A Dream to Share

by A Dream to Share (retail) (epub)

  She was about to head for the cathedral when she heard Tilly call her name. Alice could barely believe her eyes when she saw her sister com­ing towards her from the direction of the Friends’ Meeting House in Frodsham Street. She was sucking a lollypop and had dribbled down her chin and onto the bodice of her dress. Alice hurried towards her.

  ‘You’re not going to smack me, are you?’ asked Tilly, attempting to wipe away the mess on her dress with her free hand.

  ‘No, but…’ Alice allowed her pent up emotions some release by seizing the lollypop and throwing it away, ‘what did I tell you about not going anywhere without permission? Everyone’s out looking for you. We’ve been worried sick!’

  The girl looked puzzled. ‘But I was with Uncle Bert. He came out of the lav when Freddie went into the house.’

  Alice went down on her knees, so her face was on a level with Tilly’s. ‘What did he do to you?’ she asked hoarsely.

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘What did he say to you then?’

  ‘He – he said I was his best girl. He bought me the lollipop… an – and you threw it away! That was naughty.’ Her bottom lip quivered.

  ‘I’ll buy you another if you promise that you’ll be a good girl and never go off with Bert again.’

  Tilly looked upset. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he isn’t always nice. He hit me and I don’t want you get­ting hurt. Now promise me.’

  Tilly sighed and squeezed her hand. ‘I promise.’

  ‘That’s a good girl,’ said Alice, wondering why Bert had let Tilly go. What was he trying to say to them by doing such a thing? That he was­n’t as black as they’d painted him? Or perhaps that he could take her anytime he wanted? Whatever it was, she didn’t have the time to worry about it now. She had to get to the Kirks’ house as fast as she could, so Kenny and Hannah could catch the train to Scotland that evening with peace of mind.

  As they walked up Brook Street, Alice noticed a girl staring at them. She looked vaguely familiar and, for a moment, Alice thought that she was going to speak to her but then she appeared to change her mind and with a smile at Tilly and a nod of the head to Alice, she walked on in the direction of the Servants’ Registry Office.

  Chapter Three

  September, 1907

  It was four months since Emma had left the Stones’ employment. There were aspects of the cleaning job in the furniture shop which she enjoyed, finding a certain amount of satisfaction in polishing the Welsh dressers, chests, tables and chairs to a gleaming shine. Her other situa­tion she hated because she was treated like the lowest of the low by the typist in the solicitor’s office. As Emma took a shortcut past Christ Church and into St Anne’s Street, she told herself yet again that there had to be something more she could do to help herself into a live-in position. She was fed up with her parents’ quarrelling and the lack of privacy at home. Despite her fondness for her brothers and sisters, she felt a servant’s tiny bedroom under the eaves was preferable to what she had to put up with at the moment. She passed the stationer’s on the corner and walked up Cornwall Street and let herself into the house, only to be greeted by a sight that caused her to draw her breath in with a hiss.

  ‘How long since Mam left?’ asked Emma, staring at her younger siblings cuddled up on the sofa beneath a couple of blankets with their bare shoulders exposed. The three older children should have been in their classes by now.

  ‘A quarter of an hour,’ chimed Patsy, the eldest. ‘The same ol’ story, she needs money and Dad’s keeping her short. When we don’t turn up at school he’ll get into trouble.’

  ‘Right!’ cried Emma. ‘I’ve had enough!’

  She turned on her heel and walked back out of the house again. She guessed what this was about – at the centre of all her parents’ arguing lately had been the matter of her father having joined one of the rail­-waymen’s unions – but instead of paying his subs from his own pocket he was deducting it from her mother’s housekeeping. Emma had been surprised at him joining as he wasn’t one to care about the majority. But, apparently, there had been talk of the railways being nationalised and if that happened, the owners of the different companies had warned there would be job losses. Only by the railway unions standing togeth­er could they protect their jobs and have a greater say in how the rail­ways should be run.

  According to Wilf, Olive should be able to manage on a drop in his money because she was getting money from Emma, and the twins now they were working, as well as a monthly money order from Chris in the army. When his wife had screamed back at him that the kids were grow­ing and would need winter coats and new boots, he had accused her again of being a lousy manager. At that point Emma had said that the twins only earned buttons and why couldn’t he cut down on his baccy. She had received a mouthful of abuse for daring to interfere.

  She ran in the direction of Trafford Street where one of the few pawnbrokers in Chester was situated. She was in luck. Her mother was coming out of the door as she approached Mr Pope’s premises. ‘Mam!’ she called.

  Olive’s head swivelled on her scrawny neck but, instead of coming towards her daughter, she scuttled in the opposite direction. Emma went after her and grabbed her sleeve. ‘You can’t start this, Mam,’ she said in a reasonable voice. ‘It’s not fair on the kids, not only missing out on their schooling but leaving them without a stitch on. It’s not decent.’

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ said Olive, struggling to free herself. ‘You get yerself another job if yer care so much.’

  That remark infuriated Emma and, with her free hand, she delved into her mother’s coat pocket. As luck would have it, she hit on the right one and drew the pawn tickets out along with a handful of coins. Olive dragged herself free and lunged for the money, managing to seize a few pennies. ‘Why do you bloody have to interfere? It’s going to cost you to redeem them. A penny in the shilling interest you’ll have to pay. Have you got that, girl?’ She glared at Emma before stalking off. Reluctantly Emma unpinned the brooch on her lapel, a present from Chris for her thirteenth birthday. He had told her that it was real silver and the gems were agate. She did not want to part with it but, hopeful­ly, she would be able to redeem it one day.

  With the money the pawnbroker gave her, and what she had taken from her mother’s pocket, she was able to get the children’s clothes and boots out of hock. She hurried home to find them still alone in the house. ‘Hasn’t Mam been back?’ she asked.

  They shook their heads and reached across the blankets for their clothing and boots. Soon they were dressed but Emma knew the older ones would not be able to get into school until lunchtime because the gates would be locked. ‘I’ll get Dad to write you notes when he comes in for his meal,’ she said, knowing she was going to have to conjure something up for them all to eat. She went out again and bought veg­etables, barley and a shin bone to make soup.

  Her mother was still absent when the stocky figure of her father appeared in the doorway, wanting his midday meal. Emma told him what had happened as she cut bread to have with the broth. She could not help adding, ‘Surely you get some tips from the passengers? Couldn’t you give her a few extra pennies?’

  ‘Like hell I will.’ He rubbed his fat button of a nose. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, girl, keep your trap shut. I work bloody hard for my money. Fifteen and a half hours a day and conditions are worse than they were ten years ago. I’m entitled to some pleasure. I need those tips for me baccy and the odd drink with me workmates.’

  Emma felt like saying he’d had enough pleasure giving his wife eight children, but knew he’d accuse her of filthy talk. She decided the only way to help her mother was for her to move out. In the meantime, she produced paper and a pencil and wrote notes for the kids to take to school, saying their mother had been sick and so they’d overslept, and got her father to sign them. She hoped the excuse would satisfy the teachers.

  Once everyone but herself and Johnny had left the house, Emma changed into her Sunday bes
t, planning on going out as soon as her mother arrived home. She had been saying for ages she would visit the other Servants’ Registry Office in Grosvenor Place but never had. This afternoon she was determined to get her name on their books.

  Olive entered the house half an hour later. Before her mother could open her mouth, Emma said, ‘I don’t want to hear it, Mam. I’m off.’ And she hurried out.

  As she passed the cocoa house Emma recalled that glimpse of the wedding party dressed in their finery. She thought of her brothers and sisters and her mother pawning their clothes and boots and could not suppress a stab of envy. What wouldn’t she give to have a job similar to that of that young woman, Alice.

  * * *

  ‘Have you managed it?’ called Victoria, from her place in the driving seat.

  ‘Yes, Miss Victoria!’ Alice wiped her grimy hands on a rag and held her head to one side, listening to the note of the engine. Satisfied, she placed the starting handle and the rag behind the front passenger seat and climbed in next to her mistress. She closed the door and retied the bow in the long chiffon scarf anchoring her straw hat firmly onto her auburn curls.

  ‘Ready?’ said her employer, slanting a smiling glance. Alice nodded. ‘Then let’s be on our way. I just can’t wait to get there,’ said Victoria.

  Before they could set off a woman’s voice said pleasantly, ‘Good morning, Miss Waters. Not a very nice day – but I do believe Mr Waters and his dogsbody will be home today.’

  Victoria’s mouth fell open and she stared at her neighbour for sev­eral seconds before demanding, ‘How did you know that, Mrs Black? I only knew myself a couple of hours ago.’

  Eudora Black’s mud-coloured eyes gleamed with a wicked amuse­ment. ‘Do remember me to Thomas when you see him. I do hope he’s not in too much pain.’ She saluted Victoria with her umbrella and strolled towards the footbridge.

  Victoria shook her head. ‘She’s got a nerve referring to Papa by his Christian name. As far as I’m aware they’ve never met.’

  ‘She’s got plenty of nerve. Probably she wants us to believe a spiri­tual messenger told her that Mr Waters’ ship was docking in Liverpool today, when it’s probably just servants’ gossip,’ said Alice in a seething voice.

  ‘No doubt you’re right but one has to admit that Hamlet had some­thing when he said, ”There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,”’ said Victoria.

  Alice looked baffled. ‘Who’s Hamlet?’

  Victoria smiled. ‘Of course, you won’t have read Shakespeare. He might have been a mere man but he was definitely England’s greatest playwright. In more than one of his plays a ghost appears with messages for the living.’ Victoria set the car in motion and they headed along Victoria Crescent in the direction of the old Dee Bridge.

  Alice’s brow knitted. ‘You don’t really believe that people can get in touch with the dead, do you, Miss Victoria?’

  ‘Depends if you believe everything that’s written in the Bible. The witch of Endor supposedly summoned up the ghost of the prophet Samuel for King Saul.’

  ‘I know, but the Bible says it’s wrong, so Mrs Black shouldn’t be doing it,’ asserted Alice.

  ‘That’s true. But I have heard that, as a healer, she’s helped quite a number of people. She does seem to have trouble keeping maids – which, I suppose, isn’t surprising in the circumstances,’ mused Victoria. ‘I have to admit that Hamlet seeing his father’s ghost didn’t do him a bit of good. By setting out to avenge his father’s death, he and most of the main characters end up dead.’

  ‘Not my idea of an evening’s entertainment,’ muttered Alice, think­ing of Bert and how he was out for revenge. Only a couple of days ago Hannah had received an anonymous letter but from reading its con­tents, it could only be from Bert. There had been no postmark so she supposed Bert had either slipped it through Hannah’s letterbox him­self, or got someone else to do it for him. She shivered as she remem­bered what he had written in the letter.

  Dear Hannah,

  Did you think I’d forgotten you because I haven’t been in touch for a while? As if I would! I proved I can get to Tilly so now it’s your turn. You hurt me by telling Kenny what I did and Mother finding out. I know where you live and I’ll keep my eye on you. You’ll never know when I’m watching and ready to pounce. One day I’ll take you somewhere, so the two of us can be alone, and then I’ll show you just how forgiving I am.

  He had written something obscene after that and added three xs. He was sick, that’s what he was – sick!

  For the umpteenth time, she tried to convince herself that he wouldn’t find it so easy to abduct Hannah; she wasn’t a child that could be persuaded to go with him.

  ‘You’re very quiet, Alice,’ said Victoria as they crossed the bridge over the Dee. ‘Nervous about seeing Sebastian after all this time?’

  Roused from her reverie, Alice forced a smile. ‘Yes! You’re certain his mother hasn’t mentioned me in her letters to him, Miss Victoria?’

  Victoria shook her head ruefully. ‘How many times have I told you that I gave Gabrielle strict instructions not to say a word if she were to write to him?’

  Alice flushed. ‘Sorry. It’s just that she still behaves like she despises me, so I can’t see her wanting Seb to take up with me again. Sometimes I imagine her sticking pins in a wax figure, hoping I’ll take bad and that’ll be the end of me.’

  Victoria gasped. ‘Alice, what a thing to say! Gabrielle is a good Catholic. You hurt her only son. She has such a proud and fiery nature, which means she can’t forgive easily. You’re just going to have to try harder to show her that you’re worthy of Sebastian. Of course you’re not a Catholic, so she’ll expect you to change your religion and marry in her church.’

  Alice’s green eyes flashed. ‘That I won’t do. Mam would turn over in her grave if I did that. It’s not Gabrielle I want to marry, so she’ll just have to accept things if Seb decides he can forgive me and will give me a second chance. Then it’s up to us where we get married.’

  ‘Oh dear! You do feel strongly about it. Perhaps we’d best change the subject. I do believe it looks like rain.’ Victoria glanced up at the sky. ‘We might have to put up the hood soon.’

  By the time she had navigated the bustling Upper Bridge Street and Foregate Street on a market day, it had begun to rain. So she stopped the car outside the Cathedral and both of them climbed out. As they struggled with the hood, Alice looked at her anxiously. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this, Miss Victoria, with your dicky heart. What we need is a man.’ The words were scarcely out of her mouth when one swam into their vision.

  ‘Want a hand?’ asked the blond giant.

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ gasped Victoria, stepping aside and plac­ing a hand to her breast. ‘There are definitely some jobs that a man can do better than a woman, Mr… ?’

  ‘Davies. David Davies.’ He pushed his cap to the back of his head and took her place, smiling across at Alice. Within minutes the metal rods clicked into position – but before he could go to Alice’s aid, a young woman got alongside her and helped snap the other side of the hood into place.

  ‘Just like a giant pram’s hood, isn’t it?’ said Emma.

  Alice stared at her. ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘Yes! In Brook Street cocoa house. It was the day after Empire Day and it was throwing it down. Name’s Emma Griffiths.’ She held out her hand.

  Alice shook it. ‘Thanks for your help, Emma. I’m Alice. Alice Moran.’

  ‘We really must be on our way, Alice,’ said Victoria, accepting David’s help to climb into the driving seat. ‘Thank you for your help, Mr…’ Victoria’s voice faltered. ‘Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.’

  ‘Davies.’ He stepped away from the car.

  ‘Of course,’ said Victoria. ‘Sorry, but we must dash. Apparently the Channel Fleet is anchored in the Mersey for Liverpool’s seventh cente­nary celebrations and there could be a long queue for the lug
gage boat at Birkenhead. We’re meeting my father from one of the liners.’

  Emma stepped back as the vehicle began to move. Alice waved. ‘Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again,’ she called.

  ‘Now which one of us was that meant for, d’yer think?’ asked Emma, glancing at David.

  ‘I didn’t think she really noticed me,’ he murmured, gazing after the car. Then he looked down at Emma and she saw the sudden flash of recognition in his grey eyes. ‘We’ve met before, too. Now there’s a coincidence!’

  ‘I can give you another coincidence,’ said Emma, holding on to her hat. ‘I saw Alice for the first time, the same day as I did you.’

  ‘Now fancy that,’ he said, dragging his cap forward to shield his eyes from the rain. ‘I can go even further with the coincidences if you’re related to Wilf Griffiths, porter at the General Station.’

  ‘Guilty as charged,’ said Emma, craning her neck to read his expres­sion. ‘He’s my dad. I hope yer not going to say yer can see a family resemblance.’

  He smiled faintly and bent his head, dislodging several raindrops from the brim of his cap onto her upturned face. ‘Not at all, lovey. You’re much prettier.’

  ‘Flattery won’t get yer anywhere… I’m sworn off men.’ She wiped her face with a hand.

  ‘Has that anything to do with what you had me write down in the Servants’ Registry Office?’ His expression was suddenly serious.

  Before she could answer, a strong gust of wind whipped the hat from Emma’s head. He reached out a long arm and managed to prevent it from being blown away. ‘Thanks! It’s the only hat I’ve got.’ She smiled at him.’Yer second good deed for the day.’

  ‘So us men do have our uses,’ he said, grinning.

  ‘I wouldn’t deny it,’ said Emma. ‘But now I’d best be on my way.’