Flowers on the Mersey

by June Francis

  ‘All right.’ She tried to sound enthusiastic. ‘That would be lovely.’

  Joshua arranged a time and soon afterwards left, saying he did not want to have to listen to a sermon from her aunt again on the folly of her father leaving a young girl in the charge of a bachelor.

  After he had gone Rebekah stood with Moggy clutched tightly in her arms, staring into the fire, thinking about Daniel, Pat and Joshua, and how she would not mention the job to her aunt yet. Then resumed her polishing.

  ‘I don’t know why yer have to go out with his lordship,’ said Brigid, frowning, as she and Rebekah left the Royal Infirmary in Pembroke Place.

  ‘Money and a job.’ Rebekah smiled. ‘Honestly, Brigid, I’d sooner go out with the Emperor of China! But Joshua holds the purse strings.’

  ‘He’s after yer. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.’

  ‘I hadn’t seen him for months,’ said Rebekah impatiently. ‘Talk sense.’

  ‘But that’s not his fault.’ Brigid tucked her hand in Rebekah’s arm as they crossed the road. ‘You’ve been gallivanting with our Pat. Does his lordship know about that?’

  ‘Why should I tell him? Your Pat’s intentions are perfectly dishonourable, as your Mam was relieved to hear tonight.’

  Brigid grinned. ‘If you’d said it like that she would have worried.’

  ‘I guessed she was going spare every time Pat came home and we went out.’

  ‘Well, she’s not going to be worrying now,’ said Brigid positively. ‘I told her that there was no need … that you’re still carrying a torch for Daniel.’

  Rebekah sighed. ‘If you know that, I don’t see how you can go on about his lordship, although I think my father had him in mind for me to marry. I feel bad about my father now. I wish we hadn’t been out of friends when he died.’

  Brigid squeezed her arm and her voice was brisk when she spoke. ‘There’s nothing you can do about that now. So let’s go for a walk in the park before it gets dark and forget our problems.’ Rebekah agreed and they went on their way.

  Despite what Rebekah had said to Brigid about the outing with Joshua, she began to look forward to it. She had never seen a Gilbert and Sullivan performance. Her aunt, though, was not pleased about her going.

  ‘I don’t know why thou hast to go out with the man.’ Esther agitatedly plied her needle through the hem of a plain brown skirt.

  ‘It’s having her hair cut – it’s given her brain fever,’ interpolated Hannah. Rebekah and her aunt stared at her. ‘Tis true,’ added the maid, a gleam in her eye. ‘Head feels cold, blood rushes to it to warm it.’

  ‘That would mean a good half of the women in the British Isles have brain fever then,’ said Rebekah, a smile in her voice.

  Her aunt sighed. ‘Let’s not get silly, Becky dear. Do consider. Thou’d be more inclined to stick to the straight and narrow if thou came to the meeting house instead of just enjoying thyself gallivanting here and there.’

  ‘I’ll go tomorrow,’ murmured Rebekah in an attempt to placate her, and swallowing her annoyance. First Brigid and now her aunt! Why couldn’t people just let her make her own decisions?

  Her aunt looked at her. ‘Thou means it?’

  She nodded. ‘Cross my heart.’

  Esther smiled but Hannah, who was clearing the table, grunted, ‘I’ll believe it when I sees it. All this dollying thyself up for a man. Thee’ll cum to a bad end.’

  ‘Didn’t you ever dolly yourself up, Hannah?’ enquired Rebekah, experiencing another flash of annoyance. She was not dollying herself up for a man but for herself. She smoothed the boat-shaped neck of the mauve georgette dress, and glanced at Hannah who had not replied. ‘Well? Didn’t you ever walk out with a young man in your day?’

  ‘I could have,’ said Hannah gruffly, staring down at the white starched tablecloth and brushing crumbs off it on to a plate. She flung them on the fire, then looked at Rebekah, a hard glint in her eyes. ‘But we’s had no muny and I had thems that relied on me. Thou knows nuthing about such things, Miss Fancy Pants. Going here, going there. Thee thinks thee has suffered. Thee knows nuthing about real suffering and what it is to do without!’

  ‘Hannah!’ Esther’s voice was sharp. ‘That’s enough! Miss Rebekah isn’t to blame for thy misfortunes.’

  ‘Aunt! It’s all right!’ Rebekah shrugged herself into her coat. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah, I shouldn’t have said what I did.’

  ‘No, thee shouldn’t.’ Hannah glared at her and went out of the room as the knocker sounded.

  ‘I really should get rid of her,’ said Esther, shaking her head and wincing as she got up. She rubbed a knee.

  ‘Don’t do it because of me,’ responded Rebekah swiftly, picking up her handbag and wondering where Hannah could go. ‘Better for us to suffer her than to inflict her on someone else.’ She kissed her aunt’s cheek, who followed her slowly up the lobby, gave a barely civil greeting to Joshua, and stood watching her get into the car before she turned and went back into the house.

  ‘Poor Aunt Esther,’ murmured Rebekah as they drove off.

  ‘Why do you call her poor?’ asked Joshua sharply. ‘She looked blue murder at me. I wonder if she realises I could take you away from her.’

  Startled, Rebekah looked at his nice-looking, clean shaven profile. He was wearing a navy lounge suit and oozed masculine power, ‘I don’t think the thought’s occurred to her.’ She paused, wondering why he had said what he did, and added in light tones, ‘When it does, she might just beg you to take me away. I’m not the easiest person to live with. At the moment she considers it her duty to care for me because I’m her only sister’s daughter.’

  ‘You want to keep reminding her of that,’ said Joshua in a pleasant voice. ‘She must have some money tucked away from when your grandfather died. You don’t want that prune-faced maid getting it all.’

  Rebekah’s hands tightened on her handbag. ‘Money’s useful but it’s not everything,’ she murmured.

  He glanced at her. ‘That’s a nice sentiment but it’s not true. If you hadn’t a penny you’d realise that there’s nothing lovely about being broke. Be nice to your aunt.’

  She looked out of the window, so that he would not see her expression. ‘I’m as nice as I can be. If I was any nicer she’d smell a rat.’

  ‘Not her. She’d believe her influence was having a good effect on you.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’ Her voice was non-committal and she changed the subject, asking where was Crane Hall.

  ‘Near the Bold Street end of Church Street. If you know the Lyceum Newsroom, it’s not far from there.’ He added good-humouredly: ‘I keep forgetting that you’re a foreigner. Your accent’s so faint.’

  ‘I’ve been mistaken for English in Dublin.’

  He flashed her a look. ‘Do you miss Ireland?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘I have a place there.’

  Rebekah swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat. ‘Your father bought Grandmama’s farm.’

  ‘You know about that?’ He sounded surprised.

  She wondered why he should be and how he would respond if she told him about her conversation with Daniel concerning him, but thought it wiser to say, ‘My father told me. I remember Grandmama always trying to build me up on buttermilk and porridge.’

  He frowned. ‘She was a fearsome woman. She made up for what your uncle lacked, so my brother said.’

  ‘I was fond of her.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t you be? Family.’

  She hesitated before saying, ‘You must miss your family. Your sister, your brother—’

  ‘Of course,’ he said in a voice that did not encourage further questions.

  They fell silent and did not speak again until they came to Crane Hall where Joshua tried to explain the plot of The Gondoliers as she attempted to read the programme. She was glad when the music began and she could give all her attention to the entanglements of the various lovers.

  When they came out
of the Hall she was humming beneath her breath ‘Take a Pair of Sparkling Eyes’.

  ‘You’ll have some supper?’ Joshua helped her into the car and she was conscious of the warmth of his fingers through the thin silk of her stockings when they brushed her leg as he moved her skirts out of the way of the door. She thought of Daniel and how the least touch of his hand could make her quiver.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ She shrank back against the cool leather seat. ‘And I’d better not be back late.’

  The light from a street lamp reflected in his unusual pale blue eyes. ‘You’re not frightened of me, are you, Rebekah?’ he surprised her by saying. ‘I know I’m a few years older than you.’

  ‘Frightened?’ Was she? If she was it was only a fear of being pressurised into doing what he wanted just to keep on the right side of him. She closed her eyes. ‘Why should I be? I’m just tired that’s all. I’m not used to all this excitement.’

  ‘I thought you had been having an exciting time lately.’ He straightened. ‘Your aunt said that you’ve been going out with some man for ages.’

  She stilled, wondering if – as her guardian – he could stop her seeing Pat. ‘It was a joke at first,’ she murmured, ‘Hannah has this thing about me and fellas so I pretended I was meeting someone.’

  ‘Your aunt says that someone has been seeing you home,’ he said emphatically.

  ‘Does she?’ She opened her eyes. ‘He’s Brigid’s brother. His mother insists he sees me safely to the doorstep.’

  ‘You don’t find him exciting?’

  She looked at him. ‘Haven’t I just explained?’

  He stared at her and said abruptly, ‘Did you find O’Neill exciting?’

  ‘What?’ Her heart gave a peculiar lurch.

  ‘You heard me, Rebekah.’ He vanished out of sight to crank the car, leaving her wondering why he had to mention Daniel right now. What was the point? He slid into the driving seat and drove away from the kerb. ‘Well?’ he murmured.

  ‘Well what?’ Her pulses were beating uncomfortably fast.

  ‘O’Neill? You were very concerned about him in New York.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’

  ‘Why? He didn’t do anything to you, did he?’

  Rebekah felt heat rising in her face. ‘Why are you talking like this?’ she whispered. ‘He’s dead.’

  His gaze was on the busy street and she thought that was why he did not answer immediately. ‘I believe he had a way with women. Irish charm, I suppose. You’d appeal to him. Young! Innocent! You’re lovely, you know. I bet he told you that.’

  Suddenly she experienced a deeper darkness than she had suffered since first hearing that Daniel was dead. ‘You’re trying to turn me against him – why?’ Even to her own ears she sounded bewildered.

  ‘Because I don’t want you wasting your thoughts on him,’ he muttered, his neck reddening. ‘I could tell you things—’

  ‘No!’ Her voice trembled. ‘Please take me home.’

  ‘I’m only thinking of you.’ The tone of his voice had changed almost to a caress. ‘If you can’t accept the truth you won’t get far in this life, my dear. You’re so trusting.’

  She stared at him and then away. ‘I loved Daniel but he’s dead. I accept that and don’t need to know what you want to tell me. Can we talk about something else? What about the job you mentioned?’

  For a moment she thought he was going to ignore her words then he shrugged. ‘You can start on Tuesday, seeing as it’s Whit this weekend.’ He told her where and what time, and after that did not speak but drummed the fingers of one hand on the steering wheel. She sensed he was still annoyed because she refused to listen to what he wanted to say about Daniel but she was determined not to revert to their previous conversation or to begin a new one.

  At last he broke the silence. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like some supper? I don’t like eating alone and it hasn’t been easy since Emma died.’

  Rebekah was uncertain whether he was attempting to elicit sympathy but she was in no mood to feel sorry for him. ‘I’m not hungry.’

  He sighed heavily. ‘What a pity. I was going to take you to the Oyster Rooms. You’d have liked oysters.’

  ‘I hate the thought of eating them.’

  ‘Do you hate me as well? Just because—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ she interrupted wearily. ‘Talk about something else. Ships! Or what about Andromeda – your good luck charm? Is she still languishing in the garden?’

  ‘I’ve had her repainted.’ His expression brightened. ‘That should please you.’

  ‘It does.’ She smiled. ‘I hope she does bring you luck. I reckon you could do with some.’

  ‘There’s always an element of luck in life. Look at the Samson. A few minutes either way could have made a tremendous difference. You wouldn’t be sitting next to me now.’

  ‘No.’ The word was muted.

  There was a silence but she could imagine his thoughts. You could have been with O’Neill. Or could you?

  He glanced at her. ‘Sailors are notoriously superstitious. I know because I’ve lived among them. I’ll take you to see Andromeda.’

  ‘Not now,’ she said, relieved that he had not mentioned Daniel but alarmed at the thought of going back to his house at this time of night.

  He patted her hand where it rested in her lap. ‘Forgive me, Rebekah, if I’ve upset you. It’s just that I have your welfare at heart.’

  ‘Apology accepted.’ She removed his hand. ‘But can I see Andromeda another day?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he said firmly. ‘Why don’t you come along to church? It’s time you got yourself known and involved in the community. There’s people worth your while getting to know. We could have dinner afterwards and—’

  ‘I told my aunt I’d go with her to the meeting house in the morning.’

  He scowled. ‘I really do think you should do what I say.’

  ‘I promised. Would you have me break a promise?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he said dourly. There was a short silence, ‘I suppose we could go to church in the evening and have supper afterwards?’

  She supposed that she should do something to please him and she was interested in seeing Andromeda. ‘OK.’

  ‘Good girl.’ He drew up outside her aunt’s house. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’ He leant towards her but she retreated.

  ‘Tomorrow.’ She gave him a sparkling smile from the other side of the gate and waved but did not stay to watch him drive away.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The church in Anfield was a beautiful building, but Rebekah was more conscious of its being High Anglican with its confession boxes, priest in fancy vestments, an incense-swinging choirboy and a highly decorated altar, than of its stonework. What would her parents have thought of it all? What would Aunt Esther think? The Quaker meeting house that they had attended was a plain brick building in a run-down part of the town off Byrom Street, not far from the notorious Scotland Road. There had been a scripture reading meeting half an hour before the meeting proper with no more than eighty people attending the main service, which concentrated on silent communion with God. Her aunt had told her that once numbers had run into the hundreds and the meeting house had been on the edge of town, but as Liverpool’s prosperity had grown, so had the population risen. Housing had spread into the surrounding countryside enveloping the villages of Walton, Kirkdale and Bootle. Many of their members had moved out of the city centre, and once smart districts of Liverpool had turned into slums housing the poorest of the poor. She had pointed out to Rebekah the area where Hannah had once lived and for the second time that weekend she had experienced a flicker of sympathy for the maid.

  Rebekah rose and went up the long aisle alone, Joshua having left her to her so-called prayers. At the door she exchanged a few words with the vicar and came out into a warm spring evening.

  ‘God in Heaven, fancy meeting you here!’

  Rebekah turned and was surprised to s
ee Edwina McIntyre with her father.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, feeling instantly guilty. ‘It’s my first time. There was quite a crowd, wasn’t there?’

  ‘Too many to know everyone,’ said Edwina briskly, clutching a large handbag. ‘You never did have that cup of tea with us.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Her expression was contrite. ‘I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Come back now,’ said Mr McIntyre eagerly, ‘I want to know what you think about the meeting between Sir James Craig and Mr de Valera?’

  She stared, barely able to believe what he was saying. Sir James Craig was Premier Elect of Ulster. ‘Is Mr de Valera back from America then? I haven’t been reading the papers.’

  Mr McIntyre nodded with obvious satisfaction. ‘Sir Edward Carson of the Ulster Unionist Party says that de Valera could do something to bring North and South together.’

  Before she could respond Joshua came up to them. ‘Rebekah, I was just coming to find you.’

  She touched his arm. ‘Joshua, this is Mr McIntyre and his daughter. They’re neighbours. Mr McIntyre’s just been telling me that President de Valera’s met with Sir James Craig. Perhaps the fighting will stop at last?’

  Joshua smiled but did not shake hands. ‘It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’ve got to drag Rebekah away but there’s someone I want her to meet.’ Before another word could be spoken he hurried her away.

  She turned on him. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said?’

  ‘About Ireland? Of course. I hope there will be peace. Then I can sell my place over there.’

  ‘Sell it?’ Rebekah stopped abruptly. ‘You mean – get rid of Grandmama’s farm?’

  ‘Not your grandma’s, Rebekah. Mine,’ he said with a smile. ‘And what’s the point of keeping hold of it now? Ireland will never be what it was in the days my father used to talk about. Now let’s forget the place. Liverpool’s your home.’

  She could have said more and asked who was this person she was supposed to be meeting, but he was talking about Andromeda as he led her across the road in the direction of the park, and she guessed that it had been a means to get her away from the McIntyres in a hurry.