by Lyn Andrews
Sophie tried to look interested but didn’t quite succeed.
Martha didn’t notice. ‘Only that Jake Harvey. His lot are as bad as the Richardses, father a drunk, brothers all in and out of jail. And that Jake is probably the worst of the lot. A real hard case, he is. It’s a living disgrace, that’s what it is. She’s been seen out on the town with him regularly, all dressed up to the nines in stuff that no doubt he’s paid for, or thieved more like.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Well, you never know, Martha, he might just take her off your Frank’s hands. If it’s serious, that Jake might want to marry her. She might well ask your Frank for a divorce. She wouldn’t care about having her name in all the papers and neither would Jake Harvey.’
‘He might be a thief, a blackguard and a jailbird but he’s not a fool, Lizzie. Who’d want to take her on? She’s shop soiled. Damaged goods. Nothing more than a flaming little tart!’ Martha retorted.
‘You never know, Martha. He’s certainly no angel himself so he might not care. They’d suit each other down to the ground,’ Lizzie replied sagely.
Sophie felt her heart quicken. If what Martha and Lizzie had just said was true then . . . then there just might be a ray of hope for Frank and herself.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
THE TIME SEEMED TO fly by for Sophie as she rushed to complete all her orders and the wedding outfits; she had little time to dwell on Frank and how, if at all, Nora’s new liaison would affect the marriage. As the weeks progressed Bella was becoming more and more excited at the thought of being a bridesmaid and of going to see her Granny Sarah.
It had been decided that Billy would go too, as Lizzie felt it would be courting disaster to leave him behind, but Katie had regretfully declined to accompany her parents. Even though Sophie had offered to pay Matt had said he wouldn’t feel at all comfortable about going after the way Maria had treated his brother and in the light of the bridegroom’s nationality being somewhat suspect. Ben for one didn’t believe a word that had been said about Hans Bonhoeffer. Lizzie hadn’t told Sophie that, she’d just said that Katie was grateful but had decided that it was going to cost her cousin quite enough without herself and Matt adding to the expense.
Arthur had purchased a new suit for the occasion and had undertaken the booking of the ferry and the writing of the letters of confirmation to the various bed-and-breakfast accommodations Sarah had found for everyone. Lizzie was delighted with the pale green and cream floral dress and matching jacket Sophie had made for her and had treated herself to a pale green hat, trimmed with cream artificial flowers. They had both been carefully packed in tissue paper and were now in the case. Jim’s suit had been cleaned and pressed; he had a new shirt and she’d got new trousers and a nice white shirt and a tie for Billy, who’d muttered that he hated being done up like a dog’s dinner and was glad none of his mates would be there to skit him. For that he’d received a clip around the ear from Lizzie, who had added that he should be grateful he was being included at all and that none of his “mates” were lucky enough to be going on what she termed as a “bit of a holiday”.
‘I’ll kill him with my own two hands if he makes a show of us, Sophie, I swear I will!’ Lizzie had declared darkly.
‘Oh, he’ll be fine. Bella will show him everything of interest and if it’s fine they can play on the beach,’ Sophie had reassured her aunt.
It was with mixed feelings of relief, apprehension and excitement that Jim and Arthur shepherded the little party to their seats on the Lady of Man that June morning. The early mist that hung over the waters of the Mersey gave promise of a fine, hot day and Sophie remarked that it would be a lovely crossing. They’d brought sandwiches with them and Bella and Billy had been promised that they could have their ‘picnic’ on deck, providing they behaved and didn’t run around and annoy everyone else.
‘Is there a real beach, Bella? Not just a mucky bit of sand like there is at New Brighton? Mam said she thought there was but she couldn’t remember,’ Billy asked as they sat on the deck, watching the Mersey estuary fade in the distance.
‘Of course there is, there are lots of beaches and there’s a harbour with fishing boats and the lifeboat and the causeway across to the Isle. And there’s a castle and a church there too.’
‘Does anyone live there, in the castle?’ Billy was beginning to feel that this was going to be quite an adventure and worth having to be ‘dressed up’ for.
‘No, it’s all falling down, but it’s a great place to explore.’ Bella too was looking forward to this visit.
‘Is it much further now?’ Billy had no concept of distance whatsoever and it already seemed ages since they’d left Liverpool.
‘There’s miles and miles to go yet, Billy,’ Bella replied, remembering how the crossing had seemed interminable to her when she’d first come across and how everything had seemed so strange and frightening.
‘Maybe we should ask Mam can we have the picnic now,’ Billy wondered.
Bella raised her huge blue eyes to the sky. Boys seemed to think of nothing else but food!
Everyone was up on deck as the ferry steamed slowly into Douglas harbour.
‘I have to say that this is going to be a much happier occasion than my last visit here turned out to be,’ Arthur remarked to Sophie.
‘And it’s thanks to Hetty that we’re all here today, bless her,’ Sophie replied as she took Bella’s hand.
Lizzie was hanging on firmly to Billy and Jim had the suitcase and was looking rather nostalgic. It was the first time in more years than he cared to remember that he’d been home, he thought, watching the hills behind Douglas drawing nearer. It was so long since he’d thought of this small island with its glens and mountains, quiet villages, tranquil harbours, steep cliffs and long stretches of sandy beach as ‘home’.
They had caught the bus and Billy had been fascinated by the horse-drawn trams on the promenade and then as they’d left the town behind he had gazed around in delight at the passing scenery. He’d never realised that there could be so much open space; there seemed to be miles and miles of fields with sheep and cows in them and there were very few buildings. There were no rows and rows of houses and pubs and shops as there were in Liverpool and when the bus finally came over the brow of the hill and Bella pointed out the fishing village below with its little offshore island complete with castle and church, he decided that this was definitely worth all the travelling and fuss.
It was a while before they were all settled in the various houses and cottages around the village but Sarah had insisted that Sophie at least have a cup of tea and that the wedding finery be unpacked and hung up before Maria dragged her off to view what was destined to be the tea shop.
They left Bella with her Granny Sarah and walked the short distance down to the quayside.
‘Oh, I remember this place. Didn’t they used to store herring barrels here?’ Sophie stood looking up at the old stone building. ‘I hope the place doesn’t still smell of fish,’ she laughed.
‘Of course it doesn’t! We’ve had all the windows and doors open. Hans has cleared out the rubbish and has given everywhere a coat of whitewash, just to make it look clean and bright. Then we’ll get it painted properly.’ Maria let them in and Sophie nodded as she could see the potential.
Maria was full of enthusiasm and ideas. ‘We’re going to have a seaside theme, we think it’s appropriate. White tablecloths, blue and white china, shells and things as ornaments and I think we could even drape a bit of fishing net across those beams up there. I’m going to go to the next auction and see what I can pick up in the way of old copper kettles and pans; they’d look nice as decorative pieces too.’
Sophie smiled at her. ‘You’ll do well, I know you will, and is Hans happy at not having to work here?’
‘Oh, he’s delighted and he can’t wait for the tractor to arrive. He’s going to be in great demand at harvest time.’
‘Have you decided on a name for it?’
‘We have. �
��Castle View Tea Rooms”.’
‘And everything is in hand for the big day?’
Maria nodded, her eyes shining. ‘I got a really lovely dress, Sophie, it’s—’
‘No! Don’t tell me, I want it to be a surprise, but you’d look lovely in a sack, Maria.’
‘And I wouldn’t even have minded that, Sophie. Just as long as Hans and I could be married. I’ll never ever forget how much we owe to Hetty and we’ve agreed that when we have our first baby it will be called either Henry or Henrietta,’ Maria said firmly.
Sophie put her arm around her. ‘She’d have liked that, Maria. I know she would.’
The morning of the wedding dawned sunny and warm. The thin mist that had covered the tops of the hills had been burned off by the sun; the sky was a cloudless azure blue and the sea a shade of deep aquamarine and rays of sunlight danced on the ripples and wavelets, making them sparkle.
‘Oh, it’s just perfect, Mam,’ Sophie said thankfully.
Sarah smiled and nodded. ‘This is one day when we can do without Manannán’s cloak but we’ll have to get a move on, we have to be in the chapel in just over an hour.’
‘I hope Aunty Lizzie is a bit more organised than she usually is,’ Sophie remarked as she took the long pale blue organdie dress with the wide white sash from its hanger and called Bella to come down quickly. Sophie’s own dress was of hyacinth-blue crêpe de Chine with cape sleeves and a full skirt and she had attached a short veil to a blue headband which she thought more appropriate than artificial flowers.
‘It suits you, Sophie,’ Sarah commented as she adjusted the coffee-coloured hat that matched her coffee and cream crêpe de Chine dress and jacket. Sophie had bought it in Val Smith’s, which she said was one of Liverpool’s best millinery shops. Sarah felt very smart and, for once in her life, truly elegant. Sophie had wonderful taste and a way with fabric and colours.
Both Bella and Sarah were ready when Jim, Lizzie and Billy arrived, followed a few minutes later by Arthur, who looked very smart indeed in his new suit and new bowler hat.
‘Is she ready?’ Lizzie asked, thinking that she, Sarah and Sophie looked like society ladies instead of the working-class women they were and it was all thanks to Sophie’s talents.
‘She was just fixing her veil when I came down,’ Sophie informed them. ‘She looks absolutely gorgeous, doesn’t she, Mam?’
Sarah nodded, a lump in her throat. Oh, Maria had always been considered one of the prettiest girls in Peel but today, well, she did indeed look gorgeous.
Lizzie exclaimed out loud as Maria came down the stairs, thinking that never in a million years could her poor Katie look as beautiful. Maria was slim and petite and the dress was perfect. It was very plain, made of white duchesse satin that seemed to have a sheen to it. As tradition demanded it had a high neck with a little stand-up collar edged with lace and the same lace bordered the cuffs of the long tight sleeves. At the back it spread into a fishtail-shaped train attached to the dress with a large bow. Maria’s long dark hair fell in loose curls and her face was framed by clouds of tulle held in place with a band of white satin embroidered with silver bugle beads.
Sophie passed her the small bouquet of summer flowers and trailing green smilax. ‘You’ll be the loveliest bride Peel has ever seen.’
‘Just as long as Hans thinks so,’ Maria said, smiling a little shyly.
It wasn’t far to the little chapel where both Sophie and Sarah had been married and so the wedding party walked, to be admired and even clapped by everyone they passed, locals and holidaymakers alike. Lizzie thought it was all so much better, more “personal” than going in carriages or cars, so she remarked to Sarah.
‘You’d have a bit of a job to get a carriage or a car down some of these lanes,’ Sarah replied, feeling very proud and pleased that Maria was marrying the man she loved, that they were both starting out in business and had the security of a few hundred pounds in the bank.
When Maria entered the chapel and Hans turned towards her there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this was the happiest day of both their lives. Both their smiles were radiant as Maria handed her bouquet to Sophie and Hans took her hand in his and murmured, ‘I love you, my beautiful Maria.’
He was a good-looking lad, Lizzie thought. You had to admit that. Tall and slim, his blond hair lightened by the sun and his skin tanned by both sun and wind. He looked much better than the last time she’d seen him at Hetty Foster’s birthday tea. Today he was wearing a smart charcoal-grey suit, a sprig of heather from the hillside in his buttonhole. They looked so much in love and had conquered so many obstacles to be together that it was like a fairy tale; it brought tears to your eyes. She fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief as the service began.
‘Mam, will it take long? Bella said there’s going to be great things to eat afterwards. That Mrs Sayle sent down a huge piece of ham and I’m starving already,’ Billy whispered loudly, tugging at Lizzie’s skirt. He’d be glad when the ‘serious’ bit was over and the holiday could really begin. He could take off this soppy shirt and the much-hated tie. The beach looked great and there were so many things to explore.
‘Shut up and stop making a show of me!’ Lizzie hissed, raising her eyes to the chapel roof and hoping that no one had heard.
Bella looked up at her mother who was trying hard to suppress a grin.
‘Boys!’ Sophie whispered and Bella smiled too. Everyone would certainly enjoy themselves today.
Chapter Thirty
NORA HAD HEARD THAT Lizzie and her family had gone off to a wedding. That niece of hers – the one who looked like Vivien Leigh – was marrying some foreigner over on the Isle of Man. She presumed that that Sophie had gone too. Hadn’t she done well for herself, she thought spitefully. Conning some daft old woman into leaving her that big house and a small fortune, or so she’d heard. Well, she certainly wouldn’t want to know Frank Ryan now. Not now that she’d come up in the world and had money. It would serve him right.
She applied another coat of scarlet lipstick and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was bleached by a professional hairdresser now and she’d let it grow and wore it in the long pageboy style which half covered the left side of her face like Veronica Lake, the film star. She had ‘come up in the world’ herself – a bit. She had more clothes and jewellery and perfume now than she could afford to buy with the pittance of an allotment Frank left her, thanks to Jake Harvey.
She frowned, pursing her lips. She was still young and attractive and all she wanted out of life was a good time and a bit of excitement. Jake gave her that, certainly, but he didn’t own her, she thought. Oh, no, she was far too wise to get caught like that now. That Maria Kinnin must be mad, tying herself down to one man for life and working her fingers to the bone to keep him happy, she’d soon lose her looks that way. Nora Ryan wasn’t going down that road, thank you very much. What had she ever got out of marriage? Nothing that she could see. She’d had some bloody stupid ideas when she’d been young and had been desperate to marry Frank Ryan; she’d even lied through her teeth to get him. She’d thought she was in love then, she never looked at anyone else; she’d been sure that the future held only happiness. She’d very soon learned it didn’t and now she was glad Frank spent so much time at sea. And what was ‘love’ anyway? Most men were only interested in one thing and it wasn’t ‘love and romance’. She knew Frank wouldn’t divorce her and she didn’t particularly care, things were going along quite nicely as they were. Anyway, while he was still married to her he couldn’t marry Sophie Teare. Not that she’d want him now she had money.
She wasn’t seeing Jake tonight, he was going somewhere ‘important’, which meant that he and his ‘associates’, as he called his mates, were up to no good again, but she didn’t ask questions. She knew better than to do that. If he’d wanted her to know, he’d have told her, but she hoped that there might be something at the end of tonight’s escapade for her. Both her mam and da were out – in the pub as usual �
�� and so Harry Thomas was calling here. She’d met him a couple of weeks ago at a dance ( Jake had been doing something ‘important’ that night, too) and he was gorgeous, there was no other word for it. The image of Clark Gable in Gone With the Wind and such nice manners and ways too. Of course she wasn’t stupid enough to believe everything he said; he was a born flatterer – with looks like that he was bound to be. But it still felt good to be told she was the equal of any Hollywood star.
She’d tidied the room up a bit and was wearing her newest peach satin camiknickers, slip and matching bra under her cerise cotton dress. Harry had said he’d bring a bottle of gin and she had a small bottle of Rose’s Lime Juice. Gin and lime was so much more ‘sophisticated’ than beer, Harry had told her. She was looking forward to an evening in with him; he was bound to have had a great deal of experience with women.
They had a couple of drinks and chatted amiably about the latest films and she was looking forward to the minute when he would take her in his arms. She smiled archly at him.
‘Harry, are we going ter spend all night talking about what films we’d like ter see . . . ?’ She began to undo the buttons that ran down the front of her dress.
He smiled back and put down his glass. She was quite attractive and very seductive although she seemed oblivious to the untidy, dirty room and its smell, which wasn’t masked by the overpowering perfume she wore. Still, he could put up with that for a couple of hours.
‘Of course not, Nora. I was just being polite.’ He stood up and drew her to her feet.
‘Yer don’t have to be “polite” with me, Harry,’ she said as he took her in his arms and began to kiss her passionately. This was much better, she thought, feeling a little light-headed but excited.
They had moved to the bed and things had progressed. Nora’s dress lay in a crumpled heap on the floor along with her slip and bra and Harry was pouring them another drink when there came the sound of the back door being thrown open.
