Flowers on the Mersey

by June Francis

  ‘Thank you.’ Rebekah did not like saying that she had never touched alcohol before.

  A man was standing on the rag rug before the glowing fire. He was good-looking with wide-set brown eyes and very white teeth. Rebekah remembered Brigid’s brother Pat. ‘It’ll warm the cockles of yer heart,’ he said. ‘Bridie, have yer got the cups ready?’

  ‘I got them ready, Uncle Pat.’ Veronica came dancing into the kitchen from the scullery where she had vanished immediately on entering the house. She was followed by Kath, a ginger-haired woman, who nodded in Rebekah’s direction and murmured what she took to be some kind of welcome. There was a subdued air about her. Brigid had said that her husband had died last year as a result of wounds inflicted during the war.

  Pat poured the steaming liquid into the cups standing on the white tablecloth. ‘Lots of water in that drop I’ve given the kids, Ma. A toast and then we’ll sit down and eat. You’ve never lived, Miss Rhoades, till you’ve tasted Ma’s spare ribs and cabbage.’

  ‘Call me Becky,’ she said, warming her hands on the cup.

  ‘Becky it is then.’ He chinked his cup with hers and smiled into her eyes. ‘Drink up! I hope you’ll be having lots more birthdays.’ She drank up, determined to try and enjoy herself.

  It was a birthday like no other that Rebekah had ever had. Nothing exciting but she felt part of a real family. Although, if she had known that she would have to join in taking a turn to entertain the rest of the gathering, she might have had second thoughts about accepting Brigid’s invitation. But not knowing, and the drink, and the fact that Jimmy could do a fair imitation of Charlie Chaplin and Veronica recite a skipping song ‘Eeper-Weeper Chimney Sweeper’ about a man who shoved a wife up a chimney, made her feel that she had no choice but to sing a rather shaky ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’ – the only song she could think of on the spur of the moment and one which Old Mary had once sung.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Pat, who played the piano.

  Rebekah flushed. ‘I’m not as good as Kath. She sings lovely.’

  ‘Mam could have been on the stage,’ stated Veronica proudly.

  ‘No,’ protested Kath. ‘I only came second in a talent competition, and I couldn’t have done that if it hadn’t been for our Bridie, who pushed me into it.’

  ‘Never mind that now,’ said Pat, holding up the jug. ‘Who’s for another drink and a game of snap?’

  Jimmy held out his cup but was refused. ‘You’ve had enough me lad. Go and get the cards.’

  The boy went and they settled round the table. It was soon obvious to Rebekah that the game was played so that the children could win. By the end of the evening her heart had warmed to the whole family and she was sorry when it was over.

  She walked home arm in arm with Brigid on one side of her and Pat on the other. All the way he bellowed at the top of his voice, ‘Swanee, how I love you! How I love you! My dear old Swanee!’ It did not seem to matter that it was December and freezing cold. She suspected that they were all slightly drunk but did not care. It took the edge off her grief.

  When they reached Aunt Esther’s house she thought of asking them in but before she could voice the words, they both said they would have to be off home. ‘See you New Year’s Eve,’ said Pat, tickling her under the chin. ‘We’ll have some fun then.’

  ‘I’ll see yer on Monday,’ said Brigid, hugging her. ‘I’m working all weekend. There’s a dinner party on.’

  They both waved and left her standing at the gate.

  The week before Christmas passed swifter than Rebekah had hoped. There were sad moments. Shopping in town she was conscious of the constant trickle of people laying flowers in front of the new Cenotaph in Lime Street for their dead loved ones.

  She bought The Boy’s Own for Jimmy and a doll for Veronica. There was a tin of Mackintosh’s toffee de luxe for Ma Maisie and perfume from Luce’s perfumery in Ranelagh Street for Brigid. A scarf for Kath, cigarettes for Pat, and several sets of the best woollen combinations for Aunt Esther. She did not dare to forget Hannah and bought her one set of the thickest, itchiest unmentionables.

  In the Liverpool Echo it was stated that a verdict of accidental death had been passed on Mrs Emma Richards. Rebekah was relieved. She ordered flowers to be sent and remembered to buy Joshua a present just in case he called. He came when she was out and left her a silk scarf.

  Christmas was quiet and Rebekah was glad when it was over. Ireland’s Yuletide had not been so peaceful. A constable in plain clothes had been set on outside the Gaiety Theatre in Dublin, and the Hibernian Bank at Drogheda had been robbed of thirty-six thousand pounds on Christmas Eve. Rebekah was glad that she was out of it all, and vowed to stop reading the newspaper, as well as deciding to look forward to the January sales. She would allow having money to go to her head.

  New Year’s Eve started quietly but her aunt was not pleased when at nine o’clock in the evening Rebekah started getting ready to go out with Brigid and her brother. ‘If thou art not in by midnight, I’ll lock thee out,’ threatened Esther.

  ‘But I’m twenty now – and midnight is when the fun starts,’ insisted Rebekah, with her shoulder wedged against the front door as she pulled on her gloves. She was not really worried because she had had a copy of the front door key made. ‘Don’t be a spoilsport, Auntie,’ she said in a coaxing voice. ‘There’s lots of Scots in Liverpool and first footing is popular, as you should know.’ She straightened. ‘You need all the good luck in this life that you can get.’

  ‘Superstition!’ said Esther, a worried frown puckering her plump face. ‘Thy grandfather would turn over in his grave! What would thy mother think? Thou art supposed to be in mourning! That frock thou art wearing – it’s green.’

  ‘Green for grief, some people say, Auntie dear,’ retorted Rebekah, her eyes shining with sudden tears.

  ‘Oh, Rebekah!’ exclaimed her aunt in a despairing voice. ‘I hope thou doesn’t come to grief.’

  ‘I won’t.’ She suddenly felt sorry for her aunt and kissed her cheek before hurrying down the path.

  Ma Maisie’s kitchen and parlour were crowded and the party had spilt out into the street. People were dancing to the tinkling ragtime piano music of Scott Joplin. Rebekah had watched for a while but then Pat had partnered her. He was a showy dancer and because of that she had to concentrate on her own steps – steps taught her by Daniel. Then he handed her over to a shipmate at ten minutes to midnight, saying, ‘I’ve got to first foot. I’m the only dark-haired one in the family.’

  The blast of hooters and whistles from the ships on the river, and the clanging of church bells, heralded in the New Year. Pat reappeared, carrying a slice of bread, a piece of coal, a lump of salt and a shiny sixpence, which he handed to his mother standing just inside the front door. Then he kissed every woman and girl at the party, including Rebekah whose head felt airy despite the aching regret gripping her. Glasses and cups were filled again and toasts drunk.

  ‘You’re still looking bright-eyed,’ said Brigid, yawning and coming to lean against the railings next to her. ‘I thought you’d be ready for yer bed. It hasn’t been too much for yer, then?’

  Rebekah rested her head on her friend’s shoulder. ‘It’s better than sitting at home, moping. But I suppose I’ll have to make a move.’

  ‘Stay here,’ said Brigid. ‘Doss down with Mam and me. It’ll be a squash, but snug as a bug in a rug.’

  Reluctantly Rebekah shook her head. ‘Aunt Esther just might be waiting up.’

  ‘I’ll get our Pat.’

  ‘No.’ Rebekah seized her arm. ‘He must be tired.’

  ‘Aren’t we all? I’ve work early this morning. Nineteen twenty-one! Another year to get through.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘Our Pat won’t mind, and I wouldn’t trust yer with anyone else. At least he’s not lying down drunk.’

  Rebekah resigned herself to being seen home by Pat, not so certain as Brigid that he could be trusted. She was proved right when he pulled her into a doorway half
way along Breck Road, holding her so that her arms were wedged against her sides and kissing her in a far from brotherly fashion. She stamped on his feet twice before he released her. They looked at one another. His teeth gleamed in the dark. ‘So it’s true yer still carrying a torch for Daniel O’Neill then?’

  ‘Is that what Brigid told you?’ she parried.

  ‘Who else?’ He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘You women! Yer not like our Bridie now, and believing you’re a one man woman?’

  ‘I could be. Besides, it’s only three months.’

  He smiled. ‘Early days. Yer’ll get over him. In the meantime there’s plenty of other pebbles on the beach I could pick, yer know.’

  ‘Pick one up then!’

  ‘I could do that.’

  ‘You’re handsome enough.’

  He grinned. ‘That’s right enough. But if yer wanting the truth I’m not after getting meself shackled and there’s too many girls since the war who are desperate – if yer peck them on the cheek they think it’s a proposal of marriage. I’ve no mind to settle down just yet. And I’m not wanting the kind of girls who hang around Lime Street because yer never know what yer going to catch.’

  Rebekah knew from Brigid about the women of the streets and did not know whether to be shocked because he had mentioned them. ‘Should you be talking to me like this?’

  ‘Why not?’ He took her hand. ‘Yer a woman of sense. I’ve heard yer talking. You’ve got a head on yer shoulders.’

  ‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’ She was amused.

  ‘You got it first time.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘We could have a good time when I dock.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ she said, considering it might be worth experimenting to see if she could feel anything for another man. ‘Besides, what about Brigid? I go out with her.’

  ‘I’ve friends,’ he said softly. ‘Yer both need cheering up. Laugh all your troubles away, that’s what I say.’

  ‘Smile, though your heart is aching?’

  ‘That’s the ticket.’ He pulled her hand through his crooked arm and she did not desist. They went on their way, with Pat insisting on arranging to meet when next he docked.

  Although Brigid was dubious at first about the whole idea of going out with a shipmate of her brother’s, her own philosophy was similar to his: Pack up your troubles and smile.

  Rebekah’s life took on a different colour. She was often out and her aunt moaned that she never saw her – said that she was becoming flighty. Joshua called, but Rebekah was not there to see him. Her aunt complained on his behalf even though she was still annoyed that he was Rebekah’s guardian. She shrugged the complaints aside because, like keeping Pat at arm’s length, it was good practice at hardening her heart against other people – that way you didn’t get hurt so easily.

  If sometimes she wanted to cry when waiting for Pat’s ship, because this would have been the kind of life she would have had to get used to with Daniel, she never spoke of it to anyone. She was too busy pretending that she was coping with life.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘So I’ve caught you in at last,’ said Joshua, one foot jamming the door open. ‘About time too! It’s been months!’

  ‘Time does fly,’ murmured Rebekah, opening the door wider. ‘You never did take me out for my birthday.’

  ‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘Your aunt was saying you’ve been burning the candle at both ends.’

  ‘Aunt Esther would.’ She deliberately put an amused note in her voice. ‘Did you want me for anything in particular or just to tell me off?’

  ‘Something in particular!’ The lines about his mouth and nose deepened. ‘Can I come in or are you going to keep me standing on the doorstep?’

  ‘Come in by all means.’ She led the way into the sitting room. ‘Aunt Esther’s at one of her meetings and Hannah’s out, so you’ll be able to scold me in peace.’ She plumped up a cushion and removed the tin of Mansion polish and a duster from the arm of a chair, putting them on a shelf.

  He took off his trilby. ‘You’re expecting me to scold you?’

  ‘I knew you’d catch up with me sooner or later,’ She waved him to a chair but remained standing herself. ‘I suppose it’s about money?’

  Joshua’s eyes narrowed. ‘There’s something different about you. You’ve changed.’

  She shrugged peach cotton-clad shoulders. ‘I’ve had to grow up quickly over the last few months. Come to terms with life.’

  He nodded. ‘That’s a pretty frock you’re wearing.’

  Rebekah raised finely drawn eyebrows. ‘It’s going to be the soft soap first, is it? Thank you, kind sir.’

  He smiled. ‘You are pretty and I don’t begrudge you buying new clothes. But little as I like to say this, Rebekah, you can’t carry on the way you have been. The letter you sent me two days ago requesting an advance on your allowance I can’t let you have it. What are you doing with your money?’

  ‘I gave some away.’

  ‘What?’

  The corners of her mouth lifted. ‘Don’t look so shocked, Mr Green. I can give my own money away, can’t I?’

  He had been in the act of sitting down but straightened up again. ‘No, you can’t! I do have a say in the matter. Who did you give it to?’

  She hesitated. ‘A good cause.’

  He stared at her and Moggy, brushing past the fire irons, made their clatter sound loud in the silence. ‘What good cause?’

  Rebekah sighed. ‘Brigid’s mother took ill unexpectedly and had to have an operation. If Brigid had had the compensation money, it would have paid for it. I thought it only fair that—’

  He made an exasperated sound. ‘She talked you into it, I suppose? Made you feel guilty!’

  Rebekah fired up. ‘No, she didn’t! If she’d known it was my money she wouldn’t have taken it. I told her that it was the compensation. The operation was serious and it’s still dicey whether her mother will pull through.’

  ‘Even so—’

  ‘Even so nothing!’ She slammed her hand down on the mantelshelf, her expression mutinous. ‘What’s the use of having money if you can’t help your friends?’

  ‘You won’t have any money to help yourself if you don’t stop spending it,’ he said stiffly. ‘It doesn’t grow on trees, you know.’

  She brushed his words aside. ‘You care about those orphans of yours, don’t you? Surely you understand—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said impatiently, looking down at the carpet. His head lifted. ‘But you’re too soft-hearted, my dear. That’s why your father made me your guardian. I’m going to have to be firm for your own sake. If you want any money you’ll have to apply to me in person – no letters – and I’ll want to know exactly what you’re spending it on.’

  ‘What?’ She was filled with dismay. ‘I’m not a child!’

  ‘Don’t I know it.’ His glance flicked over her body.

  She had seen that look often in Pat’s eyes but so far had managed to keep him under control, his kisses doing little for her. ‘Well then?’ she murmured. ‘Can’t you trust me to act like an adult?’

  ‘I’d like to,’ he said softly. ‘But you are still a comparative stranger to Liverpool, and if your aunt can’t keep a proper watch on you, then I’ll have to do so.’

  ‘I’ve already decided that I’ll spend less,’ she insisted. ‘I’m really quite sensible. You shouldn’t take any notice of what Aunt Esther tells you.’

  ‘I’d expect her to see things differently so I don’t take everything she says to heart.’ He took a cheroot case from his pocket. ‘I presume that you haven’t found a job yet?’

  ‘No.’ Rebekah was not going to admit that she had not bothered looking for a few weeks. Instead she had been spending a fair amount of time at Brigid’s, looking after the children while their mother was at work.

  ‘Perhaps I can help you with a job.’ Joshua lit up. ‘Sit down, Rebekah, and let’s talk.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m in need o
f a drink. Would you like one?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Rebekah made a pot of tea and placed on a plate some jam tarts that she had baked. After she had poured the tea, she murmured, ‘Now tell me about this job.’

  He patted the arm of his chair. ‘Come and sit here.’

  ‘I’m quite comfortable here, thank you,’ she said.

  Joshua shrugged. ‘It’s a very worthwhile job but there’s not much money in it.’

  ‘Aunt Esther hardly takes a penny from me so the money isn’t my main concern. Although—’

  ‘If your aunt is supporting you, that’s good.’ He looked pleased.

  Rebekah grimaced. ‘Let me finish. She has threatened several times that if I don’t pull my socks up—’

  ‘I can’t see her being other than pleased with you if you take on this job. It’s to do with the Seamen’s Orphanage.’

  ‘That’s in Orphan Drive on the other side of the park.’ She leant forward eagerly. ‘Not too far. Good.’

  He held up a hand. ‘Wait until I’ve finished. You wouldn’t be working at the Orphanage. The job I’m talking about involves visiting the widows and children of men who lost their lives at sea. You can find out what financial help is needed so the children can remain at home.’

  She nodded her head slowly. ‘I’d like to help. As long as they don’t look upon me as a snooper.’

  ‘You’re too young and pretty for anyone to see you in such a light.’

  Rebekah avoided looking at him. It seemed Brigid, and her father, had been right and his lordship did fancy her, but she would not let that influence her decision. ‘When do I start?’

  ‘I’ll have to find out.’ He sipped his tea. ‘Remember I was going to take you to see The Gondoliers at Crane Hall? Well, it’s being performed once again. We could have supper afterwards if you’d like to come? I could let you know then.’