Liverpool Taffy (43 page)

‘I’ll bring you a cup,’ Biddy said magnanimously. A wage of eleven bob, she felt, entitled Ma Kettle to an early morning cuppa at the very least! ‘Would half past seven suit you?’

‘Alf past seven ’ud be prime,’ Ma Kettle said, beaming so widely that her eyes all but disappeared behind the shelves of her cheeks. ‘Eh, you allus was a good girl, our Bid!’

The first thing Biddy did on gaining her room was to heave a huge sigh and sit down on the bed.

Why was life so complicated, she thought crossly? There she was, contented with her lot, just waiting for Dai to pop the question so that she might live happily ever after, and what happened? First, Stuart Gallagher got a job in Edinburgh, then ‘Matey Maitland’ tried it on with her so that she had no option but to leave his employ, and then having agreed to return to Kettle’s Confectionery (upon certain terms, naturally) she had realised that Ma Kettle was hopeful not only that she would bring Kenny back to the Kettle fold, but that she might marry him into the bargain.

A nice little daughter-in-law who would make sweets, sell ’em, keep Ma Kettle comfortable in her old age … oh yes, that would be a complication all right!

But she had made it clear that Dai and she were to get married, and Ma Kettle – and Kenny – would just have to accept it.

Biddy sighed. There was no easy chair, no little gas fire in this room, but she had been really spoiled by the Gallaghers. Ma Kettle would suppose that Biddy would spend most of her time down in the living-room because that would be a natural, family-like thing to do and providing Ma Kettle with someone to talk to of an evening was what she was being paid for, amongst other things. So if she came up here once the cold weather started she would have to wrap her blanket round her and wear her winter socks over her cotton stockings. But right now she was warm enough, so she sat down on the bed and got out her pad and pencil. She was writing a nice, long letter to Dai and now she really did have something to tell him! There was Mr Maitland’s strange behaviour for a start; she would have to tell Dai all about that, otherwise he would not understand why she had once again changed her address.

Then there was this odd business with Ma Kettle … oh, and she must tell him that the funeral had been that of Mrs Olliphant and not Ma Kettle at all, otherwise he would think she had run mad for she had told him all about her guilt over Ma Kettle’s supposed demise and he had assured her that the old slave-driver had had it coming to her, that it had been nothing whatsoever to do with Biddy’s defection.

And there were the little girls, Penny and Gertie. Where on earth did Ma Kettle find them? And how could she get away with paying Penny two bob a week – and docking her money when she was slow – to do all the housework and cooking and to start work at eight in the morning and finish twelve hours later?

Kids like that need someone to look after ’em, Biddy thought as she scribbled on and on, putting her darling Dai in the picture. There should be a society or something for ’em – a trade union, like. She wrote that down, then suggested that it might be something for Mrs Gallagher to look into, when she came back from Edinburgh.

‘
She’s always so busy with her good works so I’m sure she’d take on keeping an eye on kids
’ she wrote. ‘
I wish they hadn’t gone, but there’s good in all things. Hopefully, Ma Kettle and Kenny will get back together again, and I’m here to do the best I can for young Penny. Gertie, it seems, can look after herself! She gets sixpence a week out of the Kettle for running errands, plus some toffees now and then, and thinks herself mortal lucky
.’

She sat and sucked the end of her pencil for a bit, then said that she was about to go to bed where, with a bit of luck, she would dream about her dear Dai, but in any event she would not close her letter for another week or two seeing as how she knew he had only sailed quite recently so would not be back for a bit.

Then Biddy undressed, got into bed, and slept soundly till morning.

Nellie missed Biddy terribly, and so did Elizabeth.

‘What’s the good of a castle and dogs and cats if they aren’t yours and you’ve no one to share ’em with anyway?’ Elizabeth said crossly when her mother told her to count her blessings. ‘I don’t like me new school all that much and I miss me pals and you keep sighing all the while and me Da’s never home … I wish we were back in Liverpool!’

‘Yes, well,’ Nellie said guardedly. She was not particularly happy herself and sometimes, when Lizzie was grumbling at full throttle, it was really hard not to say,
If it hadn’t been for you and your secret love affair, madam, we could all be in Liverpool still
.

But that would have been madness, of course. It had soon been borne in upon Nellie that the infatuation, love, call it what you will, between Elizabeth and Dai was completely one-sided. Elizabeth scarcely mentioned him, took it for granted that he would come up to Edinburgh to see them but was no more and no less enthusiastic over the visit than over Biddy’s, which she was sure could not be long delayed, not when Biddy heard how unhappy she was.

Nellie had been shocked when Biddy had written to tell the Gallaghers of Mr Maitland’s midnight visit to her room, though Stuart had laughed and said, ‘The dirty old dog!’ in a way which made Nellie suspect that her husband was not as surprised as he might have been.

‘Stu, did you know Mr Maitland had … had
tendencies
?’ she asked suspiciously after Stuart had had Biddy’s letter read aloud to him. ‘Because if so, it was wrong of you not to tell me. I would never have let Biddy stay with them had I suspected any such thing!’

‘I didn’t know he was going to cradle-snatch in his own home, but I did know he’d an eye for a pretty girl,’ Stuart admitted. ‘What a crass, insensitive fool the man must be, to get drunk and try it on with his wife’s own maid!’

‘But if she hadn’t been his wife’s maid, and if he’d carried on away from home, you’d have thought it acceptable behaviour?’ Nellie said in a tone of sweet reasonableness. ‘Is that what you’re trying to say, Stu?’

‘No, no indeed,’ Stuart said hurriedly, seeing the trap his beloved was digging for him. ‘What a swine you must think me, sweetheart.’

‘You aren’t a swine; just thoughtless,’ Nellie said. ‘Oh, Stu, I wish we’d never come, that I do! Poor little Biddy!’

‘Judging by her letter, Biddy took very good care of herself,’ Stuart said, chuckling. ‘She hit him over the head and tipped him out of bed, then walked out on him. That isn’t exactly the action of a milksop.’

‘No, I suppose not. But I still feel we let Biddy down.’

‘You don’t like it here after all, do you?’ Stuart said shrewdly. ‘I didn’t think you would, but you seemed so sure!’

‘It’s all right, it’s just a bit strange, a bit different. And we’ve only been here a month, after all,’ Nellie said with assumed brightness. ‘I’ve written back to Biddy, telling her how sorry I am, and saying I hope she’ll be happy with Ma Kettle this time round. And now I’m going shopping in the city with Elizabeth. She wants a new hockey stick.’

The
Bess
continued to steam on in appalling weather. They had hauled the trawl, or what was left of it, and chopped it free because it was no use to anyone in its torn and splintered state, and had replaced it with the spare, though that had taken time because of the conditions and the icing up on deck.

They were in uncharted waters now, in the darkness at the top of the world, and there was muttering from some of the old hands that not even the sort of catches they were taking would be worth the risk. But still they shot the trawl, hauled, filled the fish baskets, shot the trawl again. They had to pay for a new trawl now, on top of everything else, so they needed full fish pounds and the coal would have to be made to last.

Dai was at the wheel when they struck the iceberg, but it was no one’s fault. The look-outs shouted their warning, but the
Bess
was steaming at speed, the collision could not be avoided. Dai kept the wheel hard over at the Skipper’s instruction but it was as though the ’berg was pursuing them. The ship heeled over, came round … and the ’berg followed, so that the
Bess
seemed to slide almost willingly into that icy embrace.

It was the hidden ice which caught them, not the great cliff of blue, amethyst and rose which towered above them. Dai saw that they had turned in time to miss the eighth of it which surged and curtsied above water and began a quiet prayer of thanksgiving. Then, looking down from his perch he saw, through the pale green of the water, the spires and turrets of the ice-palace, pointing up, like the pale fingers of sirens, beckoning the
Bess
to her doom.

She crunched home with a terrible crashing, squealing roar, then she backed off as the Skipper’s frantic orders brought her full speed astern, but it was too late for the port bow, with the teeth of the ice already imbedded in it. The Bosun shouted that they were holed and swung himself below to assess the damage, and Dai kept his eyes ahead and obeyed instructions though his back ached with tension and his eyes stung where the sweat ran down.

Presently Harry came and took the wheel from Dai’s hands. ‘You done all right; now it’ll be all hands to clear up the mess below,’ he said calmly. ‘First time you’ve struck, eh? Well, it won’t be the last, and you’ll still go for your certificates if you’ve the mind.’ He clapped Dai’s shoulder. ‘We’ll seal the damage with canvas, cement, anything that’ll keep the sea out. The donkey-engine will pump out any water left. We’ve coal to get us home, full fish pounds, and the engine’s still working. We’ve done well, Taff.’

Dai relinquished the wheel and rubbed his arms, walking off the bridge. As he went below, the Bosun was rounding up any crew not already working.

‘Taff … icebreaking on deck. Mal, you’re for the forward hold with the working party already down there. Bandy, you won’t be needed here for a bit so you can clear ice with the rest. Where’s the galley boy? Ah, make a big pot o’ tea, lad, an’ see all hands get a dram o’ rum in each mug.’

It was so down-to-earth, so sensible! Dai went and got his foul weather gear, stopped off at the mess deck for his tea with rum, felt it coursing hot through him, and went up on deck.

Dai could see, now, that the
Bess
was heeling to port, partly from the strike and the resultant flooding, partly because of the weight of ice. He joined the other men, axes already beginning to bite. They could not afford to let her list too far or she’d turn turtle, leaks or no leaks.

Dai raised his axe shoulder-high and brought it down on the great mound of ice he knew to be the whale back. Beside him, the galley boy used a marlin spike to good effect, beyond him, Greasy worked like a maniac, ice chips diamonding the front of his smock.

A man’s world. But probably every man on board, at the moment of impact, had thought of his woman. If I live through mis, Biddy O’Shaughnessy, you’re mine, Dai had told himself. I love you, I’ll fight for you – and anyway, you’re mine as I’m yours. No more shilly-shallying, no more trying to be fair. Biddy and me are two halves which together make up the whole. When – if – I get home I’m going to tell her so.

The thought comforted him through the trials and dangers of the rest of that long and dangerous voyage.

‘Biddy! Eh, you look fine – well, well, well! Mam said a surprise, but I never thought it ’ud be our Biddy, back wi’ the Kettles again!’

Kenny looked fine too, Biddy thought. He had grown up since she had seen him last, he was finer-drawn somehow, his face less complacent, less pudgy altogether.

Ma Kettle had brought Kenny through into the living-room and sat him down on the couch beside Biddy and gone out, ostensibly to see to the tea but really, Biddy realised, so that she and Kenny would have a chance to discuss the circumstances under which she had fled from the household. Well, she told herself, I shall do my best to see that Ma doesn’t get all the blame; poor old soul, she’s done her best, now, to put things right. And she does love Kenny so, he ought to come back.

‘Hello, Kenny, it’s nice to see you,’ she said now, smiling up at him. He was wearing a dark suit and a blue necktie, and the spots which had marred his neck and jawline had disappeared, leaving his skin as smooth as anyone else’s. Whilst he lived at home Ma Kettle had cut his hair once every six weeks or so but now Biddy supposed a barber must be doing it, and making a very much neater job of it too. Kenny had a nice-shaped head and his neck was clean and fluff free – a considerable improvement on the old Kenny. ‘I expect you’re awful busy, because I’ve been back wi’ your Mam for over a month and not seen you earlier. How are the exams coming along?’

‘Yes, I’ve kept pretty busy; and thanks to your ’elp I passed the first lot of exams last summer,’ he said at once. ‘I did awright – the boss was pleased wi’ me. Though I shan’t be takin’ exams much longer if there’s a war. Me sight’s not up to much, but the Army will take me on, I reckon. And what about you, Biddy? How’ve you been? Where did you go when you … when you left? Did me Mam tell you what a tizz we was in – me specially? I worried about you, our Biddy, I really did.’

‘That was kind, but I went and shared an old schoolfriend’s flat, we stayed together for a long time,’ Biddy explained. ‘We’d always got on well, me and Ellen, and I worked in the city doing deliveries for a gown shop and lived with Ellen until she … well, until she decided to go home.’

‘Oh ah. And then?’

‘Oh, then I took a job in service. I liked it, they were such good people, so kind to me. But Mr Gallagher was moved to Edinburgh, just for a year or so to start up a new magazine, and I – I didn’t like the new people so I moved out and I was staying with Ellen’s Mam in Paul Street when I met Mrs Kettle again and she offered me my old job back. Only on – well, on better terms. And I took it.’

‘Bet she begged, acos she’s always said it weren’t just her what made you run away from us. Is that true, Bid? Were there – other things?’

Biddy looked up at him. ‘Yes, Kenny,’ she said frankly. ‘I wasn’t old enough to know how to tell you I didn’t want you as anything but a friend. I’m sorry, but it frightened me rather. I felt trapped.’