The Leaving of Liverpool (19 page)

He broached the subject with Jimmy who was the same age as himself and the more garrulous of the two brothers. He was also the one who had offered to help him in his quest for work.

They travelled together on the overhead railway on Monday morning. It was bitterly cold, with frost sparkling on roof tops and pavements, glittering like diamonds in the light from the street lamps, for it was not seven o’clock. The atmosphere in the carriage was heavy with tobacco smoke and the smells which had impregnated the working clothes of the men and boys crushed together on the wooden seats.

‘Don’t get too upset if you aren’t taken on, like. It’s just a matter of either “first come, first served” or “if your face fits”; depends which blockerman it is.’ Seeing the puzzled expression on Rhys’s face he added, ‘The foremen; they wear bowler hats.’

‘I’m used to that sort of system. If the gaffer likes you, you get steady work.’

‘What’s it like down the pits?’

‘Terrible. You’ve got to have worked down them to really understand.’

‘At least here you can see the sky and breathe fresh air, though it’s not so bloody fresh. Full of soot and muck an’ God knows what else.’

‘Jim, do you think your mam and Albert would mind if I asked Phoebe-Ann to come out with me?’

Jimmy raised one eyebrow. ‘You don’t believe in hanging around, do you? She’ll lead you a dance, I’m warnin’ you.’

‘Will they mind though? They won’t think I’m being forward, like?’

‘Mam won’t mind and I shouldn’t think Albert will either. Good bloke your cousin. Best thing that ever happened to our mam, marryin’ him. ’Ere, tell the driver it’s not the end of his bloody shift so what’s the ’urry?’ he yelled to no-one in particular as they were all thrown forward when the driver applied the brakes a bit too harshly. There were other such comments as men thrown together disentangled themselves and their metal lunch boxes and billy cans.

‘Bloody maniac! Look at the state of me “carry out”!’ the man next to them grumbled, looking morosely at a large ‘doorstep’ of bread that had been wrapped in old greaseproof paper and stuffed in his coat pocket.

‘What about Phoebe-Ann?’ Rhys persisted.

‘I’m tellin’ you she’ll lead you a dance.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Like a lamb to the slaughter. Well, ask her if you’re so set on her. She likes dancin’ and goin’ to the cinema. Thinks she looks like Mary Pickford – some ’ope she’s got!’ He laughed at his own joke but seeing Rhys hadn’t joined in he stopped. ‘You know, the one who’s just married Douglas Fairbanks.’

‘I know who she is. Now you mention it, Phoebe-Ann does look a bit like her.’

‘Oh, God! There’s no doin’ any good with you!’ Jimmy rolled his eyes in mock despair.

‘I can’t ask her until I get a job.’

‘Don’t suppose you can. You can’t take that one out on fresh air. Come on, it’s our stop – Gladstone Graving – pneumonia corner!’

 

It was nearing the end of the week before Rhys was taken on and he’d begun to despair of ever getting work or asking Phoebe-Ann out. Day after day he’d joined the crowds of men looking for work on the docks and he began to wonder if he had been rash in his optimism that a city the size of Liverpool could offer work.

Saturday came; he had two days’ pay and, after Lily had flatly refused to take a penny for his keep, he plucked up courage.

The lads were out helping Albert, who had a rush job on, and Lily was down the street with a neighbour who had been taken ill. Emily had not come in, which left him alone with Phoebe-Ann who was pressing a skirt with the flat iron.

‘That’s nice. Is it new?’ he asked awkwardly.

‘No.’

‘Oh.’ He was at a loss. Should he pay her more compliments or . . . Oh, in for a penny in for a pound, he thought. ‘Phoebe-Ann, would you, will you . . . There’s a new film on at the cinema in Clayton Square; will you let me take you?’

She stopped ironing and stared at him. ‘Tonight?’

‘Yes.’ His heart was racing.

She hadn’t really paid him much notice. Oh, she’d scrutinized him closely at first. He was handsome but so quiet and sort of gawky. It was the first time she’d ever heard him utter so long a sentence. She was in a quandary. She’d planned to go to the Locarno with Alice and Ginny, but she hadn’t been to the cinema for ages.

‘Mary Pickford’s in it. You look like her, Phoebe-Ann,’ he ventured.

She smiled and fluttered her long lashes. ‘You’re only saying that to flatter me!’

‘I’m not! I mean it! You do!’

‘All right then but I’ll have to tell Alice I’ve had a change of mind.’

He was elated. ‘Yes, yes of course. Shall I go and tell her?’

‘No. You could take a note to her though.’ He looked so eager to please her she thought. He would be like putty in her hands. ‘I’ll just finish this; I’ll wear it tonight seeing as you like it,’ she smiled.

 

He was ready long before she was. He’d taken the note to Alice who had looked him up and down and then smiled condescendingly and he decided he didn’t like her. He smiled good humouredly when Jack, Jimmy and Albert made jokes about being a ‘fast worker’. Lily had given him a genuine smile and had said, ‘Don’t you let her play you up. She’s a flighty little madam at times.’

When Emily had arrived home he’d smiled at her while Lily explained he was waiting for Phoebe-Ann and if she didn’t hurry up it would be no use in going at all. The film would be half over. He liked Emily. She was a quiet, self-effacing girl but he suspected that she was holding something back.

Phoebe-Ann made his heart sing when she slipped her arm through his on the way to the tram stop. She made him feel proud and important. Yes, that was it. Important. Something he’d never felt before. He bought her a quarter of lemon drops and a quarter of Everton Mints because she couldn’t make up her mind.

‘Oh, Rhys, you’re so generous,’ she said, gazing up at him.

‘You can have anything you want, Phoebe-Ann,’ he’d replied, wishing he could afford chocolates and even jewellery. But perhaps one day, he mused.

She had enjoyed herself, she thought with some amazement. She hadn’t expected to.

‘If you were old enough I’d take you for a drink. Somewhere really posh, not just a pub,’ he said when they were on their way home.

‘Would you – really?’

‘Yes.’

She slipped her hand in his. She knew she was being very bold but she didn’t care. There was no harm in him. He wouldn’t get what her mam called ‘ideas’. ‘What about afternoon tea? The Imperial Hotel is very nice. By Lime Street Station.’

‘Fine.’ It sounded expensive but he felt reckless.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘It’s Sunday.’

‘So?’

‘Don’t you go to chapel or church? It’s the Lord’s Day.’

‘Of course we do! We go in the morning to St Nathaniel’s. I’m talking about the afternoon.’

‘Won’t they be closed?’

‘No! It’s an hotel!’

‘I don’t know. What would your mam say?’ He’d never heard of anyone going out to a place of entertainment on a Sunday.

‘She won’t say anything. We’re not going to an alehouse or somewhere common like that!’

He was reticent. At home they went to chapel at least twice, sometimes three times and, in between, it was considered proper to either read or walk in the hills beyond the valley. His mam had never done anything like what Phoebe-Ann was suggesting. ‘Couldn’t we go next Saturday afternoon?’

Phoebe-Ann was annoyed. What was the matter with him? He’d seemed so nice. A bit quiet but nice and now he was all pious and disapproving, as though she’d suggested they do something really shocking. ‘I’ve made arrangements for next Saturday.’

‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you but I have my principles. I can’t help the way I am but I do . . . I am . . . fond of you.’

She looked at him from under her lashes, wondering how far she could push him. ‘You could take me to the Imperial one night. We could have a drink.’

He was relieved that she was willing to compromise. ‘Yes, that’s what we’ll do. Do they serve tea in the evening?’

‘No. A glass of sherry wouldn’t hurt and I’ve often been told I look older than I am.’

‘You mean?’

‘Oh, don’t be such a killjoy!’

‘I’m not!’

‘You are! Oh, I suppose I’ll have a glass of lemonade if you’re going to make such a fuss!’ At least it would be a night out, she thought, and the Imperial was a very smart and snobby place. Wait until she told Alice and Ginny about this. She smiled up at him, good humour restored.

 

When Lily heard of the proposed outing she shook her head. ‘Do you honestly think they’ll let you in?’

‘Why shouldn’t they? There’s nothing wrong with our money – Rhys’s money.’

‘Have a bit of sense, girl. Even in your best clobber you still look what you are – working class!’ Jack said dourly.

‘Nothing wrong with that, is there?’ Rhys asked.

‘No. Unless you want to get into the Adelphi or the Imperial. Only the toffs go there and I don’t want you to look a bloody fool being turned away!’ Jimmy answered. ‘You’re not going to make a fool of him, our Phoebe-Ann! ’

‘Too right I’m not, because I’m not going! I’m not going anywhere with him ever again! I hope you’re all satisfied now!’ she cried, her cheeks flushed. Snatching up her bag she flounced upstairs.

‘I wasn’t being awkward, Rhys, lad. I just didn’t want you to be humiliated,’ Jimmy said.

‘She’s got ideas above herself! I don’t know what gets into her at times!’ Lily felt sorry for the lad. He looked so downhearted. She was angry with Phoebe-Ann because she had hoped the friendship would blossom. ‘She’ll get over it, Rhys. Give her a day or two and ask her again,’ she advised.

He smiled. He didn’t know how to cope with Phoebe-Ann but it didn’t make him love her less.

 

When he returned to Lonsdale Street on Monday lunch time after having no luck at the docks, Rhys was dispirited. He’d take anything he thought. Anything. As he walked disconsolately, hands in pockets, head down, he almost collided with three thickset drunks who staggered around the corner.

‘Gerrout of me way!’ one yelled at him.

He wanted no trouble. ‘Sorry, mate!’

‘Who’re yer callin’ mate? Yez not me mate!’

He ignored them and walked on.

Lily was standing on the pavement, a brush in her hand. ‘Take no notice of them! Drunken pigs! It’s the brothers Malone, the Mona Street Mob, three of them at least and by the look of them they’ve been paid off.’

Rhys looked after the three staggering figures. ‘Paid off ?’

‘Aye. They all work in the stokehold of the
Mauretania
. Come on in and I’ll get you something to eat.’

Albert looked up as Rhys entered, while Lily informed him of the current state of the Malones, adding some acid comments on what she’d do if they were any relation of hers, which she thanked God they were not.

‘Would there be jobs there?’ Rhys asked.

‘Where?’

‘The stokehold. The
Mauretania
was it?’

Lily was horrified. ‘You don’t want to work there!’

‘I’ll take anything I can get. Where would I find out?’

Albert looked perturbed. ‘The Labour Pool I should think. At Mann Island.’

‘Will you come with me?’

‘Oh, Albert, don’t let him go! I’d have nightmares thinking of him working down there and with that lot!’

‘Lily, I just want to work and I’m used to coal.’

Albert stood up and reached for his cap. ‘We can try but don’t expect too much.’

 

The clerk at the Pool informed them that it was their lucky day. ‘Not Irish are you?’

‘No, Welsh. Is that a problem?’ Rhys replied.

The man grinned. ‘No but I can’t say “the luck of the Irish”, can I? Also most of the black squads are Irish, well, Liverpool Irish.’

He went on to inform them that there were two jobs going on the
Maury
. It appeared that there had been a fight on the homeward journey, yet another fight, he corrected himself. The protagonists had been discharged.

‘Wouldn’t have been named Malone by any chance?’ Albert enquired.

‘Right first time. Seamus Malone and Frank O’Rourke and it’s not the first time they’ve tried to brain each other either!’

Albert looked grim. He knew that the black squads usually worked in family teams and he guessed that neither the Malones nor the O’Rourkes would take kindly to anyone who filled their brother’s shoes. He looked at Rhys and his heart sank. The lad looked as though he’d won first prize in a raffle. He stood back while the forms were completed and the clerk handed Rhys his copy. ‘Take this to the Registrar of the Mercantile Marine; they’ll issue you with your discharge book.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Royal Liver Buildings.’

 

As they crossed the cobbles of the Pierhead, Rhys looked exuberant. ‘Wasn’t that a piece of luck then? Do you think Phoebe-Ann will change her mind and let me take her out before I go?’

‘I think she might well do that. She’s a nice girl really, just a bit highly-strung, so her mam says.’

Rhys looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose she needs to be treated rather specially then?’

Albert nodded. ‘But don’t let her get the upper hand, lad. Be firm but kind. She’ll respect you for it in the end. And you’ll respect her feelings.’

‘My intentions are honourable. I know it’s all been very quick, but I know she’s the girl for me. If I work hard and . . .’

Albert caught his arm. ‘Hold your horses, boyo! Think about your mam. Send her what she’s due, isn’t that why you came here?’

‘Yes, but she’ll understand about Phoebe-Ann when I tell her.’

‘I don’t understand about Phoebe-Ann. God above! You’ve only taken her out once and you want to go hurtling into an understanding!’

‘I don’t want an understanding.’