Sunlight on the Mersey (16 page)

‘That’s very kind of you and I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow evening then and thanks again,’ Charlie promised as he left. He was delighted with the ring – even Mrs Taylor couldn’t look down her nose at it. It looked expensive and it had been. Sixteen or seventeen guineas he deduced, remembering the rings he’d seen in Boodles that were way beyond his means – and no one could cast aspersions on that amount of money.

He didn’t give the brooch to Kate until just before she went to bed, his sisters having already gone up.

She was surprised as he held out the little box. ‘What’s this, Charlie?’

‘A gift, Mam. Go on, open it,’ he instructed. He’d been tempted to keep it and give it to her as a Christmas present but had thought better of it because when he brought the ring home tomorrow he wanted to show it to her and she’d ask where he’d got it. He was very proud of having obtained such a great bargain.

Kate opened it. ‘Charlie, it’s lovely! But it’s not my birthday or anything,’ she protested. He’d never bought her anything as expensive as this in the past, not even for birthdays.

‘Mr Cookson gave it to me and told me it caught his eye and that he thought it was an appropriate gift for you, seeing as now you’re “in the trade”.’

Kate was puzzled. ‘Mr Cookson? Who’s Mr Cookson?’

‘You know, that big pawnbroker’s on Scotland Road, Mam.’

Kate was even more confused. ‘But I don’t know the man! I mean I know of him but I don’t think I’ve ever met him, although I seem to remember we had a sympathy card from him.’

‘He knew Da,’ Charlie said.

She nodded; of course he would have known Bill. ‘But when did you see him?’

‘I called in a couple of weeks ago. I asked him about buying a ring. An engagement ring.’

Kate smiled. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that you’re going to ask Florence to marry you. All this scrimping and saving, it had to be for something.’

‘I’m going to ask her father for his permission at the weekend. I’ll have the ring then and you should see it, Mam. It’s really stunning. Mr Cookson got it for me and he’s giving me a discount too. I think it’s because he thought well of Da, but he’s letting me have it for six guineas.’

‘Six guineas! You’re spending
that
much on a ring for Florence!’ Kate was astounded. Her own engagement ring had only cost a fraction of that and it wasn’t a ring to be sneezed at either.

‘Well, I couldn’t give her something with stones so small that you’d have to get a magnifying glass to see them, now could I? New, I’m sure it would have cost more like sixteen guineas.’

Kate was even more astounded by that amount. ‘It’s not stolen, Charlie, is it?’

He was outraged.
‘Mam
! What a thing to say! Cookson’s don’t deal in stolen goods, you should know that. They’re very, very respectable. No, someone he knows bought it from a lady who has fallen on hard times. Stolen! Honestly!’

She nodded, thinking he was right. Mr Cookson wouldn’t fence jewellery any more than she would. ‘It was just my immediate reaction to the amount, Charlie. It’s second-hand then?’

He nodded. ‘You’ve got to agree, Mam, it’s great value for money. Now, don’t go saying anything to our Rose or Iris, especially Iris. I don’t want her to spoil the surprise for Florence. I’m going to ask her at Christmas.’

Kate nodded, thinking he did have a good business head on his shoulders but wasn’t buying a second-hand ring taking it a bit too far? She hoped Florence wouldn’t be disappointed.

Charlie took the opportunity to ask Edward Taylor for a few minutes of his time after supper was over; he often had supper with them on a Saturday now. Florence was helping her mother with the coffee.

‘Come on into the living room – or “parlour” as my dear old mam always insisted on calling it,’ Edward informed Charlie as they left the dining room.

‘I won’t take up much of your time; we can’t let the ladies think we’ve deserted them altogether. As you know, sir, Florence and I have been courting now for over six months
and . . . and I’d like your permission to marry her. I don’t mean right away, it will be some time before I can find a decent house to rent, but I’d like to ask her at Christmas.’

Edward nodded slowly. He’d been expecting this. It was quite obvious that his daughter loved the lad, despite the fact that Ethel didn’t consider him the ideal choice. ‘You love her and will take good care of her?’

‘Oh, yes! You can be certain of that, sir. You have my word. And she’ll have the best I can afford,’ Charlie assured him earnestly.

‘Then I’ve no objections, Charlie. I like you. You work hard, you’re honest, you don’t waste your money. I admired the way you handled everything when your father was killed: that showed strength of character and reliability. And I’ve noticed that you . . . respect Florence.’

‘Oh, I do,’ Charlie replied gravely. ‘I . . . I hope it won’t seem presumptuous, but I’ve already bought the ring.’ He brought out the small black box from his pocket and handed it to her father.

Edward Taylor opened it and was very surprised indeed. ‘This is beautiful, Charlie! It must have cost you a fair bit?’

Charlie felt very pleased with himself. ‘As I said, only the best I can afford will do for Florence.’

Edward nodded. The lad must have saved every farthing he could get his hands on to buy a ring like this. ‘Well, I have to say I’m sure she will be delighted, Charlie.’ He handed the box back. ‘Now, we’d better go and have our coffee before Ethel comes in and demands to know what’s going on.’

‘You won’t say anything to Florence, sir, will you? I want to surprise her at Christmas,’ Charlie asked.

‘Not a word,’ Edward Taylor promised although he thought he should forewarn Ethel.

‘I wish you’d discussed it with me first, Edward. You know I have . . . reservations,’ Ethel said with some annoyance after her husband imparted the news to her later that night.

‘There wasn’t time, Ethel, and he wants his proposal to be a surprise. He’s going to ask her at Christmas and he’s bought her a very expensive ring, so if I’d fetched you in to “discuss it” it would have looked very odd. Anyway it’s traditional to ask the girl’s father, not both her parents,’ he finished irritably. He thought Ethel’s ‘reservations’ were groundless.

‘That’s a very old-fashioned view to take, Edward,’ she retorted. ‘Florence is our only child and I want the best for her.’

He sighed deeply. ‘So do I, Ethel, and it’s obvious that Florence loves him. I like the lad, he’s honest, steady and reliable, he’s assured me that he’ll take care of her and that she’ll have the best he can afford, and judging by that ring I don’t think we’ve much to worry about. The only thing you’ve got against young Charlie is the fact that he’s neither a bank manager nor holds some other lofty position, but he’s got ambitions. Surely, Ethel, you have to agree with me? You’ve got to know him better over the months – he’s been here for supper often enough.’

Ethel bit her lip. Everything her husband said was correct
but she just couldn’t take to the lad. It was just a gut feeling she had – a mother’s intuition perhaps. In her opinion he didn’t seem to care as much for Florence as her daughter did for him. ‘Of course I’ve been able to get to know him, Edward, but, well . . . sometimes I think he could be more affectionate towards Florence. It’s as if he’s trying to impress us so much that he isn’t . . .’ Ethel was struggling to find the right words. ‘. . . isn’t being himself. I wonder does Florence really
know
him? Does she feel that he truly loves her?’

Edward was exasperated. ‘I just don’t understand you at all, Ethel. If he was all over her like a rash you’d be horrified. Of course he loves her, he told me so, but he also respects her. He doesn’t always have to be gazing into her eyes or kissing her. What more do you want, for God’s sake? I think he’ll make an excellent husband and that she’ll be very happy with him and I’ve given my permission so let there be an end to all this “reservations” nonsense!’

Ethel Taylor pressed her lips tightly together. It was useless to argue with him when he was in this mood but she was far from happy at the prospect of having Charlie Mundy as a son-in-law.

A
S CHRISTMAS APPROACHED KATE WAS
busier than she’d been for a while as people tried desperately to raise money to bring a bit of festive cheer into hard and difficult lives, even if it meant pawning their small treasures and even everyday items. ‘Let’s hope the New Year brings you better luck,’ she said repeatedly to her customers, thinking that surely things
had
to get better soon. At least all the trouble in Ireland was over now that the Anglo-Irish Treaty had been signed, creating the Irish Free State. Maybe next year all the industrial unrest would be sorted out and there would be more jobs for those who desperately needed them. She’d had a letter from Gwen who had written that she’d given the matter of Rose’s return a lot of thought. Of course she didn’t want Kate to be parted from her youngest daughter and hoped
she hadn’t influenced Rose in any way, albeit unconsciously, but if Rose was so unhappy now in Liverpool then she would be quite prepared to give her a home. Kate knew she would be well looked after and of course Rose could return at any time if she changed her mind. The matter of a job was the stumbling block, of course. She couldn’t offer Rose full-time employment in the post office, there were rules and regulations and there wasn’t the call for an assistant postmistress in such a small village. The local shops had no vacancies and were not likely to have any either. She promised to ask in Denbigh but didn’t hold out much hope; even if there were jobs Rose would have to cycle twenty miles each day and often the weather was atrocious and she was fearful that Rose’s health wouldn’t stand up to such rigours. But she urged Kate not to despair; she would go on trying to find work for Rose.

Kate had decided to say nothing to Rose and although Rose was aware that she’d had a reply from Gwen, for she’d seen the postmark on the envelope, she hadn’t mentioned the matter again.

Iris hadn’t had time to worry about her sister as the days seemed to fly by and they were much busier in the shop. She’d asked Tom if he was doing anything special for the festive season and confided that she would find it hard this year, without her father.

‘No, nothing out of the ordinary. Da always goes for a drink on Christmas Eve and Mam is always busy with the preparations. Our Lily and Madge will probably be going dancing though,’ he’d informed her. ‘Would you like to go
somewhere special on Christmas Eve, Iris? Take your mind off . . . things.’

She’d smiled but had shaken her head. ‘We’ll both be dead on our feet, Tom, but thanks. And Mam will be busy too, what with the shop and the preparations for Christmas dinner. Rose and I will help out as much as we can, of course. I haven’t a clue what our Charlie is doing. Going to Florence’s, I suppose.’

‘Would you mind if I called in then? I wouldn’t stay long, no more than an hour, but I’d like to see you, Iris.’

She’d nodded. ‘I’d like to see you too, Tom, on our first Christmas together.’

‘I’ll call about eight o’clock then and maybe on Christmas Day we could go for a walk somewhere – to walk off all that food?’

‘At least there is more food in the shops these days. During the war we could hardly get anything,’ she’d replied, thinking that even though she would miss her da terribly at least she would have Tom to help her get through the day. Her poor mother wouldn’t have such support, but she and Tom would do whatever they could to make it bearable for Kate.

On Christmas Eve Iris and Rose finally closed up at six o’clock; both were tired but Iris was looking forward to seeing Tom later. Kate had closed an hour earlier having decided that no one would come in now. A few women had come in in the afternoon, wanting a few shillings to spend in St John’s Market later that night when things were sold off cheap. She’d already
plucked the goose, which was resting on the marble slab in the pantry, and intended to prepare the vegetables later, after supper. Iris had put them aside that morning after Tom had dropped all the produce off.

‘Well, that’s it for two whole days and I can’t say I’m sorry,’ Iris announced as she took off her brown shop coat and hung it in the scullery.

‘I’ll never understand why people leave things until the last minute. I’m worn out,’ Rose added.

‘Shortage of money, Rose. They get better bargains at the end of the day and they have to make what little they’ve got stretch a very long way. I know for a fact that Ada, Sal and Mary Duncan are going down to St John’s at ten o’clock,’ Kate replied, shaking her head. ‘It will be midnight before they get home and then they’ll still have things to do and you know what half the men around here are like on Christmas Eve, falling in dead drunk at all hours. I always thanked God that your poor da was teetotal, God rest him.’

Rose felt the tears prick her eyes. She was dreading tomorrow. There would be no seeing her father’s face light up at the little gifts they’d bought him; no watching him as he presided over the table and carved the goose. ‘I know it’s a terrible thing to say but . . . but in a way I’ll be glad when Christmas is over.’