The Leaving of Liverpool

by Lyn Andrews

  ‘I’m not going out with Ma Malone, am I?’ Phoebe-Ann shot back, but she knew Alice was right. Mam would kill her. ‘You’re going to have to help me, Alice.’

  Alice looked suspicious. ‘How?’

  ‘By backing me up. I’m going to have to tell them I’m out with you, or around at your house.’

  ‘Don’t go getting me involved! I’m not getting blamed!’

  ‘Oh, Alice! Don’t be mean!’

  ‘I’m not being mean! My mam will batter me. Your mam will batter me an’ all, that’s after she’s killed you first!’

  She could see that Alice was going to be awkward. ‘I’m not asking you to do much. You never come round to our house and Mam never sees your mam. It’s just in case. I’ll give you my new headband and I’ll even help you make a dance dress.’

  Alice faltered. What Phoebe-Ann said was true. She probably wouldn’t be called on to verify Phoebe-Ann’s whereabouts by Mrs Davies, she never went to Lonsdale Street, and she did so much want a dance dress. She’d seen some lovely material and fringe. ‘Oh, all right!’

  Phoebe-Ann smiled at her. ‘Come on then, we’ll get to Blackler’s before they close if we hurry and we can get it cut out tomorrow.’ She was expansive with her enthusiasm. After all, what else was there to do until the Maury came home?

  For five days Phoebe-Ann occupied the thoughts of two men in the stokehold of the Mauretania. Rhys laboured and sweated in the bunker, shovelling coal down the chute into the barrow of the cantankerous Billy O’Rourke. He pictured Phoebe-Ann’s face when he gave her the scarf, all done up in its pretty wrapping paper. He’d ask her out that very night and he’d take her somewhere ‘posh’, like he’d promised. He could just see her eyes light up and she’d give him one of those dazzling smiles. It was a hope and a dream that sustained him through the brutal shifts and one he took with him to his narrow metal bunk.

  Jake Malone’s thoughts were running far ahead of those of Rhys, as he braced himself against the searing heat of the furnaces, part of his mind intent on the sound of the gong. When he finished his shift, he often went up on deck for some fresh air to clear his head of the stink of sulphur and coal gas. Up on deck, back against a ventilator, head and chest bared to the Atlantic wind, he pictured Phoebe-Ann dancing in his arms in the blue dress. She was like a vision, something he thought he’d never have for his own. He remembered the soft feel of her skin and her lips, the perfume that clung to her hair, and he felt dizzy with longing. But it was a longing tinged with a strange tenderness. He prayed that she’d meet him when he docked, that she’d say she would be his and then . . . Then he’d ask her to marry him. That realization had shocked him. He’d never considered marriage to anyone. All life had consisted of was work and then getting into a stupor to obliterate the brutality of that work. All he’d ever known was hard work, harsh words, blows and he’d learned all three from a tender age. There had been no gentleness in his life. But there was now and he wanted to protect it, to own and cherish it.

  As the cold wind whipped through his dark hair, he let his imagination, constrained for so long, run riot. He could see her in a white satin dress, her face framed by a cloud of tulle and orange blossom, smiling up at him. He’d take her back to their own little house, which would be clean and bright and would smell of her perfume. Simple, childlike dreams he thought, nothing too grand or complicated. Their own little house, unlike the only home he’d ever known. It was always untidy, dirty and overcrowded and filled with the smells that clung to them all, and the stench of boiled cabbage and the midden in the yard. No, nothing like that would do for Phoebe-Ann. A nice little place of their own. No Vinny, Seamus, Peader and Franny swearing, arguing, belching, snoring or Ma shrieking like a harpy and swearing with the best of them when she felt like it and snoring as loudly too, after a few bottles of stout. His vigils became a habit that he looked forward to. The pictures and dreams became more vivid and Phoebe-Ann became more deeply entrenched in his heart.

  Phoebe-Ann had scoured the Echo each night for news of the Mauretania, so much so that Lily had remarked on it. She’d also remarked on the fact that Phoebe-Ann was spending a great deal of time at Alice Wainwright’s house to which Phoebe-Ann replied, ‘I told you I’m helping her make a dress. We’re not out on the town or anything like that. Honestly, Mam, you’re never satisfied. If I’m out too often you complain and if I’m not you still moan.’

  ‘Oh, I suppose you’re right. At least it’s a harmless pastime.’

  ‘Is it for anything special?’ Emily intervened.

  ‘Not really. She had her heart set on a new dance dress and she couldn’t afford to buy one. Not a really nice one, that is. She saw one in the window of George Henry Lee that she likes.’

  ‘You’ve got her as bad as yourself. George Henry Lee’s, I ask you! What’s the matter with C&A or Sturla’s? They’re good enough for me and your sister.’

  Phoebe-Ann hadn’t answered. She had no wish to antagonize her mother over such a simple thing when she might well have to face much bigger issues in the future. But she wouldn’t dwell on that either.

  Lily picked up the discarded newspaper and scanned the lines of print. She never read the society column but a small photograph caught her eye. ‘Well, fancy that!’

  ‘What?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Miss Olivia Constance Mercer . . . engaged to the Honourable Edward Arthur Wakeham,’ Lily read aloud, skipping the more eulogistic description.

  ‘She was bound to marry someone like that, an honourable or a sir,’ Albert interrupted.

  ‘Is he handsome?’ Phoebe-Ann enquired, pleased for her former mistress, yet thinking how much Olivia’s future would differ from her own.

  ‘He looks as though his shirt collar is choking him,’ Emily commented, peering over her mother’s shoulder.

  ‘It does, doesn’t it? Makes his eyes look sort of froggy. And he looks so old!’ Phoebe-Ann giggled. He must have pots of money for she was certain that Olivia Mercer would have fallen in love with someone much younger and far more handsome and dashing.

  ‘Don’t be such a cat, miss! He’s probably the steadying influence she needs. Unless she’s changed, and I doubt that. Probably it’s been “arranged” by her father.’

  Phoebe-Ann said nothing, determined not to upset Lily.

  To her delight she found that the docking of the Mauretania coincided with her lunch break. The passengers would disembark at the Pierhead and then the ship would tie up in the Canada Dock. It would be a bit of a rush but she’d make it, even if it were only for five minutes or so. She couldn’t let him down.

  She changed out of her overall in the toilets, took off the turban and brushed out her hair. She’d told the supervisor she had important family business but that she wouldn’t be late back. Both the tram and the train seemed interminably slow and she gazed out of the window as the train rattled along above the dock road. There was a fine view of all the docks, the river and even the Wirral bank of the Mersey, but she didn’t notice it. She could just make out the time on the five-sided clock tower and breathed a sigh of relief when she alighted at the Canada Dock.

  She ran from the station to the dock gate where she was stopped by a policeman.

  ‘Sorry, luv, can’t let you through.’

  ‘I’m meeting my . . . boyfriend.’ She looked up at him with what she hoped was her most appealing smile.

  He grinned. ‘That’s what they all say. You’ll have to wait here. Got my orders.’

  She glared at him. He probably thought she was one of the ‘Maggie Mays’ who hung around the dock gates. The thought infuriated her. Couldn’t he tell the difference between a decent girl and one of them? She looked around and for the first time hoped that Albert hadn’t decided to come to meet Rhys. There was no sign of him or his cart and she was relieved. Two women, with young children clinging to their skirts, stood on the other side of the gate. They were poorly dressed and the children had runny noses and shabby clothes. Obviously wives she thou
ght, sniffing disdainfully. Fancy coming to meet anyone looking like that, and they could have cleaned the kids up too. It didn’t occur to her that these women came to meet their men to try to wrest a few shillings from them before it was wasted in the pubs that could be found on every corner along the whole length of the dock road.

  She began to walk up and down, peering through the dock gate. Supposing she’d missed him? He’d think she didn’t care and she hadn’t meant what she’d said. Then she heard her name being called. She hadn’t planned in any detail what she would do or say to him, but she found herself running towards him, arms outstretched, her heart racing.

  He caught her and swung her off her feet. ‘Phoebe-Ann! You came! You came!’ He looked into her sparkling eyes and a wave of pure joy swept through him.

  ‘I haven’t got long. It’s my dinner time.’

  They both ignored the rowdy cheer that came from a group of men coming out of the dock, followed by the jeers and taunts of the rest of the Malones. Nor did she see the envious glances of the waiting wives.

  ‘I’ll see you back,’ he offered as she tucked her arm in his. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he ventured.

  ‘I’ve missed you, too, Jake. I haven’t been out at all. Alice said I’m a real misery.’

  He hadn’t expected her to stay in every night and he was filled with gratitude. She’d waited for him. She hadn’t gone off dancing or anything like that. It must mean something. He thrust the parcel towards her. ‘I bought you this.’

  She was surprised. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Wait and see. I hope you like it.’

  ‘You won’t mind if I don’t open it here, will you?’

  He was a bit disappointed but then he thought it might be a bit awkward and someone was bound to make some comment that would be repeated to his ma. ‘No. Will you wear it tonight?’

  ‘Now I’m really curious. Tonight?’

  ‘Yes. Where would you like to go?’

  ‘There’s a couples night on at the Grafton, and we’re a couple aren’t we?’

  That made him smile. ‘We are too.’

  ‘I’d better meet you outside.’

  He nodded. He was going to be in for enough stick from his brothers as it was. Better to meet her outside the dance hall.

  She left him at the factory gate. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him. ‘I’ll see you tonight, Jake, and I’ll wear it – whatever it is. I promise.’

  He watched her walk away and his heart almost burst with love and pride. She was his girl and, what’s more, she’d waited for him without being asked to do so. That surely meant she was serious about him.

  ‘So yer ’ome then. Where’s the rest of yez?’ Ma Malone greeted him as he walked into the tiny cramped and cluttered kitchen.

  ‘Down the Caradoc. Where else?’ he said.

  She grunted and then looked at him suspiciously. ‘Why didn’t yer go wit them? Is there somethin’ the matter wit yez? If yez ’ave got a dose of the pox then yez can get out an’ stay out!’

  ‘Will yer shut yer gob! I ’aven’t got nothin’ like that! Can’t I come ’ome once in a while without havin’ ter face a bloody inquisition!’ He slipped back into the thick accent that he had consciously suppressed with Phoebe-Ann. ‘What’s ter eat?’

  ‘Boiled bacon an’ it’s not ready yet. Yez’ll ’ave ter wait.’

  ‘Bloody boiled bacon. Can’t yer do anythin’ else!’

  ‘Not on the allotment yez leave me.’

  He knew she wasn’t left short of money. All his brothers and himself left an allotment but most of it went on stout and horses. ‘I want me shirt doin’ for ternight.’

  ‘I want doesn’t get!’ she snapped.

  ‘Do I ’ave ter do it meself!’ he yelled, his patience exhausted. Fine home-coming this.

  ‘Don’t think yez can shame me to the neighbours, meladdo! Where is it? I’ll do it later.’

  He produced the shirt, rolled up in a ball.

  She glared at it. ‘Jesus, Mary an’ Joseph! Look at it! ’Ave yez been cleaning them boilers wit it?’

  ‘I just want it for tonight. I’ve got a new collar.’

  ‘What’s all this in aid of then?’

  He sighed. He supposed it would be easier to tell her because as soon as the rest of them arrived home it would be common knowledge. ‘I’m goin’ to meet me girl.’

  Ma Malone’s beady dark eyes filled with suspicion. He’d never mentioned any girl before and he’d never wanted a shirt washed and ironed for the occasion either. ‘What girl?’

  ‘Someone I met before I sailed.’

  ‘’As she gorra name?’

  He was loath to tell her. He didn’t even want Phoebe-Ann’s name to be mentioned in this house. It would be tantamount to sacrilege, so high was the pedestal he’d placed her on.

  She noticed the hesitation. That was a bad sign. This looked serious. She’d always sworn she’d never share her kitchen with another woman, nor was she happy about the fact that her sons could show affection to anyone but herself. ‘I just ’ope she’s a good Catholic girl that’s all or be God neither of yez will set foot in ’ere.’

  Jake was taken aback. It was something he had never even considered. He had loved Phoebe-Ann from the minute he’d set eyes on her, and he’d never even given a thought to what religion she was. Now that he had to think about it he decided it didn’t matter. He never went to church nor did any of his brothers nor Ma. It was years since she’d crossed the doorstep of any church and the priest never came near the house to see why not either.

  His silence was not lost on his mother and she glared at him. So, that was it. A bloody Protestant. She’d soon sort this one out. ‘Where are yez goin’ now?’

  ‘The ale’ouse. I might get some peace an’ quiet there.’

  ‘I’ll have to come home with you first,’ Phoebe-Ann explained to Alice.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t be so thick! I’m going to have to say I’ve borrowed your dress. How else am I going to explain this away?’ She tapped the parcel she was carrying. It had caused a sensation when she’d finally opened it in the toilets at break time.

  ‘It’s not me who’s the thick one, Phoebe-Ann Parkinson! They’ll take one look at that and know it’s not been made with stuff from Blackler’s and look at the style of it.’

  ‘I promised I’d wear it tonight.’

  ‘Tough luck!’

  ‘I’ll just take it in and take it upstairs, then before I’m going out I’ll put my coat on. That way they won’t get a good look at it. It’s so gorgeous and I did promise.’

  Alice shook her head. Phoebe-Ann was letting herself in for a heap of trouble and what’s more she herself was getting tangled up in the web of lies Phoebe-Ann was intent on spinning. ‘Don’t blame me if you get found out and your mam belts you.’

  Phoebe-Ann tossed her head. ‘I’m beginning not to care anyway.’

  Alice shrugged. When Lily Davies found out she was certain that the explosion would be heard all the way to the Pierhead. If Phoebe-Ann had chosen to fall in love, why on earth hadn’t she picked someone like that drippy Rhys? Anyone would be better than Jake Malone. But, as she looked at her friend, Alice realized that Phoebe-Ann was indeed in love or infatuated. Either way it spelled storms ahead and she didn’t intend to get caught in the subsequent maelstrom.

  ‘You’re late tonight,’ Lily observed when Phoebe-Ann finally arrived home.

  ‘I went home with Alice; she’s letting me borrow her new dress for tonight.’

  Lily looked up. ‘What’s so special about tonight?’

  ‘Nothing really. Just a dance at the Grafton.’

  ‘Isn’t Alice going?’

  ‘No, she’s not feeling well. I’m going with Ginny,’ Phoebe-Ann lied, hoping her cheeks weren’t going to flush and give her away.

  ‘She must be feeling ill if she let you borrow a dress she hasn’t even worn yet.’

  ‘She has worn it. She had it on the other night.�
� More lies, but she was in too deep now. ‘Where’s Albert?’ she asked to change the subject.

  ‘In the yard with Rhys. They’ll be in in a minute.’

  She had totally forgotten about Rhys. ‘How did his trip go?’

  ‘Not too bad. Damned hard work he said it was. Much harder than down the pit. Well, let’s have a look at this frock then? You’ve both spent enough time on it, it should be a creation of wondrous beauty.’

  Phoebe-Ann hesitated, thinking what Alice had said about the dress.

  ‘What’s the matter with it?’ Lily asked. ‘Has it got no back in it or – worse – no front?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Well then, let’s see it, this copy of a George Henry Lee model gown.’

  There was no way out. Phoebe-Ann undid the parcel and shook out the folds of gentian blue crêpe-dechine.

  Lily was very impressed. ‘By, you’ve made a good job of it the pair of you! A fine job indeed. I think you’re both wasted in that factory. You should take up dressmaking.’ She turned as Albert and Rhys entered the kitchen. ‘Would you look at this, Albert. Our Phoebe-Ann and Alice Wainwright made it. Copied it from one they saw in the window of George Henry Lee’s. I was saying they should take it up as a trade.’

  Albert smiled broadly at Phoebe-Ann and she blushed and smiled back.

  Rhys’s gaze was riveted on the dress. It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t be! But it was. It was unmistakable. He felt sick. It had been Phoebe-Ann who Jake Malone had been shopping for and the fact that it was a dress made him feel worse. Surely . . . surely Phoebe-Ann hadn’t let Jake Malone touch her or take liberties with her! He sat down suddenly.

  Lily was all concern. ‘Rhys, what’s the matter?’

  He managed a smile. ‘Still not used to the ground under my feet not moving, that’s all.’

  Albert laughed. ‘Still feels as though he’s at sea.’