by June Francis
He hesitated and wiped his own hand on well-worn grey flannel trousers before taking hers. ‘It’s terrible the things that have been going on over there, and it doesn’t look like the peace talks are getting anywhere. They say that peace would be more likely if Lloyd George’s didn’t expect them to lay down their arms before handing only part of Ireland over to them!’
‘Unconditional surrender,’ said Rebekah. ‘I can’t see it coming off.’
He nodded and leant on the gate. ‘I see they’ve got two sisters on conspiracy charges to do with that Catholic lad’s murder in town. Apparently there was a framed Irish Republican Declaration in their house in Seaforth, as well as lists of arms and explosives. I ask you, women! I thought our Edwina was mad enough when she got herself involved with that suffragette movement before the war. You’ve never been involved in anything like that, Miss Rhoades?’
‘No, but I admire her courage. I read some of my mother’s leaflets about what was done to Emily Davison.’
He nodded, his expression grim. ‘They force-fed my daughter once. That was enough for her. It was peaceful means after that.’ He nodded vehemently. ‘But I shouldn’t be keeping you if you’ve the messages to get. You aunt’ll be after me.’
He moved away and she carried on up the road, stricken with pain at the sudden memory of that afternoon with Daniel in Seaforth.
The smell of freshly baked bread did not rouse Rebekah from her thoughts, but as she entered the bakery she collided with a young woman in a brown tweed costume. Around her neck she wore a complete fox stole with glassy eyes that seemed to fix on Rebekah’s face at the same time as the woman’s. She looked to be in her late twenties. ‘You’re the Irish Quaker,’ she said.
Rebekah grimaced. ‘No, I’m not. My mother was, and so is my aunt. I’m not sure what I am.’
The woman raised thick eyebrows. ‘My mistake. I’m Edwina McIntyre.’ She possessed her father’s strong bone structure and squarish face. ‘Has your aunt been saying anything about me?’
‘Nothing,’ said Rebekah, taken aback. ‘But your father’s been telling me about your being a suffragette.’
Edwina’s smile became fixed. ‘Oh, that! Being in prison isn’t seen as so bad by your aunt because some of the Quaker men were jailed for being conscientious objectors during the war. It’s my having had a baby and not being married that makes her look on me as a scarlet woman.’ She paused. ‘Am I shocking you?’
‘Are you trying to because you don’t like my aunt?’
Edwina laughed. ‘How clever of you. She makes me squirm, the way she stares. You’d think I was the serpent in Eden.’ She pressed Rebekah’s arm. ‘You must come and have a cup of tea with us one day. You can tell me all about yourself.’ She waved a hand and strode off.
Rebekah stared after her. She could not see herself and Edwina having much in common, and the other woman had shocked her a little by her openness. Although who was she to judge? How would it have been if she had had Daniel’s baby? How would her aunt have reacted? Perhaps she would have taken her in still, but a baby? And Joshua Green, what would he have said and done? She fancied a scandal would be the last thing he would wish for. Probably he would have sent her away to a quiet discreet Home and had the baby put up for adoption. Hers and Daniel’s baby – how would she have felt about that?
It was strange, never having met Edwina before, that Rebekah should bump into her that evening when buying the Liverpool Echo from the newsvendor Edwina was reading the front page. She looked up. ‘Oh, it’s you again. I’m just reading about that poor woman they pulled out of the Mersey. I bet some man’s behind it. They’ve named her as Emma Richards. Her brother’s a shipowner and lives not far away. He goes to our church.’
‘What!’ Rebekah handed over the money for a newspaper and found the article. She began to read: ‘According to her brother, Joshua Green, his sister had been staying with friends in Formby-by-the-Sea. She had been unwell for a while. They had not become worried immediately as she often wandered off on her own.’
‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Edwina, staring at her.
‘I’ve met her,’ murmured Rebekah, folding the paper. ‘Her brother’s my guardian.’
‘Her brother is – not your aunt?’
‘My father and aunt never got on.’
Edwina nodded, but asked no questions as they began to walk. ‘I see there’s to be an inquest. Do you think it was suicide?’
‘You mean, did she kill herself?’ Rebekah’s back stiffened.
‘That’s what suicide is,’ said Edwina drily. ‘And you can’t exactly fall into the sea at Formby. Of course, she could have been trapped by the tide on a sandbank if she’d gone paddling – but the time of year’s all wrong.’
Rebekah said woodenly. ‘It’s been a lovely day today.’
‘Cold, though. It’s been quite a year for the poor man.’
‘You mean with one of his ships sinking, and now this?’
Edwina wrinkled her nose. ‘I meant his being jilted at the altar last April. They make jokes about that sort of thing happening, but he was actually left waiting in the church. I mean, men can be swines – but to humiliate someone like that is all wrong.’
Rebekah nodded. ‘I’ll have to go and see him.’
‘I don’t envy you.’ Edwina smiled. ‘By the way, that invitation still stands. Just drop in when you feel like it.’
‘Thanks.’
They parted at her aunt’s front gate.
Rebekah told her about Emma. ‘I’ll have to go and see Mr Green.’
Esther looked up from her sewing. ‘Not a nice thing to happen. Couldn’t thou just send a letter and flowers.’
‘There’s to be an inquest, which means funeral arrangements won’t have been made yet.’
Her aunt sighed. ‘Well, if thou must, thou must. But don’t linger.’
Rebekah said that she had no intention of doing so and went out of the room before her aunt could say more.
Rebekah stared at the ship’s bell on the side of the red-brick porch, and then at the cat miaowing on the doorstep. She remembered how her father had tugged on the rope and set the bell clanging. She thought of Emma and her cat, and a heavy sigh escaped her. ‘Bloody moggy’, that’s what Emma called it. So wrapped up in herself had she been during the last weeks, she had almost forgotten that Emma existed. She pulled on the rope and knocked on the door. Twice. Then she picked up the cat which was winding about her legs, and stroked it. Bloody Moggy began to purr.
Joshua opened the door. He looked angry and seemed about to say something but checked himself when he obviously recognised Rebekah’s slight figure in the shadows. He said lamely, ‘It’s you, Rebekah. What are you doing with that cat?’
‘I’ve just come to say how sorry I am. About your sister, I mean.’
‘That’s kind of you. I intended coming to see you this week. It’s your birthday on Friday, isn’t it? You’d best come in.’
‘I expect you’re busy,’ she said, suddenly nervous.
‘Don’t be foolish.’ He smiled and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I should have come to see you sooner but I’ve been busy organising new schedules and trying to buy another ship. I have the chance of purchasing an elderly lady with a good record and having her overhauled. Now the joiners have gone on strike and messed matters up. Put the cat down and let me take your coat.’
‘I think he’s missing Emma.’ She released the cat which ran inside the house.
‘I’m trying to keep him out!’ Joshua made an exasperated sound which he turned into a laugh as he hung her coat on a stand. ‘Sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s just that it miaows all round the house and drives me mad.’ He led her into the front room where a fire burnt in the grate. He remained standing, resting an elbow on the mantelshelf.
‘Poor cat!’ Rebekah looked up at him from beneath her lashes and said impulsively, ‘Can I have him if he’s a nuisance?’
‘He has a pedigree, you
know.’ He hesitated. ‘But I’ll be glad to get rid of the creature, if I’m honest.’ He pressed an electric bell on the mantelshelf. ‘We’ll have a cup of tea and I’ll take you home in the car afterwards.’
‘Thanks.’
There was a discreet knock on the door and the maid entered. She glanced at Rebekah as Joshua asked her to bring tea. Rebekah remembered her from last time. Janet, that was her name.
After she left there was a short silence before Joshua said, ‘I was going to suggest a visit to Crane Hall to see The Gondoliers on your birthday, but under the circumstances I suppose that’s out of the question.’
She smiled. ‘I would have had to refuse, anyway. I’ve been invited out.’
He lifted his head. ‘Oh? By whom?’
‘My friend Brigid. I’m having a birthday tea at her house.’
‘You’re still seeing her then?’ He frowned into the fire. ‘I would have thought—’
‘What?’ He did not answer and she added in a light voice, ‘I like Brigid. She’s gutsy and makes me laugh. I wondered if there was any news about the compensation?’ She had not intended asking.
‘These things take time.’ His fingers toyed with a porcelain shepherdess on the mantelshelf. ‘I will say, though, that it’s unlikely there will be any.’
She stared at him, unable to conceal her disappointment.
‘I’m sorry.’ His expression was bland. ‘I’m likely to receive the value of the Samson and its freight, but passengers will probably only receive the price of their fare.’
‘But that’s unfair!’
‘It’s a disgrace, but that’s the way things are. We do urge people to get themselves insured.’ He moved to stand in front of her and bent to peer into her downcast face. ‘It’s not my fault, Rebekah. If I could afford it, I’d pay the compensation myself. As it is, I need the money to buy a replacement for the Samson.’
‘I understand that, but what about Brigid’s husband and the crew who were lost?’ She lifted her head and caught his change of expression.
His eyes glinted, ‘I presume we’re talking about O’Neill?’
‘Daniel,’ she said firmly. ‘He has a brother, Shaun.’
‘He’s the one you mentioned in New York?’ He moved back to the fireplace. ‘Haven’t been able to trace him, I’m afraid.’
‘He has relatives in Liverpool. They live in the same street as Brigid’s family.’
‘Do they now?’ His hand stilled as it reached for the silver cigarette box on a small table. Then he took out a cheroot and lit it from the fire with a spill from a jar in the hearth. ‘Have they heard from the brother?’
‘No.’ Rebekah sat on the sofa. ‘Would it be worth telling them if they do hear anything, to get in touch with you?’
‘Definitely,’ he said without hesitation. ‘Not that I can do much. Still—’ He shrugged and there was a pause before he murmured, ‘I suppose you learnt about Emma from the newspaper?’
‘Yes. I wondered when the funeral would be, and where?’
‘It depends on the findings of the inquest.’ He sat down on the other end of the sofa. ‘If you were thinking of attending, I don’t consider it a good idea. You’ve been through enough.’
She swung one leg, gazing down at her foot, finding it difficult to say what she wanted. ‘I felt sorry for your sister. A woman I was talking to thought it unlikely that she could have drowned by accident.’
There was a pause as he inhaled deeply before letting the smoke drift slowly out through his nostrils. ‘And what do you think?’
Rebekah moistened her lips. ‘She was very confused.’
He gave a high laugh. ‘She was crazy! Living in a different world to the rest of us most of the time. I find it quite believable that she could go walking on the sands and forget how swiftly the tide comes in.’
‘But what about her friends?’
‘Friends?’ He looked startled.
‘Didn’t they warn her of the danger?’ Rebekah was puzzled by his reaction.
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I should imagine so. But Emma could easily forget what she was told.’
‘When you say it like that, it sounds the most likely explanation.’
‘It’s what I’ll be saying at the inquest.’ The creases about his pale blue eyes deepened. ‘I want my sister buried in holy ground. No scandal.’
There was another discreet knock at the door and the next moment Janet entered with a tray. Rebekah did not press the subject further.
While they drank tea and nibbled chocolate biscuits, they discussed the weather and how she was settling in Liverpool. ‘I’ve been looking for a job,’ she murmured.
‘What kind of job?’ He leant towards her. ‘Perhaps I can help you?’
‘I was thinking of office work. I can type and know a little shorthand.’
‘I’ll ask around.’
She was surprised. ‘You aren’t against women working?’
He laughed shortly. ‘What’s the point of swimming against the tide? If my sister had found herself a job, then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up the way she did. A child would have been best for her. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do for you.’ He put down his cup and stood up. ‘I’ll have to take you home now if you don’t mind? I’m expecting callers.’
She got to her feet. ‘The cat?’
‘The cat.’ He sounded amused and put an arm about her shoulders. ‘I’ll get Janet to find it while I bring the car round.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Wait for me in the porch, and while I’m driving you home perhaps we can make some arrangements for having your birthday treat in the New Year.’
‘That would be very kind,’ she said in a polite voice before hurrying out of the room.
It was Rebekah’s birthday and she was getting ready to go to Brigid’s. She gazed at her reflection, remembering how thrilled she had been with her appearance after her hair was cut. Now it gave her no pleasure. The ends were straggly. She should have gone to the hairdresser’s and had it trimmed. The jade green blouse made her skin look pale, almost translucent. She wondered about touching up her cheeks with rouge but decided to leave them alone. Standing, she smoothed the black serge skirt over her hips before picking up a black hat and cramming it on to her head. She pulled a face then smiled as Moggy bumped noses with his reflection in the dressing-table mirror and miaowed. She blew him a kiss. He had cheered up her life, despite Hannah’s moans about: ‘The lazy do nothing cat!’ and ‘Feeding it on best cod’s head, are we now? I could make soup out of that!’
Rebekah put on a coat and kid gloves, and went downstairs.
‘Dressed to kill,’ sniffed Hannah.
‘I suppose thou wilt be going out with him on Christmas Day?’ muttered Esther, pleating a fold of her skirt.
‘No.’ She deliberately looked pensive. ‘I said I’d be spending it with my rich aunt.’
Esther looked startled. ‘Thou means that?’
‘Of course. You’re my only close kith and kin, barring Grandpapa’s relatives up north – or so you keep telling me. Who else should I spend Christmas with?’ She smiled and went out through the doorway.
Rebekah was not so cheerful as she walked the dark streets, passing children swinging on a rope tied to the bars of a lamp post on the corner of a street, and others chasing and hiding up entries and garden paths. Should she tell Brigid about the compensation or leave it until it was official?
She caught a tram and got off near the Mere Lane cinema. A week or so ago she and Brigid had seen When Men Betray. The poster had proclaimed it: ‘A stirring drama of women’s frailties!’ The film had made a couple of girls behind them in the cinema say, ‘It makes you wonder if yer should ever trust a man.’ How trustworthy was Joshua Green? Her father must have trusted him, but Daniel had not liked him. She felt the familiar aching emptiness. Had that been only because Joshua owned property in Ireland? Or was there something else?
She peered at the numbers on the houses and began to count. Her nervous
ness grew at the thought of facing Brigid’s family. What did they really feel about Brigid’s friendship with her?
A cow’s lowing startled her, as did a series of yells. She realised that she was passing the dairy. The next moment out of the darkness hurtled Brigid’s niece and nephew, Jimmy and Veronica. The boy skidded to a halt inches from her but the girl flung her arms about Rebekah’s skirts. ‘We were told to watch out! Jimmy’s shouted to them yer coming.’ Rebekah swung her off her feet and round and round until they were both dizzy.
Jimmy seized her hand and pulled, causing her almost to fall over her feet in sudden haste. ‘Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!’ he chanted. ‘Me mam had the shop make yer a cake and Auntie Bridie paid for it! But there’s only one pink candle on it. Me Uncle Pat said it’s just as well because we didn’t want to set fire to the house. That’s a joke,’ he said earnestly, his eyes shining in the lamplight. ‘It’s a joke because he said yer only a chicken yet. Scarcely out of the egg!’
Rebekah laughed because she was so relieved by the warmth of their welcome. The next moment Brigid was on the doorstep and pulling her inside the house. ‘Yer found us! I was just saying to our Pat that yer might find it difficult in the dark. I never thought. I should have gone to meet yer.’
‘I was all right. Jimmy’s been telling me about the cake. You shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble and expense, with it being Christmas soon and all.’
‘Nothing’s no trouble, girl.’ A thin figure wrapped in a flowered pinafore came bustling across the kitchen floor. Her face still bore traces of the pretty girl she must have been. The tightly curled reddish hair showed few grey hairs.
‘This is me mam,’ said Brigid, the affection clear in her voice.
Rebekah was momentarily struck dumb, never having known Brigid’s maiden name. Then she held out her hand. ‘Hello, Brigid’s mam. It’s really kind of you.’
Her hand was taken and shaken vigorously, ‘It’s sad times we’re living through, girl, and if we can’t do a kind deed, then life’s not worth living. Some people call me Ma Maisie, so you might as well. I feel like I know yer already through our Bridie.’ She released Rebekah’s hand but urged her over to the fire. ‘The table’s already set. I’ve done us something hot as it’s a real cold night. Now get yerself warm. Our Pat’s just making us a toddy. Yer’ll take a drink with us?’