A Liverpool Legacy

by Anne Baker

That done, she rang James’s office meaning to tell him Sylvie was upset and needed to start her holiday straight away, but there was no answer. She rang Miss Franklin to tell her about Sylvie, and it was she who told her James had gone home because he didn’t feel well. Then she set about working through the other drums of wild rose perfume and marking those that should be ready for use in another month or so.

  Later that afternoon, Nigel came into the lab alone. ‘I’m sorry about what happened this morning,’ he said, sounding calm and reasonable. ‘Is Sylvie all right?’

  Millie sighed. ‘No, I’m afraid she’s still very troubled over Pete’s death, and what she overheard Marcus say made matters worse. Much worse, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I know, Millie, I’m sorry.’

  She tried to explain why Sylvie felt so guilty about the part she’d played in Pete’s accident. ‘Valerie is looking after her. She’s going to take her back to Hafod on Saturday for a week’s rest.’

  ‘The accident must have been terrible for you too, terrible for everybody, but I’m afraid you upset Father, he’s had to go home to rest.’

  ‘We’re all upset,’ Millie said. ‘Marcus was extremely rude about me as well as Sylvie, and he raked up things from the past that Sylvie didn’t know about.’

  ‘I have apologised but I—’

  ‘I know that’s not your fault but the truth is we didn’t see much of your father at work while Pete was running things. He’d turn up once or twice a month when he felt like it, and he’s only coming in now to make sure you two take Pete’s place. He thinks he’s easing you in but he has no idea what goes on here and he’s giving you the wrong slant on things.’

  ‘I can see that.’ Nigel looked contrite. ‘You’ll have to make allowances, Millie. I’ve been in India for nine years. I’ve lost touch with everything.’

  Millie was relieved Nigel was trying to make peace. Years ago the family had always met up at Christmas and for birthdays. She could remember holidays when Marcus and Nigel had spent time with them at Hafod. Marcus had always been prickly while Nigel had got on better with Pete and his daughters, but really, she hadn’t known him well nine years ago.

  ‘It’s going to be you, me and Marcus who will be running this place in future,’ he said. ‘Father doesn’t have the energy and anyway, as he said, he wants to retire. I’d like to think we could do it without fighting like this.’

  Millie managed a wry smile. ‘So would I, I’m delighted to hear you say that. The staff must be beginning to think . . . Well, Marcus is getting their backs up. We’re going to have to get on together. We can’t waste our energy fighting.’

  ‘No, we’ll need all our push to run this firm. I know I’ve a lot to learn, and I probably know less about perfume than any other part of it.’

  ‘If you’ve got time now I could start showing you round. Uncle James spoke of getting a new fragrance out by Christmas. Come and take a sniff at some of these. I’ve got seven new fragrances started up, but they’ll need months if not years of work before we can use them. What do you think of this one?’

  He took a long sniff. ‘Yes, I like it. It’s a strong woody scent. Is it what Father was thinking of?’

  ‘Yes, it’s sandalwood. Try this one, it has an oriental scent, and this one is fruity.’

  ‘Mm, refreshing, it smells of citrus and blackcurrant. I like that too.’

  ‘It’s not difficult to find a fragrance that people like, but I often turn up problems that make it unusable.’

  ‘What sort of problems?’

  ‘When we put it in the soap we might find the scent fades too quickly. It could bring customers out in a rash, or it’s impossible to find a sustainable source of an essential ingredient. Sometimes it’s just plain too expensive.’

  ‘I see.’ His dark eyes smiled into hers and she decided he was quite a charmer, not like Marcus at all. ‘There’s more to perfumes than I thought.’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid there is.’

  ‘Can you explain the basics of what you do?’

  ‘Well, let’s go back to the strong woody scent that you liked.’

  ‘The sandalwood?’

  ‘Yes. I showed you the concentrate and I made that by mixing raw oils and essences. These have to be left for several weeks until they’ve blended and matured. Then before it can be used, I need to dilute the concentrate in alcohol to the required strength to scent the soaps and talcum powders. Then I leave it again for a further few weeks in these great copper containers to blend again. After that it needs a fixative to ensure the scent remains for as long as the tablet of soap is being used. There are many fixatives but the best are expensive.

  ‘My job is to make sufficient volume in lavender, wild rose and verbena to ensure there’s always enough ready to use to keep the factory working. I also produce the dyes to colour the white soap with faintest tinges of pink, lavender and honey-yellow to match the scents, and I have to ensure a uniform quality each time I do it.’

  Millie knew she was giving him more detail than he’d be able to take in but she went on showing him round her lab.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said at last. ‘It’ll take me years to understand all this. Look, Millie, we need to get to know each other too. Why don’t you and Sylvie come to my place for supper on Saturday night?’

  She was surprised but pleased. This was a complete turnround. ‘Valerie is taking Sylvie to Hafod on Saturday.’

  ‘Oh yes, so you said. Well, no reason why you can’t come by yourself. I’d like you to meet Clarissa, my wife. It’ll be a quiet meal, just the three of us.’

  ‘Thank you, I’d like that,’ Millie said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Millie was glad to go, the house felt empty without Sylvie, and it gave her less time to worry about her. Nigel’s house seemed not unlike hers, Victorian with large rooms. When she rang the front-door bell, he came to let her in. She’d thought him elegant in the office, but tonight he shone. He was wearing an immaculate white shirt, silk tie and smartly cut grey lounge suit that looked new.

  ‘You found the place all right?’ he asked as he took her coat.

  Removing her lacy apron, Clarissa came out of the kitchen to say hello and lead her into the lounge. She was very slim and ultra-sophisticated with her dark hair done up in a French pleat and a rather haughty expression on her handsome face. Her finery surpassed Nigel’s. She was wearing a blue silk two-piece, with a nipped-in waist and flared peplum over a generously full and long skirt, and she carried it on high heels with magnificent elegance.

  Millie couldn’t hold back her gasp of admiration. ‘My goodness, you do look grand,’ she said. She’d seen very few people actually wearing the New Look; people just didn’t have the clothing coupons to buy it. She recognised what it was from newspaper and magazine pictures.

  ‘We stocked up on clothes in India before we came home,’ Clarissa said disarmingly. ‘The local tailors there aren’t bad.’

  Pete hadn’t done much dressing up, he’d always worn pullovers when he was at home or visiting his family. Millie had washed and ironed her best summer dress for this occasion, but it was of the vaguely military style popular two years ago. It was of cotton and a rather more faded shade of blue than Clarissa’s. She had never felt more dowdy.

  She sat down and accepted a glass of dry sherry, trying to pull her skimpy skirt further down her legs. ‘You look very settled,’ she said, looking round the comfortable room and knowing they’d only recently moved in.

  ‘Heaven forbid,’ Clarissa said in indignant tones. ‘I do hope we don’t have to settle here. We have only the ground floor of this house and the neighbours upstairs come tramping through the hall at all times. It’s awful, but after the blitz there’s nothing much available.’

  ‘Father found this for us,’ Nigel said, ‘or we’d have had to push into his pl
ace alongside Marcus and Elvira. He knows an estate agent and it was as a favour we were allowed to rent it.’

  ‘Do you have somewhere decent to live, Millie?’ Clarissa asked.

  ‘Yes.’ It was Nigel who answered. ‘Uncle Peter took over Grandpa’s house when he died, so Millie does have comfort.’ There was no resentment in his voice.

  But Clarissa was complaining. ‘We feel very cramped here after the house we had in India, we really could do with more space. We’d like to start a family, but I couldn’t contemplate having a child here, it just isn’t suitable.’ She sighed. ‘Though really, we can’t put it off much longer.’ Millie knew they’d been married for four years.

  They did have a separate dining room and the supper table was very stylishly set with flowers, starched damask, sparkling silver and cut glass. Despite rationing, Clarissa managed to serve very good food.

  ‘I love cooking,’ she said. Tonight she produced duck with a raspberry sauce. ‘Oranges would go better with duck, but I couldn’t get any.’

  ‘I believe they are importing them again,’ Nigel said, ‘but they’re only available on the blue ration books for the under-fives.’

  ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous with raspberries, I’m enjoying it,’ Millie told her. ‘It’s a real treat.’ She knew ducks were not bred in large enough numbers to make rationing feasible but were available on the black market. They cost a small fortune.

  ‘Clarissa went to haute cuisine cookery classes,’ Nigel told her proudly. ‘It’s her hobby.’

  ‘Do you like cooking?’ she asked Millie.

  ‘I used to, Pete enjoyed meals like this. But once rationing started, our meals had to become simpler.’

  ‘I’m probably very lucky to have married a cook like Clarissa.’ Nigel smiled across the table at her.

  ‘Lucky tonight anyway, I’ve made a summer pudding for you,’ Clarissa’s hand nudged the small silver bell placed near her wine glass and made it tinkle. ‘Nigel,’ she asked, ‘what makes you keep putting this on the table?’

  He shrugged. ‘Habit, I suppose.’

  Clarissa laughed, and said to Millie, ‘He set the table for me tonight. Back home the bell was always set at my place so I could ring when we were ready for the next course. Here it’s pretty pointless.’ She got up to clear the plates and take them to the kitchen.

  ‘Clarissa was brought up in India,’ Nigel said. ‘She’s finding the lack of help in the house difficult.’

  ‘I’ll manage better when rationing finishes and we get a better house,’ Clarissa sighed as she returned with the pudding.

  Millie drove home thinking that although Nigel was showing no envy for her house, his wife certainly was. The evening had not eased her worries, it made her wonder if Nigel was good at hiding his true feelings and if he might be playing some deeper game.

  Valerie and Roger returned from Hafod the following weekend and brought Millie’s children home. They all looked tanned and well, even Sylvie. Millie had arranged to take her own annual holiday over the next two weeks so she could spend time with them.

  At Simon’s suggestion she’d arranged a few days’ camping in the Lake District which they stretched to a week because they hit a spell of good weather. Millie found the break from work restful and was glad to be able to give her full attention to her children. The boys talked all the time about their father, asking many times about exactly how the accident had happened, but she thought they were coping with it better than Sylvie.

  Simon was twelve now and would be returning to his prep school for his last year and was facing examinations to get into Liverpool College. He said, ‘I would quite like to be a day boy, Mum, and I think Kenny would too. We could get there on the bus.’ It was quite close.

  ‘Your father was a boarder and he wanted you to have that advantage.’

  ‘I’m not sure it is an advantage,’ he said, which made Millie think about it in a new light, but they were going to finish this school year as weekly boarders at Heathfield.

  Sylvie had pink cheeks and looked rested, her suntan made her more beautiful than ever. She’d seemed more her normal self until Millie talked about her returning to work as she’d already had two weeks’ holiday.

  ‘I don’t want to go back, Mum, not yet, please.’ She pulled a face. ‘You’ve still got another week. I don’t want to be at work on my own. Couldn’t I take another week with you and the boys?’

  That made Millie anxious, Sylvie used to enjoy her work, but she rang Miss Franklin who was supervising the typing pool to tell her Sylvie would be away for another week.

  During that week, Millie had drawn up a programme of visits to the seaside and the museums in Liverpool and Chester, but the weather turned wet, so mostly it was the museums. Simon had invited a school friend to stay with them so Millie had quite a busy time. Sylvie’s friend Connie had a birthday, and she was invited to her party on the Saturday night. Millie took the boys to the cinema to see Charlie Chaplin in Monsieur Verdoux and they all laughed till their sides ached.

  ‘I had a lovely time, Mum,’ Sylvie said the next day. ‘Connie’s brother Graham brought me home on the back of his scooter, it was quite exciting. He works for Mr Lancaster and he’s very nice.’

  Millie wished her friendship with him would develop. A boyfriend might be Sylvie’s salvation. She needed something to take her mind off her troubles.

  The following week, Simon went to stay with his school friend and Kenny went to stay with Helen because Millie and Sylvie had to go back to work. Millie hoped Sylvie would now settle back into her normal working life and for the first few days it seemed she would.

  Denis had kept everything in the laboratory functioning smoothly. He was showing a real interest in his work and proving reliable. She was pleased with him, and because he was doing more, it made her life easier.

  Over the weeks that followed, Millie kept telling herself things were manageable and she could cope. Valerie and Helen made sure that when she was at home her time was filled as pleasantly as possible with family activities.

  Uncle James came to the office only on odd occasions, but Marcus and Nigel were always trying to make changes to the way the staff worked, and when she asked him to explain what the advantages would be, Marcus would turn aggressive. Millie was aware that it was ruining the usual harmonious atmosphere, though the senior staff continued to come to the lab to chat and show their support.

  Since Andrew had confirmed that the profits were slowly increasing at that staff meeting, Millie felt they were becoming friends and he was on her side after all. From time to time she’d taken her lunchtime sandwiches to eat in his office to mull over work-related problems.

  Last week, he’d taken her to Parker’s Refreshment Rooms to have a hot meal and said he’d enjoyed it. But all the same, something of the stiffness between them remained. Today, he’d invited her to have another lunch at Parker’s, and when they’d eaten cottage pie and plum duff and the need to pay for it arrived, she’d said, ‘Let me settle it this time,’ and put out her hand to take the bill.

  ‘No,’ he’d said with such firm politeness that she knew he felt offended. She could see that Andrew was proud and believed the man should pay when he invited a woman out. But Millie knew to the penny what his salary was and that she had more. It was a delicate situation. He said little as they walked back to the office. They were going upstairs to the office and at the top would go their separate ways, but she didn’t want to part from him while this discomfort hung between them.

  ‘I enjoyed the meal,’ she said to him. ‘It was a lovely break to get out of the office.’ Behind them, other people were returning from their lunch break and they had to draw aside against the corridor wall out of the way. ‘I’d like to do it again. What about next week, say Friday?’

  ‘A week today?’ His eyes lit up, a smile was tugging at his l
ips. ‘I’d like that very much.’

  ‘But only on my terms, that we pay turn and turn about. Your way makes me feel I’m sponging on you. Agreed?’

  ‘Of course. Put like that, what else can I say?’ His smile broadened.

  ‘It’s better to know where we stand,’ she said and turned towards the lab. She liked Andrew, and now she no longer had Pete she felt she needed friends.

  In her twenties when she’d gone to college, Millie had made close friends with some of the girls on the same course, and they’d vowed to keep in touch. To start with, they’d met every few weeks to have a sandwich and a cup of tea at lunchtime, either in Parker’s or some other small café. But eventually most had found jobs in different towns and now only Lizzie Green remained in Liverpool.

  Millie continued to meet her occasionally. Lizzie had married and had had a son who was almost the same age as Simon. They’d spent more time together when they both had babies, but Lizzie had gone back to work when war was declared. Recently, she’d been having marriage problems and their meetings since Pete’s accident had not been such happy occasions because they’d each poured out their anguish to the other and that left Millie feeling low. Though she was full of sympathy and continued to meet Lizzie occasionally at lunchtime, she found Andrew, despite the occasional embarrassments, more congenial company.

  At mid-afternoon that same day, Millie was working with Denis when Sylvie, in torrents of tears again, came running through the lab to find her. Millie’s heart sank. ‘What’s the matter?’

  She ushered her to a chair near her desk and Denis asked, ‘Shall I make you some tea?’

  Millie nodded gratefully while Sylvie wailed, ‘It’s Marcus, I can’t stand him. He asked me to come and take dictation and when I told him Betty Jackson had been designated to work for him, he said he was trying to catch up and he’d already overloaded her with work. He was horrible.’ She was shaking with sobs. ‘He dictated letter after letter in great bursts he knew I’d never get down. I think he was doing it on purpose.’