The Leaving of Liverpool

by Lyn Andrews

  Everyone knew the brothers Malone or the Mona Street Mob as they were usually referred to. They lived in Mona Street with their ma, a ferocious old shawlie who wore long, black skirts covered by the voluminous black knitted shawl, a clay pipe always in her mouth. Ma Malone’s hairstyles were awesome; the fashions of fifty years ago with numerous braids and plaits and tortuously intricate curls. She was a real harridan who was known to beat her sons with a broom handle when the mood took her, big as they were. And they were all big. They were all stokers and trimmers on the Mauretania, part of the notoriously hard-working, hard-drinking, often unruly ‘black squads’ who sweated down in the engine room, shovelling tons of coal into the huge furnaces for hours at a time. They terrorized the entire street, not to say the neighbourhood, when they were home. There were many who heartily wished the Mauretania would go off on a world cruise, taking the brothers Malone with her and not come back for at least five years.

  ‘How they manage to stay out of Walton Jail I’ll never know! For God’s sake, Fee, don’t encourage them!’ Emily hissed for she’d seen one of them detach himself from a lamp-post and look towards them.

  ‘I’m not!’

  ‘Oh, God! He’s trying to cross over! Walk faster!’

  ‘I’m trying to! What’s he shouting?’

  Emily grabbed her sister’s arm. ‘I don’t know and I don’t want to know!’

  ‘Stuck up pair of judies!’ The words were so slurred they were hardly distinguishable. ‘’Ere, girl! I’m talkin’ to yer!’

  Phoebe-Ann glanced quickly across the road and deduced that he was too far gone with drink to move quickly, if at all, or negotiate his way safely across the road. ‘Who’re you gawpin’ at? On yer bike!’ she called.

  Emily froze. Had Phoebe-Ann gone stark raving mad!

  ‘Who’re yer yellin’ at? I’ll put yer bleedin’ eye in a sling!’

  ‘Now see what you’ve done!’

  Phoebe-Ann tossed her head defiantly. ‘I’m not frightened of the likes of him! Dead common the lot of them!’

  ‘You’re mad!’ Emily was aghast.

  Phoebe-Ann laughed. ‘He’s so paralytic he can’t get across the road.’

  ‘Don’t bank on it!’ But Emily was relieved to see that Phoebe-Ann was right. One of the others was pulling his arm and they seemed to be arguing. She quickened her steps until they had safely turned the corner.

  ‘Don’t ever do that to me again! You’ll have my hair turning grey!’

  Phoebe-Ann laughed again. ‘I bet he’s just a big, soft dope when he’s sober and he was quite good looking – for a Malone.’

  ‘He’s about as soft as a lump of pig iron! You don’t help to shift one thousand tons of coal a day and stay soft! Any decent tendencies he had, Ma Malone beat out of him years ago I shouldn’t wonder. You don’t give the likes of him a second glance, do you hear me?’

  Emily related the events of the afternoon in detail to Cook and Kitty but Phoebe-Ann went straight upstairs. As she entered the bedroom she looked around in total disbelief. Olivia was sitting on the bed, her hair loose, a pale blue silk robe around her shoulders and the entire contents of the wardrobe, the tallboy and the chests of drawers was scattered heedlessly on the bed and the floor.

  ‘What’s the matter, miss?’

  ‘This is what’s the matter! I’ve nothing to wear!’ Olivia flung out both her arms.

  ‘But I thought you were going to wear one of your new dresses? The ones Miss Drinkwater had sent around this morning?’

  Olivia pointed to a crumpled heap of apple green silk on the floor by the window. ‘That’s too tight! They must have measured me wrong! I couldn’t even bear to try that one!’ A trembling finger indicated another discarded garment. This one of lilac and white chiffon and satin.

  ‘But you had them fitted!’

  ‘And they still managed to get it all wrong! I’ve told Papa not to pay for them and to cancel our account! I knew I should have gone to Cripps! I can’t go! I just can’t go! Papa will have to go without me!’ Her voice had risen an octave and tears had sprung into her eyes.

  Phoebe-Ann rushed to comfort her. ‘Of course you can! You’ve plenty of other dresses!’

  ‘I’ve worn them all before! Everyone who is important will be there. I can’t wear any of those old things, you stupid, stupid girl!’

  Phoebe-Ann felt like smacking her face. Instead she composed her features in what she hoped was a look of tranquil authority. ‘I’m sure you’ve only worn that lovely ice-turquoise once and you know you look stunning in it! I’ll put your hair up and fasten the diamond clip in it and if you wear your mam’s necklace, you’ll outshine every woman there! You’ll just sparkle!’

  Olivia sniffed. ‘Do you really think so?’

  ‘Of course! Just wait until I’ve finished with you, everyone will be green with envy!’

  ‘It is a lovely colour, isn’t it?’

  Phoebe-Ann sighed. The battle was nearly won. ‘I’ll hang it in the bathroom while I draw your bath. The steam will soon have those few creases out.’ She picked up the dress. ‘Just look how well it drapes. You’ll look as though you’re floating, not walking.’

  Olivia, good humour restored, smiled. ‘How did I ever manage without you for so long, Phoebe-Ann?’

  Phoebe-Ann smiled back. ‘Everyone admired the afternoon dress, miss,’ she said, drawing Olivia’s attention away from the subject of evening gowns. Olivia Mercer could change her mind and her temper in a flash. She knew that from experience.

  ‘It always looked a mess on me. I don’t know why I bought it. It’s much too . . . ordinary.’

  Phoebe-Ann didn’t answer. Her mind was already on the amount of time it would take her to hang up, fold and put away the clothes that Olivia had so carelessly discarded and all that after getting her ready, reassuring her, flattering her. She’d be lucky to get home tonight. Home. It was strange that suddenly she thought of Albert Davies’ house as home, but that’s where her family was now and where they were, that was home. She’d try to get back for a bit, even if it was just half an hour. Even if she had to let Emily go on ahead of her. Then she remembered the Malones and felt apprehensive. ‘Oh, don’t be so daft!’ she scolded herself. ‘They’ll all have passed out somewhere by now.’ Mona Street was across the other side of Faulkner Street, she didn’t need to go anywhere near it.

  As she began to pick up the discarded finery, her thoughts turned back to the little altercation. The one who had shouted at them had been quite good looking in a dark, well-muscled sort of way and she wondered whether it was Jake Malone or his younger brother Seamus. Then she shrugged and turned her attention to the devastated room. Her mam would have given her a good hiding if she’d thrown everything she owned on the floor. But that was the difference between them. She had her mam. Olivia didn’t. And then there was the little matter of Mr Mercer’s wealth. She sighed again as she began to pick up discarded clothes.

  In the time she’d been back, she’d only seen James Mercer a few times and each time he’d stared at her morosely. He’d remained silent when she’d spoken, as though he hadn’t heard her polite greetings. Emily sighed, thinking of how cheerful he’d been before the war.

  There had been such a to-do over the proposed visit to the theatre, with Mr Mercer getting more and more annoyed as the minutes ticked by. Each one checked against his watch. He’d paced up and down the hall, looking very distinguished in his evening clothes, but redder in the face as Olivia failed to appear. The motor car had been brought to the front of the house and Edwin sat patiently waiting in the driving seat.

  She’d been sent upstairs with a message. If Olivia wasn’t down in exactly three minutes he was going alone and that was final! She’d taken one look at Phoebe-Ann’s harassed expression and grimaced at her sister before announcing the ultimatum. It had worked, for Olivia knew her father meant what he said. Such utterances were usually preceded by, ‘You, miss, have gone your ninety nine and three quarters – you’ll not
make the hundred!’ It was an odd saying, one of his idiosyncrasies, but she knew she’d pushed him to the limit of his patience.

  As the door had slammed shut behind them, Phoebe-Ann had sunk down on the bottom stair, exhausted.

  ‘I’m worn out!’

  ‘Thank God she’s gone! I’ve just got to take Master James his coffee, then I’ll get my coat.’

  ‘I can’t see me getting home tonight! You should see what a mess she’s left up there! Every bloody dress she owns is on the floor and all the stockings and shoes and wraps! I’ll swing for her yet, so help me!’

  Emily felt sorry for her. ‘Tell you what, you take the coffee and I’ll go and make a start upstairs.’

  ‘Oh, Em, would you?’

  ‘I said I would. Besides, I don’t feel up to making polite conversation with Master James. He ignores me. Just looks at me with that blank expression. Gives me the creeps!’

  Phoebe-Ann got up and straightened her cap. ‘It’s such a shame, but the last twice when I’ve spoken to him he’s smiled.’

  Emily shrugged. ‘Must be something I said then.’

  The twilight was deepening as Phoebe-Ann entered the drawing room carrying the small gallery tray. ‘I’ve brought your coffee, Master James. Your Pa and Miss Olivia have gone. I thought there would be ructions she was so late and your Pa was getting madder and madder! Shall I switch on the lights and draw the curtains? It’s getting dark,’ she prattled on as she moved towards the light switch.

  ‘No! I like to sit in the dark!’

  She stopped and stared at him. It was such a shame to see him like this and he was so handsome. ‘But why?’

  He didn’t answer but she moved closer, sensing his desolation and feeling drawn to him, though she didn’t know why.

  ‘I have to see things clearly in the light. I hate it! I hate the sunlight and I hate the harshness of electricity. Can you understand that, Phoebe-Ann?’

  She tried. ‘Is it like waking up with the sun shining right into your eyes . . . a bit of a shock after the darkness?’

  ‘A bit like that. In the darkness, images are blurred, sounds muffled. I don’t see their faces, hear their cries . . .’

  He looked so tormented that she was stricken with pity for him and she knelt down beside his chair. He was looking past her without really seeing her. ‘Who, sir? Who don’t you want to see?’

  ‘All those men . . . boys . . . all my friends. My father and Doctor Coleman say I must forget. Banish them from my memory. I must not talk about them, but I can’t! I can’t! Don’t the fools understand? I can never forget their screams, their pleading to die as they hung trapped by the wire . . . the bloody wire!’ His voice was shaking and his hands trembled and the tears poured down his cheeks, unheeded.

  Phoebe-Ann was mesmerized by his words. His tears caused a mist to blur her own vision. She forgot who he was and her own position. She reached out and touched his cheek and then he was in her arms, clinging to her.

  ‘Tell me about it? You can tell me. I’ll listen and it will help. I know it will. I’ll listen.’

  She didn’t comprehend half of what he said. His words were jumbled. Names and places, some she’d heard of, others she hadn’t. She only knew that he needed comforting the way she had. The way Emily had comforted her, held her and soothed her the night she heard that Rob had been killed.

  At length he became quiet and drew away from her. He was more in control of himself she thought as she got to her feet, although he still held her hand.

  ‘I’m sorry, Phoebe-Ann.’ His voice was low.

  ‘What for? There’s no need to be sorry. I understand.’

  He looked up at her. ‘Do you? How can you?’

  ‘I lost two brothers. One . . . one was my twin. He was part of me was our Rob.’ She pressed her free hand to her breast, wishing she could find the right words to explain the bond that had been between them.

  ‘Then you do understand. You’re a sweet, kind girl, Phoebe-Ann.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Gently she withdrew her hand, feeling a little awkward now that reality seemed to have overtaken him. She bit her lip as she remembered Emily. She’d be mad at being left to clear up alone. She turned to go.

  ‘Will you come and talk to me again? Sit with me and tell me about . . . Rob?’

  ‘If you want me to. I . . . I’ve never really spoken about him to anyone except our Emily.’

  ‘Then it will help us both. Will you promise, Phoebe-Ann? ’

  ‘I promise, sir.’ She smiled and was rewarded with a ghost of his former smile and she knew a bond had been forged between them.

  Chapter Four

  ALTHOUGH THE WAR HAD been over for nearly a year, it wasn’t until the end of July that the street parties, or victory parties as they were called, were held, and Lonsdale Street prepared along with all the others.

  For weeks, women had been gathering together the makings for sandwiches and cakes and sewing scraps of material for bunting. The men had all clubbed together to buy the beer. The old, one-legged organ grinder had been persuaded to ‘come and cheer us all up’, while Albert, who was the only one in the street who owned a piano and a house big enough to hold it, was cajoled by Lily into allowing it to be manhandled into the street and into playing it. His protestations that ‘I can only play hymns, luv!’ were laughingly ignored and, while Lily busied herself with sandwiches, he began to try to play the more popular songs by ear.

  ‘I’m off to the Grecian for a bit of peace and quiet. It’s like Fred Karno’s circus in here!’ Jack grumbled, wincing at Albert’s attempt at “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary”.

  ‘You’ll be out of luck – they’re closed!’ Lily announced with a note of triumph in her voice.

  ‘They can’t be! They never close!’

  ‘Well, they are today! This dinner time anyway. Open again later on, Dolly told me. “I can’t be expected to get a party tea ready with half of Toxteth traipsing in and wanting serving!” were her exact words.’

  ‘Some victory party if a bloke can’t get a drink in peace!’

  ‘You’re lucky, lad. I’ve got to keep them all entertained on the piano and I don’t think “Abide With Me” will go down too well. Not when they want “Pack Up Your Troubles”.’

  ‘I’ve got a good idea! Later on . . .’ Jimmy got no further.

  ‘Don’t you dare think you’re going to go sloping off, either of you nor our Jack either! You’re going to enjoy yourselves here, in Lonsdale Street! Now get out of my way while I get a bit of muslin over this lot before the flies get at them!’

  ‘Yes, Mam,’ Jimmy answered glumly while Albert grinned and winked.

  Hearing the door, Lily turned and shouted, ‘Is that you, Emily?’

  ‘No. It’s me, Mam.’ Phoebe-Ann looked pretty in her dark pink skirt and fresh white blouse and with her hair tied up with a pink ribbon.

  ‘Where is she? She promised to give me a hand?’

  ‘She’ll be here soon. Can I have one of these? It’s ages since I had my breakfast.’

  Lily playfully slapped the outstretched hand. ‘Hold your horses miss! You can have one, no more, or these two will start complaining.’

  The plate was consigned to the dresser and Lily attacked another large loaf with the carving knife. ‘Go and help Mrs Harper with the flags if you want to make yourself useful.’

  Phoebe-Ann pulled a face. ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘No, you don’t have to! You can sit here being Lady Muck if you like, but don’t expect anything to eat!’ came the tart reply.

  Phoebe-Ann raised her eyes, shrugged and went out into the street.

  ‘Imagines herself to be like Miss Olivia Mercer she does. Oh, there’s no harm in her, she just needs taking down a peg or two at times,’ Lily said.

  ‘Here’s our Emily and she’s got someone with her,’ Jimmy remarked, peering out of the window.

  Lily hastily wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Who? Dear God, she hasn’t gone and brought Miss Olivia with
her has she?’

  ‘Give over, Mam! The likes of that one wouldn’t be seen dead in this street,’ Jimmy scoffed.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I brought Edwin along,’ Emily announced as she entered, followed by a grinning Edwin.

  Lily looked relieved. ‘It’s a while since I’ve seen you, lad. How’s your aunty? I used to see her down Great Homer Street every Saturday but it’s been months since I set eyes on her.’

  ‘She doesn’t get out as much now. Her rheumatics . . .’ He’d lived with his Aunt Sarah for as long as he could remember. She was his mother’s only sister and she’d never married. Something she didn’t regret at all, she now said. His mam and dad had both died in an epidemic of fever when he’d been four.

  ‘Poor soul. My old mam was a martyr to it.’ Albert got up and offered his hand to the tall, dark-haired lad. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Emily Parkinson where’s your manners? You should have introduced Edwin and Albert properly!’

  ‘Sorry. Edwin, this is Albert, my stepfather. Albert, this is . . .’

  ‘Oh, stop that! You’re making a mockery of it all!’ Lily cried and they all laughed.

  ‘Will you have a glass of something?’ Albert asked, not forgetting his position as host.

  ‘Bit early in the day for me, yet, but thanks just the same.’

  Emily had gone into the back kitchen followed by Lily and the two men stared at each other.

  ‘Left it a bit late for victory parties to my mind. Should have had them months ago. Were you in the army or the navy?’ Albert asked.

  ‘Army. King’s Own Liverpool Regiment, same as Jimmy here.’

  Albert nodded. It was a regiment that had suffered as much as, if not more than, most.

  ‘Never did understand what it was all about. Thought I did at first. King and country . . . all that.’ Edwin faltered. He hated talking about it.