Flowers on the Mersey (19 page)

Suddenly Joshua’s arms slipped about her waist from behind and she realised that subconsciously she had been waiting for it to happen. She attempted to release herself but he laced his fingers and she could not unlock them. He said against her ear, ‘Isn’t the view worth coming all this way for?’

‘Yes. But can we look at it while we eat, please?’

‘Give me a kiss first.’

‘Mr Green, you’re taking advantage of me,’ she said indignantly, digging her fingers into the backs of his hand. ‘Now let me go at once.’

‘Don’t do that.’ His voice held a warning note.
‘Just one kiss, Rebekah. It’s not much of a reward for bringing you all the way out here.’

‘I didn’t know that I’d have to pay!’ she said. ‘I thought you brought me out of the kindness of your heart.’ She twisted in his hold, trying to free herself, and ended up facing him.

He smiled. ‘That’s a good girl. I like you. That’s why I brought you. Now be a sensible child and kiss me.’

She frowned but puckered her lips, thinking it quicker to get it over. She suspected he would spend time arguing with her rather than give in. He laughed, brought her close and almost ate her. Her mouth felt bruised and she was trembling when he released her.

He rubbed his hands together in a satisfied manner. ‘Now food. Spread the rug, Rebekah.’

She did as she was told, watching him as he unpacked the picnic. There was tongue and beef sandwiches, homemade meat patties, fruit cake, scones, apples, and a bottle of white wine.

They did not speak while they ate. He filled two glasses with wine. It was sweet and she enjoyed it but refused a refill. ‘Come on, Rebekah!’ he said. ‘It’ll relax you.’

‘I’m relaxed enough,’ she murmured, determined that he was not going to get her drunk. Her gaze took in the view again and the car below them on the road. ‘I enjoyed the drive. Do you often come out here?’

He shrugged and filled his own glass. ‘I go to different places. I enjoy driving.’

‘I wouldn’t mind learning to drive.’

A little of his wine spilt as he turned and stared at her. ‘But you’re a woman.’

‘So? I didn’t imagine you’d have brought me out here if I wasn’t. I imagine it’s not that difficult. I’m sure I could get someone to teach me. In fact, I wouldn’t mind having my own car.’

His expression grew wary. ‘They’re expensive. You can’t afford—’

She knew that but was determined not to give up her idea. She wanted to drive. It would be exciting. ‘I could ask Aunt Esther about buying one. I’ve noticed lately that her knee hurts her. Probably rheumatism. I could take her places.’

His mouth tightened. ‘I don’t know if it’s a good idea, your having a car.’

‘Why? Saying I’m a woman isn’t a good reason. Women drove during the war, trams and all sorts of vehicles.’

‘That was different,’ he muttered. ‘There weren’t the men.’

She stared at him. ‘That’s no excuse. I’ll ask Aunt Esther and I’m sure the dealer could arrange for me to have a few lessons.’

He stuck out his lower lip and it was several seconds before he said, ‘I’ll teach you.’ He drained his glass.

‘You?’ She laughed. ‘Wouldn’t it go against the grain? You don’t want to teach me.’

‘Better I do than someone else.’ He refilled his glass. ‘Besides, your aunt mightn’t buy you a car.’

That was true, she thought, but to go out with him again in his car was asking for trouble. He would probably believe that she did not mind his kissing her, and she did mind his presumption that he could kiss her when he felt like it. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said.

‘You’ll come.’ His tone was positive. He flicked her cheek with his finger.

She rubbed her cheek but made no reply and began to collect the remains of the picnic together, aware that he watched her as he drank his wine. She was half expecting him to attempt to embrace her again but he did not. Soon afterwards he led the way down the hill and she followed, wondering whether he would suggest a lesson next weekend. She would have to make up her mind whether to go with him but before then she had her new job to think about, which started in the morning.

Rebekah hesitated at the foot of a flight of well-worn stone steps at the end of a row of dilapidated landing houses in Everton. She was aware of the curious stares of several small children sitting on the edge of the pavement. They had their bare feet in the gutter and were playing with stones. A couple of women who had paused in mid-gossip outside a front door set in the wall beneath the outside landing, watched her. She smiled but they looked through her and carried on with their conversation. She shrugged and looked up. Level with her head was a window with the curtains drawn. One of the panes of glass was missing and the space was blocked with a sheet of grubby cardboard. She glanced down at the paper in her hand and read the name and address again then began to climb the steps.

As she reached the landing a boy, whom she
estimated to be twelve years old, came out of the second house. He leant his back against the wrought iron railing opposite the front door, coughing and wheezing. He was pale and thin and wore grey trousers too short for him and a darned V-necked sleeveless pullover next to his skin. His eyes were unfriendly as they took in her appearance. She had dressed in her plainest and cheapest black frock but realised that here it would not be regarded as cheap. ‘I’m looking for Mrs Rimmer,’ she said, determinedly controlling her nerves:

‘Ma’s out.’ He moved in one fluid movement back in front of the doorway from which he’d emerged. ‘Yer’ll have ta cum back tomorra.’ His chest heaved.

‘I can’t,’ said Rebekah, remembering how in Dublin there had been occasions when she and her mother had been informed that Mam was out while she had been in. ‘If I can’t see her today then I’ll have to go to the next name on my list.’

‘She’s norrin, I tell yer! Why can’t yer go away and leave us alone?’ He coughed and twitched a shoulder in the direction of the floor inside the entrance. ‘We’ve even had to sell the oilcloth,’ he spluttered. ‘There’s nuffin else we got to pay yer.’

‘Who said I want paying?’ she said grimly. ‘I’ve come to see your ma about giving her money.’ She glanced down at the paper again although there was no need, she knew the words off by heart. ‘Your
father was drowned when an enormous wave swept over his ship, dismantling its steering apparatus and considerably damaging the deck,’ she recited.

The boy nodded. ‘The
Magnifique
the ship was called. Ma’s inside with the baby. Me brothers and sisters are at school. Wait here.’ He vanished inside the house to reappear a few minutes later, smiling. ‘Ma said to cum in but don’t go expectin’ anythin’ fancy.’

Rebekah went inside expecting nothing at all in the way of frills and she was not disappointed. The room she entered was furnished with one chair and a rickety card table. In a corner a couple of grey and black army blankets lay on the bare wooden floor. A woman in a grubby blue frock nursed a whimpering baby. She stood next to a grate in which the fire was dead. From the ashes it looked as if it had been made up mainly of cardboard, paper and wood.

‘Billy sez yer from the Seamen’s, miss,’ said the woman eagerly. ‘Will we get summit? Yer see, I need muny for medicine for Billy’s chest. Bad it is still, but always wurst in winter. Goose grease me cousin gave me to rub on it after Christmas, and I’m sure it must have dun it sum good.’ She paused for breath.

Rebekah nodded. ‘I’m sure we can give you some money for medicine. I take it Billy hasn’t seen a doctor?’

‘Doctor!’ A harsh laugh escaped her. ‘Can’t afford doctors. Daisy needs shoes and I owes the corner
shop. Never clears that amount, but Mrs Murphy’s got a good heart. As long as I pays summit she lets us buy on tick. If it wurn’t for that swine of a man of mine, we’d never have got inta this state.’

That’s me dad,’ said Billy, nodding. ‘Always in the ale house. Never saw hardly any of his money, did we, Ma?’

‘No, son.’ She smiled at him and then at Rebekah as she continued to rock the baby which had fallen silent. ‘He’s a good lad. If his chest wasn’t so bad he’d gerra job. Fourteen he is but nobody’ll take him on. Andy cud have dun more for him but all he ever had on his mind was bed and booze. Eight kids I’ve got. Lost three.’ Her expression turned ugly. ‘Bed and booze. He was a bluddy animal.’

‘No use my offering you condolences then,’ said Rebekah as cheerfully as she could.

‘What?’ Mrs Rimmer stared at her. Then she began to laugh. ‘Best bluddy thing that ever happened to me!’

Rebekah lay in the lukewarm bathwater, thinking of Mrs Rimmer and the lives different people lived. Her story was nothing new to Rebekah. Living in Dublin had accustomed her to inebriated men and worn down women, and she had seen more than a few drunken sailors since living in Liverpool where pubs were as plentiful as pigeons. She had slipped the woman a pound of her own money to tide her over
until her application went through, and had gone on to the next family, glad of the street map book her aunt had given her, and thinking about what Daniel had told her of his own childhood. Poverty was a terrible thing. She had been a fool saying to Joshua that money was not important.

She pulled out the bath plug and with a towel wrapped about her went into her bedroom, thinking about her next port of call. She had felt sorry for Mrs Brown who ran a small shop wedged in a row of houses in Edge Hill. It was obvious that she missed her husband, that money was tight, but also that the family of four were managing. Mrs Brown worked long hours and the two boys, although only ten and twelve, helped with deliveries. The eldest girl of eight was already a good little housewife, according to her proud stepmother. Mrs Brown had married late in life, the widower of her best friend who had died in childbirth. Only the youngest child belonged to her but she saw it as her duty to do her best for all the children. They were not in dire straits so Rebekah could not recommend their receiving much financial help, but what she did so was put in for new boots for the boys. With that small offering their mother had seemed grateful. Tomorrow Rebekah would work in the office, writing up her reports.

She frowned at her reflection as she rubbed her wet hair, glad that it was short but knowing it needed trimming again. She smoothed merculised wax on
to her face and tried not to dwell on thoughts of the place that the Rimmers lived in or on meeting Joshua next weekend. Liverpool, as Brigid had once said, was no Paradise. Its people were no angels, but Rebekah was starting to feel at home in it. She glanced at the clock and realised that she had better hurry or she would be late meeting her friend outside the Olympia.

Rebekah was surprised to see Pat and Joey when she reached the theatre on West Derby Road. ‘What are you two doing here?’

‘I thought you’d have heard from the bossman,’ said Pat, the slightest sneer in his voice. ‘The blinking stewards are on strike so we’re not sailing.’

‘I heard that the
Aquitania
had sailed,’ said Rebekah, ignoring the tone of his voice. ‘There were orphans on it who have been adopted by some rich Americans.’

‘They were taking bets on the
Aquitania
going out, and the owners went and got a volunteer crew,’ said Joey, Pat’s mate, in a gloomy voice. ‘Some of the stewards signed on at the lower rate of pay when Cunard’s own clerks rushed to fill their places.

‘You’re going to be short of money.’ said Brigid thoughtfully. ‘We’ll go Dutch if we go out again.’

Joe shook his head. ‘I’m not having you paying for yourself. If I can’t afford to take yer out, I won’t go at all.’

‘That’s stupid!’ said Brigid in a low voice. ‘I’m earning so it makes sense I pay my way.’

‘So I’m stupid,’ said Joe, his thin face set stubbornly. ‘That’s the way I am and you won’t be changing me.’

‘Oh, Joe!’ cried Brigid, giving him a gentle punch.

‘Shut up, you two,’ muttered Pat, taking some change from his pocket. ‘Are we going in or not? The queue’s moving, so make up your minds.’

‘We’re going in,’ said Rebekah, putting her hand through his arm. ‘I’m in need of a good laugh.’ She knew better than to offer to pay for herself.

‘You’ve been with his lordship today and all, have you?’ said Pat, his mouth tightened.

‘No, I haven’t.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I’ve been working.’

Brigid smiled. ‘So yer got the job? Difficult day, was it?’

‘Not really but it makes you glad of what you’ve got.’

Pat glanced at her and his face softened. ‘What is it you’re doing, luv?’

‘I’m working on Outdoor Relief for the Seamen’s Orphanage.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘What’s there to joke about?’ Her look was puzzled.

‘You’re a blinking do-gooder!’

‘You’d rather I was a do-badder?’ She was irritated.

‘You know what I mean,’ he growled. ‘You’re
working for the bosses. They give to salve their consciences. Do you realise, Becky, if they paid the workers decent wages, there wouldn’t be any need for charity. We could look after our own.’

‘You might look after your own, Pat, but not all workers do,’ she said indignantly. ‘A family I visited today were that poor you would have wept for them. And most of their poverty was because the blinking husband drank his wages away and she had too many kids. Nearly every time he docked she was off again. What chance has she of coping without help? He wasn’t looking after his own, only satisfying himself!’

He flushed. ‘Hey, come on now, luv! That’s life. Most women expect to have babies when they get married. You’re sounding like—’

‘Women don’t went ten and twenty, though,’ interrupted a female voice from behind. ‘If you men had the babies it’d be different, I bet.’

Several people looked in their direction and Pat’s face went redder. ‘See what you’ve started,’ he hissed.

‘Me started!’ Rebekah’s eyes sparkled. ‘It’s you that thinks women should produce babies like a baker turns out loaves.’

‘That’s a good one,’ approved the voice from behind. ‘Even when love goes out of the window, sex never goes stale on men. Even if they’re a hundred and two!’ There were several titters from the queue.

‘Mother of God!’ said Pat through gritted teeth.
‘Women! A man’s better off without them. I’m going.’

His sister seized his arm. ‘Now yer’ll just stay here! You started this, our Pat, by calling Becky a do-gooder. What’s wrong with helping people? Yer just downright jealous if the truth’s known.’

‘Jealous? Of Mr Bloody Green!’ He gave a strangled laugh, dragged his arm out of his sister’s hold and walked away.

Rebekah stared after him. ‘What do I do, Brigid?’

‘Go after him,’ intervened Joe in an earnest voice. ‘Prove to him that yer didn’t mean any of it. Kiss and make up, luv.’

‘But I did mean it,’ said Rebekah, her expression fixed.

‘Too right, yer did, love,’ said the voice from behind.

‘Oh shut up, yer old bag!’ shouted the normally passive Joe, and seizing hold of Brigid’s hand he marched her out of the queue. She turned and called, ‘I’m sorry, Becky, but it looks like it’s not on tonight. I’ll see you on Thursday. Meet you outside Lyons in Church Street at seven o’clock.’

‘Oh, all right!’ Rebekah was annoyed with her friend. She moved out of the queue.

Her supporter, a plump woman with a feather in her hat, patted her arm as she took her place. ‘He’ll come back, luv. Jealous as hell. Not the easiest type to live with but I bet you know that.’

‘I didn’t but I’m learning,’ murmured Rebekah,
and went in the direction of the park, deciding that she had better kill some time, otherwise Aunt Esther would be asking questions.

She walked to Newsham Park boating pond, and paused to watch boys send small yachts skimming across the water. At that moment she wished that she had never agreed to go out with Pat and felt like never bothering with him again. Maybe she would not have the choice. Did she care? She shrugged. Was he really jealous of Joshua Green? Damn! The two men were creating complications in her life that she would rather live without. If only Daniel … The ache which never completely left her made itself felt. Why had he had to die? Oh God! There was a lump in her throat and she wanted to hit something or throw things.

She went home and asked her aunt about buying a car.

‘What for?’ said Esther, stabbing herself with a needle.

‘To ferry you around,’ retorted Rebekah, leaning against the mantelshelf, her hands in her pockets.

‘Chariots of the devil, that’s what them motors are’ said Hannah, her dark eyes darting dislike at Rebekah as she poured the tea and spilt it in the saucer.

‘Rubbish!’ Rebekah glared at her. ‘You just don’t like the thought of Aunt Esther spending money.’

‘A motor car would cost a lot of money,’ said her aunt, sucking her finger. ‘And who’d drive it? I don’t want to hire a man?’

‘I can learn.’ said Rebekah, her anger lifting. ‘Would you buy one? I could take you shopping and for drives in the country. I’ve noticed your knee—’

Hannah interrupted her. ‘A bit of rheumatism, that’s all. She doesn’t need mollycoddling. Needs to keep it moving or it’ll seize up.’

‘I’m not suggesting she glues herself to the car,’ retorted Rebekah, glaring at Hannah again.

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Esther hurriedly before Hannah could respond. She looked at her niece. ‘It’s not a decision to be made in a moment, dear. It would be nice to visit the country, but aren’t cars dangerous?’

‘It depends who drives them,’ said Rebekah.

‘Exactly,’ muttered Hannah, thrusting a cup at her. ‘And there’s them that thinks they knows it all and knows nothing. When has thee ever driven a car, miss?’

‘Starting from next week I’ll be learning.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘So put that in your pipe and smoke it! Mr Green is going to teach me.’

‘Perhaps thee’ll crash it,’ said Hannah, and walked out of the room.

‘Oh dear,’ said Esther looking dismayed.

‘I won’t crash it,’ murmured Rebekah, passing a plate of scones to her aunt. ‘Just you wait and see. I’ll show her.’

‘Oh dear,’ said her aunt again, putting down her sewing. ‘I really do need a bit of peace at my time of life.’

‘Sorry,’ Rebekah said meekly, and put a scone in her hand. ‘I’ll change the subject.’ She sat and began to talk about Mrs Rimmer and her family.