Sunlight on the Mersey (6 page)

Iris smiled as the tram drew to a halt and Florence stepped aboard. ‘I’d love to. Let’s talk about it tomorrow,’ she called as Florence paid her fare. She waved as the tram trundled away.

C
HARLIE WAS A LITTLE
disappointed to learn that Florence would not be visiting next Sunday but very interested to hear that his sister would be meeting her parents. ‘Where exactly do they live, Iris?’ he asked when she told Kate about the impending visit.

‘Why are you so suddenly interested in Florence and her parents?’ Iris asked sharply.

Charlie shrugged. ‘It was just a question. There’s no need to get on your high horse over it.’

‘Cedar Grove. It’s in Aintree,’ Iris replied cautiously.

‘That’s a fair way to go on the tram, Iris. I’d give yourself a good half-hour if you don’t want to be late and I think you should take something for her mam. I think it will be expected,’ Kate said, thinking she had no wish for her daughter to appear
to lack manners. After all, Florence had brought flowers for Rose.

‘What on earth can I take her, Mam? They’ve got far more money than we have and you know I don’t have much left after I’ve turned up my keep money to you,’ Iris protested.

‘It doesn’t have to be something expensive; it’s just the thought that counts. I’ll make a Victoria sponge and we’ll put it in a proper cake box. I’ll get one from Madge Jessup – she works in Blackledge’s and I’ve done her a few favours in the past,’ Kate said firmly.

‘No doubt you’ll come back and give us an item-by-item account of everything they’ve got,’ Charlie muttered from behind his newspaper even though he would be very interested to hear all about this house in Cedar Grove.

Iris glared in his direction. ‘Of course I won’t! I’m going to meet Florence’s mam and dad, not to inspect their home. She certainly wasn’t poking and prying into everything when she was here.’

‘That’s enough from the pair of you and I just hope you won’t go doing or saying anything to show us up, Iris,’ Kate said sharply.

Iris dressed with more care than usual the following Sunday. Just what she would wear had been discussed at some length between the sisters and Rose, who was feeling much better and who was allowed up for a few hours each day now, was sorry she couldn’t accompany Iris.

‘You really think this jacket looks better with this skirt?’ Iris questioned as she held up her only summer jacket, which
was of navy blue cotton twill. ‘What if it’s very warm? I’ll be all hot and flustered by the time I arrive.’

‘It will look smarter. It goes nicely with that navy skirt and white blouse.’

‘But it looks so plain and boring. I thought I’d wear just the skirt with my pink hip-length top and get some dark blue glass beads to dress it up a bit,’ Iris said. She did like to dress fashionably but on her very limited budget it wasn’t easy. She could just about afford the beads she’d seen in Woolworth’s in Church Street.

Rose considered this and finally nodded. ‘That would still look well with the jacket. And wear your navy hat,’ she advised.

On Sunday afternoon Kate inspected her daughter’s appearance as she handed her the cake box tied neatly with fine twine. ‘Don’t forget to thank Mrs Taylor for everything and don’t go bolting any food you might be offered.’

Iris raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I won’t, Mam. Honestly, you’d think I was going to tea in the Mayor’s parlour!’

‘I just don’t want them to think you’ve not been brought up decently. Off you go now. Rose and I are going to start to sort out the things she’s going to take to Gwen’s.’ Kate had received a reply from her friend by return post, stating that she would love to have Rose to stay and that Kate was definitely doing the right thing. Rose would be very welcome and there were numerous small tasks she could do to help at busy times in the post office – when she was up to it, of course.

When she alighted from the tram on the corner of Cedar Grove Iris was surprised by the size of the houses. She’d
known Florence’s home was much bigger than her own but she’d not realised by how much. The house was in a wide, tree-lined street and despite the fact that it was a very warm, sunny day the street was deserted. There were no children playing, no women and girls gossiping on their front doorsteps, no men standing on the corner discussing everything from football to politics. There were even motor cars parked outside a couple of houses. As she took in the neat, walled front gardens, the pristine paintwork of gates, doors and windows and the equally pristine lace curtains at the deep bay windows she thought how affluent the people who lived here must be.

She lifted the highly polished brass knocker of number ten and let it fall once, wondering now if the blue glass beads looked a bit tawdry.

‘Iris, come in,’ Florence greeted her, smiling broadly. ‘Isn’t it a gorgeous day? I think we’ll sit out in the garden, it’s much nicer than sitting in the living room which gets the sun all day and is rather hot and stuffy.’

Florence led her down the wide, carpeted hallway, which was decorated in shades of cream and eau-de-nil, and into a room at the back of the house: obviously a dining room, boasting French doors opening on to a garden. A plump fair-haired woman, fashionably dressed in a cream crêpe-de-Chine dress embellished with coffee-coloured lace inserts, was arranging flowers in a vase. She felt a little nervous, but as Mrs Taylor looked up and smiled warmly the feeling disappeared.

‘Iris, how lovely to meet you! Florence is always talking
about you and she’s fortunate to have such a good friend. My husband is out in the garden, arranging the chairs so you can sit in the shade. Come through and I’ll introduce you.’

She was introduced to a tall, heavily built man; he was probably the same age as her da, she surmised, although his hair was grey and receding and deep lines were etched in his forehead as if he frowned a great deal. However, he shook her hand and greeted her warmly enough and then went back into the house leaving the girls alone. Iris had given her jacket, hat and the cake to Florence’s mother and she sat down beside her friend on one of the wrought-iron chairs that matched the small circular table. ‘This is a real treat, Florence, to be able to sit in such a lovely garden, it’s so . . . peaceful,’ she marvelled, thinking of their small, cramped back yard and the ever-present noises of the neighbourhood.

‘It was really thoughtful of you to bring a cake, Iris, I know Mother is delighted. Homemade too. She hardly ever bakes, she says it’s so time-consuming and she spends enough time in the kitchen preparing and cooking dinner. She has our bread and cakes delivered from the bakery.’

Iris nodded; it was just another example of the difference in their circumstances. ‘You have a really gorgeous house, Florence, so big compared to ours, but I suppose your father’s business is much bigger and more . . . profitable than my da’s.’

Florence looked concerned. ‘It’s not bothering you, is it? I don’t want you to think . . . Well, it doesn’t make a bit of difference to me, Iris, what kind of houses or jobs people have. You’re my friend, that’s what matters. I have never found it
easy to make friends, not even at school, but from the first time I spoke to you I liked you.’

Iris smiled at her. ‘I liked you too and no, it doesn’t bother me that we come from different backgrounds.’

‘Good. Now, when is Rose going to stay with your Aunty Gwen? Has it been decided yet?’

‘At the beginning of the week after next. Mam is going to close the shop on the Tuesday and take her. Our Charlie made some enquiries and found that there’s a bus that goes to Denbigh twice a week; you have to change at Mold though. Aunty Gwen’s brother is going to meet them and take them out to Tregarron. Apparently he’s just got a tractor, the first in the village, so they can ride on the cart.’ She giggled. ‘I don’t know how happy either Mam or Rose are about that, it’s not exactly arriving “in style”, is it?’

‘What’s the alternative? Would they have to walk?’ Florence asked, thinking that it would be a very long walk for Rose, who wasn’t exactly strong yet.

‘No, it’s too far. Someone from the village would have met them with a pony and trap or something like that. I think if it were me I’d sooner travel like that than on the back of a farm cart. I’ve advised them both not to wear anything too good in case it gets dirty but Mam’s having none of it.’ She grimaced. ‘She’s already fussing about getting all Rose’s stuff washed and ironed and packed.’

‘Is she looking forward to going back to Tregarron after all these years?’ Florence asked.

‘She is. Da’s trying to persuade her to stay until the next
bus comes back to Liverpool, it’s only a couple of days, but she says she can’t close the shop for so long. She’ll only be there a couple of hours.’

‘And is Rose getting excited? Too much turmoil won’t be good for her, Iris,’ Florence reminded her friend.

‘So Mam tells her but she keeps asking Mam things like is there a library in Denbigh? What kind of shops are there? Are there any events going on in the village in summer? She’d drive you mad with her questions.’

‘And are there any “events”?’ Florence was curious.

‘Mam says she thinks there is some kind of agricultural show or flower show, though what Rose would find there to interest her, I don’t know. And as for the shops in Denbigh, I think they’re all small and sell mainly food and household stuff. I hope she’s not going to expect anything like Frisby Dyke’s or Bunney’s or Blackler’s.’

Mrs Taylor appeared carrying a tea tray and both girls got up to help her set the table. There were small sandwiches, minus their crusts, laid out on top of a lace doily on one layer of a cake stand, some small fancy cakes on another and in pride of place the Victoria sponge, which had been cut into neat slices. It all looked very appetising and Iris made a mental note to tell her mam about it all.

‘Tell your mother this is the lightest sponge I’ve ever tasted, Iris. I had a small piece as I cut it up, it’s delicious! How is your sister now?’

‘Oh, she’s so much better and looking forward to her trip,’ Iris replied.

‘She just might enjoy it so much that she won’t want to come back. I think I could settle quite well in the country. I’ve been talking to Mr Taylor about moving somewhere away from Liverpool when he retires but he says he doesn’t envisage doing that for a long time yet.’

‘I don’t know if I’d enjoy living somewhere like Tregarron permanently,’ Florence added, thinking it was the first she’d heard of this. ‘But it would be lovely for a change.’

‘It would drive me mad! No, Rose will have to come back home whether she wants to or not. She can’t stay with Aunty Gwen for ever. Even if she doesn’t go back to work in that hotel, she’ll have to get some kind of a job,’ Iris said firmly, sipping her tea.

‘Perhaps she could help your mother in the shop, Iris?’ Mrs Taylor suggested.

Iris nodded, wondering if this was something her mam had thought of already.

‘Before you go, Iris, I’ve some magazines I’ve finished with; perhaps you could take them for your mother?’ Mrs Taylor offered.

Iris nodded but privately wondered just when her mam, between running a home and a shop, would get the time to read them. Maybe her mam and Rose could look through them on the bus to Denbigh.

When she arrived home she deposited the magazines on the kitchen table thankfully; they’d been a bit of a nuisance to carry and also rather on the heavy side. ‘Florence’s mam sent these for you to read on the bus,’ she informed Kate.

‘What, all of them? How long does she think it takes?’ Kate asked, eyeing the pile and thinking there must be at least a dozen of them.

Iris shrugged as she took off her jacket and hat. ‘She also said your cake was delicious, the lightest she’d ever tasted. According to Florence they only ever have shop-bought bread and cakes.’

Kate raised her eyebrows. She didn’t know anyone who didn’t bake their own bread for a large shop-bought loaf cost sixpence and didn’t go very far in a big family. Surely a woman in Mrs Taylor’s position had plenty of time to bake? But she was pleased by the compliment just the same.

‘She seems quite taken with the idea of moving to somewhere like Tregarron when Florence’s da retires,’ Iris went on.

‘Is he thinking of doing that? He can’t be all that old,’ Bill asked.

‘I think he’s about the same age as you, Da, or perhaps a bit older. At least he looks it, but I don’t think he’s about to retire. I think it’s just wishful thinking on Mrs Taylor’s part. I did enjoy myself though; we sat out in the garden at the back of the house and had our tea there. It was so quiet, Mam, and they have a small front garden too.’ Iris sat down opposite her mother.

‘Oh, wouldn’t that be a treat? You certainly wouldn’t want to sit out in that yard. Now, tell me all about the house and Florence’s mother,’ Kate pressed, wanting to learn more about this woman who didn’t work or run a business, who
lived in a house with two gardens and who didn’t bake.

Charlie appeared engrossed in the article he was reading in the Sunday newspaper but he was listening intently to everything Iris was saying, remembering too how she had said Florence’s father looked older than his da. Running a business on the scale of Taylor’s Coal Merchants must be quite worrying, he thought, and with no sons to either help or leave the business to – only Florence and what would a young girl like her know about business? The wife didn’t seem to be all that interested in it either. If Iris was to be believed she wanted him to retire and move out of Liverpool and maybe in time he would, providing there was someone he could trust to run the business for him . . . a son-in-law perhaps?