Sunlight on the Mersey

by Lyn Andrews

  ‘I’ll wait until later, Mam, when it’s cooled down a bit.’

  ‘All right, luv, but I can’t open the window any wider or we’ll be inundated with flies. I’ll have to get some more fly papers tomorrow. At least our Rose won’t be tormented with them like we are.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bank on that, Kate. They get plenty of flies in the country too,’ Bill had remarked.

  ‘Yes, but the houses all have plenty of space around them and no stinking, overflowing ashcans a few yards away in the jigger,’ Kate had replied, thinking of the rubbish in the entry that ran behind the houses.

  ‘Did Florence get her tram all right?’ Iris asked as her brother arrived home.

  ‘Of course she did. One arrived almost straight away,’ Charlie assured her, taking off his jacket and tie and loosening his collar. ‘Isn’t it warm? I can’t remember the last time it rained. I have to say I’d prefer it to be cooler than this.’

  ‘Wouldn’t we all?’ his father remarked tersely.

  ‘I’d prefer not to have the damned range lit but we’d have nothing to boil the kettle on or cook on either,’ Kate added.

  Charlie sat down at the table opposite his mother while Iris leaned back in the armchair, holding a damp cloth to her forehead. ‘I’ve got something to tell you all,’ he announced.

  ‘What? What have you and your mates been up to now?’ Kate demanded, pouring him a cup of tea.

  ‘Nothing and it’s got nothing to do with my mates either, it’s to do with Florence,’ Charlie replied quietly.

  Iris sat up and Kate stared at her son. ‘Florence? You mean Iris’s Florence?’

  Charlie proceeded to tell them of his visit to Cedar Grove and his conversation with Florence as he’d escorted her to the tram.

  As Iris listened the throbbing in her head increased. She couldn’t believe this. The nerve of him! He’d taken himself off to see Mr Taylor and then … then he’d asked Florence out! And Florence had accepted. She must be mad!

  ‘Well, I never thought you were that interested in her, Charlie. You’ve never said anything.’ Kate too was astonished. ‘And you hardly know the girl.’

  ‘But I want to get to know her, Mam. I … I liked her the very first time I met her. I like her a lot,’ Charlie replied firmly.

  Iris found her voice. ‘I can’t believe she agreed to go out with you. She must be mad!’

  ‘Why? What’s the matter with me?’ Charlie demanded, annoyed by her attitude. ‘She likes me. She said she’d love to go out with me.’

  ‘She’s far too good for you, Charlie, and you know it,’ Iris cried furiously and then groaned as the drumming behind her eyes increased.

  ‘Now, that’s enough!’ Kate instructed sharply, although Iris did have a point, she thought. Florence came from a very different background and while she didn’t object to the girls being friends, for Charlie to start to court Florence was a different kettle of fish altogether. ‘And what did her mother have to say?’

  ‘She wasn’t in. I only saw her father and he seemed happy enough. Don’t tell me you’re going to object too, Mam?’

  Kate shook her head. ‘No, you’re old enough by law to do as you please but I wouldn’t bank on her mother being very happy. Florence is used to a much better home and lifestyle.’

  Bill now added his thoughts on the matter. ‘I agree with you, Kate, to an extent but don’t let’s get carried away. He’s only taking her out to get to know her; no one is saying they’re going to end up getting married. They’re both still very young.’

  Kate sighed; if that’s what Charlie had in mind she could see plenty of obstacles ahead, but she did care for her son, and wanted to see him happy.

  The situation had troubled Iris all night and she determined that before she went to work next morning she would have a talk to her mam. Charlie had already left by the time she went through into the shop.

  ‘Mam, I don’t know what to say to Florence about our Charlie. I don’t know whether to say I think she’s mad or—’

  ‘Say nothing, Iris!’ Kate instructed firmly as she placed the last bunch of carrots on the appropriate shelf. ‘I wouldn’t even bring the subject up unless she does. Right or wrong, she’s agreed to go out with him. It’s her decision.’

  ‘But she’s my friend, I don’t want to see her get hurt or anything,’ Iris protested.

  ‘Of course you don’t but who says she will? Our Charlie isn’t much of a ladies’ man – thank God, and he’s obviously been thinking seriously about asking her—’

  ‘So you don’t mind?’ Iris interrupted.

  Kate sighed. ‘I like Florence, she’s a kind, generous, well-brought-up girl. All that worries me is the different backgrounds. If … and it’s a very big “if”, they eventually got married Florence wouldn’t have half the things she takes for granted now. Charlie doesn’t earn enough to provide them. At the present time he doesn’t earn enough to keep himself, never mind a wife; she’d find it very hard and that’s when the cracks would start to appear. There’s an old and very true saying: “When poverty comes in the door, love flies out of the window.” But it might all come to nothing, Iris. They don’t know each other very well and in time they might find there isn’t that spark between them. And Mrs Taylor might well influence Florence because, as I said last night, I have a feeling she’s not going to be happy. Now, you’d better get off or you’ll be late.’

  Iris decided to take her mother’s advice but if Florence asked her opinion then she’d certainly tell her friend that she considered she was too good for Charlie.

  In the event Florence had only said she was looking forward to Tuesday evening and she hoped Iris didn’t mind her walking out with her brother. Iris had shrugged and had said if Florence was happy to go then that was all that mattered. Florence had smiled happily, feeling relieved. She had wanted her friend’s approval for she had the distinct feeling that she certainly didn’t have her mother’s, although she had overheard her father saying that she shouldn’t judge the lad before she’d even met him.

  She was ready and waiting on Tuesday evening. She had changed after supper from the plain dark skirt and white blouse she wore for work into a light summer dress of lilac voile with short cape sleeves, a V-neckline and a dropped waist circled with a white sash. Her hat was a white cloche trimmed with lilac satin ribbon. The colours suited her, her mother had remarked when they’d bought the dress, and she hoped she looked her best. She had to admit as she gazed at her reflection in the long mirror on the outside of her wardrobe door that she felt a little nervous. After all, it was the first time she had ever been out with a young man and the first time she would be alone for a few hours with Charlie. You couldn’t really call that short walk to the tram stop being ‘alone’.

  He arrived on time, looking very smart in his best suit and bearing a small bottle of Yardley’s Lavender Water for her mother.

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you Mrs Taylor. I … I thought you might like this. Mam says a few drops on a handkerchief are very refreshing in the weather we’ve been having,’ Charlie said politely. What Kate had actually said, when he’d asked her advice about what to take, was that when the smells from the back yards and the jigger got too much a bit of scent on a handkerchief always helped but he’d rephrased it.

  Ethel thanked him courteously, not knowing quite what to make of him. He was a handsome lad, quietly spoken, and obviously he came from a decent, hardworking family, but she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that he just wasn’t what she wanted for Florence. And there was something else that she couldn’t put her finger on.

  Florence smiled happily at him as she picked up her gloves and bag from the mahogany half-moon table in the hall. It was so thoughtful of him to bring a gift for her mother, she thought.

  ‘I won’t keep her out late, I promise. We both have work in the morning so we’ll be back by nine thirty,’ Charlie informed her parents as he ushered her out.

  The nearest park was in Walton Hall Aven
ue so they got a tram. It was a beautiful summer evening and the perfume of the flowers that filled the ornamental beds and flanked the pathways filled the air and the leaves on the trees and bushes rustled gently in the light breeze. There were quite a few people taking advantage of the weather and the fact that the park was open until sunset to walk in the comparative coolness of the evening after being cooped up in hot, stuffy offices and shops all day.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t bring you something too, Florence, but—’ Charlie started to explain.

  Florence squeezed his hand and shook her head. ‘Don’t be, Charlie,’ she interrupted. ‘I didn’t expect you to. After all you are taking me out for supper on Saturday.’ She was aware that he didn’t earn much; Iris had commented on the fact once or twice in the past.

  ‘I would if I could, Florence. I want you to have … nice things.’

  ‘The nicest thing you can give me is your company, Charlie.’

  They rounded a bend in the path and sat down on a bench that was surrounded by laurel bushes, which afforded them a little privacy.

  ‘Did our Iris say anything to you, Florence, about … us?’ he asked, thinking of his sister’s outburst.

  Florence shook her head. ‘Not really. I told her we are walking out together and she just shrugged and said if I was happy then that’s all that mattered. Why?’

  ‘She seemed a bit annoyed, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe she was just surprised,’ Charlie answered.

  ‘Probably that was it. Don’t forget, she wasn’t very well although she said she was fine next day,’ Florence reminded him.

  Charlie relaxed; at least Iris hadn’t repeated her derogatory remarks. Privately he thought his sister was a bit jealous; after all, as far as he knew there was no one special on Iris’s horizon. ‘I thought we’d go to the Stork Hotel on Saturday, Florence. I’ve been asking some of the older men in the office where would be best. I wanted to take you somewhere quiet and refined and where the food is good.’ Various places had been suggested, most of them far too grand and expensive, particularly the Imperial which was next to Lime Street Station.

  ‘That was sensible of you and it would be lovely. I’ve got to admit that I’ve never been there but then I’ve never been to any hotel for supper,’ Florence admitted.

  Charlie hadn’t either. ‘That makes two of us but I hope it’s something we’ll both enjoy. I want us to enjoy things … together. Do you like going to the music hall and the moving pictures?’

  Florence nodded enthusiastically although she had never been allowed to go to the music hall – her mother considered it to be far too rowdy. She’d often been to the theatre, however.

  Charlie smiled at her and tentatively put his arm around her shoulder, thinking that future excursions to both places would be less expensive than hotel suppers. He could just about manage a visit to one or other of them once a week; after all, you had to ‘speculate to accumulate’ and he had high hopes that in time they would become engaged. He had not missed the admiring glances her appearance had drawn as they’d strolled along the pathways. She was always beautifully dressed and in colours that he considered very becoming. She really was very attractive. He leaned towards her, catching the scent of rosewater and realising that he enjoyed her company. ‘Florence, would you think me very forward if … if I kissed you?’

  Florence pushed the thought of what her mother would say from her mind as excitement filled her. Her very first kiss! What would it be like? She would remember this moment all her life! ‘Oh, not at all, Charlie,’ she breathed, closing her eyes and slipping her arms around his neck.

  True to his word, Charlie had her back at Cedar Grove by half past nine and when he bade goodnight to both Florence and her parents he felt the evening had gone remarkably well.

  ‘I’ll see you on Saturday, Charlie,’ Florence said, wishing he wouldn’t go so soon. She felt elated and so very happy. Surely she was falling in love? That was an exhilarating thought.

  ‘Shall I call for you?’ Charlie queried.

  ‘There’s no need for you to drag out all the way here, Charlie. Ethel and I are going to the theatre so we’ll drop Florence off outside the hotel,’ Edward Taylor said firmly. He hadn’t particularly wanted to go but Ethel had acquired the tickets some weeks back and now it seemed opportune.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll be waiting outside for you, Florence, the table is booked for seven thirty,’ Charlie informed her as he took his leave.

  Ethel nodded curtly and managed a fleeting smile. Her daughter’s flushed cheeks and the light in her eyes told her that the evening had gone well – perhaps too well, she thought with a sinking feeling.

  Chapter Eight

  ROSE PEERED OUT OF the small bedroom window and frowned. Tomorrow was the day of the Tregarron Annual Flower Show and both she and Aunty Gwen had worked hard alongside Mrs Williams and the other volunteers getting everything organised. For weeks the weather had been very warm and mainly sunny but looking at the ominous dark clouds that were now gathering she hoped it wasn’t going to rain. There were times when she missed her family but since she’d been here she’d hardly thought about Jimmy Harper at all. In fact now she reckoned she’d had a lucky escape and wondered what she had ever found attractive about him. She felt she had grown up a little and even Aunty Gwen said she was far more confident now. She went back downstairs, hearing Gwen calling her for supper.

  ‘I hope it’s not going to rain, Aunty Gwen.’

  Gwen nodded as she poured the tea. ‘It doesn’t look too good out there, Rose. Mind, we do need it. Bob was only saying yesterday that there’s been no rain for nearly a hundred days now – must have been counting – but then he’s a farmer and no rain isn’t good for either crops or animals. Let’s hope that if it does it clears up by morning. Now, sit down and have your supper. You must be as tired as I am. Bye, but I’m tired of hearing Mrs Llewellyn-Jones complaining her floral arrangement isn’t being displayed to the best advantage. She’s moved it four times already and I still don’t think she’s satisfied!’

  Rose smiled conspiratorially as she tucked into the cold ham and pickle, accompanied by thick slices of homemade bread and butter from the dairy at Bryn-y-Garn Farm. ‘She is a real fusspot, I have to agree, but weeks ago I would never have had the nerve to say so.’

  Gwen smiled at her. Spending time away from her home and family had been good for Rose, and she had grown fond of the girl.

  ‘Her arrangement is gorgeous though. Do you think she’ll win?’

  Gwen raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘She has for the past two years so if she doesn’t we’ll never hear the end of it! But the judge’s decision is final,’ she ended firmly, watching Rose eat with satisfaction. Rose had grown much stronger over the weeks. She had a good appetite and had even gained a little weight, and the sun had put the colour back into her cheeks. She now looked the picture of health.

  Rose had taken to country life like a duck to water. She’d made some friends amongst the girls in the village and Bob’s two boys were quite smitten with her but Rose said although she liked them, it was just friendship, nothing more. She was unfailingly polite and obliging when she helped out in the post office and was well spoken of by everyone. She happily made the journey into Denbigh once a week with old Mr Morgan in his archaic trap with its equally archaic pony to visit the library and do whatever shopping was needed and she’d worked untiringly and uncomplainingly to help organise the show.

  ‘Well, there are only a few little things left to do in the morning, Aunty Gwen. As long as it doesn’t rain, that is. It would really spoil the day and it would ruin the lawns at Plas Idris too,’ Rose remarked, thinking of the wide stretches of green sward that surrounded the house upon which marquees were now dotted.

  ‘You’re really taken with the big house, aren’t you?’

  ‘I love the gardens, they’re beautiful, it’s like being in a park,’ Rose replied. It must be wonderful to be able to look out on to such a scene each day, she mused
. She’d been quite excited and a little apprehensive the first time she’d gone there with Gwen. She had stared in amazement at the house as they’d got off their bicycles at the end of the long, tree-lined driveway. It was the biggest private house she’d ever seen, built of local stone. Parts of it resembled a castle: crenellated walls, Gwen had called them. There were long sash windows overlooking the grounds and wide steps leading up to the front door, which was huge and made of thick oak. The whole area in front of it was gravelled but large stone urns filled with flowers stood at intervals along the walls of the house.

  They’d been shown into one of the smaller sitting rooms, which was furnished in shades of blue, and she’d noticed then that the brocade curtains were a little faded as was the material that covered the sofa and various armchairs. The sunlight streaming in through the window had drawn her attention to the layer of dust covering the glass domes of the numerous displays of dried flowers and stuffed birds that were set on tables around the room.

  She’d been introduced to Miss Rhys-Pritchard, whom everyone called Miss Olivia, and her younger sister Miss Elinore, both of whom she judged to be in their late twenties or early thirties, both unmarried and dressed in obviously expensive but decidedly unfashionable clothes. She had been rather overawed, particularly by Miss Olivia, and had said little during the discussion about the show that had followed but Gwen had enlightened her on many things when they’d left.

  ‘It’s a shame really, see, the house going downhill like that,’ she’d said as they’d cycled down the drive towards the road that led to the village. ‘They used to have a big staff there when their parents were alive but since the war people don’t want to go into service any more.’

  Rose had nodded. ‘I noticed that the place needed a good dusting and that things were looking a bit … worn.’

  ‘They still have money though. Own most of the farms around here, they do – Bob is one of their tenants – but the two mines were sold off after the tragedy,’ Gwen had said gravely.