Flowers on the Mersey

by June Francis

  With a thumping heart, Rebekah waited for her father to make a move towards her. The bunks creaked. She held her breath for what seemed an age but he did not come. Slowly she relaxed and her fingers gingerly touched the sore part of her arm. It could have been worse. She supposed it had been stupid not to give him the blouse and she did not really know why she had been so stubborn about hanging on to it. He would not forgive her, nor would he forget that he had seen Shaun.

  She fell asleep, only to dream about Trim Castle and escaping the banshee again. She woke with a headache and a nightmare feeling still in her limbs. She tried to rationalise the dream, remembering that outing to Trim Castle again. It was huge and grey, and her father had told her that during the Middle Ages the Anglo-Normans had kept hostages there.

  And damsels in distress, she supposed, when knights were bold and their menfolk locked their women in chastity belts! Oh God, she was no longer a virgin! What would her father do to her and Daniel if he knew that? Irish rebels were sometimes hung for treason against the British Empire. In the grip of her dream, her fear of her father’s power was beyond sensible thought or reason.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Your father has Joshua Green in mind for you.’

  Rebekah stared across the cabin at her mother. It was the next day.

  ‘He wants you to be comfortable,’ Sarah said earnestly.

  ‘Joshua Green!’ Rebekah laughed sharply and lifted her gaze from the magazine she was trying her best to read. ‘So he’s acting the Victorian papa! It’s outdated, Mama. This is the twentieth century.’

  A look of resignation crossed her mother’s face. ‘You might as well say it’s what my father did, and perhaps if he hadn’t behaved in such a way, we might not have run away the way we did. Believe me, I sometimes wonder whether it was worth it.’

  For a moment Rebekah was dumbfounded. She had always believed that her mother thought the world well lost for love. ‘You love Papa!’

  ‘Love doesn’t pay the rent.’

  ‘Daniel’s got a job,’ said Rebekah.

  Her mother raised her eyebrows. ‘So you’re admitting that the young man you introduced me to is the O’Neill rebel your father mentioned and not Willie Smith?’

  Rebekah flushed. ‘Yes!’ she said defiantly.

  Her mother groaned. ‘He’s a sailor and of a different faith. You do realise that would mean bringing up children on your own. Catholic children.’

  ‘At the moment I don’t care about any of that.’

  Her mother’s mouth firmed. ‘Well, you should!’ She got up from the bunk. ‘Think! And do the sensible thing before your father does something we’ll all regret.’ She packed up her knitting and left her daughter alone.

  Rebekah did not want to think, and hoping that maybe Daniel had got off duty earlier than he had said, she hurried up to the boat deck. She walked up and down, gazing at the single funnel which was almost midship. There was little wind and smoke hung in the sky, its acrid smell tainting the chill salty air. She counted the lifeboats. Daniel had told her that since the sinking of the Titanic the safety regulations had changed. Once it had been the ship’s tonnage that decided the number of lifeboats, now it was how many passengers were aboard. She paced the deck several times, exchanging greetings with other people taking the air, but did not see Daniel. She did not go back to the cabin, though but walked around despite the cold.

  It grew misty and she turned up the collar of her coat, hoping that Daniel would not be much longer. He wasn’t.

  Rebekah took his arm. ‘Let’s not go to the dance. I’ve got a feeling that Papa might turn up.’

  He nodded. ‘We don’t want a confrontation on the dance floor.’

  ‘Definitely not!’ She shivered at the thought.

  He glanced down at her. ‘New York doesn’t mean the end of everything for us. You might want to pretend to play it your father’s way, for safety’s sake. We could give things time. In a few months the fighting could have finished.’

  She gripped his hand and said forlornly, ‘I don’t want to play it his way. Anything might happen. I’m prepared to turn round as soon as we get to New York and go back across the Atlantic. I can get a job. I have worked. I can type! We can save up.’ A flush darkened her cheeks. ‘When you dock, I’ll make a home for you. I’m not asking you to marry me. There’s the religious thing, and I’m not twenty-one.’

  Daniel stared at her, a gleam in his eyes. ‘Just like that, you’d live with me? I can just see me going to confession and saying, “Father, I have sinned by not only falling in love with a Protestant girl, but living with her as well.” The priest would love that!’

  She stared at him and smiled. ‘Would you really say that to the priest? What would he say back?’

  ‘Never mind. But we couldn’t do it. It’s a mortal sin and so is preventing babies.’

  ‘But we did it and you said I’ll be all right. We don’t have to have babies until we get married. We could still do it lots of times.’

  He grinned. ‘You’re a terrible girl, Becky. We’ll have to wait and get married properly, but I don’t know when.’ He frowned. ‘Your father’s been asking questions in the crew’s quarters.’ He fell silent.

  ‘And?’

  ‘He’s offering money for information about two Irish brothers. A couple of the lads know about Shaun. Any time now they’re going to take the money.’

  She was scared for him. ‘What do you want to do? Papa’s planning to take over Green’s agency in New York so you’d know where to find me if—’

  ‘That’s why you had the guided tour?’

  ‘Yes. Papa’s going to be Joshua Green’s agent. He took me to see his house in Liverpool.’

  His eyes flickered over her face. ‘A huge place, is it?’

  ‘It’s nowhere near a mansion. It’s not as big as the houses in Merrion Square in Dublin. He has a sister living with him. Widowed. She’s a bit – queer. I felt sorry for her.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Green and I were on the same ship once, that’s all. It was torpedoed.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It has nothing to do with now,’ he said softly. ‘Can you hear the music? Shall we dance here on deck?’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘I’ll teach you.’

  She wanted to ask more about Joshua Green but was wise enough to know he did not want to talk. She wanted to go on about marrying but knew that would have to wait too. She gave herself up to the moment.

  Despite the cold and the mist which had thickened she enjoyed learning to dance with him as teacher. Everything seemed unreal, including the mournful sound of a foghorn in the distance. They were so wrapped up in each other that at first the footsteps coming in their direction did not register. As they drew closer she opened her eyes and looked over Daniel’s shoulder. Instantly she recognised the shadowy figure behind. ‘It’s Papa,’ she said through lips that quivered.

  Daniel looked down at her and for a moment his hands held her tightly. ‘It’s all right! Don’t look so scared. It’s happened now. There’s nothing we can do.’ He dropped his arms and they turned around.

  For a moment nothing was said. Then her father addressed Rebekah. ‘Your mother’s in the cabin. You can go there.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I want to hear what you say to Daniel.’

  Her father’s expression seemed to set like stone. ‘You will do as you are told,’ he said, stressing every word. ‘I told you to have nothing to do with this man.’

  ‘Papa, I’m nearly twenty. I’m not a child to be ordered around.’ Her voice shook with sudden anger. ‘The world has changed since the war. Women—’

  ‘I don’t want a lecture on emancipation.’ A tic twitched his left eye and his fists clenched. ‘This man’s a traitor and a murderer, and you’ll do as I tell you.’

  ‘He is not a murderer!’ she said hotly. ‘Just because his brothers – You ju
dge him without knowing him!’

  ‘I don’t have to know him!’ Her father’s voice rose. ‘You’re talking to a man who belongs to an organisation that wears a mask to cover up its activities! So get away from him and go to your mother!’

  She tilted her chin. ‘No.’

  Daniel spoke. ‘Becky, go.’

  She looked at him but before she could speak or move, her father’s hand shot out. The force of the blow knocked her head back against Daniel’s shoulder. ‘I will not have you speak to me like that!’ Her father’s whole body seemed to loom larger with uncontrollable rage.

  Daniel steadied her. ‘Don’t you ever hit her again!’ His voice shook with fury.

  ‘Don’t you tell me what to do with my own daughter, you filthy rebel.’ Her father’s fists clenched.

  ‘Papa, please!’ Rebekah held a hand to her head in an attempt to stop it spinning. ‘I’ll stop seeing him. Just don’t hurt him.’

  ‘Hurt me!’ cried Daniel, putting her on one side. ‘It’s me that’ll bloody hurt him. Hitting you! He’s a coward!’

  ‘I’m no coward, you turf hopper!’ Her father swung his arm.

  Daniel easily parried the blow before lunging forward and catching him a punch on the chest. ‘You’re a bully. One of Green’s yes men!’

  Her father staggered slightly before making a recovery and coming forward with surprising speed. ‘I’ll have you know, boy, that I have shares in the company,’ he panted. ‘I’m one of the bosses. I’ll have you fired! I’ll see you never work again!’

  Daniel was so surprised that he dropped his guard slightly and was caught a clout across the mouth. He began to bleed.

  Now the two men grappled with each other, trying to throw each other off balance. Her father caught Daniel a vicious kick in the shins and he stumbled backwards. The blood from the blow on his lip was running down his chin. He prevented himself from falling and ran at the older man with his head down. Her father doubled over but soon straightened up to ram his fist at Daniel’s mouth again. More blood!

  Rebekah screamed. She had had enough. ‘Stop it! Stop it!’ She jumped on her father’s back but he flung her off. Daniel’s fist caught him on the jaw.

  She drew back, her heart pounding. She would get Mama! She would stop Papa before either of them did each other a real injury.

  She fled along the deck, only vaguely aware of a flurry of whistles blowing somewhere nearby. A foghorn sounded, then came what seemed to be an answering blast of sound. Her hands shook as she sought to open the cabin door but her fingers were shaking so much that it took her longer than usual.

  At last it opened. ‘Mama!’ she cried. ‘Come quickly!’

  Her mother’s pale face stared at her from the bunk. Rebekah took a few steps forward. ‘Mama?’ The eyes were red-ringed, as if she had been crying. Suddenly they widened as there was a noise like an explosion and then a dull, roaring sound. The whole ship seemed to shake. Next came a tearing and rending, a crunching and rippling noise. Rebekah wanted to call out but was abruptly flung to the floor. Her bunk crashed down on her. A dark object came through the side of the ship and crushed her parents’ bunk beds against the wall.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Daniel became aware of the fog whistles at the same time as he noticed that Rebekah had gone. He swung her father round by the lapels of his coat and brought his fist back ready for the blow that he hoped would finish the fight. Then suddenly he saw, terrifyingly close, the prow of a ship looming up through the fog. ‘Holy Jesus!’ he whispered, crossing himself and taking a step back.

  ‘Ha!’ exclaimed Rebekah’s father triumphantly through swollen lips, and punched him with the last of his strength.

  Daniel staggered back as the ship hit, lost his footing and went head over heels backwards. Momentarily he rested on his haunches, trying to get his breath back. Then he sprang to his feet as the other ship crunched its way through steel and wood along the side of the Samson towards him. He turned and fled from its destructive path, down the nearest companionway. He had to find Rebekah! Thank the Holy Mother she had left! Her father … He didn’t want to think of that. Where they had fought was just a tangled mess.

  The lights had gone out and doors were opening. There were shouts. A woman screamed. People were running along corridors in panic, fighting to get past him as he searched and called, went up and down corridors, feeling his way. He realised that what he was doing was crazy. He presumed that Becky had gone back to her cabin but didn’t know where that was exactly.

  A light from a torch suddenly shone in his face, half blinding him. ‘Is that you Riley?’ The voice was incredulous.

  ‘Yes!’ He knocked down the torch with bloodied knuckles.

  ‘You look a mess. Not that it matters. Come with me!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yer wanted, mate! In the engine room! It’s flooding down there and there’s a boiler making a funny noise. They need your expertise.’

  ‘Hell!’ Daniel groaned, and clutched his hair. ‘I have to find someone.’

  ‘You won’t be finding anyone if you don’t come. That boiler could blow.’

  Daniel took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. The odds were that Becky was all right. There were a heck of a lot of people running around.

  ‘Well! Are you coming?’ demanded the mate, shining the torch into his face again.

  Daniel nodded and went with him.

  For a long while Rebekah lay stunned, her thoughts incoherent. She was aware of a crushing weight on her right arm. Then there was a babble of voices outside along the passageway, hurrying footsteps and the sound of rushing water.

  Fear was blighting her courage and it took several deep flurried breaths to calm her nerves and enable her to try and move her legs. At least they seem uninjured. She tried freeing her arm but the pain was excruciating and caused sickness and dizziness. Dear God, was she going to die? No, please! What had happened to Mama! She called to her mother but there was no answer.

  Lifting her head she stared in the direction where she had last seen her mother and slowly, as her eyes became accustomed to the dark, could just make out the shambles that was her parents’ bunk. She did not want to believe that her mother could not have survived. It was a nightmare. What about Daniel? What had happened? She must get out of here.

  She screamed and carried on yelling for help until at last someone did come. The door was forced open and two men came in. One picked her out by torchlight and came over to her.

  ‘You all right, luv?’

  She laughed weakly. ‘Oh, yes. I’m just lying here for the good of my health.’

  ‘Glad you’ve still got your sense of humour.’ He turned to his companion who had gone over to the other bunk and was trying to prise it away from the wall. ‘Give us a hand here, vicar.’

  The parson delayed several moments and could be heard praying. Then he came over, still in his pyjamas. Rebekah cleared her throat as the two men began to lift the weight from her. ‘Mama’s all right, isn’t she?’

  ‘Sorry, my dear.’ The parson’s hand was gentle on her cheek. ‘It must have been almost instantaneous if that is of any comfort to you.’

  She did not answer but a sob swelled her throat and tears blurred her vision. A few moments later she was free and one of the men was saying that her arm was broken. The parson was wrapping her in a blanket. The other man lifted her and she recognised him as their steward. ‘I have a friend. He’s an engineer. Da – no, Peter Riley,’ she croaked. ‘He’s one of the engineers. He was with my father.’

  ‘The engine rooms are flooding but they’re getting it under control,’ the steward answered. ‘He should be all right. Ain’t seen no sign of your father, though, miss. But that’s not surprising, the panic everyone’s in with the dark and all.’

  She closed her eyes briefly, pressing down her panic, and said huskily as he helped her up, ‘What happened?’

  ‘This other ship came out of the fog and hit us. It’s ripped this
side open, but there’s nothing for you to worry about. We’re in no immediate danger.’ His voice sought to soothe.

  ‘No. I’ve got nothing to worry about.’ she whispered before bursting into tears. He patted her shoulder and the parson told her that she would be all right. They would see that she was taken care of.

  The passenger alleyways were still in darkness. ‘Why aren’t the lights on?’ she stuttered.

  ‘Water’s short-circuited the dynamos,’ said the steward cheerfully, flashing his torch. ‘We’ll take you on top. Don’t worry.’

  She wished he would stop telling her not to worry. What was happening to Daniel? Where was her father?

  The decks were crowded with people in various states of dress. Some were crying. One man sat calmly playing solitaire, sitting on a lifebelt. An elderly woman was putting up her hair. It was still foggy and the ship’s whistles played a mournful tune. The doctor came and put her arm in splints and a sling; gave her a couple of tablets. She asked him about the water coming into the engine rooms and he said he knew nothing about it. She looked round for a sign of someone she recognised and a few feet away saw a white-faced Brigid with a blood-stained bandage tied round her bright hair.

  Rebekah struggled to her feet and stumbled light-headed over to her friend. She slumped down next to her and put her free hand through Brigid’s. ‘Mama’s dead and Papa’s missing.’ She barely recognised her own voice. ‘Are you badly hurt?’ Brigid shook her head. ‘Keith?’ asked Rebekah. There was no answer but the Liverpudlian’s eyes were filled with tears.

  ‘Oh God,’ whispered Rebekah, and gently drew Brigid’s head down on to her shoulder.

  She did not know how long they sat there while the deck started to empty. Mr Eaton came up to them. ‘Miss Rhoades, will you and the other lady come with me, please? We want to get you off the ship.’