by Lyn Andrews
Edwin picked up the rug and, as Phoebe-Ann leaned against the doorpost, he put it around her shoulders.
She was in such a state that no-one doubted her story. The desk sergeant looked grim, took some particulars, disappeared and returned with a detective.
He looked closely at Emily. ‘Don’t I know you?’
Emily stared at him, puzzled. ‘No.’
‘Wait now, I never forget a face, it’s part of the job. Princes Avenue? All that betting nonsense with Miss what’s ’er name?’
Emily nodded. ‘Miss Nesta Barlow,’ she supplied, wishing he would stop looking at her and get on with things. He was unnerving her.
‘Right. Now, what’s all this about? Who’s supposed to be dead?’
Phoebe-Ann was crying, her head on Emily’s shoulder and it was Edwin and Emily who answered all the questions.
‘It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?’ he said, not unkindly, when Emily finished speaking. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get it all sorted. Bit more serious than the last time, miss, however . . .’ He didn’t finish, for the double doors were thrown open and all the Malones crowded in with Ma in their midst.
There was pandemonium, with Emily shouting that it was all Vinny’s fault and look at the state of her poor sister. She clutched the arm of the detective, as if seeking assurance and protection.
Vinny was denying everything, Peader was swearing at him and Ma wailed like a banshee and called on all the saints in heaven to witness her loss and her grief.
‘For God’s sake, shut up the bloody lot of you!’ the desk sergeant bellowed and the shouting died down.
‘Right. You lot over there against the wall and the rest of you,’ he nodded towards Emily, Edwin and Phoebe-Ann, ‘sit there.’ He pointed to a long wooden bench. ‘Stop that bloody noise, woman!’ he yelled at Ma Malone who stopped wailing and glared at Phoebe-Ann who was too distraught to notice.
‘Now, I’m going to take Mrs Malone here into the interview room until my lad gets back to inform me whether this Jake Malone is really dead.’
Franny moved towards the door.
‘You, stay put or I’ll throw the lot of you in the cells, coming in here and turning the place into a circus! I know you lot of old. You’ll stay where I can see what you’re up to and if he is dead, then we’ll be having a few words with you, Vinny Malone.’
Emily helped Phoebe-Ann to her feet and followed the detective through a door on their left. Edwin noticed that Vinny had gone very pale and that Ma’s venomous looks had been transferred to him.
They sat in the small room and a policeman came through, bringing three cups of tea.
‘Has the other constable come back yet?’ Edwin asked.
‘Aye, he’s just come in. They’ll be in to see you in a few minutes. Drink that up, love, you’ve had a nasty shock,’ he added, looking at Phoebe-Ann.
‘What about them?’ Edwin jerked his head in the direction of the door.
‘All looking very sheepish, except the old one. Not even a tear in spite of all that bloody wailin’. Tough as old boots.’
There was no more noise coming from the bridewell waiting room and, after a little while, the detective appeared and sat down.
‘Now then, Mrs Malone, tell me what happened, in your own words and in your own good time. There’s no need to rush or get even more upset.’
Haltingly and between stifled sobs, Phoebe-Ann told him of her encounter with Vinny Malone, of going in, taking off her coat and then finding Jake.
Emily held her breath, praying that God would forgive herself and her sister for the terrible lies. But she just couldn’t have seen Phoebe-Ann broken. She could never have stood an interrogation.
‘That’s all for now. Get her home and get her to bed and I think I’d get the doctor to give her something to make her sleep. We will probably have to speak to her again, but not tonight.’
‘What will happen now?’ Emily asked as she helped Phoebe-Ann to her feet.
‘We’ll see what meladdo has to say for himself but it looks as though it was an accident. There will have to be a post-mortem and an inquest, but I wouldn’t worry her with all that now.’
There was no sign of any of the Malones as they left but none of them gave it much thought, they were all too relieved and too drained.
Edwin left them at the top of Lonsdale Street and went for Dr Whelan.
Albert had the kettle boiling and a hot brick was wrapped in flannel. ‘I’ve made up the bed for her.’
‘Thank you. What an ordeal.’
‘You should have let me come with you.’
Emily smiled at him. ‘It was like Fred Karno’s circus in there. All the Malones turned up. It’s better that you stayed here.’
She eased Phoebe-Ann down in the chair beside the fire.
‘Did they . . . ?’
‘Believe her? Yes. I keep trying to tell myself that it was the only thing we could do. It was an accident but I just didn’t want there to be any doubt about it. She couldn’t have stood it.’
Albert poured out three cups of very strong tea and added a drop of brandy to each. ‘What else did they say?’
‘They took a statement and they might have to talk to her again. They were going to talk to Vinny Malone but they said it looked as though it was an accident. There will have to be a post-mortem and an inquest.’
Albert looked relieved. ‘I know it’s a terrible thing to say, at this moment, but it really is a blessing in disguise, Emily.’
Emily nodded slowly. Yes, it was a blessing. Phoebe-Ann was at last free of him.
When she’d seen Phoebe-Ann’s eyelids close and the trembling stop, and Dr Whelan had gone, she went back downstairs and sat at the table, covering her face with her hands.
Edwin put his arm around her. ‘It’s all over now, Em. You did the right thing, the only thing you could have done. No-one is really to blame. Not Vinny for getting him drunk, not Phoebe-Ann for flying at him like that. She couldn’t take much more of him but she never meant to kill him.’
‘I know, but I can’t say I’m sorry he’s dead and maybe it’s better for him as well.’
‘There won’t be many who will mourn him.’
‘It’s not going to be much of a Christmas, is it, with this hanging over us all?’
‘There’s nothing to an inquest. They’ll just ask a few questions and it will be all over. Accidental death.’
‘Like Mam,’ Emily said.
‘What do you think she will do after it’s all over?’
‘It will take her a while to get over it.’
‘She’d be better to leave here altogether,’ Albert said.
Emily smiled wearily. ‘I think that’s what she will do. Leave Liverpool and go to Rhys. I think she’s paid enough for her mistake and she deserves some happiness now.’
‘I think we all do, Em. We’ve waited long enough for it.’ Edwin took her hand and squeezed it.
Chapter Twenty-five
ON THE FIRST OF February, Emily and Phoebe-Ann went to Toxteth Park Cemetery. It was a bitterly cold day and, in the weak sunshine, the frost sparkled like silver on the bare branches of the trees. They were both well wrapped up and Emily carried a small bunch of early primroses.
The inquest was over. The verdict was accidental death, and Rhys was due that very afternoon to take both Albert and Phoebe-Ann back to the small Welsh valley. For Albert it would be a poignant homecoming, for Phoebe-Ann a new life, for she’d promised to marry Rhys as soon as they got back. The lines of sorrow and suffering were still etched on her face, but the dark shadows had gone from beneath her eyes and her cheeks were once again tinged with the rosy glow of good health. The coat and hat she wore were of good quality, as were her shoes and bag and gloves. All paid for by Rhys, and in his letter he’d told Emily to stifle all Phoebe-Ann’s protests. He wasn’t having people talk about his future wife in a derogatory way. She could look forward now to a life of peace and comfort and security. The past was behind her. She
wasn’t the girl that Rhys had fallen in love with, but she had learned many hard lessons; she would appreciate everything he could give her to a much fuller degree. She wouldn’t be sorry to go. Liverpool had nothing to offer her now except memories and most of them were bitter.
Emily placed the flowers on the well-tended grave with the marble headstone and gilt lettering. She’d never come here again but she knew Lily would understand. She’d waited so long for love and marriage. She’d taken Lily’s place when they’d all needed her. She’d given Phoebe-Ann every ounce of love, protection and support that it had been in her power to give. Now it would all be bestowed on Edwin. Rhys would take good care of Phoebe-Ann.
She looked back sadly over the years. They had both travelled a long way on the road of life since the days they’d spent in service to the Mercers. She, too, was leaving this city she’d always called home, this great, sprawling metropolis with its elegant, gracious buildings and wide thoroughfares, its slums and its squalor, the mighty river its highway and lifeblood, its ships that plied the sea lanes of the world, beckoned home by the winking beam of the Bar Light and watched over by the Liver Birds. Tomorrow, she and Edwin were to be married and then they would travel to Southampton but they wouldn’t stay there. They would sail on the Mauretania to join Jack and Jimmy. Neither of them had wanted to stay now. It would be a new life in a new world and Edwin had joked that it would seem funny to travel on the Maury as a passenger, albeit third class, and not as a member of her crew.
She reached out and laid her hand on the cold marble stone. ‘I know you understand. It’s time for us to go, Mam. Time for us to leave Liverpool.’ She turned towards her sister and took her hand.
Phoebe-Ann smiled at her. ‘You’ve never let me down, Emily, and I love you for it.’
‘Then she’ll rest happy, Phoebe-Ann. She’ll rest in peace now.’
