by Irene Carr
‘Yes, of course,’ she said quickly.
Mrs Taggart nodded. ‘As you wish.’
William strode out into the hall and Liza whispered, ‘He’s pampering me.’
Mrs Taggart replied drily, ‘Aye, that might be so, but I’m thinking he’s worried about his dinner tonight if there was a stranger in the kitchen.’
Liza giggled and skipped after William.
* * *
William thought that Miss Spencer did not know what she had let herself in for. Elspeth had known about the trip to the office so her talk of starting her instruction that morning had been intended to disconcert, but she had not got much change out of this slight girl. He would have to keep an eye on them. Liza came out into the hall then and he opened the front door. ‘Shall we be on our way?’ He followed her out into the morning air. She breathed in deeply, smiling into the sunlight, and he thought how pretty she was.
* * *
They retraced their route of that first Sunday evening, driving through the town and turning short of the bridge to run down to the river. The streets became narrower and poorer, swarming with small children, and William slowed almost to walking pace. They ran alongside the motor-car, cheering and shouting, and Liza laughed. Then William said, ‘Oh, hell!’
‘I know who you are, you bitch!’ That eldritch screech again. It was the old woman in her rusty black dress, hair and eyes wild as she ran out of her shop and into the road. Liza shrank back in her seat and the children scattered. ‘I know you! You’re the young bitch come home! There’s blood on your hands! Those fine clothes were bought with men’s blood! Her face was close, eyes glaring madly, nose a great beak. But the children had gone and William could accelerate; the Vauxhall drew away, leaving the old woman standing in the street and shaking her fist.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I thought we could get by too quickly for her to come out.’
Liza was recovering from the shock. ‘Why did she shout at me like that? Who is she?’
They were inside the dockyard now and William stopped the car. He turned to face her. ‘I should have told you after that first night, but I hadn’t known you long and this is family history we don’t talk about. That’s not because we’re guilty but because we can’t do anything about it. We could go to the courts but Edward would never permit that.’
‘Who is she?’ Liza asked again.
‘Iris Cruikshank. She has that tagareen shop, and makes a living selling old clothes, furniture — anything that’s worth only a few coppers. She thinks Edward killed her husband and it isn’t true.’
Killed? Murdered? Liza thought. She had not expected to walk into this kind of situation.
William said, ‘The trouble really started back in the 1860s. Iris and her husband, Barney, had four boys, all sailors in the same ship. They caught cholera in India and died.’
‘All four?’ Liza said.
‘Within a few days of each other. When the news came Iris broke down and Barney went on a bender. Iris recovered but Barney stayed on the bottle. He lasted nearly ten years. He had a boat and he used to go out fishing between the piers. He made enough for his beer and to feed himself and Iris, but everyone knew he was drunk as a lord when he went out. Iris used to plead with him not to go but he wouldn’t listen. People told her not to worry, that there was a special Providence looked after drunks. Until he went out once too often.’
Barney Cruikshank had set out in his boat one winter night after leaving the pub, sitting on a thwart, pipe in his mouth and pulling at the oars. Edward Spencer was a young man of thirty. His father still ran the business and Edward was captain of one of the Spencer company’s ships. He was on the bridge to bring her into harbour, standing by the helmsman. The night was dark. He saw the lights of the ferry as it crossed the river ahead of him but it was well clear and no hazard. He saw nothing of the boat, heard nothing either, until a lookout yelled that wreckage was passing down the port side.
The ship was stopped at once, they lowered their boats and others came out. They collected the wreckage, but Barney’s body was never found. The ferry was tied up at the Monkwearmouth steps, near the scene of the accident, but the crew — there were only two — had not seen the collision. Edward had seen no boat lights and his helmsman and lookouts confirmed this. The coroner, at the inquest held in the Albion Hotel, reached a verdict of death by misadventure.
But Iris blamed Edward for not keeping a proper watch. She began to accuse him in public. While Edward refused to have her stopped, the police charged her with breach of the peace. She fell back on watching from her shop for any of the family to pass and screamed her accusations at them.
‘And that included me,’ William said. ‘And now you. Edward never captained another ship. From then on he worked in the company’s offices ashore. He would have had to do that soon because his father retired, but he would probably have gone to sea for a few more years if it hadn’t been for Barney’s death. I wish I could have stopped Iris, but Edward always said she’d suffered enough. She’s tried to make all of us pay when none of us was guilty.’
‘What an awful story.’ Liza shivered. ‘That old woman lost husband and sons, but is still spouting her hatred after all these years.’
‘But there’s nothing we can do.’ William got out of the car and handed her down. Liza said nothing then, but resolved that she would.
They walked by the river, along the quay, through hawsers, stacks of timber and cordage, to climb a gangway to the deck of one of the Spencer ships. The crew were all ashore, with only a watchman on board. ‘Now then, Captain.’
‘Now then, Geordie. I’m just going to show this lady round.’
‘Aye. Well, watch oot for the wet paint, starboard side o’ the wheelhouse.’
‘Thanks.’
William took Liza over the vessel from stem to stern, ducking into the forecastle to see the narrow bunks of the seamen, down into the engine-room where the machinery stood massive but still. ‘There’s a small donkey engine that supplies power if it’s needed when the main engines are closed down.’
He was kept busy explaining because she asked a stream of questions, and eventually he said, ‘You really find this interesting?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘You surprise me.’
‘That’s the second time you’ve said that.’
‘Is it?’
‘When we first came into the river, you said you were surprised that I was interested in the ships.’ Liza had come to realise that she could talk to this tall man without deferring to him. Courtesy must have its due, and respect for his position, but as Cecily she was his social equal.
‘The Cecily I thought I knew would not care for ships or commerce but it seems I didn’t know you all that well. Your enthusiasm caught me on the wrong foot.’
Liza wrinkled her nose. ‘I wasn’t very enthusiastic on the ship coming over.’
He grinned. ‘Nobody likes their ship sinking under them.’
‘I didn’t.’ Liza smiled, thinking that he hadn’t long to get to know her better, only until Cecily came to claim her inheritance. Nor had she long to learn more of him. She felt a twinge of ... regret? She told herself not to be silly.
‘Would you like to try again?’ he asked. ‘Maybe on a short voyage to France or down to London?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Good for you. We’ll see what we can do.’
‘Where now?’ she asked.
They were in the wheelhouse and he had shown her how the telegraphs worked, sending instructions down to the engine-room. He looked about him. ‘I think I’ve shown you everything here. Time for lunch, and then we’ll go to the office.’ He dropped down the short ladder, then turned and lifted her down, his hands round her slim waist.
Together they walked back along the quay and Liza, playing her part, asked, ‘What are those things?’ She was indicating tall towers built along both steep sides of the river above the bridge. She knew very well what they were, had
seen others on the Tyne, but she thought Cecily would be ignorant of their purpose.
‘The staiths?’ William said. ‘That’s how they load the coal into the ships that carry it to London or anywhere in the world. The trucks full of coal run out on their rails to the staiths just above the ship. Then the body of the truck tips over, empties the coal into a chute and it pours down into the ship’s hold.’
They were now only a few yards away from the foot of the nearest tower. Liza, peering up, could see the way the railway line curved round to run out and end almost vertically above the ship. She said, ‘So the coal—’
William cut her off by grabbing her arm and yelling, Run!’ He spun her round and towed her along as he tore away from the staiths.
Bewildered, Liza hitched up her skirts and sprinted at his side. ‘What’s wrong?’ she cried.
‘There’s a truck coming now. Don’t stop but take a look.’
He eased his pace and she turned her head in time to see a truck run out to the end of the staith. It checked there, then tipped on its side. Its load of coal fell on to the chute and landed in the hold with a thunderous crash! ‘See the dust? That’s why we ran. We were standing downwind of it.’
Liza saw it, billowing up from the chute and blown on the wind. If they had not fled it would have smothered her and her lemon costume — hair and face as well. She had learned something. While she had known about staiths, she had never been so close to one before when it was working, would never have anticipated the dust storm. Now another truck was rolling to take the place of the first, but they were clear of it.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said. ‘I should have watched out for trucks. Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’ Liza was flushed and laughing. ‘Thank you for saving me. I would have been filthy now if you hadn’t.’
He offered her his arm. ‘We live off coal around here, either dig it, sell it or use it, but it’s mucky to handle.’
They ate in a restaurant where the other diners were mostly men. Heads turned as they entered and William seemed to be well-known: several men nodded and greeted him. Liza recognised the kind of heavy, dark furniture with snow-white cloths as similar to the dining rooms in which she had served. She also recognised the type of customer: businessmen.
They ate simply but well, a thick soup and a roast. In the course of the meal men stopped at the table to ask William questions, ‘When d’ye think the Baltic will thaw and open this year?’ all relating to business. Every time, he introduced Miss Spencer to them.
‘You seem to be in demand, Captain,’ Liza ventured. ‘Seem" is the word,’ he said drily. He cocked an eye at her. ‘All those chaps were after an introduction to you and a closer look.’ She blushed, and he grinned at her.
They went on to the offices of the Spencer Line, in a gracious building with tall windows. Inside, the rooms were high-ceilinged, with half a dozen clerks working at big, solid desks. All the furnishings were in polished ash and mahogany and upholstered in morocco leather. Pictures of the company’s ships hung on the walls and models of them stood in glass cases. As they entered, a man of fifty or so, neat in black jacket and striped trousers, came hurrying to meet them. ‘Good afternoon, Captain Morgan, and to you, Miss.’
‘This is Mr Featherstone,’ William said, ‘the chief clerk. He runs the place from day to day, and very well, too.’
Featherstone gave a little bow. ‘Good of you to say so, sir, but anything I know I learned from Mr Edward.’
‘Is there anything for me to see today?’ William enquired. ‘There are letters in your office to sign, sir.’
‘Would you care to show Miss Spencer round and introduce her while I deal with them? And where’s Mrs Dixon? I may want to dictate answers.’
‘I sent her out on an errand, sir. She should be back at any moment and I’ll send her in to you.’
William went off and Featherstone led Liza round to meet the clerks, each man standing in turn and giving a little bow. She asked what each of them did, which surprised them, including the chief clerk. Even Tommy, the office boy, fifteen years old and bewitched by her smile, had to stumble through an explanation of his duties. Then she asked him, ‘Do you like working here? Are you happy?’
Featherstone obviously thought Tommy must answer in the affirmative, but Liza insisted, ‘The truth, mind.’
He met her eyes with honesty: ‘Oh, aye. But we all miss Mr Spencer.’
‘You were fond of him.’
‘Aye, but Captain Morgan is a grand man.’
Liza heard Featherstone say, ‘There you are, Mrs Dixon. Come and meet Mr Edward’s niece, Miss Spencer.’
She turned round, and Betty Wood, the childhood friend she had saved from Piggy and Una all those years ago, was staring at her open-mouthed. ‘Liza! What are you doing here?’
15
WEDNESDAY, 23 JANUARY 1907, SUNDERLAND
Liza heard herself still playing her part, though her face felt like rubber and the words sounded as if they were spoken by someone else. Betty Wood! Betty Wood! ‘I’m afraid you’re mistaking me for someone else. Mrs Dixon, is it?’
Betty put a hand to her mouth, uncertain now. ‘What was that, Mrs Dixon?’ Featherstone asked.
Liza forced a laugh. ‘A case of mistaken identity. Mrs Dixon mistook me for someone else, possibly an old schoolfriend. Isn’t that right?’ She stared at the other woman, trying to pass the message with her eyes: Please, Betty, please!
The answer came jerkily: ‘Yes. Yes, I thought she was a girl I knew at school. But really she was nothing like this lady. I’m sorry, Miss.’
Liza laughed with sheer relief. ‘No need to apologise.’ Now she tried to send a silent message of thanks. ‘I’ve made that mistake myself. Do you live near to the office or do you take a tram?’
Betty was clearly nervous now, but she replied, ‘I get a tram from just outside the office.’
‘Do you work a long day?’ Liza saw Featherstone turn away to meet William, who was walking back along the office towards them, a thick briefcase under his arm.
‘... and I leave at five,’ Betty was saying.
‘Thank you. It’s been very interesting to talk to you.’ Liza smiled at Betty, then transferred the smile to William. ‘I’ve enjoyed myself and learned a few things. I think I’d like to work here, if ever you have any vacancies,’ she told him.
‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ Then he added drily, ‘Although I believe Mrs Taggart will keep you busy.’
‘I’m sure she will.’
They left then, Liza with a nod to Betty. Outside, she asked, ‘I’d like to go shopping for a few items and then I’ll walk up to the house.’
‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to wait for you?’
‘I’ll be fine on my own. And you seem to have plenty to do.’ She pointed a gloved finger at the briefcase.
‘The price paid for taking a day off from the office,’ he agreed ruefully.
He drove away and Liza crossed the road and entered Binns, the big department store. From the doorway she could see the Spencer Line offices and the tram stop outside. She strolled around in the store to pass the time but at five she was back near the entrance. When she saw Betty emerge she stepped to the door, checked that no one else from the office was in sight and waved furiously. Betty saw her and ran across the road. Liza seized her in a hug and kissed her. ‘Betty, you brick!’
‘It is you, Liza? I began to doubt my own eyes. You the fine lady, dressed to the nines, and telling me: “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” ’ Liza squeezed her arm. ‘It is me and I’m going to explain. But let’s keep moving — I don’t want anyone from the office to see us.’ She linked her arm through Betty’s and they strolled through the shop together. ‘I thought there wouldn’t be anyone in Sunderland who knew me. The last time I saw you all your family were moving to Hartlepool because your father had found a better job there.’
‘That’s right,’ Betty nodded, ‘but he moved here three years ago
and I married Jacky Dixon not long afterwards. He works in Thompson’s shipyard as a plater and we have a little lad, just a year old. Now, what are you up to?’
Liza told her the whole story, about Susan, of course, and her sacking by the Koenigs, Cecily’s proposition and how she was now ensconced in Edward Spencer’s house masquerading as his niece. She saw the disapproval on Betty’s face and added desperately, ‘I had to do it. I was just about broke, with no other job in sight and no reference from the Koenigs. There was my mother and Susan to think of.’
‘But if they see through you, you could be in serious trouble. And somebody is sure to catch you out.’
‘But it’s not illegal. This Miss Spencer asked me to do it and I’m not claiming her inheritance.’
‘People don’t like being fooled. Captain Morgan is a good man to work for, but I wouldn’t like to get his temper up. And we’re risking that.’
Nor would Liza. ‘I don’t intend to annoy him. But you said “we”. How does this involve—’ She stopped, realising she knew the answer. ‘Of course — you work for him. If he finds out you knew I was impersonating Miss Spencer and you hadn’t told him—’
Betty grimaced. ‘It doesn’t say much for my loyalty to him. I reckon he’d throw me out. It wouldn’t do my reputation much good around here either.’
‘I’m sorry, Liza said, contrite.
Betty squeezed her hand. ‘Never mind. I owed you a lot from when we were bairns and you stuck up for me.’ She turned over Liza’s wrist to look at the little watch strapped there. ‘Posh.’
‘It belongs to Miss Spencer,’ Liza enlightened her. ‘She lent it to me.’
‘Nice. But I have to go home and cook our Jacky’s dinner. He’ll be in before long.’ Betty gave Liza her address and directions. ‘If you need me, that’s where you’ll find me.’
‘Thanks, Betty.’
Then Betty glanced sideways at her. ‘Have you got your eye on Billy Morgan?’
‘Me? Him?’ Liza burst out laughing at the very idea. ‘No. It was twenty-four hours before he started treating me like a human being. He even—’ She had been on the brink of saying he had virtually called her a harlot. ‘Never mind. But I can tell you I’m not angling for him.’