The Leaving of Liverpool (6 page)

‘Best get inside then instead of standing here like refugees from Lewis’s window!’ Jack grinned, opening the door.

Phoebe-Ann didn’t take much notice of the actual ceremony. It was very dour and official. The room was dour too, she thought. Unadorned walls painted chocolate brown, the woodwork bottle green. Just a bare table with a large book on it, a few chairs and no carpet or rug on the floor. She sniffed. You’d think they would brighten the place up a bit. It looked like a funeral parlour or the Labour Exchange and the registrar looked positively grim. Poor Mam. At least they could have put a vase of flowers somewhere. It wasn’t like getting married. Not the way she’d envisaged a wedding. She’d have a proper wedding in a church full of flowers. A choir and bells. She’d have a gorgeous long, white satin dress and veil and arrive in a motor car. Everyone would comment on how beautiful she was, how grand an affair it was. She’d have a huge bouquet of roses and she’d throw it for Emily to catch . . .

‘Move yourself, Fee!’

Emily’s voice interrupted her dreams. ‘What?’

‘It’s all over. Can’t you keep your mind on one thing for more than five minutes! Go and give Mam a kiss!’

‘I don’t have to kiss
him
as well do I, Em?’ she hissed.

‘Not if you don’t want to. Just shake his hand like our Jimmy’s doing.’ Emily gave her sister a little push and watched as Phoebe-Ann hugged her mother and then held out her hand to Albert who was now officially their stepfather.

When it was her turn she kissed Lily on the cheek and hugged her, then, smiling, she surprised herself and Albert by giving him a quick hug before stepping back, her cheeks flushed.

‘I regret that I must interrupt the congratulations, but could you vacate the room, Mr Davies . . . Mrs Davies.’ The registrar tried to sound apologetic.

‘Doesn’t that sound strange? Mrs Davies,’ Phoebe-Ann said as they filed out and back into the bright sunshine.

‘Shall we go home then, Mrs Davies?’ Albert also found it a little strange but Lily smiled up at him.

‘I think we will.’ She slipped her arm through his.

‘There’s plenty of ale in lads, and some sherry for you . . . ladies.’

‘And ham sandwiches, pies and a cake,’ Lily added.

‘We’ve got to get back, Mam. I’m sorry. I promised Miss Olivia I’d spend longer on her hair as she’s going to the theatre tonight.’

‘Never mind, luv.’ Lily was a little disappointed.

‘Save me some. I’ll be home just after eight. They’re going at eight sharp. I heard the Master telling Edwin,’ Emily said.

‘I’ll come for a couple of hours too. If you want me to?’ Phoebe-Ann asked, beginning to regret that she had decided to live in. She had the feeling that she’d cut off her nose to spite her face, as the saying went. The evenings were dreary with only Cook and Kitty for company. Edwin had so many chores to do that he didn’t seem to have time to stop and chat and, when he did, she always felt he was laughing at her in a kind sort of way. Mrs Webster never sat with them. She had her own little parlour and liked to read.

‘Of course we want you to, Phoebe-Ann. It is your home, too. Should you ever feel you want to move,’ Albert offered, expansively.

She rewarded him with a bright smile but already her thoughts were on the dress Olivia was to wear and she began to ponder on what style she would dress her hair.

They parted company on the corner of Upper Canning Street after promising to return as soon as they could.

‘That wasn’t too bad now was it?’ Emily remarked.

‘I never said it would be bad!’

‘You weren’t exactly overjoyed! I thought that was the reason why you wouldn’t move in with us?’

‘I didn’t know him then, did I?’

‘None of us did. We still don’t. Not really. But you took umbrage and got all airyated.’

‘Oh, don’t start on that, Em.’

They walked on in silence. The sun was losing some of its burning heat but the pavements were dusty and little clouds of flies hovered around the horse droppings on the cobbles and the litter in the gutter. Phoebe-Ann wrinkled her nose with distaste.

‘We need a good heavy shower of rain to clear the air and that lot.’ She nodded towards the manure.

‘It would help to clear that lot, too!’ Emily remarked acidly.

‘What?’

‘Don’t look now but the Mona Street Mobsters are staggering along on the other side of the road! No need to get the
Echo
to find out when the
Mauretania
’s in dock, just wait for the brothers Malone to come staggering out of the nearest pub!’

Phoebe-Ann automatically turned her head and saw the three figures weaving their way from lamp-post to lamp-post. Another two were bringing up the rear, one holding the other up. Despite the fact that Emily had half whispered, half hissed her observations, Phoebe-Ann giggled, thinking how ridiculous they looked.

Everyone knew the brothers Malone or the Mona Street Mob as they were usually referred to. They lived in Mona Street with their ma, a ferocious old shawlie who wore long, black skirts covered by the voluminous black knitted shawl, a clay pipe always in her mouth. Ma Malone’s hairstyles were awesome; the fashions of fifty years ago with numerous braids and plaits and tortuously intricate curls. She was a real harridan who was known to beat her sons with a broom handle when the mood took her, big as they were. And they were all big. They were all stokers and trimmers on the
Mauretania
, part of the notoriously hard-working, hard-drinking, often unruly ‘black squads’ who sweated down in the engine room, shovelling tons of coal into the huge furnaces for hours at a time. They terrorized the entire street, not to say the neighbourhood, when they were home. There were many who heartily wished the
Mauretania
would go off on a world cruise, taking the brothers Malone with her and not come back for at least five years.

‘How they manage to stay out of Walton Jail I’ll never know! For God’s sake, Fee, don’t encourage them!’ Emily hissed for she’d seen one of them detach himself from a lamp-post and look towards them.

‘I’m not!’

‘Oh, God! He’s trying to cross over! Walk faster!’

‘I’m trying to! What’s he shouting?’

Emily grabbed her sister’s arm. ‘I don’t know and I don’t want to know!’

‘Stuck up pair of judies!’ The words were so slurred they were hardly distinguishable. ‘’Ere, girl! I’m talkin’ to yer!’

Phoebe-Ann glanced quickly across the road and deduced that he was too far gone with drink to move quickly, if at all, or negotiate his way safely across the road. ‘Who’re you gawpin’ at? On yer bike!’ she called.

Emily froze. Had Phoebe-Ann gone stark raving mad!

‘Who’re yer yellin’ at? I’ll put yer bleedin’ eye in a sling!’

‘Now see what you’ve done!’

Phoebe-Ann tossed her head defiantly. ‘I’m not frightened of the likes of him! Dead common the lot of them!’

‘You’re mad!’ Emily was aghast.

Phoebe-Ann laughed. ‘He’s so paralytic he can’t get across the road.’

‘Don’t bank on it!’ But Emily was relieved to see that Phoebe-Ann was right. One of the others was pulling his arm and they seemed to be arguing. She quickened her steps until they had safely turned the corner.

‘Don’t ever do that to me again! You’ll have my hair turning grey!’

Phoebe-Ann laughed again. ‘I bet he’s just a big, soft dope when he’s sober and he was quite good looking – for a Malone.’

‘He’s about as soft as a lump of pig iron! You don’t help to shift one thousand tons of coal a day and stay soft! Any decent tendencies he had, Ma Malone beat out of him years ago I shouldn’t wonder. You don’t give the likes of him a second glance, do you hear me?’

 

Emily related the events of the afternoon in detail to Cook and Kitty but Phoebe-Ann went straight upstairs. As she entered the bedroom she looked around in total disbelief. Olivia was sitting on the bed, her hair loose, a pale blue silk robe around her shoulders and the entire contents of the wardrobe, the tallboy and the chests of drawers was scattered heedlessly on the bed and the floor.

‘What’s the matter, miss?’

‘This is what’s the matter! I’ve nothing to wear!’ Olivia flung out both her arms.

‘But I thought you were going to wear one of your new dresses? The ones Miss Drinkwater had sent around this morning?’

Olivia pointed to a crumpled heap of apple green silk on the floor by the window. ‘That’s too tight! They must have measured me wrong! I couldn’t even bear to try that one!’ A trembling finger indicated another discarded garment. This one of lilac and white chiffon and satin.

‘But you had them fitted!’

‘And they still managed to get it all wrong! I’ve told Papa not to pay for them and to cancel our account! I knew I should have gone to Cripps! I can’t go! I just can’t go! Papa will have to go without me!’ Her voice had risen an octave and tears had sprung into her eyes.

Phoebe-Ann rushed to comfort her. ‘Of course you can! You’ve plenty of other dresses!’

‘I’ve worn them all before! Everyone who is important will be there. I can’t wear any of those old things, you stupid, stupid girl!’

Phoebe-Ann felt like smacking her face. Instead she composed her features in what she hoped was a look of tranquil authority. ‘I’m sure you’ve only worn that lovely ice-turquoise once and you know you look stunning in it! I’ll put your hair up and fasten the diamond clip in it and if you wear your mam’s necklace, you’ll outshine every woman there! You’ll just sparkle!’

Olivia sniffed. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘Of course! Just wait until I’ve finished with you, everyone will be green with envy!’

‘It is a lovely colour, isn’t it?’

Phoebe-Ann sighed. The battle was nearly won. ‘I’ll hang it in the bathroom while I draw your bath. The steam will soon have those few creases out.’ She picked up the dress. ‘Just look how well it drapes. You’ll look as though you’re floating, not walking.’

Olivia, good humour restored, smiled. ‘How did I ever manage without you for so long, Phoebe-Ann?’

Phoebe-Ann smiled back. ‘Everyone admired the afternoon dress, miss,’ she said, drawing Olivia’s attention away from the subject of evening gowns. Olivia Mercer could change her mind and her temper in a flash. She knew that from experience.

‘It always looked a mess on me. I don’t know why I bought it. It’s much too . . . ordinary.’

Phoebe-Ann didn’t answer. Her mind was already on the amount of time it would take her to hang up, fold and put away the clothes that Olivia had so carelessly discarded and all that after getting her ready, reassuring her, flattering her. She’d be lucky to get home tonight. Home. It was strange that suddenly she thought of Albert Davies’ house as home, but that’s where her family was now and where they were, that was home. She’d try to get back for a bit, even if it was just half an hour. Even if she had to let Emily go on ahead of her. Then she remembered the Malones and felt apprehensive. ‘Oh, don’t be so daft!’ she scolded herself. ‘They’ll all have passed out somewhere by now.’ Mona Street was across the other side of Faulkner Street, she didn’t need to go anywhere near it.

As she began to pick up the discarded finery, her thoughts turned back to the little altercation. The one who had shouted at them had been quite good looking in a dark, well-muscled sort of way and she wondered whether it was Jake Malone or his younger brother Seamus. Then she shrugged and turned her attention to the devastated room. Her mam would have given her a good hiding if she’d thrown everything she owned on the floor. But that was the difference between them. She had her mam. Olivia didn’t. And then there was the little matter of Mr Mercer’s wealth. She sighed again as she began to pick up discarded clothes.

 

In the time she’d been back, she’d only seen James Mercer a few times and each time he’d stared at her morosely. He’d remained silent when she’d spoken, as though he hadn’t heard her polite greetings. Emily sighed, thinking of how cheerful he’d been before the war.

There had been such a to-do over the proposed visit to the theatre, with Mr Mercer getting more and more annoyed as the minutes ticked by. Each one checked against his watch. He’d paced up and down the hall, looking very distinguished in his evening clothes, but redder in the face as Olivia failed to appear. The motor car had been brought to the front of the house and Edwin sat patiently waiting in the driving seat.

She’d been sent upstairs with a message. If Olivia wasn’t down in exactly three minutes he was going alone and that was final! She’d taken one look at Phoebe-Ann’s harassed expression and grimaced at her sister before announcing the ultimatum. It had worked, for Olivia knew her father meant what he said. Such utterances were usually preceded by, ‘You, miss, have gone your ninety nine and three quarters – you’ll not make the hundred!’ It was an odd saying, one of his idiosyncrasies, but she knew she’d pushed him to the limit of his patience.

As the door had slammed shut behind them, Phoebe-Ann had sunk down on the bottom stair, exhausted.

‘I’m worn out!’

‘Thank God she’s gone! I’ve just got to take Master James his coffee, then I’ll get my coat.’

‘I can’t see me getting home tonight! You should see what a mess she’s left up there! Every bloody dress she owns is on the floor and all the stockings and shoes and wraps! I’ll swing for her yet, so help me!’

Emily felt sorry for her. ‘Tell you what, you take the coffee and I’ll go and make a start upstairs.’

‘Oh, Em, would you?’

‘I said I would. Besides, I don’t feel up to making polite conversation with Master James. He ignores me. Just looks at me with that blank expression. Gives me the creeps!’

Phoebe-Ann got up and straightened her cap. ‘It’s such a shame, but the last twice when I’ve spoken to him he’s smiled.’

Emily shrugged. ‘Must be something I said then.’