A Dream to Share

by A Dream to Share (retail) (epub)

  Alice decided to ignore her question and instead turned to Mr Waters. ‘Sebastian told me that Miss Victoria’s had one of her turns. Is she alright now, sir?’ she asked in a soft anxious voice.

  He looked worried. ‘She says she’s fine but I’m not so sure. She’s bothering her head about some meeting or other. You’re her assistant so you’re going to have to do something.’ He reached for a glass at his elbow and gulped a mouthful of what looked and smelt like navy rum.

  His remark caused Alice’s heart to sink. Miss Victoria had a knack for making people feel they could do a lot more than they believed they could and Alice enjoyed attending the meetings where all she had to do was to hand round cups of tea and cakes – but to get up onto a platform or a soapbox and challenge those not committed to make a stand for women’s rights was just not in her nature.

  Mrs Waters sniffed. ‘You can’t expect…‘ There was a long pause and they all looked at her as she struggled to remember what she had been going to say next. This was happening more and more lately. At last she said with a wave of her hand in Alice’s direction, ‘This girl should be able… to do what – what… Victoria does. The girl’s task is simple. She will cancel everything my… is involved in with these…’ She paused and looked bewildered. ‘What are they called? I can’t remember.’

  ‘Suffragists.’ Gabrielle, who was pouring custard over a dish of stewed plums, added sharply, ‘And you’re wasting your time. You should know by now the Cause is what she lives for.’

  Alice would not have dared to speak to Mrs Waters like that, but Gabrielle seemed to be able to get away with it.

  Mr Waters downed the rum before saying gruffly, ‘It’s time she was married. Not that I want to be rid of her, you understand, but having a husband would give her no time to interest herself in such things. I thought you might have invited some young men here while I was away, Mother.’

  Mrs Waters looked blank. ‘I think I…’

  ‘Miss Victoria shows no interest in young men at all,’ said Gabrielle, handing the dessert to Alice. ‘You can take this up to her.’

  Alice knew she was being deliberately dismissed. She wanted to know what Gabrielle was going to say about her mistress’s lack of inter­est in young men.

  ‘Upstairs with you, Alice. Don’t stand there as if you’ve taken root,’ ordered Gabrielle, shooing her out of the room with both hands.

  Alice went, wondering how Mr Waters and his mother put up with Gabrielle’s bossiness. She supposed it was because she had been with them so long. Alice hated the way she spoke to her at times, and she spoke to Mary, the all-purpose maid, like she was muck. Here was another reason for her to leave Miss Victoria’s employment – and yet Alice had to admit that she did love this house. She had a biggish bedroom overlooking the crescent, nicely furnished and with plenty of space. If only Seb had come home unattached, she thought glumly for the umpteenth time.

  She knocked on the door of a bedroom on the first floor. ‘It’s Alice, Miss Victoria.’

  ‘Come in!’

  Alice turned the crystal doorknob and entered the bedroom. Victoria was alone and resting against a couple of lace-edged pillows. She was writing by the light of a gas lamp on the wall behind her. ‘Should you be doing that, Miss Victoria? Shouldn’t you be resting?’ asked Alice, going over to the bedside table and placing the bowl on it.

  Her employer smiled wearily, closed the writing pad and screwed the top on a bottle of ink. ‘I’m much better now. But I need you to take a message. I’m afraid we’ll have to cancel the rally again,’ she said with a grimace. ‘But don’t think I’m giving up. Sebastian made me see the sense of delegating more. Even so I’ve told him I won’t be mollycod­dled. Would you believe Juliana is involved with the Cause in America? What do you think of that?’

  ‘It’s not important what I think,’ said Alice stiffly. Although, she was relieved to discover that she was only expected to take a message.

  Victoria reached out a hand to her. ‘Of course your opinion is important. You’ve been so brave and controlled where Sebastian and Juliana are concerned. I’m proud of you, Alice.’

  Alice was silent.

  Victoria sighed. ‘What is it, Alice? Are you finding it so difficult here that you want to leave? Please don’t. The Cause is greater than any problems either of us have. If Juliana comes here Sebastian won’t mind if we involve her. He used to take a great deal of interest in my work.’

  Alice tried to steer the conversation away from Seb and Juliana. ‘I think Mr Waters wants you to give up the Cause and get married.’

  Victoria frowned and wrapped her arms round her hunched-up knees. ‘That’s not exactly news to me… but even if I wanted to marry, I wouldn’t foist myself on any man with my heart condition. He’d want to have babies and all the labour involved in producing offspring would most likely kill me. I know it’s hard on Papa as I’m his only child, but I’m sure he’ll want what’s best for me. As for giving up the Cause… I’ll be damned if I’ll do that.’ Her eyes smouldered. ‘I want to leave my mark on the world before I die.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk about dying,’ burst out Alice.

  Victoria shrugged and reached for the dish of plums and custard. ‘You mustn’t worry about me, I’ve every intention of living quite a few more years yet.’

  Alice hoped that was so but, suddenly, she was wavering again about staying here or looking for another job. If only she knew what Seb and Juliana planned to do. No point in leaving Miss Victoria’s employment if they married and decided to return to America. Her nerves were in shreds as she considered every possible situation. Sometimes Alice wished that she could foretell the future as she imagined Mrs Black doing.

  * * *

  ‘Another chair,’ said Mrs Black, stepping back from the mahogany tri­pod table. The top of the column fitted into a kind of birdcage, which allowed the table to revolve and tilt unless secured with an extra wedge. Not that she needed to use chicanery to convince her clients that she was able to receive messages from their dear ones.

  Emma went out onto the landing and brought in a shield-back chair, which had ebonised floral motifs worked into the back. She moved the four mahogany dining chairs with their serpentine shaped tops to make room for the extra chair. Mrs Black really did have some lovely furni­ture. The table and chairs were centuries old and polished up beautiful­ly. She just hoped it all stayed in place and there was no jiggery pokery that afternoon.

  A month had passed since her arrival and she remembered how dur­ing the first séance, a picture – a nice scenic one of mountains and trees and highland cattle – had come crashing to the floor for no apparent reason. It had startled the life out of those gathered for the sitting. One of the men, a friend of Mrs Black, had got up and checked to see if the cord had snapped but it was all in one piece. He had said in a deeply serious voice that there was too much energy being produced and per­haps it would be best if Mrs Black rested. Emma remembered how the hairs on the back of her neck had stood up. She had wondered what this energy was and whether it really did have anything to do with ghosts. Perhaps Aggie was trying to get in touch with her? It had been a really weird feeling but, after a couple of days when nothing else untoward happened, she had calmed down. Besides, hadn’t her employer told her that there was nothing to fear from the dead and that it was only the living who could harm you?

  Emma was kept busy not only with housework and cooking but with people, only that morning two women had called for private sit­tings. She had not expected there to be so many wanting to get in touch with the dead; although some came just for healing.

  The healing room had pale blue walls painted with scenes of flower­ filled meadows. In a corner next to the net draped window was a harp, which was occasionally played by a middle-aged Welsh woman from the spiritual church. Her music reminded Emma of trickling streams. There was also a marble-topped table, an armchair and a chaise-longue, cov­ered in a blue and gold damask material.

&n
bsp; Most of the clients seemed to leave looking better than when they came; although there were some who said it was a whole lot of non­sense and stormed out. Emma did not know what to believe. Only the other day when she was wielding the “Rapid Dust Extractor”, which was an awkward thing to push and pull about, the candles in the hold­ers attached to two gilt edged mirrors had fallen out.

  Emma watched her employer as she put a taper to the candles in the silver candelabra on the sideboard. Despite having electricity, she seemed to prefer candlelight for sittings. She recalled Mrs Black saying that she had been given her gift from God. Emma wondered how she knew that God had given her a gift when what she did was forbidden in the Bible. Mrs Black had no need to work, her husband had left her comfortably off. She had inherited a number of properties which she rented out in Liverpool. Yet despite having money, she could still be bothered with all this healing and getting in touch with live souls, which often left her exhausted. Emma considered it a pretty miserable way of spending time when her mistress could have been out spending money in the shops, having meals out, attending the music hall, or travelling to interesting places.

  ‘Will you need anything else?’ asked Emma.

  ‘No! But I’ll want you to bring in tea and angel cake at half past three. I’ll be going out later and won’t be back until tomorrow. If you want to stay at your parents’ house that’ll be fine by me, but I’ll need a fire in the sitting room and some of your lovely lentil and ham soup for lunch when I arrive home.’ With that she shooed Emma out of the room.

  Emma went, thanking her lucky stars that she had gone to Mr Jones’ Employment Agency when she had. Later that day, she planned on writing to her brother in India, knowing Chris would enjoy reading all that she had to tell him about her new job.

  On the way to visit her family, as well as to redeem her brooch from the pawnbroker’s, Emma bumped into David Davies on Cow Lane Bridge. He asked her how she was getting on in her new job.

  ‘How did you know I’ve a new job?’

  ‘Your brother Alf told me,’ David’s eyes danced. ‘He imagines all sorts of ghostly things happening but says you don’t say much.’

  ‘I’m paid to be discreet,’ said Emma, smiling. ‘But I’ll tell you one thing – during a sitting, a picture came crashing down from a wall.’

  ‘As if pushed by an invisible hand!’ teased David.

  Her lips quivered but she controlled the giggle in her throat, saying­ severely, ‘Don’t be flippant! I have it on good authority that it’s caused by too much energy emanating from Mrs Black… and don’t repeat any of this because I’d hate it to get back to her and lose my job. She defi­nitely has a gift and I don’t want her to think I’m laughing at her.’

  His expression sobered. ‘So you like working for her?’

  Emma nodded. ‘It’s just what I wanted.’

  ‘That’s marvellous. Remember that young woman coming into the Servants’ Registry Office?’ His brow creased. ‘What was her name?’

  ‘Alice Moran.’

  ‘Have you seen any more of her?’

  ‘Only in passing,’ she replied with a shrug. ‘Her employer lives just a couple of doors away from where I work. If you’re interested in her, I think you’d be wasting your time.

  ‘I didn’t say I fancied her. I asked only because I remembered you saying she was a troubled woman.’ He smiled down at Emma. ‘See you around, lovey.’

  Emma watched him walk into town, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. Why should she care if he did have feelings for Alice? Oh bother the man! Bother Alice! She hadn’t spoken to her since she had come to work for Mrs Black. From the upstairs window, she had seen her with Miss Waters in the motorcar driven by the handsome, dark-haired Sebastian Bennett, who worked for Mr Waters. Mrs Black had told her that he was an old flame of Alice’s. Emma’s brow puckered as she recalled eavesdropping on Alice’s and Miss Waters’ conversation in the cocoa house. Alice had spoken of being engaged to another bloke. What was his name? Bert! If she remembered rightly he wasn’t nice at all and wondered what had happened to him.

  Chapter Six

  December, 1907

  Bert smiled at his mother across the table covered with a snowy white tablecloth, enjoying the rapt expression on her plump face as she dart­ed surreptitious glances at the middle classes, partaking of afternoon tea. His gaze followed hers to a neighbouring table where four women were talking loudly and animatedly.

  ‘But, Miss Waters, surely you’ve heard the new liberal leader’s com­ments?’

  ‘You mean what he said about women’s suffrage doing more harm than good?’ replied a woman in her mid-twenties, wearing an outrageously large hat with ostrich plumes.

  ‘Exactly. Do you believe we can change his mind?’

  Bert did not catch Miss Water’s reply because she lowered her voice, so he turned his attention back to his mother. It was the week before Christmas and this was the first time he had been able to meet his mother since his disappearance. The fact that she had been willing meant Hannah had not mentioned the letters to her; he had thought she wouldn’t want anyone else seeing them. Having decided a special treat was in order he had splashed out and brought her to the Grosvenor Hotel for afternoon tea. It would be worth every penny if she could provide him with the information he needed. ‘Enjoying your­ self, Mother?’

  Susannah started and turned her head and smiled at him. ‘Your dah could never afford to bring me here. You’ve made my day, son.’

  Bert’s chest swelled with pride and he picked up the silver-plated cake stand from the middle of the table and held it out to her. ‘Only the best is good enough for my mother.’

  She flushed and thanked him and took a fresh cream slice. ‘What about yourself?’ she asked, before biting into the confectionery, caus­ing jam and cream to ooze out.

  He took a chocolate éclair and returned the cake stand to its posi­tion in the middle of the table. ‘What about another cup of tea?’

  ‘I’ll pour,’ she said, hastily placing the cake on her bone china plate and reaching for the teapot.

  He watched her, considering how they’d already discussed his lodg­ings and his new job. He had lied to her about where he lived, saying that his digs were in Liverpool and had made no mention of his sisters and younger brother, leaving it to her to tell him how they were doing. He rejoiced at the news that there was still no sign of a baby yet for Hannah. Now he was wondering how he could turn the conversation round to Alice. He desperately wanted to know where she lived. He no longer found satisfaction in just slipping a threat to her in the monthly letters he sent to Hannah. He decided he would have to bring her into the conversation himself.

  He waited until the tea was poured and his mother had eaten her cream slice. ‘And how is Alice, Mother?’ His tone was casual.

  Susannah’s mouth fell open and then she closed it, swallowed and said, ‘I’m surprised you’re interested after what she did.’

  He adopted a soulful expression. ‘It’s true she hurt me, Mother, but time heals and we’re told in the Good Book, we have to forgive.’

  ‘If only your sisters and Jock felt like that,’ she said passionately. ‘But they’re so hard.’

  He sighed. ‘Perhaps one day, Mother.’

  Susannah seemed to go off into a trance and Bert waited impatient­ly for a few moments before clearing his throat loudly. ‘Alice! How is she? Met another man yet?’

  Susannah stirred and blinked at him. ‘I’ve no idea. I see hardly any­thing of her. She works for some woman the other side of the Dee. Tilly told me Alice is going with the family to the country for Christmas through into the New Year.’

  Bert hid his annoyance but did not bother asking the address, doubt­ing that Tilly would know. At least, he had his first clue to Alice’s where­abouts and he had every intention of following it up in the New Year.

  * * *

  Alice hung on to her hat as she hurried past the Grosvenor Hotel, heading in the direction of
Bridge Street. It was the long way round to get to the Waters’ house but she’d rather that than go through the park. Christmas had come and gone but it had not been a white one, the north had had to wait until Spring arrived for a fall of snow, and the streets were almost deserted. Hannah had told her of the latest letter from Bert and now Alice felt nervous and kept glancing over her shoulder.

  The river came into view and soon she was walking along the tree­-lined Groves. She scrutinised the faces of those braving the weather to walk their dogs, remembering a pale and tense Hannah telling her that she just couldn’t pass it on to the police. What Bert had written was so crude and personal that she could not bear for anyone else to read it. Hannah had told Alice that she must always be on her guard. ‘He’s playing cat and mouse with us. If I’m alone in the house with Tilly, I make sure all the doors are locked and I have the poker handy. If I go out, I make sure I have a pepper pot in my pocket. You must do the same.’

  Alice thought if anyone had told her two years ago that she would one day be this scared of Bert, she would have called them a liar. His smile, his warm caring manner, his church-going and protectiveness towards her and Tilly, had convinced her that he was good, honest and kind through and through. Yet even then Hannah had warned her there was another side to him. Alice had refused to listen to her friend, con­vinced it was jealousy that caused her to talk of her brother in such a way. Alice went hot and cold when she thought of how close she had been to tying herself to him for life.

  She quickened her pace, her plain green serge skirt swirling about her button-booted ankles. She found herself praying for the household she had just left. Then she began to pray for herself and the Waters’ house­hold. At the beginning of January, two thousand textile workers had gone on strike in Oldham and she had overheard Seb and Mr Waters discussing how it might affect the cotton market. It was cotton that had taken the two men to America and there had been talk of Seb going again once the weather improved. Alice hated the thought of him crossing the Atlantic, picturing him with Juliana. The latest news from her had been that her mother was ill so she had had to put off her visit to England. How Alice wished Mr Waters had never had his accident. Seb would never have met Juliana and would have been here when she had finished with Bert. She could have explained what happened to her father and how that led to her getting engaged to Bert. As it was, they both avoided each other as much as they could. She sighed, thinking If only!