A Dream to Share

  As the sweet, spicy fragrance of the carnations filled her nostrils Emma felt even more uneasy than she had the other evening. At this time of year, the flowers must have been grown in a hothouse or come from the Channel Isles, so must have cost a few bob. What was Mr Temple’s game? Did he know that Mr Waters had died and believed that her employer had come into loads of money?

  She heard the clearing of a throat and glanced in the direction of the drawing room. Victoria stood in the doorway. ‘Who are those flowers for?’ she asked.

  ‘They’re for you… from Mr Temple.’

  Victoria’s face turned pink with pleasure. ‘Honestly?’

  Emma swallowed a sigh and, not wanting to be a wet blanket by expressing her own thoughts, forced a smile and handed the basket to her. Victoria read the note and then buried her nose in the carnations.

  When she lifted her head there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘No one has ever sent me flowers before.’

  ‘Enjoy them then, Miss. Where are you going to put them?’

  ‘In the drawing room, I think. On the piano,’ murmured Victoria, carrying the basket into the drawing room. ‘Maybe he’ll come and visit me again.’

  Emma hoped he would so she could get a look at him.

  The next day a bunch of late spring flowers was delivered. This time the accompanying card not only asked after Victoria’s health but requested permission to visit that coming Sunday afternoon. In the corner of the card written in tiny letters was an address and the words, just in case you have forgotten it. ‘He’s not backwards in com­ing forwards, is he?’ murmured Emma, handing the flowers to her employer, remembering she had asked for time off to meet David that day.

  Victoria stared at her as she took the flowers. ‘Did you read the mes­sage?’ Her voice was sharp.

  Emma said woodenly, ‘Couldn’t help it, Miss. It was staring me in the face.’

  Victoria frowned. ‘Even so. You should have resisted. It was for my eyes only. Get the blue vase and fill it with water and bring it into the drawing room.’

  Emma did so and, when she took it into the drawing room, Victoria was sitting at the writing bureau, busily writing. As Emma placed the vase on an occasional table, her employer said, ‘That will be all, Emma.’

  ‘You don’t have anything for me to post, Miss?’ she said, straightening her aching back.

  Victoria shook her head. ‘I’m quite capable of posting this myself. The walk will do me good. You can pop upstairs and see if there’s any­thing my grandmother needs. And you can have this Sunday afternoon off to meet Mr Davies. You don’t have to be back until six.’

  ‘That’s generous of you, Miss,’ said Emma politely, convinced she was being got out of the way. Of course, she wanted to be with David but she also wanted to get a gander at Mr Temple and guessed the only way she was going to be able to do that was to make sure she was back here well before six o’clock on Sunday.

  * * *

  ‘It’s a charming garden,’ said Bert, holding out a hand to Victoria to help her down the terrace steps and onto the lawn, thinking again that he might have been brought up in the working class area of Newtown but could ape the middle classes perfectly.

  ‘It’s somewhat overgrown,’ said Victoria, her hand trembling in his grasp. ‘The gardener’s getting too old to cope with all that needs doing.’

  Bert led her over to a garden seat situated beneath a trestle archway of rambling roses and a tangle of honeysuckle that were showing tiny buds. She sat down, leaving enough space for him to sit next to her if he so wished. ‘So you live here alone now your father’s dead?’ he asked.

  Victoria gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Hardly! There are the maids, Mary and Emma, as well as Cook… and of course, Grandmamma. She’s good for nothing… old age, Mr Temple, is terrible… especially when the mind and body stop functioning properly.’

  He would have liked to ask for more information about Emma but instead enquired whether she had any other relatives.

  ‘I have an uncle who farms at Delamere.’ She gazed up at him and patted the seat next to her. ‘Tell me what is your profession?’

  He sat beside her. ‘I’m in engineering.’

  Her face shone. ‘How exciting! Do you build bridges?’

  ‘No. I’m in shipping.’ He slid his arm along the back of the bench and for ten minutes or so glibly told her a pack of lies about his status and his work before smiling and finishing with the words, ‘But we’ve talked enough about me. I’m sure your life has been much more inter­esting. Tell me about yourself … have you always lived here?’

  ‘No. I was brought up in Liverpool. My father was involved in the cot­ton trade. He would have liked me to marry but I felt I had work to do that was just as important as that of my married sisters – by sisters I don’t mean blood relatives but those women united with me in the Cause.’

  Bert thought her words didn’t bode well for his plans. ‘I’m sure you would make a wonderful wife and mother.’ His hand touched her shoulder.

  She flinched slightly but did not move away. ‘You think so? I – I always believed I would die a spinster.’

  ‘Perhaps you only believe that because you’ve never met the right man. Surely if you did, then you wouldn’t refuse him?’ He took hold of her hand.

  She swallowed. ‘I – I don’t know. I would have to think about it.’ Abruptly she pulled her hand free and rose to her feet. ‘Shall we go inside and have tea?’

  Bert followed her into the house. He decided that she was shy of men and knew that he would have to go carefully. Perhaps if he kept his hands to himself and showed even more interest in her stupid Cause that would do the trick. As he ate cake and drank tea served by the maid Mary, he found himself wondering, again, where Emma Griffiths was right now.

  * * *

  Emma was s1ttmg on the grassy bank overlooking the river Dee at Eccleston. ‘What wouldn’t you give to have been the person who found those Roman coins?’ said Emma, tossing a pebble into the water. The coins in question had brought Eccleston some fame, having been found in the grounds of its parish church.

  ‘There’s some who believe there’s more to be found,’ said David, who was lying on his back with his head resting on his knapsack and his eyes closed against the sun. ‘We could go back up to the church if you like and see what we can find.’

  ‘I’m too full to walk up there again,’ murmured Emma. ‘Besides you can bet your last penny, if I found anything, Dad would be there like a shot trying to get his grubby hands on it.’

  ‘I didn’t want to sully your ears by mentioning your dad,’ said David, opening his eyes. ‘But now you’ve done so, I can tell you that I had words with him.’

  There was an arrested expression on her heart-shaped face. ‘What kind of words?’

  ‘Naughty ones. He tried to bluster his way out of trouble but when he realised I wasn’t having any of his lies he turned nasty.’

  ‘What did he say?’ She broke off a grass stem and put it in her mouth without taking her gaze from David’s face.

  ‘He came the heavy father and forbid me to have anything to do with his daughter,’ said David softly.

  ‘He’s got a cheek! I’m only his daughter when he wants something from me.’ Her eyes glinted. ‘I haven’t been home since you told me what he’d done, he must realise why if you‘ve had it out with him. I wonder what he’s told Mam… if anything. I suppose I should go and see her. I don’t want her and the kids suffering for his shortcomings. I must admit, I’ve half been expecting her to turn up at the Waters’ kitchen door with her hand out for my wages before now. I’ll just have to make sure he’s not there when I go.’

  ‘You’re right there, lovey. But if he lays a finger on you he’ll have me to answer to.’ David’s grey eyes were stony.

  Emma threw away the blade of grass. ‘My knight in shining armour. But you don’t have to worry about Dad using his fists, it’s words he hits us kids with.’ She smiled. ‘Even so, I appreciate what
you’ve just said.’ He returned her smile and then suddenly reached up and seizing her by the shoulders, drew her down on top of him. She did not resist as his mouth searched for hers and found it. It was extremely pleas­ant so she allowed herself to be cajoled into sharing a second and third kiss. The last one seemed to go on for ever and, suddenly, she became aware of his arousal, which gave her a kind of thrill but also told her that in order to breathe and for him to calm down she’d best end the embrace.

  She rolled off him and lay at his side, her bosom rising and falling rapidly. He reached out and touched her breast with a gentle finger. Even through the fabric of her blouse she liked the sensation roused by that slightest of caresses. Still she knew that now was not the right time to encourage him to go further. It would have been nice to stay here a little longer but she knew by the position of the sun that it was time to get moving if she wanted to get a decko at Mr Temple. So she took his hand and moved it to his chest.

  She knelt up and bending over, brushed his lips with hers. ‘If we’re to catch the next ferry, we’d best get a move on.’

  He shook his head at her and said mournfully, ‘I don’t think you realise what you do to me, Emma lovey.’

  ‘Oh yes, I do!’ She smiled as she got to her feet and brushed grass and tiny bits of twig from her brown skirts. ‘But I’m suspicious of this bloke sending Miss Victoria flowers twice in so many days.’

  He pushed himself up from the ground. ‘I agree it is an extravagant gesture. I’d have made do with some of these.’ He plucked several dan­delions and handed them to her.

  Her response was a throaty chuckle. ‘Now that’s what I call a bunch of flowers. Shall we get going or we’ll be late?’

  He smiled, picked up his knapsack and swung it over his shoulder. Then, seizing her free hand, he ran with her to the jetty.

  They arrived in Chester in plenty of time and were just saying good­ bye at the footbridge when a man wearing a navy blue pin-striped suit hurried off the bridge and collided into her.

  ‘Watch where you’re going, mate!’ said David.

  The man glanced at them and then he grinned. ‘Shouldn’t it be Miss Griffiths who needs to watch where she’s going?’

  Before she could ask how he knew her name, he had walked off. ‘Did you recognise him?’ asked Emma.

  David was staring after him, his brows knitted. ‘I think I do. Wasn’t he the bloke we saw in Brook Street that time?’

  Emma nodded, wondering if that was the reason his voice sound­ed familiar or was there another reason. ‘A handsome devil,’ she muttered.

  ‘Bad-mannered with it,’ said David, looking down at her. ‘Are you sure now you don’t want me walking you back to Miss Waters’ house?’ Emma shook her head and they said their goodbyes all over again. She was just about to step onto the footbridge when she bumped into Mrs Stone. Emma apologised and would have hurried off if the older woman had not grabbed her arm.

  ‘Emma, just the person I want to see. I had intended calling on Miss Waters the other day but things happened and I never managed to get up to the house.’

  ‘How can I help you?’ asked Emma, inching her way onto the foot­bridge.

  Mrs Stone smiled. ‘Give her a message from me. Tell her if it’s fine with her, I’ll visit next Sunday afternoon after lunch? If that’s not con­venient perhaps you can let me know.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Emma.

  ‘Thank you, Emma.’ She walked away.

  Emma raced across the bridge but unfortunately when she arrived at the house it was to discover that she was too late. She told Victoria about her meeting with Mrs Stone and had to repeat it.

  ‘Mrs Stone is coming next Sunday afternoon, you say?’ Victoria’s voice was vague and she toyed with her fingers.

  ‘Yes, Miss.’ Emma refrained from telling her that she’d already said that once. Something was obviously on her employer’s mind. ‘Did your visit from Mr Temple go off well, Miss?’

  Victoria did not answer but sat at the piano and opened the lid. Then she took a sheet of music from the top of the instrument and opened it. ‘He’s going to come to the next Suffrage meeting.’

  Emma raised her eyebrows. ‘There’s a surprise. Do you know when that is?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Victoria ran her fingers over the keys and a ripple of sound filled the room.

  ‘Mr Temple… what does he look like, Miss?’

  Victoria frowned. ‘You ask too many questions about him.’

  ‘Sorry, Miss.’ If Victoria did not want to talk about him she felt cer­tain Mary would, and if she told her what she was beginning to suspect then she would slip out of the house whilst Victoria was entertaining Mrs Stone and visit Hannah.

  * * *

  ‘Miss Waters, may I express my condolences on your sad loss.’

  Victoria did not get up from her chair but held up a hand. ‘Thank you. It’s good to see you again. Please do sit down.’

  Josephine Stone seated herself in the armchair near the open french window and glanced out over the garden. ‘It’s a lovely day.’

  ‘Yes. Unseasonably warm.’ Victoria sighed. ‘This kind of weather saps my strength.’

  ‘It’s sensible not to overdo things.’

  Victoria nodded. ‘I do try to be sensible but what with Grandmamma’s indisposition, it makes it difficult for me.’

  There was a lull in the conversation. Josephine reached for her hand­ bag. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’

  Victoria stared at her in surprise. ‘You smoke?’

  ‘I started as one single act of defiance. My husband hates me doing so… said it was not womanly. Yet he smokes, drinks like a fish and car­ries on with the maids. Emma wouldn’t put up with his disgusting behaviour and that’s why she left my employment.’ Josephine took a match from a silver embossed box, struck it and lit her cigarette.

  ‘May I tell you something in confidence, Mrs Stone?’

  Twin plumes of smoke issued from her nostrils. ‘Of course! But call me Josephine.’

  Victoria leaned towards her. ‘I don’t know if you heard that our housekeeper left our employment. She had been with Grandmamma as long as I can remember but only after Papa died did I discover that he and Gabrielle were lovers.’

  ‘It happens, my dear.’ Josephine’s expression was sympathetic. ‘The double standards of men! Imagine the outcry if we were to sleep with the servants.’

  ‘But that is not all,’ said Victoria hastily. ‘Because I’m a woman, Papa didn’t think I had the brains to run his business and instead allowed his bastard son to be his right hand man. But on top of that he left Gabrielle a thousand pounds and Sebastian half the business. He mar­ried Alice and they’re abroad at the moment.’

  Josephine almost dropped her cigarette. ‘I see! You poor dear.’

  Victoria’s mouth quivered. ‘Please, don’t feel sorry for me. I feel sorry enough for myself.’

  ‘But surely your father left you well provided for?’

  ‘Annoyingly, there isn’t as much money as I thought there’d be. And this house belongs to Grandmamma. I know she’s left it to me in her will but God only knows how long she’ll take to die. I’m going to be stuck here until then unless I marry.’

  Josephine almost choked on her cigarette. ‘Marry? I – I didn’t know…’

  Victoria lowered her eyes and toyed with her fingers. ‘Oh yes! There is a man interested in me. He’s an engineer… in shipping. I don’t know him very well yet, but he shares my beliefs… so I’m thinking about mar­rying him. Yes, I really am. I can’t wait to see Sebastian and Alice’s faces when they walk through the front door and I tell them I’m getting mar­ried.’

  Josephine said bluntly, ‘Isn’t this all rather sudden?’

  ‘That’s how love is, isn’t it? He sent me flowers and no one has ever done that,’ she said with a hint of breathlessness and placed a hand on her breast.

  Josephine said with concern. ‘You mustn’t rush into things. Think hard, my dear, one of
the aims of the movement is freedom from men’s oppression and we’re a long way from obtaining that in the bonds of marriage.’

  Victoria shook her head and said defiantly, ‘We would be equals. I believe that when he comes home, Sebastian won’t let me have a say in the business because I’m a woman. He’ll be like Papa, over-protective and make all the decisions. But if I had a husband he’d have to listen to us.’

  Josephine looked incredulous. ‘So you’d hand your share of the business over to a man you barely know just because he sent you a few flowers?’

  Victoria’s colour rose. ‘I’m not that foolish. I won’t rush into mar­riage. An engagement first.’ She paused. ‘Time for a cup of tea, I think.’ She rang the bell.

  Mary came in. ‘Yes, Miss?’

  ‘Tea and cakes. And fetch Emma for me.’

  Mary looked uncomfortable. ‘I’ll see if I can find her, Miss.’

  Victoria fixed her with a stare. ‘You don’t have to bother. I know that look. She’s slipped out, hasn’t she?’

  Mary shifted from one foot to the other. ‘Yes, Miss. Something to do with that bloke who attacked her.’

  ‘I see. Well, when she comes in, tell her I want to see her right away. I’ll not have her taking time off that she’s not entitled to.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  April, 1909

  Emma and Hannah stopped outside the Kirks’ house in Francis Street. ‘What if your mam’s in?’ asked Emma, tense with excitement. If Joy’d had any luck in finding a photograph then soon she would know if Bert was the same man she had seen on Brook Street the day she had nearly been trampled by the runaway horse and again by the bridge last Sunday.

  ‘She won’t be in,’ said Hannah firmly. ‘Dad decided to take her and Freddie out today… and what with the days drawing out they won’t be back until this evening.’ She slid her hand through the letterbox for the key on the string, only to discover it was not there. With a shrug she rapped on the door several times.