Flowers on the Mersey

by June Francis

  ‘Billy sez yer from the Seamen’s, miss,’ said the woman eagerly. ‘Will we get summit? Yer see, I need muny for medicine for Billy’s chest. Bad it is still, but always wurst in winter. Goose grease me cousin gave me to rub on it after Christmas, and I’m sure it must have dun it sum good.’ She paused for breath.

  Rebekah nodded. ‘I’m sure we can give you some money for medicine. I take it Billy hasn’t seen a doctor?’

  ‘Doctor!’ A harsh laugh escaped her. ‘Can’t afford doctors. Daisy needs shoes and I owes the corner shop. Never clears that amount, but Mrs Murphy’s got a good heart. As long as I pays summit she lets us buy on tick. If it wurn’t for that swine of a man of mine, we’d never have got inta this state.’

  That’s me dad,’ said Billy, nodding. ‘Always in the ale house. Never saw hardly any of his money, did we, Ma?’

  ‘No, son.’ She smiled at him and then at Rebekah as she continued to rock the baby which had fallen silent. ‘He’s a good lad. If his chest wasn’t so bad he’d gerra job. Fourteen he is but nobody’ll take him on. Andy cud have dun more for him but all he ever had on his mind was bed and booze. Eight kids I’ve got. Lost three.’ Her expression turned ugly. ‘Bed and booze. He was a bluddy animal.’

  ‘No use my offering you condolences then,’ said Rebekah as cheerfully as she could.

  ‘What?’ Mrs Rimmer stared at her. Then she began to laugh. ‘Best bluddy thing that ever happened to me!’

  Rebekah lay in the lukewarm bathwater, thinking of Mrs Rimmer and the lives different people lived. Her story was nothing new to Rebekah. Living in Dublin had accustomed her to inebriated men and worn down women, and she had seen more than a few drunken sailors since living in Liverpool where pubs were as plentiful as pigeons. She had slipped the woman a pound of her own money to tide her over until her application went through, and had gone on to the next family, glad of the street map book her aunt had given her, and thinking about what Daniel had told her of his own childhood. Poverty was a terrible thing. She had been a fool saying to Joshua that money was not important.

  She pulled out the bath plug and with a towel wrapped about her went into her bedroom, thinking about her next port of call. She had felt sorry for Mrs Brown who ran a small shop wedged in a row of houses in Edge Hill. It was obvious that she missed her husband, that money was tight, but also that the family of four were managing. Mrs Brown worked long hours and the two boys, although only ten and twelve, helped with deliveries. The eldest girl of eight was already a good little housewife, according to her proud stepmother. Mrs Brown had married late in life, the widower of her best friend who had died in childbirth. Only the youngest child belonged to her but she saw it as her duty to do her best for all the children. They were not in dire straits so Rebekah could not recommend their receiving much financial help, but what she did so was put in for new boots for the boys. With that small offering their mother had seemed grateful. Tomorrow Rebekah would work in the office, writing up her reports.

  She frowned at her reflection as she rubbed her wet hair, glad that it was short but knowing it needed trimming again. She smoothed merculised wax on to her face and tried not to dwell on thoughts of the place that the Rimmers lived in or on meeting Joshua next weekend. Liverpool, as Brigid had once said, was no Paradise. Its people were no angels, but Rebekah was starting to feel at home in it. She glanced at the clock and realised that she had better hurry or she would be late meeting her friend outside the Olympia.

  Rebekah was surprised to see Pat and Joey when she reached the theatre on West Derby Road. ‘What are you two doing here?’

  ‘I thought you’d have heard from the bossman,’ said Pat, the slightest sneer in his voice. ‘The blinking stewards are on strike so we’re not sailing.’

  ‘I heard that the Aquitania had sailed,’ said Rebekah, ignoring the tone of his voice. ‘There were orphans on it who have been adopted by some rich Americans.’

  ‘They were taking bets on the Aquitania going out, and the owners went and got a volunteer crew,’ said Joey, Pat’s mate, in a gloomy voice. ‘Some of the stewards signed on at the lower rate of pay when Cunard’s own clerks rushed to fill their places.

  ‘You’re going to be short of money.’ said Brigid thoughtfully. ‘We’ll go Dutch if we go out again.’

  Joe shook his head. ‘I’m not having you paying for yourself. If I can’t afford to take yer out, I won’t go at all.’

  ‘That’s stupid!’ said Brigid in a low voice. ‘I’m earning so it makes sense I pay my way.’

  ‘So I’m stupid,’ said Joe, his thin face set stubbornly. ‘That’s the way I am and you won’t be changing me.’

  ‘Oh, Joe!’ cried Brigid, giving him a gentle punch.

  ‘Shut up, you two,’ muttered Pat, taking some change from his pocket. ‘Are we going in or not? The queue’s moving, so make up your minds.’

  ‘We’re going in,’ said Rebekah, putting her hand through his arm. ‘I’m in need of a good laugh.’ She knew better than to offer to pay for herself.

  ‘You’ve been with his lordship today and all, have you?’ said Pat, his mouth tightened.

  ‘No, I haven’t.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I’ve been working.’

  Brigid smiled. ‘So yer got the job? Difficult day, was it?’

  ‘Not really but it makes you glad of what you’ve got.’

  Pat glanced at her and his face softened. ‘What is it you’re doing, luv?’

  ‘I’m working on Outdoor Relief for the Seamen’s Orphanage.’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘What’s there to joke about?’ Her look was puzzled.

  ‘You’re a blinking do-gooder!’

  ‘You’d rather I was a do-badder?’ She was irritated.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he growled. ‘You’re working for the bosses. They give to salve their consciences. Do you realise, Becky, if they paid the workers decent wages, there wouldn’t be any need for charity. We could look after our own.’

  ‘You might look after your own, Pat, but not all workers do,’ she said indignantly. ‘A family I visited today were that poor you would have wept for them. And most of their poverty was because the blinking husband drank his wages away and she had too many kids. Nearly every time he docked she was off again. What chance has she of coping without help? He wasn’t looking after his own, only satisfying himself!’

  He flushed. ‘Hey, come on now, luv! That’s life. Most women expect to have babies when they get married. You’re sounding like—’

  ‘Women don’t went ten and twenty, though,’ interrupted a female voice from behind. ‘If you men had the babies it’d be different, I bet.’

  Several people looked in their direction and Pat’s face went redder. ‘See what you’ve started,’ he hissed.

  ‘Me started!’ Rebekah’s eyes sparkled. ‘It’s you that thinks women should produce babies like a baker turns out loaves.’

  ‘That’s a good one,’ approved the voice from behind. ‘Even when love goes out of the window, sex never goes stale on men. Even if they’re a hundred and two!’ There were several titters from the queue.

  ‘Mother of God!’ said Pat through gritted teeth. ‘Women! A man’s better off without them. I’m going.’

  His sister seized his arm. ‘Now yer’ll just stay here! You started this, our Pat, by calling Becky a do-gooder. What’s wrong with helping people? Yer just downright jealous if the truth’s known.’

  ‘Jealous? Of Mr Bloody Green!’ He gave a strangled laugh, dragged his arm out of his sister’s hold and walked away.

  Rebekah stared after him. ‘What do I do, Brigid?’

  ‘Go after him,’ intervened Joe in an earnest voice. ‘Prove to him that yer didn’t mean any of it. Kiss and make up, luv.’

  ‘But I did mean it,’ said Rebekah, her expression fixed.

  ‘Too right, yer did, love,’ said the voice from behind.

  ‘Oh shut up, yer old bag!’ shouted the normally passive Joe, and seizing ho
ld of Brigid’s hand he marched her out of the queue. She turned and called, ‘I’m sorry, Becky, but it looks like it’s not on tonight. I’ll see you on Thursday. Meet you outside Lyons in Church Street at seven o’clock.’

  ‘Oh, all right!’ Rebekah was annoyed with her friend. She moved out of the queue.

  Her supporter, a plump woman with a feather in her hat, patted her arm as she took her place. ‘He’ll come back, luv. Jealous as hell. Not the easiest type to live with but I bet you know that.’

  ‘I didn’t but I’m learning,’ murmured Rebekah, and went in the direction of the park, deciding that she had better kill some time, otherwise Aunt Esther would be asking questions.

  She walked to Newsham Park boating pond, and paused to watch boys send small yachts skimming across the water. At that moment she wished that she had never agreed to go out with Pat and felt like never bothering with him again. Maybe she would not have the choice. Did she care? She shrugged. Was he really jealous of Joshua Green? Damn! The two men were creating complications in her life that she would rather live without. If only Daniel … The ache which never completely left her made itself felt. Why had he had to die? Oh God! There was a lump in her throat and she wanted to hit something or throw things.

  She went home and asked her aunt about buying a car.

  ‘What for?’ said Esther, stabbing herself with a needle.

  ‘To ferry you around,’ retorted Rebekah, leaning against the mantelshelf, her hands in her pockets.

  ‘Chariots of the devil, that’s what them motors are’ said Hannah, her dark eyes darting dislike at Rebekah as she poured the tea and spilt it in the saucer.

  ‘Rubbish!’ Rebekah glared at her. ‘You just don’t like the thought of Aunt Esther spending money.’

  ‘A motor car would cost a lot of money,’ said her aunt, sucking her finger. ‘And who’d drive it? I don’t want to hire a man?’

  ‘I can learn.’ said Rebekah, her anger lifting. ‘Would you buy one? I could take you shopping and for drives in the country. I’ve noticed your knee—’

  Hannah interrupted her. ‘A bit of rheumatism, that’s all. She doesn’t need mollycoddling. Needs to keep it moving or it’ll seize up.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting she glues herself to the car,’ retorted Rebekah, glaring at Hannah again.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ said Esther hurriedly before Hannah could respond. She looked at her niece. ‘It’s not a decision to be made in a moment, dear. It would be nice to visit the country, but aren’t cars dangerous?’

  ‘It depends who drives them,’ said Rebekah.

  ‘Exactly,’ muttered Hannah, thrusting a cup at her. ‘And there’s them that thinks they knows it all and knows nothing. When has thee ever driven a car, miss?’

  ‘Starting from next week I’ll be learning.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘So put that in your pipe and smoke it! Mr Green is going to teach me.’

  ‘Perhaps thee’ll crash it,’ said Hannah, and walked out of the room.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Esther looking dismayed.

  ‘I won’t crash it,’ murmured Rebekah, passing a plate of scones to her aunt. ‘Just you wait and see. I’ll show her.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said her aunt again, putting down her sewing. ‘I really do need a bit of peace at my time of life.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Rebekah said meekly, and put a scone in her hand. ‘I’ll change the subject.’ She sat and began to talk about Mrs Rimmer and her family.

  When Thursday came Rebekah made her way to Lyons cafe with only seconds to spare to seven o’clock. Brigid was not there but someone else was waiting for her.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind my coming instead of our Bridie,’ said Pat, running a finger round his collar and moving his shoulders awkwardly. ‘We’ll be sailing soon after all – and she said I had no right to say what I did.’

  ‘She was right.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered.

  Rebekah had been feeling annoyed two seconds ago but his apology changed that. ‘I forgive you,’ she said with a smile.

  He grimaced. ‘It’s just that I didn’t realise what I felt towards you.’ He looked down at his well-polished shoes.

  ‘Let’s forget about it,’ she said, choosing to ignore what he had just said. ‘Will we have a cup of tea?’

  He lifted his head. ‘I thought you might like to go to the pictures?’

  ‘No,’ she said hurriedly, considering the cosy intimate darkness inside the picture house. ‘Just a cup of tea.’

  ‘OK.’ He sighed and stared at her, his brown eyes reminding her of a pony she had once ridden on her grandma’s farm.

  They went inside Lyons and she asked him whether the strike was over. He told her that most of the stewards were signing on, with only the chief stewards holding out and talking of forming their own union. Then he fell silent. She forced the conversation, enquiring after his mother and whether Brigid had given him a message for her. ‘Ma should be out soon. We’re thinking of throwing a party to celebrate. You will come?’ he said eagerly. ‘Ma thinks a lot of you.’

  ‘Of course I’ll come.’ She smiled and he placed his hand over hers on the table.

  ‘Mr Green – you and him aren’t—?’

  She withdrew her hand, feeling irritated again. ‘You asked me once whether I was a one man woman – I am! Shall we go now?’

  He sighed, nodded and rose. ‘I’ll see you home.’

  ‘There’s no need. Just tell me what Brigid said.’ He told her. ‘Fine,’ she replied, impulsively kissed his cheek, waved a hand and walked away, not looking back, and uncertain as to whether she was relieved or sorry about the way things had changed between them.

  The weekend arrived and Rebekah was waiting outside the gate for Joshua to arrive. Her aunt had not made up her mind yet about buying a car but Rebekah was working on her, telling her how useful it would be. They would not have to get groceries and goods delivered but pick up what they wanted themselves. Hannah had grunted that they’d be putting people out of work. Rebekah could not see how just having a car could do that.

  There was the tooting of a horn and Joshua drove up. This time they travelled south out of the city. He stopped near some stones. ‘They’re called calder stones,’ he said. ‘They’re believed to be very old. Probably Neolithic. See the engravings on them.’

  Rebekah peered closely at the weird rings and cuplike marks. They remind me of some of the old stones to be seen in Ireland.’

  ‘Probably not as old as these,’ he said dismissively and ushered her back to the car.

  They travelled a couple more miles and still he did not mention anything about driving lessons so she did.

  ‘I thought you might have changed your mind,’ he muttered.

  ‘No. I’ve mentioned about buying a car to Aunt Esther and she’s thinking about it.’

  ‘Hmmph!’ He frowned.

  She glanced at him and smiled. ‘Are you scared of being in the car with me driving, Joshua?’

  His expression sharpened. ‘Too bloody right I am,’ he said, but without any more preamble began to explain to her about steering and gear levers. She listened intently, waiting for the moment when he would move out of the driving seat and let her have a go. Eventually he did so and after a jerky start they were off. At first she went much too slowly because she was nervous about damaging his car. It was his car all the time he spoke about it. Be careful of my car … If you damage my car … She could understand his feelings but at last she went a bit faster. He did not allow the lesson to go on too long and it came to an end all too swiftly for her.

  ‘Another one tomorrow?’ she said.

  ‘We’ll see.’ He pulled her towards him and kissed her. After a minute she disengaged herself. He laughed but did not persist. He drove back to Liverpool, telling her on the way about the day out they were having for the orphans on the river. ‘We’re taking them to Eastham on the other side of the Mersey. You must come. You’ll enjoy it.’

  ‘What day is it
?’

  He told her and she agreed to go, and he said that he would give her another lesson after church tomorrow.

  On Sunday they went north again, out past Litherland where the smells from a tannery impinged on the country air. They picnicked on the bank of the Leeds-Liverpool canal and afterwards he allowed her to drive round the quiet lanes near the medieval church of Sefton and Ince Woods. He asked her how she was finding her work.

  ‘I enjoy meeting the families.’

  ‘You don’t want to be too soft with them,’ he said absently. ‘Some of them are up to all kinds of dodges.’

  ‘Perhaps you’d be crafty if you had nothing,’ responded Rebekah. She had thought of talking to him about Kitty Dodds, whom she had met a couple of days ago, but changed her mind. It was her problem.

  ‘Just be careful who you recommend. Money doesn’t grow on trees,’ he murmured, pressing her knee.

  She said nothing, only removing his hand and changing the subject.

  On Monday she met Brigid. Her friend looked relieved. ‘I wasn’t sure if yer’d be here,’ she said, putting her hand in her arm as they walked towards the cinema. ‘Our Pat couldn’t make up his mind to whether yer’d said yes or no. He’s been real moody and got drunk a couple of times.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’ Brigid frowned. ‘I’m fed up with him. I have enough on me mind with thinking about Mam coming out of hospital. Did Pat tell yer about the party?’

  Rebekah nodded. ‘Have you a date?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Brigid told her.

  Rebekah barely hesitated before saying. ‘No problem.’ It might be, though, because it was the day of the orphans’ outing but she could see no way of saying no to Brigid or Joshua without offending one or the other.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN