Flowers on the Mersey

by June Francis

  By the time Hannah knocked on the door, Rebekah was washed and dressed, with the scarf providing a little extra padding beneath her knickers. ‘Come in!’ she rose from her seated position in front of the oval mirror on the dressing table. ‘What is it, Hannah?’ she asked cheerfully.

  The maid’s face fell. ‘I thought I heard—’

  ‘Heard what, Hannah? The noise I made earlier because there was a spider in the room?’

  ‘A spider?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t abide the creatures. All those legs!’ She shivered.

  Hannah sniffed and her dark eyes were disappointed. ‘It’s downright foolish to be scared of an insect. Just put yer foot on them and squash ’em – that’s what I do.’

  ‘You’re so much braver than me.’ Rebekah smiled sweetly, wondering how the Quaker maid taught to abhor violence could find pleasure in the idea of her suffering and the death of a spider.

  The maid did not smile back. ‘Yer father said that thee wanted me.’

  ‘It’s all right now, I managed without your help, but if you could take my dirty clothes, please?’

  Hannah sniffed and did not move. Instead she folded her arms across her non-existent bosom. ‘Talked thy way out of trouble after all, did thee?’

  Rebekah raised her eyebrows. ‘What trouble, Hannah? I told the truth – that I went to see Old Mary and walked for a while in the fresh air. That was something you could have told Mama and Papa about earlier,’ she rebuked gently. ‘Now – my dirty clothes.’ Adding, just to make the maid squirm a little, ‘Watch out for lice. Old Mary isn’t fussy when it comes to washing.’

  The maid hesitated, then moved to pick up the untidy sprawl of clothing on the floor. ‘Yer father’s still annoyed about something,’ she muttered, straightening. ‘Came in earlier with his face all twisted and slammed his paper down on the hall table – nearly knocked off the lamp that I’d trimmed and filled this morning – but he keeps hold of a piece of paper and he was looking at that very letter when I left him just now. I wonder what’s in it?’

  ‘If it’s something bad, I’ll soon find out,’ murmured Rebekah.

  ‘I suppose so,’ grunted Hannah, moving towards the door. Rebekah returned to twisting her heavy tawny hair in a coil at the nape of her neck. For a moment her fingers itched for the scissors before common sense asserted itself. Papa would only see cutting her hair as an act of defiance and the thought that he might again respond violently was enough for her to put the notion aside.

  He was standing on the landing when she came out of her bedroom. He had changed into grey flannel trousers and a clean shirt and collar. His dark hair was parted neatly on one side and he had shaved. For a moment she wondered if he was going to bring up the subject of Daniel again and tensed, but he said nothing, only flicking the embroidery round the neck of her frock before proceeding downstairs.

  They entered the dining room, to find her mother fiddling with an arrangement of scarlet and lemon dahlias. The gaslight glowed on cutlery and glass and turned Rebekah’s mother’s complexion the colour of parchment. She wore an Edwardian dark green frock with a high neck, and a heavily fringed crochet shawl was draped about her shoulders. Her slender hand was cool where it touched Rebekah’s. ‘Such a worry you’ve had me in, Becky, but your father’s explained that you were with Old Mary so let’s eat. I suppose you’re hungry as usual.’

  Rebekah avoided looking at her father, trying to control the anger that rose inside her, and schooled her features as she seated herself on a balloon-backed chair.

  Hannah bustled in carrying a tureen. ‘Here’s some pea soup for yer and I don’t want it getting cold,’ she grunted. ‘It’s full of the juices from the beef that I boiled yesterday.’

  It smelt delicious and there was silence as Rebekah’s father said grace. There was no conversation while they ate their meal. After the soup came cold beef, potatoes and mashed turnip. For pudding there was stewed plums and baked custard. It was not until tea was poured that her father spoke. ‘I’ve had an answer from the agent, Sally.’

  His wife looked across at him hastily. ‘What agent?’

  ‘The shipping agent.’ His tone was irritable.

  ‘Why should you write to a shipping agent?’ Her voice trembled.

  ‘For berths to America, of course,’ he said in a tightly controlled voice, stirring his tea jerkily so that it spilt in the saucer. ‘I wrote to Cunard’s in Liverpool, thinking that way I could get preference and the most comfortable passage for you. No expense was to be spared. I even gave them a draft on my bank. Now they write and tell me that all berths on their ships were taken up weeks ago. That I should have booked a passage earlier.’

  Rebekah exchanged glances with her mother, who was obviously trying hard to conceal her relief. ‘Does that mean we won’t be going to America then?’

  ‘Of course it doesn’t!’ Her husband slammed the table. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, Sal, it’ll be a better life for us there. The Ireland we know is finished. And England’s going to find it difficult financially. The war cost them! America’s the place.’

  ‘But if there’s no berths,’ murmured his wife, pleating a fold of the tablecloth. ‘What can we do?’

  ‘There’s other shipping lines,’ he said firmly. ‘They probably won’t be as comfortable but we’ll have to put up with that.’

  ‘Adam, if you’re doing this for me,’ she said hesitantly, ‘as I’ve said before, there’s no need. A new life in a new land is for those just beginning. I feel too old to start up again. Liverpool would suit—’

  ‘No!’ His mouth thinned and he scrunched the letter in his hand, ‘I don’t feel too old, and you only feel like that because of what it’s been like here for the last couple of years. You’ll soon perk up once we’re away from the fighting. There’s lots of folk emigrating who are as old as us, and travelling further. Since the War they want to leave Europe. It’s that sister of yours who wants you to stay in Liverpool. And why should we, Sal? For years, nothing! We were treated like lepers. Not a penny farthing did your father ever give you. We had to struggle when he could have made it a bit easier for you.’

  ‘I know, I know!’ She put a hand to her mouth and her throat moved jerkily. When she spoke again, her voice shook. ‘Don’t let’s go over all that again, please. Will you still allow me some time with Esther? She was like a mother to me, if you remember?’

  ‘Bossy enough!’ he interposed.

  ‘She couldn’t help that.’ A shadow crossed his wife’s face. ‘You had your mother to old age. Can we still stay with Esther? Once we leave for America, you know that it’s unlikely I’ll ever see her again.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘I won’t deny you some time with your sister. But if she upsets you by playing her tricks, like she did when she tried to separate us when first we met, then we’ll find lodgings elsewhere.’ He patted her hand before taking up his teacup. ‘It might be best for me to see if we can leave tomorrow.’

  ‘But I haven’t finished packing,’ said Rebekah in a startled voice, her thoughts moving swiftly into the present instead of dwelling on her parents’ past.

  Her father’s eyebrows came together. ‘Then you shouldn’t have wasted time visiting that old woman and going for walks,’ he said fiercely. ‘Get a move on, miss, because what doesn’t get packed will be left behind.’

  Rebekah decided it would be wisest to show willing and rose with stiff awkward movements, hoping that her mother would not see anything amiss. She was in pain and did not want to go to America. It would be even stranger than Liverpool and so far away from home. As for Daniel, there would be no chance of ever seeing him again. Her resentment against her father hardened as she went as quickly as she could out of the dining room, barely able to take in that such great changes in her life were happening. Soon they would leave Ireland for ever.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Irish ferry boat steamed up the Mersey, having safely manoeuvred the sandbanks in the estuary and avoided the
numerous craft in the river. Rebekah had never seen so many ships and growing excitement now replaced the regret she had felt when she had seen Ireland becoming a tiny smudge on the horizon. They had not departed as early as her father had wished because there had been too much to do.

  Yesterday, tempers had been fraught and only Hannah had gone about her tasks with a smile on her face that had maddened Rebekah. She had handed back her discarded clothing, saying that there was no way that she could get them dry if she washed them. So Rebekah’s dirty clothes had been stuffed in a cloth bag with her nightdress, tortoise and ivory dressing table set, her Bible, and an old doll given her by her dead paternal grandmother which she could not bring herself to part with.

  Now her father’s hand descended heavily on her shoulder and she tensed. ‘You must stay close to Hannah. If you get separated in the crush, wait outside the Riverside Station and we’ll find you there.’

  ‘Don’t thee be worrying, Mr Rhoades,’ said Hannah with a satisfied smile. ‘I’ll watch her like a hawk.’

  Rebekah contained her impatience. ‘Papa, I do have a tongue in my head. I’m not a child.’

  ‘It might be better if you were,’ Adam said shortly, and before Rebekah could say another word he was gone.

  She frowned, guessing that he was making an oblique reference to the episode with Daniel O’Neill. She had not been able to get him out of her mind, but now she gave her attention to Liverpool. Along the seafront sprawled its famous docks and its bustling landing stage. It seemed enormous after Dublin.

  ‘Soon be getting off now, and thou wilt be needing all thy wits about thee then,’ said Hannah, picking up her bag. ‘Babylon it is all around dockland. There’s pickpockets and lads wanting to carry thy bag who’d have the last farthing off a one-legged beggar. Stick close to me as thy father said, and hold on to everything.’

  Rebekah noted the change in the sound of the ship’s engines and watched the sudden surge of foaming water about the hull. Now they were only yards from land, and ropes thicker than a man’s arm were being thrown from ship to the landing stage. On shore, a little way back, she could see a roof with the words RIVERSIDE STATION painted on it.

  Hannah seized her wrist. Irritated, Rebekah pulled herself free, not seeing any reason to hurry as she gazed on the people that crowded the deck. She spotted her mother, a little more colour in her cheeks than normal, who gave her a faint smile. ‘Stay close to Hannah,’ she called, before suddenly disappearing from Rebekah’s sight as people surged towards the gangway.

  No sooner did Rebekah and Hannah set foot on land than they were besieged by several youths. A huge burly lad, with a thatch of red hair, freckles, and an ingratiating smile which revealed several gaps where teeth were missing, shouldered his rivals out of the way and laid a hand on Rebekah’s luggage. ‘Carry yer bag, miss?’

  ‘Thou wilt not,’ Hannah intervened sharply, poking her elbow into his upper arm.

  He barely spared her a glance, but thrust a widespread hand on her face and pushed hard. She went toppling backwards. ‘If yer in need of lodgings I can show yer a decent place,’ he said, as if Hannah’s interruption had not taken place.

  Rebekah had no time to enjoy the spectacle of Hannah sprawling but had to tug hard on her bag. ‘Will you let go? I can carry my own bag – and I don’t need lodgings because I’m staying with my aunt.’

  His smile slipped. ‘That’s alright, luv. I’ll still get yer a cab.’ And he gave a heave that took the bag clean out of her grasp.

  ‘Hey, give me it back!’ she cried indignantly.

  He did not even spare Rebekah a backward glance but was away. Her temper rose and she gave chase. It was not easy keeping her quarry in view. The Prince’s landing stage was a busy place at most times and it was worse today because several large ships had docked. Still she managed to weave her way through the crowd to catch up with him and seize hold of her bag. ‘Got you.’

  Several heads swivelled in their direction as he turned with an ugly expression on his face and surprised her by sneering. ‘Hey now, what’s this, little thief! Have yer seen this one, folks?’ he yelled, looking about him. ‘Real barefaced she is.’

  ‘It’s you that’s the thief,’ she panted, enraged, swinging her free hand and punching him on the nose.

  Tears started in his eyes and an ex-serviceman, selling matches, chortled, ‘Serves yer right, Joe.’

  ‘Yer little cow,’ he said in a muffled voice, covering his nose a moment before bringing down his fist. The blow would have stunned Rebekah if she had not swerved while tugging at her bag. The clasp gave and out tumbled a flesh-coloured lawn nightgown.

  She snatched it up from the damp, dirty ground. ‘Whose bag is it?’ she cried triumphantly. ‘Do you wear skirts?’ Several people laughed.

  ‘It’s me mam’s,’ he snapped, obviously determined not to be bested as he struggled with her.

  ‘Yer haven’t a mam,’ called a voice. ‘Give the girl her stuff back.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Rebekah. ‘Give me it back.’

  Joe’s eyes narrowed and he pulled so hard on the bag that she was catapulted against him. ‘I take orders from no one. Yer’ve got a bloody nerve, girl,’ he hissed in her face. ‘I could squash yer as soon as look at yer. Yer don’t think any of this lot’ll help yer.’

  ‘Get your hands off me.’ She was proud that her voice did not betray her.

  He stared at her, almost eyeball to eyeball, and laughed. ‘Yer gonna make me?’

  Before she could speak, a voice said, ‘She mightn’t be able to but I can.’ The words uttered in the familiar Irish brogue took both of them by surprise and Rebekah twisted in Joe’s grasp.

  Daniel did not pause in his advance on them. ‘It’s a fine mess your father’s making of looking after you.’

  Rebekah felt a lifting of her spirits. ‘He’s with Mama. I was with Hannah but this – this person pushed her in the face.’

  ‘Hardly friendly.’ He clenched a fist. ‘If he doesn’t take his filthy hands off you, I’ll knock his block off.’

  ‘I wouldn’t try it, Paddy.’ Joe eyed Daniel up and down uneasily. ‘You might be taller than me but I’ve got the weight, see – as well as a pile of mates I can call on.’

  Daniel shrugged, ‘I don’t like fighting a lad of your age but if you’re so keen, boyo, I’ve got a few friends I could whistle up. So let her go.’

  Joe reached for his belt but before he could pull out the knife that was there, Daniel made his move. Rebekah was forcibly swung out of the way and his fist made contact with Joe’s jaw. He crumpled slowly to the ground.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Daniel, seizing her wrist and getting them lost in the crowd in seconds.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Her grip tightened on her bag as she almost fell over her feet in her attempt to keep up, cram her nightdress back in her bag, and look at him at the same time.

  ‘Out of sight, out of reach. Joe’s a regular here. He’s bound to have mates somewhere.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have got you involved in a fight,’ she said, her breathing flurried.

  He smiled. ‘That was a good punch on the nose you gave him.’

  ‘You saw it?’ she gasped. ‘Perhaps if I hadn’t hit him, he mightn’t have got tough with me. I lost my temper.’

  ‘You’ve got to stand up to some people.’

  She shook her head. ‘I should have turned the other cheek.’

  He ignored that remark and said, ‘Where are your mama and papa?’

  ‘Seeing to the luggage, I suppose. I’m to meet them at the Riverside Station if I get lost.’ She looked about her. ‘I am lost.’

  ‘We’re only going to the end of the landing stage.’

  ‘You’ve been here before?’

  ‘I told you, I’ve got relatives in Liverpool.’

  There was a pause before she said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.’ He glanced
at her. ‘Mam always said, “When in doubt, say nowt.” Besides, I had our Shaun to get out of trouble.’

  ‘He’s here?’ Involuntarily she glanced about them.

  He grimaced. ‘Not right here and now. We came yesterday.’

  She stopped abruptly. ‘Then there is a price on your heads?’

  He halted. ‘Now who’s told you that?’

  ‘My father.’ Her voice was low. ‘I hoped it wasn’t true. But it is, isn’t it?’

  Daniel was silent for several minutes, then he said vehemently, ‘I’m no killer! My brothers gave the family a bad name. What made your father mention it? Did you tell him about us?’

  ‘No!’ She frowned. ‘He saw us together. I got a hiding just for being in your company.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He squeezed her fingers.

  ‘It’s not your fault. He thought I’d been passing you information for IRB activities. He’s been overwrought lately. I told you that the other day.’

  ‘I’m still sorry he hit you. What did you tell him about us?’ They had halted almost at the far end of the landing stage and her gaze took in the khaki-coloured waters and beyond them Birkenhead and its new shipyards. ‘I told him I’d met you at Old Mary’s – that I’d walked with you because you wanted to know how she was.’

  ‘He believed you?’ His gaze followed hers across the water.

  ‘I don’t make a habit of lying. For the first time in my life he hit me – then asked questions.’

  He held her hand tightly. ‘I’m sorry again.’

  ‘I know. You don’t have to keep saying it. Will you be staying in Liverpool?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I’m doing. You?’

  ‘Father’s determined that we’re going to America.’ She told him what had passed at the dinner table.

  ‘He’ll get berths,’ said Daniel positively. ‘There’s other shipping lines.’

  ‘I don’t know how quickly, though. It could take time.’ She glanced at him and he shook his head.

  ‘You mustn’t be thinking what you’re thinking.’ He released her hand. ‘We both agreed that it’s pointless us getting to know each other.’