A Dream to Share

by A Dream to Share (retail) (epub)

‘If you’re going home, perhaps I can walk with you.’

  She shrugged and pulled on her hat. ‘It’s a free country, so yer can do what yer want.’ She began to make her way up the side of the soot­-begrimed sandstone cathedral. He fell into step beside her and, for a while, neither of them spoke. They were crossing Abbey Square when she asked him how he knew her dad.

  David hunched his shoulders against the rain. ‘I belong to one of the railwaymen’s unions and your father asked a mate of mine to drop some literature off at his house. I happened to mention I was going that way and offered to do it for him.’

  ‘Yer live near our street?’ she asked, hanging on to her hat.

  ‘No, but it’s close enough to the Servants’ Registry Office and I want to pop in there. Our last housekeeper has quit – but my aunt’s sent a message saying she’s got us someone else,’ he added.

  Emma stopped looking where she was going to look up at him and slipped on the cobbles. She would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her and jerked her up against him. She was very conscious of the strength in those arms and her pulse raced. Reminding herself that it wouldn’t be sensible to allow herself to be attracted to him, she quickly freed herself. ‘I’m glad to hear it. Now how about you giving the stuff for Dad to me. If you go knocking on our door and my mam answers, she’ll put it straight in the bin. He’s been turning over less money since he joined the union and she’s finding it difficult to make ends meet. Your other option is to go to the General Station and give it to him, your­self.’

  He shook his head. ‘If I was seen, I could be accused of inciting trouble. I could lose my job.’

  ‘And what is your job, Mr Davies?’

  ‘I’m an engine driver.’

  Emma thought of her brother, Alf, whose ambition it was to drive a train, and smiled. ‘At least yer better paid than me dad… but then yer do have more responsibility.’

  A sharp laugh escaped him. ‘You’re right there, lovey. And the job’s more dangerous due to the long hours we work… and safety regulations aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. That’s why the union is such a good organisation to belong to. If we work together then we can make a dif­ference and get the owners to shift their stance on lots of things.’

  Emma knew he was right about the workers pulling together to change things. It was the same with the women’s movement. If they were to improve a woman’s lot in life, then they had to help each other. She held out a hand. ‘Give it to me then.’

  He smiled and took from an inside pocket a pamphlet and handed it to her. ‘Thanks, lovey.’

  ‘Anything to help the working classes.’ She shoved the pamphlet inside her jacket. ‘One thing – I’d tell yer mate not to count too much on Dad being a shining light for your cause.’

  ‘Not many are but numbers are important.’ She agreed.

  They both fell silent, thinking their own thoughts. They parted half way up Brook Street. ‘Bye, Mr Davies. It was nice meeting you again,’ she said politely.

  ‘Good day to you, Miss Griffiths. Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again sometime.’ He raised his cap and walked away, shoulders hunched against the rain.

  Emma arrived home to find her mother sitting on the sofa with her eyes closed. Johnny sat on the floor a few feet away, banging a couple of blocks of wood together. On Olive’s lap was an envelope bearing a foreign stamp. Emma’s face brightened and, forgetting the pamphlet inside her jacket, she reached for the letter. Droplets of rain fell on her mother’s face.

  ‘What the hell…’ Olive’s hand folded over the envelope and her eyes opened. At the same time the union literature slid down the inside of Emma’s jacket and fell to the floor. Hastily she bent to pick it up.

  ‘What’s that yer’ve dropped?’ asked Olive, getting to her feet.

  ‘Nothing important.’

  ‘Then leave it. I’ve been waiting for you to read this to me.’ She wafted the letter beneath her daughter’s nose.

  ‘Hang on, Mam! Let me get my things off.’ Emma placed her sop­ping hat on the hearth to dry and hung her coat on the back of the door. Olive had wandered across the room and was peering out of a rain-splattered windowpane. ‘The kids’II come in soaking wet. Hope you haven’t been spending or it’ll be bread and jam for tea. Put whatever you’ve got down and read our Chris’s letter to me.’

  Emma looked for somewhere to put the pamphlet but while she dithered her mother snatched it from her, placed it on the mantelpiece and thrust the letter in her hand.

  Emma slit open the envelope with a finger, praying that it would say Chris was coming home. She loved her brother’s letters because they were always full of colour and interest. This one told of bustling city life where fakirs walked on hot coals and boys disappeared up ropes, of hot, dusty plains and poisonous snakes that reared their heads to fright­en men and horses. It was the kind of information her younger broth­ers and sisters loved hearing – but there was no mention of the unrest in India that she had read about in the newspapers. Probably, Chris did­n’t want to worry them. He asked after the family and ended with the news that he had been promoted to sergeant and there was talk of the regiment going to the Holy Land. She was disappointed that he wasn’t coming home but at least Palestine was nearer than India.

  ‘I don’t know why you always have to read it all quiet to yerself first,’ grumbled Olive. ‘It makes me wonder if yer do that because there’s something in it you don’t want me to know about.’

  ‘Yer know there’s only two things you want to hear, Mam, and they’re – is he coming home or is he due for a rise. Well, I can tell you that he’s not coming home but he has been promoted to sergeant.’

  Olive looked gleeful. ‘Which means more money and knowing my big son, he’ll see that I get a share of it in my next money order.’

  Emma sighed. ‘I knew that’s all yer cared about… knew you would­n’t want to hear about the snakes or the fakirs.’

  ‘There, you’ve told me it all.’ Olive sniffed. ‘Now where did yer go when yer left here in a temper?’

  ‘To check if there were any live-in jobs at the other Servants’ Registry Office, but there wasn’t anything suitable.’ She picked up the pamphlet and managed to escape upstairs before her mother could ask any more questions. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow she would badger both registry offices for that elusive perfect job. She thought of Alice riding around in a motorcar with her employer: what she wouldn’t give to be in her place.

  * * *

  Alice chewed on her lower lip and clenched her hands; her nerves were as taut as stretched drawer elastic. She rested her back against the car parked on the deck of the luggage boat, gazing across the surface of the river to where battleships were anchored as far as the eye could see. Despite the wet weather there were plenty of smaller boats, loaded with sightseers, threading their way between the naval giants because, in a day or so, the Channel Fleet would leave the Mersey.

  Restlessly, she changed her position and looked towards the Liverpool waterfront with its famous docks. The last time she had been there had been with her father, terrified of what he might do to her after she had witnessed him pushing Mrs Kirk down the stairs. Leaving Hannah’s mother unconscious, the crazed Mal had forced Alice to go on the run with him.

  Suddenly Victoria, who was sitting in the driving seat, cried, ‘Look, Alice, the Baltic. What a beautiful ship. I wish I could have sailed on her.’

  Alice stared at the liner of the White Star Line and realised that the decks were almost deserted. ‘It looks like most of the passengers have already left the ship,’ she said.

  Victoria nodded. ‘You’d best get in the car. The ferry will be dock­ing soon.’

  Alice complied swiftly.

  In no time at all a ramp was lowered and the car chugged onto the George’s landing stage. Crowds of people were milling about, getting pestered by scruffy urchins wanting to carry their bags, whilst recom­mending a respectable hotel or boarding house. A short distance aw
ay vehicles were queuing up for the floating bridge that led to the dock road. Seagulls wheeled overhead and pigeons cooed on the roofs of the customs and baggage sheds on Princes Parade. It was there that Victoria headed, parking a few yards from the entrance.

  Alice scrambled out of the front passenger seat and hurried to assist her employer from the motorcar. As they approached the doors, a handsome, middle-aged man, wearing a Homburg hat and a raincoat, emerged, walking stiffly, his gait uneven. He was supported by a dark curly-haired young man. Alice heard the hiss of Victoria’s indrawn breath and then she was running, her hands outstretched.

  ‘Papa!’ she cried, flinging her arms round him.

  Greedily, Alice stared at the dark-haired young man, remembering their first meeting four years ago. His attractive face had matured and his wiry frame had filled out so that his shoulders appeared broad in the navy blue suit he was wearing. He had not noticed her yet because his attention was focused on his employer and Victoria. Now the moment had come, Alice shied away from pushing herself forward to greet him. What if Seb rejected her? After all, she had rejected him.

  Alice watched him speak to two youths lugging a couple of suitcas­es and a Gladstone bag. Suddenly she realised that her employer was beckoning her. She hurried forward, not taking her eyes from Seb’s face. She knew when he recognised her by the widening of his eyes and the slight flaring of his nostrils. When he spoke his voice sounded flat, devoid of emotion. ‘Alice, what are you doing here?’

  Victoria looked disappointed. ‘Is that all you’ve got to say, Sebastian? Alice has been working for me for ages but we kept it quiet so as to surprise you.’

  ‘You’ve certainly done that, Miss Victoria.’ His voice shook and there was no mistaking his anger.

  Victoria reddened and glanced at Alice, who was doing her best to appear indifferent to his reaction but inside she was howling like an ani­mal in pain.

  ‘Who is this young woman?’ demanded Mr Waters, staring at Alice. Victoria heaved a sigh. ‘Alice Moran, Papa. She works for me. I don’t know how I’d have managed without her with you and Sebastian being away so long.’

  ‘Then she’s welcome,’ said Mr Waters and smiled at Alice.

  Sebastian’s dark eyes regarded the woman in front of him. ‘Well, I have a surprise for you both.’

  Mr Waters’ smile deepened. ‘You tell them, Sebastian.’

  ‘Tell us what?’ asked Victoria, her eyes going from one man’s face to the other.

  Before Sebastian could speak, Mr Waters said, ‘An engagement could be imminent. Sebastian met a lovely young woman whilst we were staying in New York. A volunteer at the hospital – her family’s respectable and comfortably off – and they’ve taken quite a shine to this young man.’ He patted Sebastian’s arm. ‘There was talk of her visiting England in the not too distant future. Isn’t that correct, Sebastian?’

  He nodded curtly.

  Alice stared at him, her spirits sinking further. She wanted to weep. Muttering an ‘Excuse me,’ and with her head held high, she blundered over to the car and picked up the starting handle. She stood there, clutching it to her breast as if her life depended on it. She felt so miser­able that she wanted to curl up and die.

  When the others came over, she avoided looking at Sebastian as he helped Mr Waters into the front passenger seat and Victoria into the rear seat, paid off the youths and strapped the luggage onto the back of the car. Alice inserted the starting handle in its socket, thinking this could be for the last time. There was no way she could stay on working for Miss Victoria now Sebastian had fallen for someone else. Why couldn’t he have written, hinting that he had met another woman and an engagement was on the cards?

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ demanded Seb, startling Alice so much that she fell forward onto her knees.

  She averted her eyes. ‘What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to crank the engine as I do every time Miss Victoria uses the car. I presume you’ll be doing the driving, so hadn’t you better get in the driving seat? I’m not down here for the good of my health, you know.’ She was proud that she had managed to get all those words out without stutter­ing or breaking down.

  ‘It’s no job for a woman.’ He lowered himself onto his haunches and reached for the handle but she kept a firm hold on it.

  ‘Typical remark from a man,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve managed all these months while you’ve been away, so you do your job and I’ll do mine.’

  ‘You’re not here to give me orders,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘And what on earth are you doing here? You were as jealous as hell of Miss Victoria last time we met. You wanted me to leave Mr Waters’ employment and walked out of my life when I refused.’

  Before Alice could respond, Thomas Waters bellowed, ‘Sebastian, is there something wrong? Are you driving this motorcar or not?’

  Alice gazed into Sebastian’s furious face. This isn’t finished, he mouthed silently before saying loudly, ‘Yes, sir. Coming.’

  As soon as the engine sounded sweet in her ears, Alice drew out the starting handle and climbed into the back seat alongside Victoria. She caught her employer’s arm with her elbow and apologised.

  ‘Forget it, Alice. I guess you’re in a bit of a state,’ she whispered sympathetically. ‘I’m so sorry… as well as surprised that Papa seems so delighted with the idea of Seb marrying an American. I wonder what she’s like. I guess we’ll get to see.’

  Her words dismayed Alice. Had Seb told his future fiance about how close they had been in the past? She felt mortified and knew for definite that she would have to seek new employment. It would be too painful to stay and watch Seb with his new love, knowing that she only had herself to blame.

  Chapter Four

  September, 1907

  Alice was tense as a violin string as she pushed open the door of the Servants’ Registry Office on Brook Street a week later. She expected to see Mrs Roberts behind the counter but instead there were two people in the room, whom to her amazement she recognised. They appeared deep in conversation and seemed unaware of her existence. She sat on a bench and soon realised they were talking about the troubles on the railways. The blond giant, Mr Davies, was an engine driver, apparently, and firmly believed he should receive danger money on top of his wages; whilst Miss Griffiths was talking about her father only earning eighteen shillings a week as a porter at the General Station. Believing the conversation might continue for some time, Alice decided to inter­rupt them.

  ‘Excuse me! Is Mrs Roberts around?’ she asked tentatively.

  David glanced in her direction. ‘In the back, Miss. I’ll get her for you, shall I?’ Then he stared at her. ‘Haven’t we met before?’

  ‘Yes, as it happens.’ Alice smiled sadly. ‘A week ago you helped put the hood up on Miss Victoria’s car, and so did Miss Griffiths.’

  ‘It’s Alice Moran,’ said Emma, her eyes filled with a lively curiosity. ‘What are you doing here? I hope you haven’t lost your job. Your mis­tress didn’t seem a bad sort.’

  ‘Oh, she’s OK!’ said Alice. ‘Only it’s… erm… circumstances are forcing me out.’

  Emma glanced at David and said firmly, ‘Well, go and tell Mrs Roberts there’s someone to see her.’ He hesitated but she nudged his arm and reluctantly he went into the back premises. Emma turned back to Alice. ‘Randy ol’ man in the house, is there? I know the sort. Can’t keep his hands to himself.’

  ‘No! It’s nothing like that,’ said Alice, shocked.

  Emma nodded. ‘If yer say so… but if it’s not that then why are yer leaving?’

  Alice hesitated and then burst out, ‘You’re right in thinking there’s a man involved. He’s an old flame, who works for Miss Victoria’s father, who’s been in America but is now home. The house just isn’t big enough for the two of us now Seb’s found himself someone else.’

  Emma said eagerly, ‘Nice bloke Miss Victoria’s father, is he?’

  ‘I don’t know him that well. The house is his mother
’s and she’s going senile.’

  ‘And he’s never laid a finger on yer since he’s been home?’

  Alice shook her head and smiled faintly. ‘He’d have a job catching me. He had an accident in the Spring and damaged his hip; he still has trouble walking.’

  Emma’s face lit up. ‘Well, if it’s like that – why don’t yer give me their address? I’ll be there like a shot because I’m looking for a live-in position.’

  Alice was taken aback. ‘I don’t know if you’d suit. I’m not just a maid, you know! I’m Miss Victoria’s dogsbody.’

  Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘What’s that involve?’

  ‘I fetch and carry, take messages – write letters if she’s not up to it. I do all sorts of other things, as well – like, I make her hats. I’ve had some training as a milliner.’

  Emma was thoughtful, ‘The hats might be a problem but I’m pre­pared to have a go at the rest. By the way, if yer’ve come here looking for the same kind of job then yer in the wrong place. Mrs Roberts han­dles domestics, pure and simple.’

  Alice’s face fell. ‘In that case, maybe I should think again.’

  No sooner had she said those words than David reappeared. ‘She won’t be a minute.’ He smiled at Alice. ‘It’s nice to see you again. How are you doing?’

  ‘How am I doing?’ Her face quivered. ‘I think I’ve made a mistake. Bye!’ On those words she walked out the office.

  David looked crestfallen. ‘What did I say?’

  Emma shrugged. ‘I don’t think it’s anything we said. There goes a troubled woman. Time I was going.’ She lifted her bag from the count­er. ‘Be seeing yer. I hope your new housekeeper is better than the last one.’ She left as Mrs Roberts bustled in from the back.

  As Emma walked slowly home, she thought about David and how well they got on. She also thought about Alice and her mention of an old flame. Emma remembered the expression on David’s face when Alice had left. Perhaps he fancied her. The thought irritated her. Then she shrugged. Why should she care if he did fancy her? She wasn’t on the hunt for a husband. She’d seen enough of married life to make her think twice about tying the knot. As for falling in love, no thanks! Look what love had done for Aggie. She sighed. What had happened to her determination to trace that swine? As soon as she got herself anoth­er live-in job she would definitely do something about finding Annie and making a start on her enquiries. Right now she was ready for a nice cup of tea and a thick slice of toast.