A Dream to Share

by A Dream to Share (retail) (epub)

  ‘You’re exaggerating how poorly I was,’ she murmured. ‘It was just the weather being so close that made me faint. How am I ever going to show my mettle for the Cause if you mollycoddle me?’ Alice decided it was wiser not to respond to that comment but continued to tidy away discarded clothing. ‘Well, we’ll see what tomorrow brings,’ added Victoria.

  ‘We’re not going home?’ asked Alice, whirling round to face her.

  ‘Not just yet,’ said Victoria, closing her eyes.

  Alice’s heart sank, hoping her employer did not have it in mind to go to any other demonstrations of the WSPU whilst she was here.

  ‘You’re forgetting we’ve shopping to do… as well as sights to see… if Papa is not to suspect my real reason for coming to London.’

  * * *

  Fortunately, Thomas Waters had other things on his mind than his daughter’s sojourn in London. His own health for instance. Mrs Black had sent a message saying that she could see him at last, so he wasted no time keeping the appointment.

  Emma opened the front door to him. ‘I am here to see Mrs Black,’ he said in a wheezy voice, leaning heavily on an ebony topped walking stick.

  She beamed at him. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Waters. Won’t you come in?’

  Pale blue eyes smiled into hers and he patted her hand as he limped over the threshold. ‘Thank you, my dear.’

  Emma looked at him with concern. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to manage the stairs, sir?’

  A voice from above said, ‘Don’t you be worrying about that, Emma. I will help Mr Waters.’

  Thomas turned his face up towards her. ‘Ah, Eudora! A lot of water has passed under the bridge since last we spoke but how well you look, my dear.’

  Emma’s ears pricked up. Then she realised her employer was gazing at her. ‘You can go and visit your mother, Emma. Be back here by seven.’

  Emma would have liked to have heard more of their conversation but knew there was no arguing with her employer. Besides, she would enjoy window shopping and as it was over a week since she had paid the family a visit, she would go and see them. So she fetched her coat and hat and left them to it.

  ‘So, Thomas, it is indeed a long time since we last spoke to each other.’ Eudora’s voice was calm but inside she was seething.

  ‘More years than I care to remember,’ he said.

  ‘Allow me to take your hat.’

  He handed it to her and Eudora hung it on a hook on the coat stand before taking his arm and helping him upstairs. She settled him on the chaise longue in the healing room before seating herself and staring at him intently. ‘No tricks,’ he wheezed, not meeting her eyes.

  She raised her eyebrows and pretended to be amused. ‘Tricks, Thomas? It helps if one believes to be healed.’

  His face turned puce and he spluttered, ‘Who said I’m here for healing?’

  ‘Your son.’ Her tone was bitter. ‘Although, I see he still has no idea of the truth.’

  Thomas growled. ‘He’ll find out soon enough once I’m dead.’

  She laughed. ‘You’d rather I told him? As for the woman who calls herself Gabrielle, she’s kept the truth hidden this long… if it came out we can both imagine the histrionics.’

  He rumbled, ‘She’s a passionate woman but could be the death of me.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here?’ Her eyes glinted. ‘You think I can heal your hip and give you a young man’s body so you can continue to have pleasure from your mistress? If that is so tell me why I should help you? You almost destroyed my life.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘That was never my intention.’

  ‘No. Your intention was to have your cake and eat it,’ she said sharply. ‘I was young and foolish, I fell in love with you and when I start ­ed having a child you insisted I got rid of it. Despite the fact that hypo­critical bitch was already carrying your child and had refused to do so.’

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘I’d known Gabrielle long before she introduced the pair of us after my wife died. Anyway, you’d have never have married Mr Black and become so successful if you’d kept the child. You did well out of your husband, didn’t you?’

  She glowered at him. ‘At least you didn’t marry her.’

  He cleared his throat but his voice was still gruff when he muttered, ‘I couldn’t. She was already married to some musician who deserted her in America.’

  Eudora stared at him. ‘The dark horse!’

  ‘So she never told you when the pair of you met up again at the con­cert hall in Liverpool?’ He seemed surprised.

  ‘No, she did not! I didn’t even know she’d been to America.’

  ‘Oh yes, she went there with him, expecting to make it big. Instead, he left her to fend for herself in New York. My mother saw her busk­ing outside a theatre, realised she was English and had some talent and brought her back to Liverpool.’ He sighed. ‘She was proud of her pro­tégé, dressed her up nice and introduced her to the right people.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I doubt she ever forgave me for making Gabrielle my mistress and getting her pregnant. Even so she felt some responsibility for the situation and grew fond of the boy. Now she and I need them both, so I’m in no position to dismiss Gabrielle. I say that just in case you were thinking of asking me to do so in exchange for your silence.’

  ‘My heart bleeds for you both.’ Her tone was sarcastic. ‘I see that Gabrielle is still playing a part… or shall we use her proper name, seeing as how it’s just us? Gertie… Irish Liverpool slummy, who saw singing in pubs as her way out of poverty.’ Eudora smiled grimly. ‘She might have made it, too, if she had only used her common sense. Trouble was that she was not only a fantasist but she couldn’t stay away from the men.’

  His tone was irascible, ‘She’s been faithful to me. And I didn’t order her to leave the stage. Now can’t you forget those days? Have pity for God’s sake! I don’t expect miracles but you always had such… um… magic hands.’

  ‘So you’ve come here expecting me to heal you!’ She could not con­ceal her outrage.

  ‘Why not?’ he mumbled. ‘It’s what you do.’

  Her eyes narrowed, considering how best she could use his need to her advantage. He had hurt her unbearably… hard to believe now that he had been so handsome and had such a magnificent body when he was younger. His chest was wheezy and he had a pot belly… could be that he had more wrong with him than a broken hip that might never heal to the extent he wished. Suddenly she smiled. ‘Of course it is. Now let’s see what I can do for you. Although, I don’t come cheap these days, Thomas. Is this going to be the first of several visits?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’ He looked relieved.

  ‘Then let us begin. And afterwards we’ll have a nice cup of tea and some of Emma’s special cake. It’s a new recipe I gave her.’

  ‘She seems a bright young thing.’

  ‘She is. Don’t you try to poach her, Thomas Waters. I’m fond of Emma and I intend to keep her. By the way, I hear your daughter and her helper have gone to London. I do hope they’re having a nice time.’

  * * *

  ‘Here, girl, you’ll be interested in this,’ said Olive, thrusting a newspa­per under her daughter’s nose. ‘Our Patsy was reading it to me.’

  ‘What is it?’ Emma shifted Johnny to her other knee.

  ‘Didn’t yer say that girl you helped on the bridge has gone to London with her mistress and they were involved with the suffra­gettes?’

  Emma took the newspaper and began to read about a mass suffra­gette demonstration in London. She took her time reading the article. ‘I hope it does their Cause some good.’ She eased her brother off her knee and stood up. ‘It’s time I was going. Give the others me luv.’

  ‘Will yer bring us some cake next time?’ said Olive eagerly, and then added wistfully, ‘That’s something I miss about our Aggie… we got cakes or buns most days when she was working at the bakery.’

  Emma found herself trembling. ‘You know, Mam, that’s the first time you
’ve mentioned her name for… I don’t know how long. Now you have it sounds like you only miss her for what you had out of her.’

  ‘I miss her for more than that,’ said Olive hoarsely, ‘and I’m remind­ed of her every time I look at you and that’s of some comfort to me.’ She gazed at her second daughter from tear-filled eyes. ‘You’ll watch yerself, won’t yer, girl? Don’t want you going down the same road. Yer dad says there’s an engine driver who’s interested in yer. Don’t you go letting him persuade yer into giving him what they’re all after before yer’ve got a ring on yer finger, will yer?’ she pleaded.

  Emma was so choked she could not speak but pecked her mother’s cheek and rushed out of the house. She so wished Aggie was still alive. She could talk to her about things that she could never broach with her mother. Although, whether her sister was the right person to give her advice about men was debatable. So her dad thought David was after her, did he? She could have told him that there wasn’t anything serious between them. She liked him quite a bit but she could not let anything grow between them. Especially when she had a nice place to live, a good job and was managing to save a bit of money.

  She turned into Brook Street, still thinking of David and stepped into the road. A warning yell alerted her to danger. Her eyes darted to the right and she gasped. A runaway horse and cart was heading her way. Suddenly she was seized from behind and dragged out of the way. The sound of hooves slipping on the damp cobbles almost deafened her as the beast missed her by inches and the wheels of the cart rumbled past. Shocked to the core she could only lean weakly against her res­cuer.

  ‘Are you OK, lovey ? You gave me quite a shock there.’ She turned and looked up into David’s white face.

  Before she could thank him, another voice said, ‘Wasn’t looking where she was going, was she? Daft thing to do.’

  ‘What the hell has it got to do with you?’ rasped David.

  Emma turned hastily in his arms and looked at the owner of the other voice. He was the handsomest man she had ever seen with fair hair and brilliant blue eyes. Yet, even as she stared at him, his eyes widened. Then he grinned and nodded at her, before strolling away in the direction of the General Railway Station, leaving a strong smell of peppermint in his wake.

  ‘Good riddance,’ said David, giving Emma his full attention.

  ‘He seemed familiar… and he was right about one thing. I should have looked both ways but I was thinking of…’

  ‘It must have been something really interesting for you to forget to look both ways before crossing the road.’

  Emma could not tell him the truth that she had been thinking of him; instead she said, ‘I was thinking of Alice Moran. She’s in London with Miss Waters… and there was an article in the newspaper about a huge rally of the suffragettes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were amongst them. I just hope it hasn’t proved too much for Miss Waters because she has a dicky heart.’

  David’s eyes rested on Emma’s pale heart-shaped face and he smiled. ‘You’re a caring person, lovey.’ And he brought his head down and kissed her. The pressure of his lips was brief but very pleasant.

  ‘What was that for?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.

  He said solemnly, ‘Reaction to shock. I just wanted to make certain that your near accident hasn’t affected your reflexes.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll have to get back to Mrs Black’s. I suppose you’re on your way home?’

  ‘Home can wait. I’ll come with you. We don’t want you fainting all of a sudden and my not being there to catch you.’

  ‘I’m not the fainting kind.’

  ‘No excuse then for me to sweep you off your feet and carry you to your destination.’ His cheeks dimpled.

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Why the blinking heck would you want to do that? I weigh more than I look. Thanks for saving me life, though, and for making me feel good.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him quickly before hurrying away.

  Chapter Eight

  June, 1908

  Bert sat on the train, thinking of the scene he had just witnessed and how he would have missed it if he hadn’t been on an early shift this morning; so enabling him to come to Chester and wander down to the Dee in the hope of seeing Alice. His blue eyes glinted with satisfaction as he opened the evening newspaper. The girl who had almost been trampled on by the horse was the spitting image of Agnes Griffiths, so must be related to the dead girl. That evening on the bridge when he’d surprised Alice… it must have been her. Only when his panic had abat­ed had he been capable of rational thought and remembered Agnes’ mention of her sisters. For some reason he had got the impression they were much younger. She must work in Queen’s Park. Now what the hell was her name? He felt certain if he thought about it long enough it would come to him.

  He began to read the newspaper, idly glancing through an article about a big rally of the suffragettes in London. It was estimated that there were two hundred and fifty thousand supporters demonstrating peacefully. Daft bitches thinking they were equal to men, he thought, his eyes flicking over the names of two women, Miss Waters, daughter of a prominent cotton merchant, and Mrs Stone, wife of a Chester doc­tor. He turned over the page but his mind was not on the news but Agnes’s sister. He must keep his eyes open for her when next in Chester; she just might lead him to Alice.

  * * *

  Victoria rustled the Chester Chronicle under Alice’s nose as she sat alongside her in the back of the car. It was a week since the rally in London and they had only just arrived in Chester. ‘It looks like the rally’s got a mention in the local paper. I thought it only made the nationals the next day. We must read it and see what Chester’s journal­ists have to say.’

  Alice could not have cared less because, to her astonishment, Seb had come to meet them at the station with the car. Her nerves were in shreds, wondering how matters stood between him and Juliana but unable to ask him. She was roused from her thoughts by a gasp from Victoria.

  ‘Goodness! I never noticed us having our picture taken whilst on the march, did you, Alice?’

  ‘No, Miss Victoria!’ Alice gazed down at the black and white pic­ture. It was slightly blurred but, sure enough, she could just about recognise herself, Victoria and Mrs Stone.

  ‘I just hope Papa doesn’t see it,’ said Victoria, pulling a face.

  ‘Unless he knew where to look, I doubt he’d notice,’ murmured Alice.

  Victoria nodded. There was silence as both of them began to read the lines of print beneath. ‘Oh dear! Let’s hope he doesn’t read this either,’ said Victoria. ‘It seems that whoever took the photograph recognised me and Mrs Stone. He might have been there as a support­er because this article is very positive towards us.’

  ‘Mr Waters mightn’t read it,’ said Alice.

  ‘You’re right. He’s not interested in the Cause.’ Victoria folded the newspaper and placed it on her knee. ‘At least we didn’t end up in prison. Christabel Pankhurst has been imprisoned several times. I heard her speak once when I lived in Liverpool. She’s so fluent and witty, as well as beautiful. She has the colouring of a briar rose.’

  ‘I’ve heard her referred to as an Amazon,’ said Alice, watching Victoria rest her head against the back of the seat and close her eyes. It had been an exhausting journey back from London.

  ‘We might all need to be Amazons if our Cause is to succeed,’ mut­tered Victoria.

  Alice was silent, thinking she had no desire to be a warrior woman. She wanted to be loved and cherished, marry and have children and be happy ever after. For the rest of the journey she was miserable, expect­ing Seb at any moment to break the news that he was engaged to Juliana.

  When they arrived at the house, Gabrielle was standing in the front doorway. Her arms were folded across her magnificent bosom and she looked displeased. ‘Mr Waters comes in and says he ee’s not hungry! Then Mrs Waters gobbles her food and is sick.’ She fixed them with her dark stare and pointed a figure. ‘You, three, I hope are hungry and
will appreciate my cooking.’

  ‘Yeah, Ma,’ said Sebastian, frowning. ‘Now if you’ll get out of the way so I can carry these in.’

  ‘That is not a nice way to talk to your mother after you have not seen her for a while,’ she complained, before turning her attention to Victoria. ‘You look exhausted. You should never have gone to London.’

  Victoria raised her drooping head. ‘We had a lovely time… enjoyed ourselves shopping. We’ve bought material for skirts.’

  ‘Skirts?’

  ‘I want Alice to try her hand at making me a couple of the new fash­ionable hobble skirts. We bought some black voile that only cost eight pence and three farthings a yard.’

  Gabrielle pursed her lips. ‘But it is unseemly. It is too tight to walk properly and makes a woman’s bottom move in such a way that…’

  ‘Yes, isn’t it fun,’ said Alice boldly. ‘Fashions aren’t about comfort, Mrs Bennett. Now will you get out of the way so we can all get past.’

  Gabrielle gaped at her and then with a sniff, stalked in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘Alice, you help Sebastian with those parcels,’ said Victoria, her voice breathless. ‘I’ll go on ahead.’

  Alice glanced at him. ‘I can manage,’ he said firmly, giving her no time to speak.

  ‘Pride comes before a fall,’ she said, snatching the top two parcels from him and beetling ahead in the wake of her mistress up the stairs.

  ‘Bert,’ he said. She almost dropped the parcels at the mere mention of that name. ‘Is he Hanny’s brother? I’ve heard that he’s a nasty piece of work.’

  She had reached the first landing so turned to face him. ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Emma.’

  Alice paled, wondering what other information she had given him. ’Yes, he is. But why d’you ask?’

  ‘Because I want to know why he attacked you?’ he said grimly.