward to boot! I’ll drive the damned thing myself!’
‘Well, I’m off! You’ve had your chance!’ The driver turned and began to run.
Panic began to grip Phoebe-Ann. ‘If we hurry we can catch him up!’
‘Oh, let him go! We’ll manage!’
‘Do you know how to drive, miss?’ Phoebe-Ann was near to tears.
‘Of course I do! James used to let me drive his car, it’s easy!’
Olivia climbed into the front seat and started to push and pull the gear lever. At least the engine was still running, she didn’t have to crank it with the heavy handle. Not that there would have been time for that. They jerked forward, stopped and jerked forward again and Phoebe-Ann uttered a scream.
‘Shut up, Phoebe-Ann! I’m doing my best!’ Olivia’s frown disappeared as they moved forward again, slowly but evenly this time and she became more confident as they picked up speed.
Phoebe-Ann stuck her head out of the window. The crowd was getting nearer and she could clearly hear the cries and curses. Soon they would be in the thick of it. She began to shake and gnawed nervously on her bottom lip. She was terrified.
Olivia’s confidence was waning as she suddenly realized the consequences of her actions. She hadn’t thought there were so many of them and they did appear to be drunk and some of the curses brought a flush to her cheeks. She had to get away from them! She looked around for an avenue of escape. There was none. In her fright she pushed her foot down hard on the accelerator and the car shot forward, taking them into the front ranks of the mob.
‘This is all your fault!’ she screamed at Phoebe-Ann as the crowd surged around them.
Phoebe-Ann didn’t hear her. She had sunk back against the seat as far away from the rough, villainous faces that were pressing against the windows as possible. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be plain Phoebe-Ann Parkinson again in her dull clothes and with her long hair pinned up under her hat. She wanted her mam and Emily and Jack and Jimmy. She uttered a terrified scream as she felt the cab rock. She heard the sound of breaking glass as the headlights were smashed and a tattoo of blows rained upon the roof. She was rigid with terror.
Then the crowd seemed to be moving on and thinning out and she started to cry in earnest and with relief as she caught sight of the men in dark blue uniforms who charged past, truncheons drawn and flailing, their faces grim.
Olivia screamed at her. ‘You said they were on strike! You stupid little liar!’
Phoebe-Ann sobbed harder. She didn’t care if she was stupid or a liar or anything else. She just wanted to go home.
The door was opened by a burly, bewhiskered policeman. His uniform was torn and dusty, his face streaked with sweat and dust and blood. ‘Are you two all right?’
Olivia swallowed hard and nodded.
‘Then I’d get out of here and as quickly as you can! There’s only a handful of us to protect the whole city and things look like getting worse before the night is over.’
Olivia found her voice. ‘Can . . . can you drive us home, please?’
‘Sorry, luv. There’s not enough of us. I can’t go chasing off and leave the lads. How far are you going?’
‘Upper Huskisson Street.’
‘You’ll be all right. I’ve not heard of any trouble up that way. Just keep driving, don’t stop for anyone and keep to the main roads!’
Olivia stared at his retreating back. Phoebe-Ann’s sobs grated on nerves that were already shredded. ‘For God’s sake! Shut up whingeing! Haven’t I got enough to think about without you having hysterics?’ she yelled. ‘You don’t deserve a penny of the money I spent on you! In fact when we get home you can take all those things off and throw them out! You shan’t have them!’
Phoebe-Ann didn’t answer. She was past caring and in fact had begun to hate the coral dress and the shoes that were pinching her feet.
It was dark when they finally arrived home but both their hearts plummeted when they saw Richard Mercer standing on the front step with Lily, Albert and Emily.
Chapter Six
OLIVIA SUMMED UP BOTH the situation and her predicament in a second. Shaken though she was by the experience, she recognized the stern jut of her father’s ch
in and the tightly compressed lips as signs of anger that would be vented on her head. She threw her arms around him. ‘Oh, Papa! I’m so glad to get home! I was so scared. I was terrified out of my wits. It was horrible. Horrible!’ Tears of genuine remorse and relief welled up in her eyes.
Richard Mercer patted her. His anger had been mixed with concern and not only for Olivia. In fact it had been the arrival of Lily and Albert with news of the growing unrest that had caused his anxiety. Anxiety that had increased when he heard from Emily that they had gone into town hours ago. ‘You’re safely home now and that’s all that matters.’
Olivia dabbed at her eyes. Now that it was all over she found she was shaking.
‘Where did you get the taxi from and where’s the driver?’ her father questioned.
‘He left us. He ran away and left us at the mercy of those . . . people. I drove home.’ She clung to her father’s arm.
‘We heard there were mobs on the streets. That’s why Mr and Mrs Davies came to see me. You should have come home much earlier . . . We’ve all been worried to death.’ He turned apologetically to Lily and Albert. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been subjected to all this anxiety. I’ll get Edwin to drive you home. It’s safer that way and Phoebe-Ann’s had a nasty experience.’ He was once more in charge of the situation, ushering Olivia inside and into the ministrations of Mrs Webster.
Edwin had heard the whole conversation from where he stood at Emily’s side just inside the hall. He had worked in this house for so many years that he knew that, although shaken, Olivia was manipulating her father, seeking his pity to draw his attention away from the fact that she had been jaunting around town, putting herself and Phoebe-Ann in danger. No-one other than Mr Mercer had spoken so he turned and made for the back of the house to bring the car around.
Emily, too, had been relieved when the car had pulled up and they’d both got out safe and sound. She’d made up her mind to tell Phoebe-Ann just what she thought of her, worrying Mam, but all those thoughts had disappeared when she’d caught sight of her sister. In that split second in the dim light filtering from the hallway, she hadn’t recognized Phoebe-Ann. Then she had gasped. What had Phoebe-Ann done to herself? Where had she got that outfit from? She looked like a socialite and her hair! She’d glanced at her mother’s face but Lily was still overcome with the initial relief that Phoebe-Ann was safe. Emily bit her lip. There was trouble ahead, she was sure of it.
