Sunlight on the Mersey (24 page)

‘No, but at least she should know,’ Iris replied firmly.

Kate said nothing. It was very disconcerting – not to say depressing – to realise that from now on she would have to rely so much on Iris and Charlie. She’d always been so active and it was hard to accept that there were so many things she would no longer be able to do. It was as though she was losing her independence. Inwardly she sighed. She was getting old and there was nothing she could do to avoid that.

I
N THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED
Kate found it very hard to adjust to not working in the shop or doing nearly as much in the house as she’d been used to. Time dragged and she’d never been one for sitting and reading or knitting.

‘I swear all this time on my own is driving me mad,’ she complained to Iris one evening. Tom had joined them for supper, which she had prepared – something she could do at her leisure and mainly sitting down – but which Iris had cooked and would clear away after. ‘If I were Rose I’d happily have my head stuck in a book but I’m just not used to doing nothing or gossiping with the neighbours for hours on end.’

‘Why don’t you invest in a wireless set?’ Tom suggested.

Charlie frowned. ‘That would be expensive.’

Iris shot him a reproving glance. ‘But if it gave you pleasure, Mam, it would be worth it,’ she urged.

‘It’s not just the cost of the set, you have to have a licence now and that costs ten shillings. I know that because Florence’s father was complaining about it, it’s a new thing they’ve brought in.’

‘Ten bob over a year isn’t that much, Charlie, less than a shilling a month,’ Tom put in.

‘Well, you don’t get much for your money as far as I can see. There’s only one station: 2HT,’ Charlie replied sharply. He didn’t need Tom Morrissey suggesting such extravagances as buying a wireless set.

‘At the moment, but once they get better established I’m sure there will be more choice. What do you think, Mrs M.?’ Tom asked, looking to Iris for support.

‘I think it would be a good investment, Mam, and you wouldn’t feel as if you were on your own so much,’ Iris urged.

Kate nodded. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. ‘It might help the time pass more quickly.’

Iris nodded her approval. ‘Did our Rose have anything interesting to say?’ she asked.

‘Yes, she said in her letter that she’s going to start to read to that poor young man she works for, he’s crippled and said he can’t concentrate well enough to read himself,’ Kate informed them.

Charlie thought that Rose had a very easy life compared to both himself and Iris. Iris worked all hours in the shop and the house and he had his work cut out running the pawnbroker’s.
He didn’t find it easy dealing with the people who came in. He knew times were hard and money scarce but they always had a sob story which annoyed him, and he was aware they didn’t trust him the way they had his mam and before her his da. He’d heard the odd muttered comment to that effect. Also the fact that he had to be in the shop on Saturdays meant he could only spend Sunday helping out his future father-in-law, although he intended to make up for that by going to Florence’s a couple of evenings a week. No, Rose had it easy sitting reading to someone.

‘She’ll enjoy that and she’s good-natured, is Rose, she won’t mind giving up her time,’ Iris remarked affably.

March had indeed ‘come in like a lion’, Rose thought as she, Nancy and Nora helped Henry to set the table that Sunday morning while the family were at church in the village. A fierce wind was tearing through the branches of the trees that surrounded the house and rattling the window casements, and the sky was an ominous shade of grey which threatened rain.

‘I hope the gentleman arrives before the rain starts or he’ll be soaked – if he’s riding, that is,’ Nancy remarked as Henry indicated that she move the claret glass more to the right of the wine glass. The best Crown Derby dinner service had been carefully unpacked and washed as had the cut-crystal glasses and all the girls had remarked that they’d never seen the dining table look so grand. Two large silver candelabra and the matching silver epergne – filled with tastefully arranged fruit – formed the centrepieces. Henry had remarked
that when the old master and mistress had been alive the table was set like this almost every evening. There had been a great deal of entertaining in those days, he’d said sadly.

‘If he’s a farmer he’ll be well used to the weather,’ Rose replied, thinking of Gwen’s brother Bob.

There was no further conversation as Mr Lewis entered to check that everything was in order.

‘Right, you, Rose and Nancy, go back to the kitchen and help Cook and Beryl. I’ll be here to open the door when our visitor arrives and Nora be ready to take his hat and coat,’ Mr Lewis instructed.

Nancy pulled a face as she closed the door behind them. ‘I bet we won’t even get to see what he looks like. I wonder will Miss Elinore end up marrying him? She looks really lovely, she asked me to fasten the clasp of her necklace when I took the fresh towels up. She’s done her hair in a different style and she’s wearing a dress I’ve never seen before and seems quite excited,’ she informed Rose.

‘Hush, you know Mrs Mathews said she didn’t want to hear any gossiping in the servants’ hall,’ Rose reminded her companion, although she too would have liked to see both Miss Elinore and her gentleman friend.

‘Well, at least you won’t have to spend the afternoon reading to Master Dai,’ Nancy whispered.

‘You know I don’t mind reading to him, Nancy, in fact I quite enjoy it now,’ Rose replied. It was true, she thought. She’d been a bit hesitant and self-conscious at first when he’d presented her with a copy of
The Secret Adversary –
Mrs
Christie’s latest – but gradually she’d become more confident and indeed had become interested in the story. She’d willingly given up a couple of hours on Wednesday afternoons and now she was just as eager as he was to find out who the murderer was. ‘Maybe when the gentleman has gone there will be time to read another chapter,’ she mused aloud, thinking that it was almost as enjoyable to sit in his quiet drawing room that looked out across the grounds as it was to sit in the rose garden. It was certainly more comfortable for the weather wasn’t very conducive to sitting outside.

‘I wouldn’t bank on that, Rose, luv. After the dishes and glasses and cutlery have been washed, they’ve all got to be put away again, see. Unless of course the gentleman coming to Sunday lunch is going to be a regular thing.’ Nancy giggled and winked.

Rose shook her head but laughed all the same. Nancy loved a bit of excitement.

She was pleased when after tea David Rhys-Pritchard did indeed request that she go and read to him, although it would mean she would be later getting home to Gwen’s for she still had chores to complete. As she entered his drawing room she thought how warm and welcoming it looked with the heavy curtains drawn over the windows, shutting out the cold blustery March evening, and a good fire burning in the hearth. The sofa and chairs were covered in a dark green brocade and the mahogany furniture gleamed softly in the light.

‘I wasn’t sure if you would require me, sir, not with the
gentleman . . .’ she said as she sat down in the armchair he indicated opposite him.

He smiled. ‘Mr Williams left an hour ago, Rose, but he’s coming again in a fortnight.’

‘Mr Lewis said he drove over in a motor car,’ she ventured.

‘He did. Apparently he is what is termed a “gentleman farmer”, which surprised Livvie,’ he replied. ‘And I found him a very agreeable man.’

Olivia had indeed been surprised to find that Ernest Williams appeared to be quite a wealthy man, he thought. Her attitude to him had thawed considerably when she found out he had a motor car and that he owned his land and a substantial house and employed a dozen people. He had liked him and it was quite obvious that Ellie did too and that Ernest Williams – a widower but with no children – was quite smitten with his sister. It was early days yet but he hoped Livvie wouldn’t put any obstacles in Ellie’s path. She deserved a chance of happiness; she hadn’t had much of it in her life so far.

‘I . . . I’m glad you liked him, sir. Miss Elinore will be happy and none of us minded the extra work,’ Rose informed him.

He nodded. ‘It was good of you to give up your time off; Livvie will make sure you are suitably recompensed. Have you heard from your family lately?’ he added.

Rose nodded, but her face immediately filled with anxiety. ‘My mam isn’t too well, sir. She has something wrong with her bones, so my sister wrote. It’s got a complicated name but it means they’re very brittle and she could easily break some
thing. And it will get worse as she gets older, so she’s had to give up working in the shop.’

‘That must be worrying for you, Rose,’ he said quietly.

‘It is, sir, but I’ve been thinking that maybe now she has more time to herself, when the weather gets better she might be able to come and visit Miss Roberts. They’re old friends and I know she’d like that.’

He considered this. ‘It might be beneficial but she would have to be careful travelling, I think. Will she come by bus or train?’

Rose nodded. That was something she hadn’t thought about and she remembered just how uncomfortable the journey had been. ‘By bus and it can be a bit . . . bumpy and I wouldn’t want to put her at risk. Do you think I should even mention it at all, sir?’ she asked.

‘I’d wait for a while, Rose, and see how she progresses . . . and, Rose, do you think that when we are alone you could stop calling me “sir”?’

Rose looked taken aback. ‘What . . . what should I call you?’

He smiled at her. ‘Try “David”, after all we are friends, aren’t we? And having you call me “sir” makes me feel so old and decrepit when in reality I’m only a few years older than you. How old
are
you, Rose?’

‘Seventeen, I’ll be eighteen in June,’ Rose replied, thinking it would be very peculiar to address him by his Christian name but pleased that he had said he considered her not just a servant but a friend.

‘You see, I’m just three years older than you. Now, shall we
try and find out a bit more about who this “Secret Adversary” might be?’

Rose smiled and opened the book. ‘I’ve been looking forward to finding out too . . . David.’ She hesitated a little before she pronounced his name.

When Charlie arrived at Florence’s on the Thursday evening Ethel Taylor was surprised to see him. ‘I didn’t know you were calling this evening, Florence didn’t mention it,’ she greeted him as she opened the door.

‘That’s because she didn’t know. I hope it’s all right. Because I can now only help Mr Taylor on Sundays I thought I’d put in a few hours during the week, after work.’

Ethel nodded. She had grudgingly admitted that it was indeed helping Edward to have the lad’s assistance and she sometimes wondered if she had misjudged him.

‘How is your mother?’ she asked.

‘Getting rather fed up, she’s not used to having so much time on her hands,’ Charlie answered bluntly.

‘I’m sure she will get used to it and she must follow the doctor’s orders. Still, I’m sure that as the wedding draws closer she’ll be glad she has more time to spare. We have things we must discuss together: guests from your side of the family, any favourite family hymns, what colour she is thinking of for her outfit – we don’t want to clash or choose exactly the same colour. There is plenty to do. Perhaps she’d like to call one afternoon?’ Ethel suggested as she ushered him towards Edward’s study.

‘Isn’t it a bit early for things like that?’ Charlie asked, thinking there were still twelve months to go and he was sure his mam wouldn’t want to be bothered with Ethel Taylor fussing about colours and outfits just yet.

‘It’s never too early, Charlie. Good organisation is the basis for the perfect day,’ she replied firmly. She thought he was showing very little interest in any of the arrangements so far; in fact they’d only been to see the vicar two weeks ago and then only because Florence had made a fuss about it.

Edward was equally surprised to see him but pleased; the lad was bright and quick to master things and seemed very capable.

‘I’m very grateful, Charlie. You must be tired after being in the shop all day. How is it going?’ he asked as Charlie sat down.

‘Things aren’t great, we’re just ticking over. I can’t see me making a great deal of money out of it to be perfectly honest.’

Edward frowned. ‘I know you had little choice in the matter but do you think you would have been better off staying with the Blue Funnel Line?’

Charlie shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know. I always wanted to work in the family business but I didn’t realise that a certain . . . temperament was needed or that times would continue to be so hard.’

‘Surely that is to your advantage?’

‘Not if people haven’t got the money to redeem their pledges. It leaves me with a lot of stuff I have to get rid of at a
loss and that’s certainly not good business,’ Charlie replied gloomily.

Edward nodded. ‘How would it be if I paid you something for the work you do for me?’ he offered. After all it would be to Florence’s advantage. She certainly wouldn’t want the wedding to be put off until the lad had enough money saved to provide her with a decent home.