There is a Season

by There is a Season (retail) (epu

  There is a Season

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Acknowledgements

  When Day is Done

  The Liverpool Sagas

  Copyright

  There is a Season

  Elizabeth Murphy

  For Ted with love

  To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven;

  A time to be born and a time to die.

  ECCLESIASTES iii.l.

  Chapter One

  The sun still blazed down although it was four o’clock in the afternoon. In Norris Street the air was stifling, and filled with dust scuffed up by schoolchildren returning home.

  The front doorways of the tiny houses were flush with the street, and at most of them women in flowered pinafores stood by their open doors. Cathy Redmond stepped from the door of number twenty, next to which stood a baby carriage, and looked anxiously down the narrow street.

  Her neighbours wore their long hair in a bun or braided around their head, like most women in Liverpool in 1926, but Cathy’s dark hair had been bobbed. It clustered in short curls around her face, held back by a celluloid slide.

  Opposite her, Mrs Parker, the matriarch of Norris Street, was sitting on a kitchen chair outside her house. She glared balefully at Cathy.

  ‘You look peaky, girl,’ she called to her, ‘I told you it’d take your strength if you got your hair cut. Remember Samson in the Bible.’

  Cathy made no reply but bent over the sleeping baby to hide the fact that she was blushing, as much with anger as with embarrassment. Nosy old faggot, she thought furiously. Greg had encouraged her to get her hair cut, and so had her mam and dad, and if her own husband and parents liked it, what business was it of Mrs Parker’s?

  Her silence annoyed the matriarch who said loudly, ‘That baby carriage an’ all – I carried me babies in me shawl, like me mam and me nin done before me.’ She glared round at her daughters who stood or sat around her. ‘What was good enough for them had better be good enough for youse, too.’

  Cathy drew in her breath and stood up, but fortunately before she could speak her young daughter Sarah arrived, tugging her four-year-old brother, one hand clamped about his wrist and the other gripping his fair curls.

  ‘Sarah, you’ll scalp him,’ Cathy exclaimed, hustling the children before her into the house.

  ‘I had to, Mam,’ Sarah gasped. ‘He was bursting tar bubbles.’

  ‘Oh, Mick, and you know I didn’t change your clothes after we’d been to Grandma’s,’ said Cathy. She took off his shirt and trousers, and replaced them with old and patched garments. ‘Now don’t go out of the street,’ she said. ‘And don’t climb.’

  Mick grinned cheerfully and ran off to play with his friends. Cathy turned to Sarah.

  ‘Did you see anything of our John, love?’

  ‘No, Mam, I didn’t see any big boys,’ said Sarah. ‘They must have been kept in.’

  They went through to the back kitchen and Cathy lifted a basket of dry washing from the top of the mangle.

  ‘Help me to fold these, love,’ she said, but as she lifted out the first sheet the door of the backyard burst open and her elder son raced up to them, waving a long manilla envelope.

  ‘I’ve passed, Mam, I’ve passed!’ he shouted. ‘I’ve got the scholarship.’ He held out the envelope. Before taking it, Cathy flung her arms around him and kissed him. Sarah could only reach his waist, but she hugged him, and he lifted her and swung her round, laughing with joy as his mother read the letter.

  ‘I’m proud of you, son,’ Cathy said, her brown eyes bright with loving pride as she looked at him. ‘You deserve it too, John. You’ve worked hard for this.’

  ‘You must be the cleverest lad in Everton – Liverpool, even,’ Sarah exclaimed.

  Cathy bundled the washing into the basket and put it back on the mangle. ‘I can’t be bothered with that now.’

  There was a shout from the backyard and the next moment their neighbour’s head appeared above the wall.

  ‘Our Georgie’s just told me about John getting the scholarship,’ said Grace Woods. ‘I’m made up for you, lad. Fancy a College boy in Norris Street. Aren’t we getting posh?’

  They all laughed and Cathy ruffled John’s dark hair. ‘He’s done well,’ she said proudly, ‘but he’s worked hard for it.’

  ‘He has that,’ Grace agreed. ‘Staying in doing homework when other lads were out playing.’ Cathy asked her to come in for a cup of tea but she refused.

  ‘Billy’ll be in before I can turn round,’ she said. ‘I just thought I’d give you a shout when our Georgie told me about your John standing out in front of the class and getting cheered. It’ll cost tuppence to speak to you soon.’

  They went back into the house and Cathy said to John, ‘Is that right? Did you get cheered? How many passed?’

  ‘Four of us. The partitions were pushed back and Mr Meade read out our names and we had to stand up. Me and George Mulholland and Joe Furlong and Sammy Roche – but Sammy doesn’t think his dad will let him go. He was at sea when we got the forms and Sammy’s mam signed them,’ John explained.

  ‘Maybe the teachers will talk him round?’ Cathy said. John looked doubtful.

  They went back into the living room and he said eagerly, ‘Can I take the letter to show Grandad, Mam?’ But Cathy shook her head and put the letter on the mantelpiece.

  ‘No. Wait until you’ve shown Dad, John, he’ll be home soon.

  ‘The boy scowled. ‘Why?’ he muttered. ‘Grandad’ll be more interested.’

  Sarah looked anxiously at her mother, but Cathy ignored John’s remark and calmly took a tablecloth from the dresser drawer. ‘Lay the table, Sarah,’ she said, ‘while I have a look at Kate.’ She went out to the carriage and found the baby still sleeping.

  As Cathy returned to the kitchen there was a clatter in the backyard and Greg Redmond came in the back door.

  ‘John’s got some news for you, Greg,’ Cathy said eagerly. She thrust the envelope into John’s hand. ‘Tell your Dad.’

  ‘I’ve passed the scholarship,’ John said, grinning as his father shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Greg read quickly through the letter then put his hand on John’s shoulder again, and said quietly, ‘I’m sorry, son. I always hoped that things would be b
etter for us by this stage and I’d be able to send you to my old school, but I’m afraid there’s no hope of that. You must just do as well as you can at the College.’

  John pulled angrily away from his father. ‘I don’t want to go to Sheldrake,’ he said. ‘I want to go to the College. It’s much better than Sheldrake.’

  Cathy gave her son a quick consoling hug. Why did Greg have to mention Sheldrake now? she thought with exasperation. No wonder they’re always at odds with each other, for all they seem so alike.

  John looked like a smaller replica of his father with the same unruly dark hair and grey eyes and even the same cleft in his chin, but there was more of obstinacy and determination in his jaw, especially now as he stood glaring at his father.

  ‘I wouldn’t want John to go away from home,’ she said quickly. ‘He’ll have a good education at the College, and I’m sure he’ll do well there.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it,’ Greg said shortly. He was a quiet man with a gentle manner but now Cathy saw anger in his face at John’s rudeness.

  ‘Scouse doesn’t seem right for tonight, does it?’ she said with determined cheerfulness. ‘I feel we should have a goose or a leg of pork to celebrate.’

  ‘The fire isn’t lit. We wouldn’t be able to cook it, Mam,’ said Sarah practically.

  Cathy laughed. ‘Yes, that’s the best thing about scouse. It can be cooked on the gas ring. Go and get Mick for his tea, love.’

  Sarah went into the street but her brother was already running towards the house, bawling and holding his hand over his ear. His friends shouted to her above his cries and Sarah took him into the house. ‘He climbed to the top of the lamp post and the lamplighter gave him a clout on his ear, Mam.’

  ‘A smack, Sarah, not a clout,’ Greg said as he drew Mick against his knee, but Cathy flashed angrily.

  ‘Some of those fellows are a sight too free with their hands. You should go and tell him off, Greg. Look at the child’s ear. It’s all red.’

  Mick’s yells became even louder. Greg said quietly, ‘He’s been pressing his hand to it. That’s the main reason why it’s red. I’ll just wipe his hands and face.’

  He picked up his younger son and took him into the back kitchen where Mick’s cries soon died away. He was grinning when they returned to the kitchen and sat down at the table while Cathy served the meal. John picked up his spoon but laid it down again.

  ‘I can’t eat anything, Mam.’

  ‘Never mind then, love, leave it. I’ll warm it up for you later on. Do you want to run down to Grandma’s now and tell them? We’ll follow later on when we’ve finished our tea.’

  John jumped to his feet and snatched up his cap. ‘Thanks, Mam,’ he said, his eyes shining.

  ‘Don’t they know yet?’ Greg asked in surprise as John darted out of the door.

  ‘No, I thought he should tell you first,’ Cathy said with a shade of reproof in her voice.

  Greg sighed. ‘I’m sorry I mentioned Sheldrake. It was just – the years go too fast, Cath.’

  ‘It wasn’t the right time,’ she said. ‘I didn’t realize you even thought of Sheldrake for John.’

  ‘It’s just been a vague idea. A pipe dream, I suppose,’ he said, ruefully. ‘I was glad to get this job, Cath, but I’ve always had the idea that some time I’d be able to provide the advantages for our sons that my father provided for me – with no very clear idea how I’d do it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I think we’re very lucky. I saw Sam Benson’s widow in Shaw Street, and honestly, Greg, she looks like an old woman. She had a job in a sweet factory but she was sick and had to give it up, she told me, and she’s been trying to bring up those twins on a War pension. They all looked half starved.’

  ‘I know. I agree we’re lucky, but when I think what my father provided for me, and the advantages he gave me, I should have done better for my family.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Cathy said. ‘John doesn’t want to go to Sheldrake and I’m sure I don’t want him to go away to a boarding school. He’d be a fish out of water everywhere.’

  ‘I do worry, Cath,’ he persisted. ‘I think I should have done more to try to trace that so-and-so who robbed me of the shop while I was in the Army, or else I should have tried to set up in business with what I had left.’

  ‘The police couldn’t find him so how could you?’ she demanded. ‘Anyway, we were too glad to have you back in one piece to worry about a thieving manager.’ She noticed that Sarah was watching them anxiously and smiled at the child, knowing that her quiet and sensitive daughter worried unduly about any conflict in the family.

  ‘Eat your scouse, love,’ she said. ‘And, Mick, stop gobbling, and close your mouth while you’re eating.’

  She glanced at Greg who seemed deep in thought, oblivious to her chivvying of the children.

  ‘Cheer up. Don’t brood any more about Sheldrake. John’s perfectly happy about going to the College. In fact, he’s made up that he’s got the scholarship, and so am I.’

  ‘And so am I, Cath. Don’t misunderstand me – I know he’ll have a good education there, but I feel that Sheldrake could have done so much more for him.’

  Cathy shook her head. ‘No. Sheldrake suited you because you had that sort of background, but it wouldn’t suit John – or me either to have him away from home. All I want is for our children to be happy.’

  ‘So do I, but I feel I’ve failed the boys,’ he persisted.

  ‘What about the girls? Haven’t you been listening to me all these years when I’ve talked about girls having the same chances as boys?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ he said, smiling at her, ‘and of course now you’ve got the vote, you can change the world.’

  ‘It’s not a joke,’ she protested. ‘Just wait and see. Soon girls will have equal chances, and maybe one of ours will be the doctor you wanted to be.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Greg said. ‘I wonder what’s in store for Mick the menace?’ They looked at their younger son who had just finished eating. He smiled at them, showing the gap where his front teeth had been knocked out by a fall from a window cleaner’s ladder. A half-healed scar ran down his cheek from a wound received when he toppled into a damaged beer cask, and there was a pale earlier scar beside his eye.

  ‘He’ll be able to appear in a circus if he doesn’t alter,’ Cathy said with a sigh. ‘He’s got scars all over him but he doesn’t care if it snows.’

  ‘His ear’s all right anyway,’ Greg said, looking quizzically at her.

  ‘It looks all right,’ she said. ‘But I’ll make sure that lamplighter doesn’t hit him again, I can tell you!’

  The baby had wakened and Cathy made bread and milk for her, then changed and fed her while Sarah and Greg washed the dishes. Mick’s attempts to run out and play were frustrated and his clothes changed again, then Cathy put the baby in the carriage and they all walked the short distance from Norris Street to the home of Cathy’s parents in Egremont Street.

  Greg walked silently beside Cathy as she wheeled the baby carriage. She glanced at his serious expression and exclaimed impatiently, ‘Cheer up, for heaven’s sake! No one would think we’d just had such good news. I think we’ve a lot to be thankful for. Four healthy kids and our own house, and we can manage to keep John at school until he’s sixteen. He’ll have his fees paid and a grant for his uniform. When you think of the fellows we knew who were killed or maimed, and their families struggling to live now, I don’t know how you can be so miserable.’

  ‘I’m sorry I don’t suit,’ he said angrily, and they walked on in silence. Sarah looked anxiously from one to the other, but when they reached her grandparents’ house they stepped immediately into an atmosphere of festivity and delight.

  ‘What a day, what a day,’ Lawrie Ward exclaimed, his arm around his grandson’s shoulders. ‘This is the lad who’s going to realize all our dreams, aren’t you, John?’

  ‘I hope so, Grandad,’ he replied, smiling with deep affection.

  ‘A
scholar in the family,’ Lawrie went on. ‘We’ve been waiting for you to come so’s we can celebrate.’ He picked up a stone bottle. ‘Ginger beer for John and Mick and Sarah, port wine for you and your mam, Cathy, and a drop of rum for us, eh, Greg? How’s that?’

  ‘Just the ticket,’ Greg said as he helped Lawrie to pour the drinks. John carried a glass of port wine to his grandmother and she drew his head down to her and kissed him. Sally Ward was less demonstrative than her husband but her delight showed in her shining eyes as she said, ‘We’ll all drink to John’s success.’

  He grinned and blushed as they all solemnly clinked glasses and drank to him. Sarah watched him proudly and gave a happy sigh. Her grandmother smiled at her. ‘You’ll be able to tell all the girls in your class about your clever brother on Monday, won’t you, love?’

  Sarah smiled and nodded, and Cathy said quickly, ‘She’ll be the next to take the scholarship, and she’ll have a good chance of it if she works hard like John.’

  ‘It’s not so important for a girl,’ Sally Ward said placidly as she unwrapped the baby’s shawl.

  Cathy immediately protested. ‘It is, Mam. It’s just as important. What was the use of fighting for the vote if girls don’t get their chance now?’

  ‘But girls only get married, and then even if they’ve managed to be teachers or nurses, they still have to leave.’

  ‘But that’s not right. Things must change, Mam,’ Cathy said. ‘There are plenty of single women now because so many lads were killed in the war, but it’ll be different by the time Sarah grows up.’

  The girl said nothing. She had already decided that she would leave school at fourteen so there would be no point in taking the scholarship.

  One of her grandmother’s neighbours, Elsie Hammond, had a florist’s shop nearby and Sarah spent many happy hours there learning to make frames and to wire flowers for wreaths. Elsie had told her that she had a gift for floristry and that she would be taken on as an apprentice when she was fourteen. Sarah was looking forward to working full-time in the shop.

  The men became aware of the exchange between Cathy and her mother, and Lawrie called jovially, ‘No politics tonight. You should know by now, Sal, that if you scratch our Cathy you find a Suffragette.’