Flowers on the Mersey

by June Francis

  Daniel reached the agency with its rather pretentious frontage and went in. A fiercesome-looking female stared at him over steel-rimmed spectacles and he wished he had taken time to freshen himself up. ‘Can I help you?’ she said frostily.

  ‘I’m looking for a Miss Rebekah Rhoades and Mrs Rhoades. They were passengers on the Samson.’

  Suddenly it appeared that she knew whom he was talking about because her expression thawed slightly. ‘Are you a relative? Because if you are you’ve just missed the memorial service. It was this morning. Perhaps you’d like to talk to Mr Green?’ She stood, and before he could answer, hurried through a doorway behind her.

  Memorial service! Daniel sat on one of the chairs in the reception area and put his head in his hands. Dear God, he hoped that was just for Mr Rhoades. He had heard that several passengers had been killed but had hoped … could not believe that …

  ‘Oh, it’s you, O’Neill. Or is it Riley? What can I do for you?’

  Daniel lifted his eyes and met Joshua’s cool gaze. ‘Miss Rebekah Rhoades?’ He stood up.

  Joshua feigned surprise. ‘You knew her?’

  ‘Yes. From Dublin.’ He cleared his throat. ‘That woman said something about a memorial service.’

  ‘That’s right. Friends of yours, were they, O’Neill?’ There was the slightest hint of derision in his voice.

  Daniel’s back stiffened. ‘I wouldn’t be saying that of Mr and Mrs Rhoades. But Rebekah—’

  ‘The daughter? She’s dead,’ said Joshua, watching him intently. ‘They’re all dead. The cabin was smashed to bits. I’m sorry, O’Neill, if she was a friend of yours. Tragic. But there it is. I knew them myself, you know.’

  For a moment Daniel just stood there, his face quivering, then he turned and made for the door. Joshua hurried after him and thrust an envelope in his hand. ‘Here’s your pay, O’Neill. I’m sorry I can’t offer you another berth right now.’

  Daniel thrust the envelope into his pocket without looking at it or Joshua, and walked out. He had not gone far before he heard the women from the agency calling after him. ‘There was a message for you, Mr O’Neill. From a Shaun Riley. He said that if you turned up, to look for him at Kelly’s place.’

  Daniel gave no sign of hearing but carried on up the street. He could not get the image of Rebekah out of his mind. God, God, God! He wanted to smash something! Anything! Anyone! He wished now he had hit Green’s smirking face. The coward didn’t give a damn that he was suffering, and Daniel had known it. Aye, he’d known the pain he’d been inflicting, Daniel thought grimly. Becky! Oh Becky, love! That swine didn’t care that you were dead!

  A long time ago, he had liked Joshua. Funny, that. They had been on a ship leaving Pennsylvania then, carrying a cargo of horses, wheat and oil. It was 1916 and they had been intercepted south-east of Cape Race by a German submarine. They had taken to the lifeboats – or what was left of them. That was when Daniel had discovered a different facet to Mr Joshua Green. If he hadn’t been so bloody-minded then, they wouldn’t have lost so many men. It had all come back to Daniel when he had been struggling in the water.

  Becky … Funny, lovely, warm, sexy Becky! He could hear her now saying that she loved him – offering to live in sin with him. He scrubbed away the tears with his coat collar. He would find his brother and get rotten drunk. His fingers searched for the hip flask in his pocket. He hoped that Shaun had not drunk any of the so-called whisky on offer at Kelly’s. Some of it could blind a man. He had given his brother fair warning.

  Daniel carried on through the wet streets, shivering with cold and shock, until he came to Kelly’s. Inside there was a strong smell of sweat and wet wool but the room was warm, if smoky and crowded. Daniel’s eyes scanned the room and saw his brother over in a corner with another man. He pushed his way between tables until he reached them. ‘So you survived then,’ said Daniel, in a voice slurred with grief and weariness, looming over his brother.

  Shaun slowly got to his feet, his face alight with relief. ‘I knew you weren’t fish food! I just knew it!’ Awkwardly the brothers hugged each other and then sat with knees touching in the confined space. Daniel exchanged greetings with the other man, whose name was Brendan O’Donovan.

  He was a large man with a balding head and several chins. ‘Tell us what happened to you, Danny boy.’

  Daniel told his tale succinctly. ‘Green told me that the Rhoades’ cabin was really smashed up. That they were all dead. Did you see it, Shaun? Did you see any sign of Rebekah?’ His voice shook. ‘Did she suffer, would you say?’

  Shaun’s throat worked and he avoided his brother’s eyes. ‘Are you meaning that Quaker that you’d taken a fancy to?’

  ‘Aye.’ Daniel’s mouth set in a hard line. ‘You’re knowing right enough who I’m talking about.’

  Shaun swirled the beer in his glass. ‘I’m knowing nothing about her. I was worrying myself enough about you without caring about her. If Green says she’s dead then she must be. Will you have a drink?’

  Slowly Daniel shook his head. ‘And rot my guts? Get me a coffee.’ He took some coins from his pocket. His brother sloped off. Daniel sat, staring at nothing in particular, his thoughts turned in on his own misery, until Brendan jogged his elbow.

  ‘A beauty was she, Danny? English?’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about her.’ Daniel’s eyes focussed on the American. ‘How are things with you? Did Shaun manage to save the goods?’

  ‘He got them to me. Although how much longer De Valera will be exchanging Irish Republican Bonds for dollars, I don’t know. Word’s out that he’s fallen out with the IRB and Devoy. And he didn’t do well politically in Washington, as you know. He’s not liked for whipping up enthusiasm for the interests of what many in the Senate see as a small, unimportant country on the other side of the ocean.’

  ‘You think there might be a chance of him returning to Ireland?’ Daniel frowned and gnawed at his inner lip. ‘God knows, from what I’ve seen of the mess everything’s in, they need him. It’s anarchy there, and something’s got to give. You can’t govern a country by bullying methods and the law of the gun. In the end it’s got to be done above board. I think it’s time de Valera went home.’ Daniel stopped abruptly as his brother placed his coffee in front of him. He took out his flask and poured Irish whiskey into the dark liquid. It felt good going down.

  ‘What’s this about going home?’ asked Shaun eagerly, seating himself. ‘I’m game if you are.’

  Daniel exchanged glances with his brother and forced a smile. ‘I’m all for going home. But I won’t be trying for a berth with Green’s again. I’ll get us on another ship. I’ve friends.’

  Brendan shook his head. ‘Well, boys, don’t go getting yourselves into trouble.’

  Daniel laughed harshly. ‘Perhaps this time I will.’ He gulped at the hot drink and started to feel the sharp edges of his grief change shape. The room had begun to spin slightly already. He had not eaten all day, but it did not seem to matter. He was thinking that at least talking about Ireland, he had found some outlet for his anger and sorrow. Hadn’t he spoken to Rebekah about Oisín and his love for his princess and country? Loss of love might break your heart but the land was always there. Rebekah had said it was sad for the princess but Oisín had gone back to Ireland – found faith, only to die.

  Life was bloody unfair! Just when you started to believe there was a chance of something different – something sweet, something good – it all went bloody wrong. Rebekah was dead and nothing seemed to matter any more.

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘I never thought I’d cry my eyes out at the sight of the Liver birds.’ Brigid wiped her damp face with the back of her hand as she hung over the ship’s rail.

  Rebekah smiled faintly. ‘What are they supposed to be?’

  ‘Our Pat says they’re cormorants. I wouldn’t know. I always thought they were mythical.’ Brigid switched her attention from the Liver building to the waiting crowd below,
and suddenly her face brightened and she waved madly. ‘Me mam’s down there, and our Kath and her kids!’ She put a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh Mary, mother of God, they’re all there! I think I’m going to howl again.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’ Rebekah straightened her shoulders. ‘Of course you’re pleased to see them, and I hope they spoil you soft.’ She moved away from the rail. ‘We’d better say goodbye now.’

  Brigid stared at her and said unsteadily, ‘Yer’ll be all right? You have me address?’

  ‘Yes!’ Rebekah hugged her awkwardly. ‘Now go to your family.’

  ‘They’ll probably be fed up with me by Monday and Mam will be brushing me out of the house, saying that hard work’s the cure for all ills … to go and get meself a job,’ said Brigid in a muffled voice against her shoulder. ‘What about that aunt of yours and his lordship?’

  ‘What about them?’

  Brigid held Rebekah off from her and said sternly, ‘Yer not to let them boss yer about.’

  ‘Fat chance,’ said Rebekah.

  ‘Hmm!’ Brigid frowned. ‘Yer not as tough as yer make out.’

  ‘I’m tougher than you think.’ She smiled. ‘Now are you going or not?’

  Brigid grinned. ‘I suppose I’d better go and show me face.’

  ‘And I’d better find his lordship.’

  ‘He’s got his eye on yer, so watch yerself.’

  Rebekah grimaced, ‘He’s got no hope.’

  ‘Good.’ Brigid gave her one last hug. ‘Keep yer chin up.’

  ‘And you. Now go or you’ll have me crying.’

  ‘It’d do yer good to cry.’

  ‘I’ve cried enough to fill an ocean. Go!’

  Brigid went but kept looking back and waving until out of sight. Rebekah knew that she was going to miss her terribly, but also that it was wrong to depend on her when she had her own family. She blinked back tears, tilted her chin and went in search of his lordship, Joshua Green, who was escorting her to her aunt’s house.

  ‘Thy father should have listened to me,’ said her aunt, standing in the doorway looking like a plump blackbird in mourning clothes.

  ‘So you said three times in your letter,’ murmured Rebekah.

  ‘It’s because I felt it so deeply.’ Her aunt dabbed at her eyes. ‘My poor Sarah. Men! They think they know it all.’

  ‘Some think they do,’ agreed Rebekah, remembering how she had struggled against blaming her father for what had happened all the way back across the Atlantic and the Irish Sea. ‘But Papa couldn’t have foreseen the other ship ramming us,’ she added. ‘And anyway it’s no use going on about it. Think about how now you’ve got to bear with me. I’m sure Hannah’s told you just what you’re letting yourself in for.’

  ‘Fellas,’ muttered Hannah, glaring at her.

  ‘Hundreds of them,’ said Rebekah drily, noting Joshua’s look. ‘I eat them for breakfast.’

  ‘Now thou art just being plain silly.’ Her aunt blushed.

  Hannah grunted. ‘Thee’ll rue the day, Miss Esther. Trouble, that’s what thee’s taking in.’

  ‘Mind your place!’ intervened Joshua in a sharp voice. ‘You have no right to speak like that about Miss Rhoades. She has been through a lot and needs sympathy and care.’

  The maid sniffed and without another word went back indoors.

  ‘I’ve had to speak to her severely myself the last week,’ murmured Esther, looking at nobody in particular as she picked up Rebekah’s bag. ‘Perhaps thou would like to come in, Mr Green, for a cup of tea?’

  ‘Some other time,’ he said brusquely. ‘Your niece is tired and I have to get home.’

  The blush which had just begun to fade in Esther’s cheeks surged up again. ‘Suit thyself. Rebekah shall we go inside?’

  Rebekah nodded but held out a hand to Joshua. ‘Thank you for looking after me. Could you let me know when everything is sorted out?’

  He inclined his fair head and from his pocket took several banknotes, pressing them into her palm and folding her fingers over them. He held her hand longer than was necessary. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ His voice was warm.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ she said politely. He hesitated, then kissed her cool cheek before striding off in the direction of West Derby Road.

  Rebekah quickly dismissed him from her thoughts, pocketed the money and followed her aunt up the dark lobby into the sitting room. Somehow she had to cope with the next few weeks. The minister who had taken the memorial service had told her to think no further than one day at a time. Good advice, when even the simplest tasks were made difficult due to her broken arm! She struggled to undo her coat and her aunt hurried to help her.

  Hannah stood watching them. ‘At least that broken arm will stop thy gallop.’ Her small dark eyes were unsympathetic. ‘That is, unless we’re gong to be having Mr High and Mighty Green calling every hour God sends.’

  ‘Hannah,’ protested Esther. ‘That’s uncalled for.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Aunt, we understand each other.’ Rebekah smiled at the maid. ‘Your condolences are really appreciated, Hannah.’

  ‘Hmmph!’ The maid turned her back on them and began to make tea.

  Esther stared at Rebekah and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, dear. But do sit down and tell me if we will be seeing much of Mr Green. He told me that he’s thy guardian. Is it true?’

  ‘It seems so.’ Rebekah prepared herself for another attack on her father.

  ‘It’s all wrong,’ cried her aunt, folding her arms across her bosom. ‘I’m thy next of kin! If my dear Sarah had had any say in the matter—’

  ‘If you go on about Papa again, I’ll scream,’ interrupted Rebekah in a firm voice. ‘And I can really scream if I want to. Ask Hannah! If I see a spider, I scream. If a man attacks me, I scream. Moaning and groaning, nagging and lectures, make me scream and want to carry on screaming. What I need is to be looked after, as Mr Green said.’ She sat in an armchair. ‘Am I allowed any of that food? I’m hungry.’

  Her aunt appeared dazed. ‘Of course thou art, dear. Help thyself.’

  ‘It’s difficult with my broken arm,’ she said softly.

  ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’ Her aunt placed a couple of sandwiches, a slab of gingerbread and two scones on a plate, putting it on Rebekah’s lap. ‘What thou needs, my dear, is God in thy life. I remember going through a time when there was a big scream inside me.’

  ‘What happened to it?’ said Rebekah, forcing herself to eat a sandwich. Brigid had told her that she had to build herself up, although she had little appetite. ‘Did you let it out or did you swallow it?’

  ‘I am a Quaker,’ Esther said proudly. ‘Due to meditation and prayer, it went. We’ll take thee to Hunter Street, Rebekah, and there thou wilt find consolation. Then perhaps thou might wish to help out at St Anne’s Centre?’

  ‘Hunter Street?’ Rebekah’s eyes lifted from contemplation of her plate. ‘That’s the Friends’ Meeting House?’

  Her aunt nodded, blue eyes fixed on her niece’s face. ‘Thy mam spoke of it?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t exist in their eyes, do I?’ said Rebekah, biting into a scone. ‘Mama went and did wrong, and was thrown out.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,’ said her aunt, going red again. ‘Besides – that’s in the past. Thou can start with a clean slate.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ Rebekah’s voice was emotionless.

  Her aunt seemed disconcerted and there was silence while she ate a scone. She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. ‘Perhaps thou would prefer going to the adult class in Breck Road?’ she suggested. ‘Thou could learn more about our ways there, and of the Bible.’

  ‘I know my Bible, Aunt Esther. Mama and Papa read it to me when I was young, and I also went to church. What I need at the moment is a bit of peace.’

  Her aunt took a quick sip of tea before saying, ‘Peace! Thou should have been at the Peace Conference of all Friends in August. Rufus Jones gave the lecture. He compared the c
onscience to a lantern. Emotions upset our judgment – but we must see the light from God.’

  ‘God gave us our emotions,’ countered Rebekah.

  Her aunt ignored her remark. ‘Thou must meet Ellen Gibbs who’s the same age as thee. She’s very keen on fighting for peace. She and her mother attend my sewing circle on Monday afternoons. I take it thou can sew?’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be sewing on Monday.’

  ‘We make garments for the poor but I presume from the only baggage thou hast, thou must be short of clothing. Perhaps thou can sew for thyself? I have some material. Thou wilt need some good combinations. It’s almost November and we can’t have fires in every room. Good thick wool will keep the draughts out and will see thee through more than one winter.’

  ‘I’ve silk underwear,’ murmured Rebekah, gazing down at her silk-stockinged legs and her small neat feet in the black crocodile skin boots with the tiny buttons up the side. ‘Mr Green had some brought into the nursing home for me to choose from.’

  ‘Silk! Mr Green!’ Her aunt’s brows shot up. ‘Thou wilt catch thy death of cold!’

  Hannah tutted. ‘Disgusting! I told thee what she was like with fellas, Miss Esther.’

  ‘My knickers were bought with my money,’ said Rebekah, flashing them both challenging looks. ‘Papa purchased shares in Mr Green’s shipping line. They’re worth something … and not everything was lost when the ship went down. There was time to recover some property from the ship’s safe. Apparently Papa had been thrifty all his life.’

  ‘He had?’ Her aunt looked startled but her expression soon changed to one of satisfaction. ‘That explains a lot!’

  ‘What does it explain?’

  ‘It’s in Mr Green’s interests to be nice to thee if he knows all this.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ said Rebekah, determined to behave as if she had already thought of that herself. ‘And it’s also in my interests to be nice to him if I want money to spend. Until I’m twenty-five he controls the purse strings – but he seems a reasonable man so far, and charitable. He was telling me about the Seamen’s Orphanage that he takes an interest in.’