Beyond a Misty Shore

by Lyn Andrews

  Sophie was startled to see her aunt again so soon. ‘Aunty Lizzie, is something wrong?’ she asked as she ushered her in. Arthur was upstairs unpacking and Bella had gone up to the playroom to make sure her family of dolls was all right, for she’d had to leave them behind.

  ‘I think you’d better sit down, luv,’ Lizzie urged.

  Sophie paled visibly. ‘Frank? Is . . . is it Frank?’

  ‘No, luv, but it does affect him.’ Briefly Lizzie relayed the details of Nora’s death and Sophie’s eyes widened with shock.

  ‘Oh, Aunty Lizzie, that’s . . . terrible!’ she gasped. ‘I suppose there’s some that would say she had it coming, two-timing a feller like that Jake Harvey, but I’m not one of them. She didn’t deserve to be murdered.’

  Sophie nodded, feeling a surge of pity for Nora although she hadn’t liked her. ‘That poor unhappy girl. I . . . I feel so sorry for her, it’s horrible, just horrible.’

  Lizzie leaned across and took her hand. ‘Harrison’s have sent a message to Frank and Martha’s written and . . . and well, you do realise what this means, Sophie? Now she’s . . . dead, he’s a free man.’

  Sophie nodded slowly but her eyes were full of tears of pity for Nora Ryan. ‘But never in a million years would he have wanted it to end like this, Aunty Lizzie. He had no time for her but he would never have harmed her like that . . . and he had more cause than . . . than Jake Harvey.’

  ‘I know, Sophie, and that feller will dance at the end of a rope for what he’s done, but when everything is . . . over, at least you and Frank will have a future together.’

  Sophie should have been delighted that Frank was now free but she just couldn’t think like that. The circumstances were too tragic.

  ‘Will you write to him now, Sophie? He won’t be home for another three weeks, Martha says,’ Lizzie asked gently.

  ‘I . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘Just to offer your condolences?’

  ‘What could I say, Aunty Lizzie? He didn’t love her, he won’t miss her, and he hated even being in the same house as her.’

  ‘He won’t be home when she’s buried,’ Lizzie informed her.

  Sophie shook her head. ‘I think it will be best if I wait until he’s home. There are some things it’s better to talk about face to face, rather than try to put in a letter.’

  ‘Well, maybe you’re right, luv. I’ll leave it up to you. I’ll get back now, I haven’t even unpacked yet and our Billy’s going to be a right handful when he hears that Robbie Ryan saw Jake Harvey running away and has given a statement to the police.’

  Sophie saw her out and after she closed the front door she leaned against it, wondering how Frank was feeling now. She couldn’t write him a letter full of the usual platitudes, they just weren’t appropriate in this instance. They would be lies. What was true, though, was how shocked and very sorry she was that Nora had met such a terrible fate.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  FRANK HAD BEEN VERY surprised when Captain Fletcher had sent for him and as he knocked on the wardroom door he’d begun to feel uneasy. As far as he knew he’d done nothing to merit this summons.

  ‘You sent for me, sir,’ he said respectfully, removing his cap.

  The older man nodded, looking grave. It was never easy being the bearer of bad news and this was just about as bad as it could get. ‘I’ve had a wireless message from company headquarters in Liverpool, Ryan.’ He picked up a single sheet of paper. ‘I think you’d better sit down.’

  Frank felt his stomach turn over. His mam? His dad? Not Sophie, please God, not Sophie! he thought.

  ‘It’s concerning your wife. Mrs Nora Ryan. I’m not in possession of all the facts, but . . . but I’m very sorry to have to tell you that she . . . she has been found dead. She’d been murdered.’ He paused, wondering if the lad was going to pass out. He’d gone deathly pale. ‘If it’s any consolation to you, they’ve got the culprit and he’s been charged.’ He paused again. ‘As we’re on our return voyage it won’t be feasible to try to transfer you to another ship until we reach Las Palmas, but then if you feel . . .’

  Frank shook his head. He was still trying to take it in. Questions hurtled into mind but he didn’t voice them. He couldn’t. Slowly and a little unsteadily he stood up. ‘Thank you, sir, if you don’t mind . . .’

  Captain Fletcher also got to his feet. ‘Of course. You’re excused duties for the rest of the day, Ryan. Go and find the bar steward and ask him for a tot of something, tell him I sent you. Is there anything else I can do? Anyone who needs to be contacted?’

  Again Frank shook his head and Captain Fletcher escorted him to the door. It was a bad business, this, he thought. A very bad business indeed. Never in all his years at sea had he ever had to impart such news. Death, yes, but not violent death – not in peacetime.

  Frank made his way across the deck, automatically avoiding the winches and their cables, and stood gripping the rail, staring out across the vast expanse of flat blue ocean. Nora was dead! Someone had killed her! Who? Why? When? Where? How? The questions swirled around in his mind. What about his mam, did she know? And . . . and Sophie . . . He closed his eyes, beginning to tremble with shock. After a few minutes he decided he would go down and get himself a drink, maybe then he could try and take it in, try to make some sense of it.

  Nora Ryan’s funeral wasn’t the small, quiet affair Martha had surmised it would be. The case had attracted so much media attention that many people who had never even known Nora had turned up and there was a piece in the Echo the following evening about it.

  Few of the neighbours had attended but Lizzie had decided that they couldn’t ignore it totally so she’d collected for a communal wreath and had written ‘Rest in Peace, Nora, from the residents of Harebell Street’, on the card.

  Lizzie also heard that for once in his life Bertie Richards had remained sober, at least until later that evening, and that Nellie had been almost dignified. She’d been more smartly turned out than she’d ever been before, probably because she’d realised that the people from the newspapers would be there, so Mary Seddon had remarked. Two of Nora’s brothers had also attended, although they hadn’t stayed around long afterwards, but not the eldest, who was still in jail.

  Sophie had come to see Lizzie the day before the funeral. ‘I haven’t sent a card to Mrs Richards. I discussed it with Arthur and he said there was no need.’

  ‘He’s right. You only lived here for a few months and she caused you enough trouble when she was alive, don’t forget,’ Lizzie had agreed.

  ‘But I feel as if I should do something, Aunty Lizzie. I think Frank would want me to seeing as he’s not here.’

  ‘You can give me a few shillings towards the wreath; that will be enough, Sophie.’

  ‘I didn’t know whether to send a wreath from Maria and me?’ Sophie had been thinking aloud.

  ‘Definitely not, luv,’ Lizzie had said firmly. ‘If Nellie saw your name on it, well, it would be like a red rag to a bull. She’d cause a big song and dance and then you’d have those reporter fellers knocking on your door. Leave things be. Pat Ryan has organised a wreath from Frank, just as a token. No “Beloved wife of” or anything like that. Just “RIP Frank”.’

  ‘Has . . . has Martha heard anything from him?’ Sophie had asked.

  Lizzie had shaken her head. ‘Frank won’t get her letter until they arrive in the Canaries. I suppose he’ll reply but it’s more likely he’ll be home before his letter. It’s not like the mail going to America. That goes on Cunard’s fast Royal Mail ships or even by plane these days. I don’t know who brings it from places like that Las . . . Las something or other.’

  ‘I wrote and told Maria but I haven’t heard from her yet,’ Sophie had informed her aunt.

  ‘I suppose she’s got more important things on her mind, Sophie, and she never had much liking for Nora either.’

  Sophie had nodded. She still found it hard to believe that Nora was dead.

  ‘Martha’s heard
that Jake Harvey’s trial is set for the beginning of next month. At the Crown Court in St George’s Hall,’ Lizzie had announced. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’

  ‘Will Frank be home?’ Sophie had asked, thinking it would be all over the newspapers again.

  Lizzie had nodded grimly. ‘Pat is going to see if he can persuade him to do one of those short trips they do in between the long ones. Of course now she’s . . . gone . . . he won’t have to stay at Nellie’s any more; he can go home to Martha’s. He won’t need to go back to sea at all but Pat feels it would be best if he wasn’t here.’

  Sophie had nodded her agreement. She didn’t want Frank to have to suffer all the questions, the pitying glances, the whispering. He had enough to contend with.

  It had taken a few days for it to really sink in, Frank thought as they finally came alongside in Las Palmas and the shipping agent came aboard with, amongst other things, the mail. The sun beat down on his head and shoulders and the collar of his white tropical shirt felt uncomfortable as he stood watching the activity on the dockside. He had his duties, helping to supervise the unloading of cargo, and he was grateful he had something to occupy his mind.

  The rest of the crew had been good when they’d heard, he mused. Sympathetic but not overdoing the condolences or asking too many questions. The two older men he shared a cabin with knew how things had stood between him and Nora and had advised him to try to put it all behind him.

  He’d worked out that she must have been up to her usual tricks but this time had taken up with someone who wasn’t prepared to tolerate her goings on. If that were the case, he still thought she hadn’t deserved to die for it. He’d have to face all that when he got home: her parents, the trial of whoever had killed her; but at least he wouldn’t be there for the funeral and no one could cast aspersions or criticise him for it. It was beyond his control. He’d also realised that now at last he was free of her. Free to go back to work at his trade and live in his mam’s house – to start with. Free to look with hope to the future, free to love and marry Sophie.

  His mother’s letter was waiting for him when he at last went below decks and he took it to the tiny room that was used by the crew as a lounge. Everyone who was not on watch was getting ready to go ashore. He opened it and scanned the lines, shaking his head. My God, Jake Harvey of all people! He was an out-and-out gangster; she’d certainly been scraping the barrel. But she hadn’t been content with him and everything he’d showered on her and he’d caught her with this other fellow, so his mam wrote. Well, she had indeed picked a real bad one there and she’d paid dearly for her mistake. It had been his own brother, Robbie, who’d seen Harvey running away and the police had more than enough evidence to convict him. He’d hang. Frank sighed heavily; at least justice would be done. He supposed Nellie and Bertie could take some consolation from that.

  Martha continued that thankfully Sophie had been away when it had happened. Maria had been married to the young Austrian lad and they’d all gone over to the island for the wedding. She added that when he finally docked in Liverpool he was to come straight home, he wasn’t to go and see Nellie and she didn’t think it would be wise to go to see Sophie straight away either. These days there seemed to be newspapermen everywhere and she didn’t want either himself or Sophie hounded by them. Things were quite bad enough.

  He folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Nora had never really been happy or content, he thought, she had never seemed to know exactly what she wanted from life but it certainly hadn’t been himself. If he was honest he had to admit that she hadn’t stood much of a chance in life, not with parents like that. Still, he hoped that now at least she was at peace, wherever she was.

  He got up and walked slowly across to the desk that was set against the far bulkhead. There was always writing paper and envelopes in one of the drawers. He’d write to both his mam and Sophie. They were in port for almost a week so he could give them to the agent and hopefully the letters would arrive in Liverpool before he did. It wasn’t often they got bad weather at this time of year but they had to cross the Bay of Biscay so it wasn’t automatically guaranteed. As he sat down and placed a sheet of paper with the company emblem and ‘MV City of Exeter’ embossed on the top he felt his spirits lift for the first time since he’d been summoned by Captain Fletcher. He was going home and it was to a better life than he’d envisaged this time last week.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  ARTHUR HAD PICKED UP the post that morning but on seeing the foreign stamp he realised that it was from Frank and had just handed the letter to Sophie and excused himself.

  Her hands shook a little as she opened it. She had wondered if he would write.

  My dearest Sophie,

  I hope you receive this letter before I get home as there are certain things I want you to know. Mam’s letter has just arrived giving me all the details of Nora’s tragic death. I had been informed earlier, of course, and so I have had a little time to try to come to terms with it. It was a terrible shock but now I know who she was mixed up with I can understand how it happened. I have to admit that my emotions are still very mixed and rather confused. Shock, revulsion, regret and pity, of course. I never wished her harm, you know that, despite everything. But I also feel a great sense of relief knowing that I am no longer tied to a woman I never loved and actively disliked. Relief that I can look forward to the future and happiness. I want nothing more than to see you, Sophie, the minute I get home, but Mam has advised against it. She says the newspapermen are everywhere as obviously the case has given rise to great public interest. I don’t know if she is exaggerating – she often does – but I don’t want you to become involved in all the publicity Jake Harvey’s trial is bound to generate. I don’t want you to be upset, hurt or humiliated in any way, so it might be as well if I leave coming to see you for a while, although it will be very hard to stay away. I wanted to explain this to you so you wouldn’t think I don’t love you or care about your feelings and reputation. You know, Sophie, how much I love you. Now that I’m free, I am counting the days until I can ask you to marry me.

  With all my love,

  Frank

  She folded it and held it to her. She longed to be on the dockside waiting when his ship tied up but she knew it wasn’t possible. How would it look if she was seen running into the arms of a man whose wife had just been murdered and who was hardly cold in her grave? The vilification that would be heaped on both Frank and her would be unberable. He was right, it would be better if they didn’t see each other for a while. As he’d said, it would be hard, very hard, when they had waited so long for this day. There had been times when she’d almost given up hope of that ever happening but now in the not-too-distant future it would, she must be patient for just a while longer, she told herself.

  He hadn’t said when he hoped to be home and she wondered had that been deliberate? She wondered had he also written to his mother? Very probably. Had he mentioned it to Martha? She got to her feet. She would go and see his mother and find out; it would help a little if she at least knew when he would be back in Liverpool.

  As she went into the hall Arthur was coming down the stairs. He looked at her anxiously.

  ‘Is everything all right, Sophie? I take it the letter was from Frank? How is he?’

  ‘Yes, it was. He’s shocked, of course, but he isn’t glad she’s dead. He feels nothing but pity for her, but he feels relieved too.’

  Arthur nodded. ‘That’s only to be expected, Sophie. Does he say when he’ll be home?’

  ‘No, but I think he’s written to his mother too so I’m going to see her. It will help if I at least know . . .’

  He smiled at her. ‘It will all blow over, Sophie. In a few weeks, when the trial is over, people will forget all about it. There will be some other sensation in the press that will grab their attention and in six months’ time no one will even remember who Nora Ryan or Jake Harvey were. The general public has a very short memory, trust me. I know that from ex
perience.’

  ‘Of course you do, Arthur,’ she replied sadly.

  Martha had wondered if Sophie would come to see her. She’d had a letter in the post that morning and Frank had said he’d written to Sophie too.

  She greeted her with a smile. ‘Come in, Sophie. At least things have quietened down a bit in the street now the funeral is over.’

  ‘I got a letter from Frank in the post this morning and I wondered if he’d written to you as well.’

  Martha put the kettle on. ‘He did. He seems to be taking it well enough; I suppose he’s had time to get over the shock now.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘He said he doesn’t think it wise if he comes to see me straight away and I think he’s right. It wouldn’t look . . . right. Not so soon after . . .’

  ‘No, luv, I don’t suppose it would.’

  ‘Did he say when he does expect to be home? It’s just that if I had some idea . . . ?’

  ‘At the beginning of next week, that’s in three days’ time, unless they are held up by bad weather in the Bay of Biscay. Pat seems to think they might be – he’s always listening to the shipping forecast – though I can’t see that myself.’

  Sophie pondered this as she sipped her tea. ‘It will be hard for him, being just across the road to where . . .’

  Martha nodded firmly. ‘We’ll try to make it as easy as possible for him. I’ll go over and collect any of his things that are still at Nellie’s. There will be no need for him to go there again. He’ll not need to have anything more to do with them. He never got on with them anyway and hated living there. And I’m not having Nellie accusing him of neglecting Nora or anything else either. He was a saint to put up with her and them for all these years.’ Martha refilled her cup. ‘And Pat and I are going to persuade him not to sign off straight away with Harrison’s but to do the next short trip over to Hamburg and Rotterdam, that way he won’t be here for Jake Harvey’s trial.’