Flowers on the Mersey (18 page)

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.

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 see 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.

‘She’s lovely,’ said Rebekah, stroking the green tail of the mermaid figurehead.

‘She looks a lot better than she did,’ agreed Joshua, hovering behind Rebekah. ‘Let’s hope she works some magic. I could do with it.’

She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Has something else gone wrong?’

‘You may well ask,’ he said, his mouth tightening. ‘The ship repairers are on strike over wages and the Stewards’ Union are threatening to come out over a pay cut.’

‘Does that mean your ships won’t be sailing?’

‘It means that no liners will be sailing if the stewards refuse to sign on this week. Although, if they signed their articles on Friday they’re bound to go. Unless the union can be persuaded there’s no money available, we’re in trouble.’

‘It must be hard on the men having their wages cut.’ She moved away from him and down the garden.

‘Life’s hard for all of us.’

‘It’s harder for some. We have it easy in comparison.’ She stood on tiptoe to inhale lilac blossom.

He broke off some for her. ‘My family worked for what I’ve got.’

‘They had more luck than others, perhaps?’ She eased the lilac stem through a button hole.

‘It’s not all luck,’ he said shortly. ‘And the men should be glad to have jobs when times are hard.’

Rebekah frowned, ‘I’m sure they are glad. But after all, they are only asking for what’s theirs. How much is this pay cut?’

‘Something like eight shillings a week.’

‘Eight shillings! That’s a lot for a man with a family to feed!’

‘It’s happening all over the country.’ He scowled. ‘You don’t have to glare at me like that, Rebekah! There’s troublemakers stirring up the men and it’s not only in shipping. It’s the miners and the railwaymen. Nobody seems to be content with what they’ve got anymore.’

Times are changing in England just as they are in Ireland,’ she retorted. ‘The working classes no longer believe what the so-called upper classes tell them about their place in life. The war saw to that when it killed and maimed thousands of men! And for what?’

He seemed about to blurt something out but instead compressed his lips. After several seconds his expression relaxed and he placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. ‘You’re a woman and can’t begin to understand these matters.
But you’re more of a fighting Irish colleen than I credited. It’s a wonder you’re not over there battling against the so-called president of the Dáil in Dublin. A schoolteacher for a President, I ask you! What can he know about governing a country?’

‘He knows more about Ireland than Lloyd George,’ murmured Rebekah, concealing her impatience. ‘There’s nothing wrong with its being a republic if that’s what her people want.’

His smile faded and his eyes glittered. ‘I suppose it was O’Neill who filled your head with such nonsense? Your father wouldn’t have liked your supporting terrorists.’

She pulled away from him, her anger barely under control. ‘Not all those who want an independent Ireland are terrorists! Lots of honest decent people want it too! And they want to keep the ties with Britain strong. When were you last in Ireland that you’re such an authority on the subject?’

For a moment she thought he was going to strike her and drew back, watching him struggle with his emotions. At last he said in a tight voice, ‘You’re right, of course. I haven’t been to Ireland for a long time. At most I’ve spent two years there and I did meet honest, decent people. Your grandmother was such a one.’

She recognised the olive branch. ‘I wish I’d known her better.’ She sighed. ‘Just as I wish I’d known my mother’s mother. I kept the doll Grandmama
Rhoades gave me for years – in memory of her – but it went down with the
Samson
.’

Joshua put his arm around her. ‘We’ll get you another.’

She forced herself not to stiffen and gave him a look. ‘I’m too old for dolls. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same.’ She hesitated. ‘There is something you can do for me, though.’

‘Tell me.’ He pressed his lips against her left eyebrow.

She wanted to move away but realised that would not improve her chances of getting what she wanted. ‘The ship that’s replacing the
Samson
– you’ll change its name, won’t you?’ He nodded. ‘Could you change it to the
Sarah Jane?
It was my mother’s dream and I’d like to see it come true.’

‘You don’t know what you’re asking,’ he said bluntly. ‘I’d be breaking with family tradition. All our ships are named for biblical heroes.’

‘Sarah’s biblical.’ Determinedly, she put her hand through his arm and said in wheedling tones, ‘Please, Joshua.’

He stared down at her. ‘I’ll have to think about it. How about coming out with me tomorrow? We could go for a spin in the country.’

‘I can’t. I’m meeting Brigid.’

‘Don’t go.’ He squeezed her hand against his side. ‘We could discuss your idea.’

‘I can’t let Brigid down.’

‘Oh, come on, Rebekah!’ he exclaimed impatiently. ‘You’re going to have to cut that connection sooner or later.’

‘Am I?’ Apprehension tightened her stomach muscles.

‘Dammit, of course you are! And better sooner than later.’

‘Better sooner than later, you say?’ Her brow furrowed.

‘Yes. You can’t move in two different worlds,’ he muttered, and kissed her with a passion that took her completely by surprise.

Early on Monday morning Rebekah gave a threepenny bit to one of the boys who played in the road, to take a note to Brigid. She leant on the gate in the sunshine, not wanting to go back inside the house to face her aunt’s long face because she was going out with Joshua. As she waited for him to come, her feelings were mixed.

His desire to blacken Daniel in her eyes upset her, and yet she thought she understood it. After all, she had told him that she loved Daniel so that went some way to explaining it. Yet she felt there was something more. She frowned and shook her head and passed on to the next aspect of his character which she did not like: his attitude towards the men who worked on his ships. She had seen for herself how hard they worked, and surely so must he. He
ought to realise they deserved what they earned. Neither did she like his insistence that she keep the right side of her aunt for mercenary reasons. Although she had no intention of allowing Hannah to get her hands on what she considered was rightly her own inheritance. But back to Joshua … She did not like his wanting her to cut her connections with Brigid. It was something she just could not do.

Yet he had his good points. There was his interest in the Seamen’s Orphanage and the fact that he had given her the money she had asked for last week. He had found her a job and taken note of what she said about Andromeda. And he did have some kind of physical attraction for her, although she had resisted him when he had kissed her yesterday evening. He had apologised, saying that she had gone to his head. She pulled a face at the very idea.

There was the hooting of a horn and a motor car drew into the side of the road. Rebekah opened the gate, went over to the car and got in. She noted that Hannah was watching through the net curtains and waved to her. Her eyes gleamed as the maid’s face quickly disappeared.

Some twenty minutes or so later they were rolling along the cobbled Walton Road with the hood of the Oxford Morris down. ‘I thought I’d take you north of Liverpool,’ said Joshua. ‘It’s nice countryside and coming this way I can show you where part of my family originally came from.’ He waved a hand in an
easterly direction. ‘See that old mill? It’s mentioned in a diary of my great-great-grandfather’s. Springfield Mill, it was called. He passed it when he came to Liverpool seeking his fortune.’

Rebekah tightened the scarf to secure her new cream straw hat against the wind and gazed at the decapitated mill. In another age it would have been picturesque with its sails turning but with them missing it had a forlorn air about it. ‘I take it he made his fortune?’

‘He became a deckhand, but worked hard and was eventually the captain of a slave ship. He just about managed to make some money before slavery was abolished.’

‘Did you know that the Quakers were involved in slavery at one time?’ murmured Rebekah. ‘I discovered that yesterday. And that they had dummy guns on some of their ships to trick privateers into believing that they were armed.’

‘Never heard of that. But getting back to my family – even though slaving finished, there were still plenty of other cargoes to carry across the Atlantic. Earthenware, steel, glass, machinery, fish hooks, chemicals – you name it, we shipped it.’

Rebekah listened as he continued to talk about ships and cargoes, interspersing it with information about various landmarks. They passed a church. ‘That’s St Mary’s. This is Walton-on-the-Hill where my great-great-grandfather came from. There’s been
a church here for over a thousand years. Well before Liverpool was more than a dot on the map. Now this place is a backwater, while Liverpool’s thriving and a good place to live.’ He smiled at her and drove on, humming.

He was full of smiles today, thought Rebekah, obviously enjoying driving and being away from his office. She had to admit to feeling some excitement herself, finding the speed of the car exhilarating. It was fun bowling along the road faster than anything else on it. She watched Joshua’s hands as they moved from steering wheel to different levers and wished she could have a go.

Soon there was little else on the road. Housing became sparse and after Joshua pointed out Aintree Racecourse where the Grand National was run, it almost petered out altogether. As they travelled along country lanes where the hedgerows were white with hawthorn blossom and fields showed cowslips and daisies, he said, ‘My grandmother on my father’s side was Anglo-Irish, you know. Her family bred horses. That’s how she and my grandfather met – at some horse race in Ireland.’

‘You’ve never mentioned that before,’ she said, surprise in her voice.

‘Never saw the need.’

‘But it explains why your father bought land in Ireland.’

‘It would have been better if he’d ploughed the
money into the business,’ he said in clipped tones. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘Yes.’ She would have liked to have asked him more about his family but now received the impression that he did not want to talk about them.

‘Janet made us up a picnic. I thought we’d have it on top of Clieves Hill. It’s not a difficult walk and there’s a good view.’

He brought the car to a halt and lifted the picnic basket from the back seat, telling her to get the rug. She did so and followed him up the hill. They could have been the only people in the world. She stared at the view. The flatlands of coastal Lancashire spread below them and the dark huddle that was Liverpool was visible far away, as were the Welsh Hills and the Irish Sea shimmering in the distance.