by Kate Eastham
When Ada saw Tom sitting quietly on the wagon, ready to move, she knew exactly where they would be going before heading to the British Hotel and then back to the hospital. It was somewhere that he and the other soldiers regularly visited themselves, knowing that they would have to leave them soon, their comrades who would lie forever in Crimean soil. Ada was glad that he let her stand by the war grave alone, to say her own goodbyes. The last time he had brought her here, she had felt weak and the day was bitingly cold. She had left feeling empty inside. At least this time she could feel the spring sun on her face and she had the colour of the flowers to warm her soul whilst she paid her respects and said her final goodbye.
When they reached the British Hotel they could hardly get in through the door. The place was packed with officers and loud conversation, Mrs Seacole at the centre of everything, dressed in her bright yellow silk, talking and laughing. When she saw Ada she came straight across and gave her a hug. Holding her at arm’s length, she cried, ‘You’re looking so well!’ Taking a bright orange feather from her hair, she stuck it in amongst Ada’s dark brown curls.
Sally was busy at the bar and Ada went in behind the counter to give her a hug and say an emotional goodbye.
‘What are you going to do when you get back to England?’ Sally asked.
‘I’m going to be a nurse,’ said Ada proudly.
‘That is so good, Ada, so good,’ said Sally, beaming. ‘Mother Seacole has always said what a good nurse you will make.’
‘Where will you go?’ said Ada.
‘We don’t know yet, but we have time to get something organized,’ said Sally, looking over at Mrs Seacole. ‘We would like to go back to England but we’re not sure. We need to make a living, you see, we need to have more money. But don’t worry about us; we will be all right. You know what she is like.’
‘I think I do,’ said Ada, looking over again at Mrs Seacole in her fine silk.
Ada walked back over to Mrs Seacole and they hugged a final time. ‘Goodbye, darlin’,’ Mrs Seacole said. ‘I hope you stay with nursing: there is no better work.’
‘I plan to stay,’ said Ada. ‘I will stay.’
‘I know that you’ve been through a great deal here, Ada, but never forget, all of those experiences are important for you; they make you the person that you are. No experiences, even the bad ones, are wasted. Always remember, darlin’, every woman is the sum of all she ever did and all she ever felt.’
Ada stood for a moment taking in Mrs Seacole’s words. She was right. All of Ada’s experiences were part of who she was now, part of her story, and she knew that she would go on to have more experiences, good and bad, and no matter what happened she swore that she would always try to keep learning and to keep going, no matter what life threw at her.
That night she dreamt that she was back in Liverpool with her grandfather and Frank. She saw again her yellow silk bed curtain with its pattern of flowers, butterflies and exotic birds. She ran her hands over it like she had done the first time when her grandfather had brought it back home from the docks. She saw her grandfather’s face smiling down at her once more. And she heard his voice, telling her as he had done so often, ‘You are here for a reason, Ada, you are strong and clever and one day you will tell your own stories.’
25
‘Let whoever is in charge keep this simple question in her head … how can I provide for the right thing to be always done?’
Florence Nightingale
Ada stood on deck as the ship pulled out of Balaklava harbour. She had not seen Lampeter for days. She had stayed strong, waiting for him to come to her, but in the end he had not and she had certainly not been inclined to chase after him just to say goodbye. She had held her ground and waited … but he didn’t come and now the ship was leaving.
As the ship began to move further out she looked back at the harbour and the group of buildings that had been so strange to her when she arrived last year. The quay was clear now, but back then it had been packed with people and horses and wounded soldiers. She thought about the first time she had seen Lampeter, covered in blood. How he hadn’t even seemed like a thinking, feeling person. How she had detested him. And now … well, now, she knew that he thought and felt more than anyone could imagine. As for leaving without a goodbye – well, she would get over it. She had her sights firmly set on Liverpool and working at the Infirmary. And maybe, just maybe, there would be news about Frank. As she thought about her brother she felt that old, familiar tightness in the pit of her stomach and she took a deep breath to try and settle it down.
Still looking at the harbour, thoughts and feelings flowing through her mind, she saw a dark figure come into view. They were still close enough for her to make out who it was. Even if they hadn’t been, she would have known instantly who it was. It was Lampeter, with the little dog beside him. He had seen her up on deck, her face turned to the harbour, and raised one hand in farewell. She knew then, in that moment, that he had, at last, given her a sign. She raised her hand back without hesitation and then she saw him wave properly to her, and he continued to wave as he stood there with the little dog, watching her go, until he was just a small mark in the distance.
Ada turned to go below deck, feeling sure now that what had happened between them was strong. This wasn’t the last of it; there would be more to come.
Ada spent most of the voyage home quietly below deck, rocked by the ship, sometimes seasick, but mostly just rocked. On the day they arrived off the shore of Liverpool, waiting for high water so they could sail in, she could feel the excitement buzzing through the whole ship until at last they were ready to move. And for Ada, it felt spectacular as they came in up the Mersey under full sail amidst any number of other ships. As the sails billowed and the ship cut through the water she could feel a fresh breeze on her face and felt exhilarated, like she was riding the crest of a wave.
A massive cheer went up around her as the magnificent harbour and the first line of the dock buildings came into view and she felt a surge of pure joy go through her body. She was back home in Liverpool at last and desperate to feel the ground beneath her feet. She waited impatiently on deck, her heart pounding, as the ship manoeuvred through the harbour, bristling with masts, and finally squeezed in between two other ships to moor. As soon as the gangplank was in place she was walking down, making her sea legs steady up, and then she was there, back on dry land and amongst the people of Liverpool.
Almost the first person that she saw after disembarking was a young woman wearing a shawl, carrying a large bag and looking flustered, probably heading for one of the passenger ships. As Ada walked by, she felt as if she was passing herself that day she’d left Liverpool for the Crimea. She smiled at the girl and then looked down, seeing her new self for the first time. She realized that she was wearing the good skirt and hat that Rose had given her, and her hair was swept up and pinned in the way that Rose had shown her. Curls still escaped on to her face, but she was able to keep it a bit tidier. She didn’t look like that young woman wearing a shawl any more.
As she made her way to Mary Regan’s house she walked back up her old street. It still felt familiar but by this time she had no sense of her grandfather by her side and she didn’t see one person that she knew. As she passed their old house she noticed that the paint had started to peel from the windows, and remembered that it had always happened in the heat of the summer sun, and her grandfather always made sure that the windows were repainted before winter came. But the house had new tenants now and things would be done differently.
She carried on through the city, enjoying the sights and sounds of the place that she knew so well but now felt so unfamiliar to her. The noise of the people and the sound of the accent felt like home, but at first almost grated on her, and the smell of the streets was quite different from what she remembered.
As she stood on Mary’s doorstep she listened for the sound of the screeching baby but all was quiet inside. She wondered what she would find, what news there would be,
and prayed that all would be well.
Hearing voices inside the house, she tapped on the door and waited, but no one came. So she knocked again a bit more firmly, and finally heard Mary’s voice and footsteps.
The door opened and Mary stood there, looking at Ada, but clearly not recognizing her under the hat.
‘Yes? Can I help you?’
‘You can indeed,’ said Ada, removing her hat.
‘Ada!’ Mary clapped a hand over her mouth and no other words would come. Then she grabbed Ada and hugged and hugged her on the doorstep.
Finally letting her go, Mary looked distracted. ‘Did you get my letter?’
‘No, what letter?’
‘About Frank!’
Ada felt her stomach lurch. ‘Frank? You’ve news?’ she whispered. ‘Is he alive?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Mary quickly. ‘You really didn’t get my letter? I’m so sorry. I’ve so much to tell you. But yes, he’s alive,’ she beamed. ‘He turned up back here a couple of months ago and he, well, I think he will be all right. Come in, come in. Let’s not stand on the step. Come and sit down.’
When they were sitting at the kitchen table, Ada looked across at Mary and started to feel worried, despite such wonderful news.
‘Well then,’ she said, ‘you need to tell me. There’s more, isn’t there?’
‘Oh Ada, it was so sad. I felt so sorry for Frank when he got back. He’d been to the old house, of course, and the new family there had told him they didn’t know anything about you or your grandfather. So, of course, he’d gone straight round to Mam’s and she’d had to tell him … He took it very bad, Ada. He was heartbroken about your grandfather, and then of course all he wanted was you – but you were gone looking for him and, not only that, you’d gone out to the war. What with the grief and the worry, poor Frank didn’t know what to do with himself.’
‘Is he all right now? Where is he, Mary? Is he at work? Can I go and see him?’
‘Well, he did try going back into work, but he was a mess, he couldn’t work, and … well, he’s taken to drink, Ada, that’s what he’s done. He’s taken to drink and he won’t listen to me or to Mam.’
‘So where is he living?’ said Ada, urgently. ‘Where can I find him?’
‘He was staying at Mam’s but she had to ask him to leave a couple of weeks back. He was coming in at all hours, so drunk, knocking things over, she couldn’t manage him, and I’m sorry to say we don’t know where he’s sleeping now.’
Ada sat quiet for a minute, staring at her hands, then she looked back at Mary and reached a hand out to her.
‘Look, Mary, don’t you worry. I know you’ve done your best for Frank. He’s not easy to manage, but I’m back now and I will find him.’
Mary nodded and gave Ada’s hand a squeeze, knowing that Ada was more than capable of sorting Frank out.
‘You look good, Ada. You look well. I know you won’t have time just now but you must tell me everything, everything that’s happened to you.’
‘I will that,’ said Ada, knowing that she would have to leave chunks of it out, parts that she didn’t want to go back to herself just yet, but she would talk to Mary; she always could. ‘Just as soon as I’ve sorted Frank out. So what did happen to him, has he been able to tell you? Did he get knocked on to another ship?’
‘No – well, not in the way we thought he had. He went off that morning to work as usual and then somebody begged him to make up the crew on a passenger ship leaving for Australia. The ship was leaving there and then, so he went.’
‘Australia? He just got on the ship without leaving any word, without letting us know?’ she gasped.
‘Well, he told Tommy Simpson, who was overseeing that day. He told him to tell you and your grandfather, to make sure that he told you. But then Tommy was killed soon after and nobody ever knew.’
‘What?’ said Ada. ‘All that time I was thinking he was dead or fallen on to some ship going to the war and he had willingly gone as crew, willingly gone. Who was it that persuaded him to do such a thing? Or did they force him?’
‘Well, the thing is, Ada, apparently it was his father, your birth father, Francis …’
‘What?’ said Ada, utterly shocked now. ‘Frank found him and he didn’t tell me?’
‘He had got to know him through working on the docks, apparently. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you. I’m sorry, Ada,’ she said, giving her friend’s hand a squeeze. ‘Anyway, Frank had always said he wanted to go on a ship, not thinking it would happen so fast, so when he got the chance he went.’
Instantly Ada was back in their house on the street with Frank and Grandfather. She’d always known how interested Frank had been in their father, whereas she had felt differently; she hadn’t wanted to know him. So perhaps that was why Frank didn’t share anything with her. And then she remembered that note in her grandfather’s tin, the note making it clear that this Francis already had a wife and a child.
So Frank had found their father, and had got to know him. And if he knew him, did he also know that woman, that Marie, and her child? Did he know them too?
‘So does Frank know Francis’s wife then too?’ she blurted out. ‘Or their child, the one that could be our half-sister or -brother?’
Seeing Ada’s face and knowing her of old, Mary hesitated a moment, then said, ‘I don’t know if he knows the woman, I’m not sure of that … but he does know the daughter.’
Daughter, thought Ada, her head reeling. Daughter. So I have a half-sister.
‘I think he sees her sometimes when he goes out drinking. I think she’s called Stella.’
‘Right,’ said Ada, almost to herself. ‘Right. So she’s called Stella, is she? She must be about my age, I suppose, or maybe just a bit older.’
Ada sat for a while staring at the cup of tea that Mary must have put in front of her at some stage. And then she looked up and reached a hand across to her friend and just smiled at her.
Suddenly realizing how quiet it was in the house, she said, ‘Where’s the baby?’
‘Oh, he’s fine, he’s sleeping. He’s toddling around now, he doesn’t have the gripes any more and he doesn’t scream the place down.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Ada, gulping down some of the tea and then getting up from the table.
‘Can I leave my bag here for now, Mary?’
‘Of course you can. And you can stay as long as you like, until you get yourself sorted.’
‘Thanks,’ said Ada, giving her friend a hug before putting her hat back on and fixing it with a long, brutal hat pin. ‘Now, what pub will our Frank be in? I’m going down there to drag him out by the scruff of his neck.’
Ada knew exactly where the pub was: directly opposite Lime Street Station, one of the areas of the city that Mrs Regan had always told her to stay clean away from. She marched through the city, but once she was outside the pub door, hearing the noise and the tinkling of a piano from that other world inside, she started to feel nervous.
She knew that the longer she stood there with butterflies in her stomach the worse it would get. And then thought, after all the things she’d seen and done in the Crimea, that this was ridiculous. Her brother was in there, she had been worrying about him for a full year, and here he was … right now.
She took a deep breath and pushed the door open vigorously, nearly knocking a couple of men over on the other side. She had never been in a pub before, and was in no way prepared for the noise and the smoke and the press of bodies. But she had to get through, so she pushed and she shoved until she could see the counter with a row of men hunched over their tankards. They were all wearing caps and dusty jackets, and all looked the same. She felt like screaming out Franks name but nobody would hear over that din.
There was some drunken man singing to a melancholy tune at the piano. She shot a glance at him, wishing that he’d shut up. Then her legs nearly gave way as she saw that the man standing next to the piano was Frank. His hair was long and straggly and
he had a bit of a scruffy beard – but it was Frank! With a final burst of energy, Ada pushed her way through the circle of men and then she was there, right next to him. He was swaying all over the place, but when he looked down at her she saw his face light up and he started shouting her name. ‘Ada, Ada! You’ve come back, Ada!’ Then he was crying uncontrollably as she held on to him for dear life.
‘Frank!’ she shouted over the din. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of here!’
He started to move but then stopped dead and turned towards the handsome-looking woman playing the piano. He tried to speak but his voice was slurred. ‘’S’just … let me, Ada, let me intro, intro … dush you to Ste—’
But it was too late. Ada wanted him out of there and she pulled on his arm as hard as she could, dragging him out and on to the street, where she hugged him and hugged him as he swayed all over the place, stinking of beer.
Ada marched back through the city, hauling Frank along, to Mary’s. It was no easy task – she barely came up to his shoulder and he was much stronger than she was – but she was determined, and so she pulled him through the crowds of people as he swayed along behind. She didn’t really want to take him back to Mary’s in that state, but there was absolutely nowhere else that they could go, and as far as Ada was concerned, Mary was the only family that they had left in Liverpool.
In the days that followed, when Frank was stone-cold sober, Ada started to ask him about Francis and their half-sister Stella, but each time, as soon as he started telling her, she just got angry and told him to stop.
‘Well, you asked me,’ he said each time.
‘I know, I know, and I do want you to tell me, but as soon as you start saying the words and their names, well, it just feels too much. I will want to know, I have to know, but I don’t want you to tell me too much …’
‘Can I just tell you two things then?’ he said at last.
‘All right,’ she said, looking at a spot on the floor, steeling herself to hear what was bound to come.