by June Francis
‘A year!’ He stared at her and she was surprised at how anxious his pleasant face looked as he clutched at her free hand. ‘I had hoped – I do love you, Rebekah. I couldn’t bear it if you said no.’ His tongue stumbled over the words. ‘Please do say you’ll at least think about us being married?’
Still she hesitated but her heart softened at the sight of this different side to him. ‘I’d like to know you a bit longer,’ she said warmly, ‘and then maybe the answer will be yes.’
His relief was obvious. ‘Thank you. You won’t regret it if you do decide to marry me.’
She said nothing only smiled. Nothing definite was settled and a year seemed a long way off. But the topic of marriage was to recur a couple of weeks later from a different source.
‘Miss Rhoades! Miss Rhoades!’ Mr McIntyre waved a newspaper in the air, signalling Rebekah to his doorway.
She was wilting from the heat and wanted nothing more than to get indoors, have a cup of tea, a bath, lie down on her new bed, but she pushed open the gate and went up the path past drooping marigolds. ‘What is it, Mr McIntyre?’
‘They’ve declared a truce!’ His strong-boned face was bright. ‘It’s been signed by General Macready and Michael Collins!’ He nodded his head sharply. ‘You’ll know him? One of the leaders of the Sinn Feiners. Had a price on his head.’
‘Ten thousand pounds at one time.’ She was relieved and pleased even though she had tried not to care about what was happening in Ireland. ‘It’s marvellous! When did it happen?’
He grinned. ‘Come inside, have a cup of tea, and you can read it for yourself. I reckon it’s all down to that Brigadier-General Crozier, who was the leader of the Black and Tans. He resigned because he didn’t like what was going on.’ Rebekah followed him up the lobby. ‘A week or so back he said that you can’t outmurder the murderers, and a whole lot more besides. It looks like the High-ups might have taken notice of him.’
‘It seems like it.’ Rebekah smiled at Edwina.
‘So you’ve come for that cup of tea at last,’ she said, returning her smile.
‘Yes.’ Rebekah took the newspaper thrust under her nose and read quickly of soldiers and civilians discussing peace prospects in Dublin. ‘There’s still difficulties ahead,’ she murmured. ‘The Unionists in Ulster have already set up a parliament. They want to stay in the Empire. President De Valera doesn’t want any part of it.’
‘The North and South will have to agree to differ,’ said Mr McIntyre firmly.
Rebekah frowned. ‘They might yet. But Lord Midleton is elected as a Unionist in the South, so there’s going to be differences of opinion in the Dáil.’
‘I wish you two would stop talking politics’ chided Edwina, putting the teapot on the hob. ‘I’m fed up of hearing about Ireland. Father, go and fetch me a lettuce from the garden so I can chat with Rebekah.’ Mr McIntyre protested but was shooed out, and Edwina turned to Rebekah. ‘Sit down and tell us about the job.’
Rebekah sat. ‘How do you know about that?’
Edwina winked. ‘I heard it on the grapevine. Most reckon that you won’t be working for long, though.’
‘Why do they say that?’ she asked as casually as she could.
‘Because they reckon you’ll be getting married. They’re not sure who to, though. Is it the shipowner with the motor or the dark handsome one they don’t know much about? They’re rooting for the shipowner because he’s your guardian and has money. They say your aunt doesn’t like either of them.’
‘I suppose it’s Hannah who’s been gossiping.’ Rebekah sipped her tea. – The dark one was the brother of a friend but we don’t see each other any more. Joshua has asked me to marry him but I haven’t said yes. If I do marry him, at least with plenty of money I can be miserable in comfort.’
‘Miserable?’ Edwina pulled up a chair close to Rebekah. ‘Tell Auntie Edwina all your troubles, love. Is it that you’re wanting to get out of that house?’
Rebekah smiled. ‘Aunt Esther I can cope with.’
‘Is it a lover’s tiff with this Pat then? Sounds Catholic. Is it religion?’
‘I don’t love Pat,’ Rebekah said in a low voice. ‘There was someone else but he died.’
‘You’d only be young in the war,’ said Edwina, her brow thoughtful. ‘I presume that is—’
‘It wasn’t the war. He was an engineer on the Samson and was lost when it sank.’
Edwina pressed her hand and it was a few moments before Rebekah said, ‘I’m not going to spend my life thinking “if only”. With plenty of money I can have fun and do some good with it!’ She could hear the defiance in her voice. ‘I like my work with the Royal Seamen’s Orphanage Outdoor Relief. I like children.’
‘And you’d like some of your own?’
Rebekah was silent. ‘I have thought about it. There’s this family I visit. They’re orphans but live with their grandmother. I take them out and give her a break sometimes. In their company it’s easier not to think of yourself. Otherwise I do think far too much about my future.’
Edwina looked down at the floor. ‘I had my daughter adopted,’ she said quietly. ‘Sometimes I wish I hadn’t.’ Her mouth tightened. ‘My brother went on and on about my having already brought enough shame on the family by having gone to prison. Father had stood by me through all that, although many others would have given up on me. That’s what my brother wanted to do.’
‘Your brother doesn’t believe in women having the vote?’
‘Does he hell!’ Edwina’s eyes glinted. ‘His poor wife is right under his heel. And, of course, getting pregnant was all my fault! I must have led the fellow on! You can imagine the type, can’t you?’
‘Did you love the father? Was he killed in the war?’
‘Love?’ Edwina shrugged. ‘Not enough to want to marry him. He was exciting and all for women having the vote. He knew Bertrand Russell and believed in free love. I did at the time. I never told him about the baby.’ She smiled. ‘But that’s all in the past. I wish you luck with your shipowner.’
‘Thanks,’ said Rebekah politely.
Over the next few weeks she began to view marriage with Joshua differently – to dream of having a family. She would have several children and take them to the farm in Ireland. She asked Joshua about the farm and the animals as they walked past the Floral Pavilion in New Brighton, a seaside resort across the Mersey.
‘I’ve no idea what animals we have.’ His voice was disinterested. ‘Father tried his hand at farming, but I put a man in and left him to it. Anyway, I told you, I’ll try and sell the place when I know where we are with Ireland.’
‘I’d love to visit it one more time before you sell it,’ said Rebekah.’
‘If that’s what you’d like,’ he said good-humouredly. ‘I’ll take you there as part of our honeymoon.’
‘I haven’t said I’ll marry you yet,’ she murmured.
The humour vanished from his eyes. ‘No, you haven’t. But I was presuming you would say yes.’ He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. ‘Do say yes now, Rebekah,’ he pleaded, ‘and we could get engaged on your birthday and married in spring. You’ll be wanting a fancy wedding, I suppose?’
‘The whole works,’ she murmured, trying to imagine what it would be like going to bed with Joshua. He could be passionate, and had it not been for Daniel she might have been able to view marriage with him as exciting and right, because she would be obeying her father’s wishes at last. As it was she still had vague doubts, but supposed that since Daniel she would have them about marrying any other man.
‘Well?’ he said impatiently.
She decided and kissed his cheek. ‘Yes. I’ll marry you.’
His face creased into a smile. ‘In the spring? By then Lloyd George should have sorted out De Valera and you can have your visit.’
Rebekah hoped so because the peace talks had been in danger of breaking down.
There seemed to be unrest everywhere in the following months. In September there w
ere riots in Liverpool when the growing numbers of unemployed staged a protest and charged the Walker Art Gallery. They came up against the police who used their truncheons. Blood splattered the walls of the foyer but no one was killed. It was horrible, thought Rebekah. Violence did not solve anything. A meeting between leaders of Sinn Fein and the British government took place in October despite there still being disturbances, but at last it seemed that a Free Ireland was in sight.
Rebekah, remembering conversations with Daniel, experienced a deep sadness. But there was something else that was causing her sorrow. She had still heard nothing from Brigid and could only presume that her sympathy was with her brother and therefore she did not wish to see Rebekah. She was too proud to write again or to visit. She did miss the whole family but realised with the changes soon to be made in her own life, the split might well have been inevitable.
In December Joshua bought Rebekah a diamond and ruby ring on her twenty-first birthday and took her to Lyon’s State restaurant where they dined and danced.
Her aunt bought her a secondhand car. A Tin Lizzie four-seater, it had side and rear lamps, which frequently went out because they were oil lit. The headlights, though, were electric and ran directly off the engine. When it was revved up they were bright but when it idled they only let out a dull glow. Rebekah loved it and immediately took her aunt for a drive, having a little trouble with the gears. There were two forward ones, bottom and top, operated by a pedal. Neutral was halfway, but she soon learnt she could only stay in neutral if the handbrake was on. Still, it was her very own car. Her aunt enjoyed the drive but was not pleased when Rebekah told her about the engagement and when she was getting married. ‘I had hoped you would have stayed with me longer. He’s marrying thee for thy money, my dear.’ Her voice was agitated.
‘He’s got money,’ responded Rebekah, sitting on the rug in front of the fire. She added in exasperation: ‘It’s what Papa would have wanted! He mentioned it the last time we spoke. It’s the least I can do to make amends for the worry I gave him. I nearly ran away with someone, just like Mama!’
‘But he stopped thee?’ Her aunt’s cherubic mouth pursed. ‘He would, the hypocrite! Who was it? What happened?’
‘He was a sailor and went down with his ship,’ murmured Rebekah briefly, not wanting to go into further explanations.
Esther’s hands paused on her knitting and she surprised Rebekah again by saying, ‘I loved a sailor once but he was utterly unsuitable. I didn’t need my father to tell me that. He came into St Anne’s Centre and was different to anybody else I knew. He was a charmer and I thought I might have been able to change him, but he didn’t want to be changed and I wasn’t going to.’ She smiled grimly and started knitting again. ‘Sometimes I wonder how it would have been if I hadn’t been me but thy mother. Still, that’s the past and I can only hope thou won’t rue the day thee marries Mr Green.’
She could not hope it any more than Rebekah as the days passed. In January a Free Irish government was set up and the keys of Dublin Castle handed over to the Dáil. A peace treaty was confirmed under a new President, Arthur Griffiths. All seemed to be going well.
As winter turned to spring there was one person in the household happy about the approaching wedding day, although neither her aunt nor Hannah was attending the ceremony because it was in an Anglican church.
‘We’ll have a bit of peace at last,’ said the maid with obvious satisfaction as she wielded the heavy iron on Rebekah’s silk underwear.
‘I’m not going to America, dear Hannah,’ murmured Rebekah, hurriedly removing her knickers.
Hannah gave her an ugly look. ‘He’ll soon stop thy gallop, miss. A couple of babies and thee’ll know what life’s about.’
‘I already do. Did you ever have any children, Hannah?’ asked Rebekah with an innocent air.
Hannah’s dark eyes glistened. ‘Thee thinks thee’s smart. But if thee dies in childbed, I’ll have the last laugh.’
Rebekah smiled twistedly. ‘You don’t pull any punches, do you, Hannah? But I’ll survive, just to spite you, and visit often just so we can stay friends.’ She blew her a kiss and left the room, wishing the maid did not hate her so much.
Rebekah chose Edwina for her bridesmaid. Her aunt did not approve of the choice. ‘She’s no maid,’ she muttered. ‘Surely thou can find someone else more respectable?’
‘There is no one else,’ said Rebekah, controlling her impatience and thinking that at least once she was married she would be mistress of her own home, though deeply regretted that Brigid was not her bridesmaid and Daniel her groom, but there was no getting out of it now. Joshua had been jilted once before and however nervous she was she could not serve him such a turn. For better or for worse, in a few days’ time she would marry him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rebekah was feeling faint, unreal, wondering if anyone had ever passed out at their own wedding. That morning she had wanted to run away but Edwina’s timely arrival with the bouquet of spring flowers had caused her to pull herself together. Her white-gloved hand tightened on Mr McIntyre’s arm, because it was he she had asked to give her away, despite Joshua’s disapproval; he had offered an elderly uncle whom she had never met. To her surprise Aunt Esther had changed her mind, almost at the last minute, about coming to the wedding, and now sat as stiff as a poker in a sparsely populated pew as the organ played ‘Here comes the Bride’. Some of the older children from the Orphanage – boys in sailor suits and girls in blue dresses and white pinafores – sat a few rows behind her.
It was after all not a splendid social affair because Joshua had come round to mentioning his being left at the altar before. ‘I’d rather not have exactly the same crowd,’ he had muttered. ‘Just a few selected people.’ So there were to be only twenty at the Breakfast to be held in his house. Rebekah had considered asking him about his first fiancée but he had frozen her off. She wondered if he had really loved her and was curious enough to want to ask questions but did not care to insist when it was obvious he did not want to talk.
The aisle was longer than Rebekah remembered but still not long enough. A few more seconds and she would reach Joshua, where he stood with his best man, David Beecham, who was prematurely bald, and owned a shipyard. She wondered why he had not asked his cousin, Mr Eaton.
She was there and her knees were knocking. After a brief glance at Joshua, handsome in his morning suit, Rebekah turned and gave her bouquet to Edwina, who winked at her. Suddenly it did not matter what she did or said, she thought vaguely, deep inside she still belonged to Daniel.
Conversation bubbled, hissed and buzzed about Rebekah’s ears, as, champagne glass in hand, she circulated among her guests, heedless of the fact that the trailing lace veil she wore was in danger of being trodden on.
A grey kid-gloved hand suddenly gripped her duchesse satin sleeve, causing her to stop, and she found herself being scrutinised by a pair of reptilian eyes. ‘I hope you’re not too young.’ The voice was gruff. ‘The other one seemed sensible enough and able to handle Joshua, but she let me down. It was Emma, no doubt. Their mother was never strong and could behave very strangely. Emma was like her, and one can’t blame Joshua for putting her in that place in Formby-by-the-Sea. It was just as well she went the way she did, leaving the field clear for you.’
‘What place?’ asked Rebekah.
The woman ignored her question. ‘Give him a few children and I’m sure he’ll be all right. War unsettles men. You read about it in the newspapers all the time.’ She patted Rebekah’s arm and before she could recover from her astonishment, the elderly woman had crossed over to Esther who was peering curiously at a china statuette.
Edwina suddenly appeared at Rebekah’s elbow. ‘That was Amelia Green,’ she marvelled. ‘I never thought of her being related to the shipping Greens.’
Rebekah thoughtfully sipped her champagne and gazed at the old lady and her aunt. ‘They’re a pair of characters. They’d look good on the mantelshelf if you could shri
nk them.’
‘Shrink your Aunt Esther and Amelia Green!’ Edwina grinned. ‘She’d knock you out with her umbrella first. She was a suffragette. What advice was she giving you? To stand up to your man?’
Rebekah shook her head and surprised her friend by saying, ‘What’s at Formby-by-the-Sea besides the sea?’
Edwina shrugged. ‘I’ve seldom been there. There’s a village and a lighthouse … woods and fields. They grow asparagus. Why? You’re not going there on honeymoon, are you?’ she said jokingly.
‘The honeymoon is a secret,’ said Joshua, making them both jump as he came up behind them. He filled both their glasses.
‘What’s so secret about Ireland?’ said Rebekah, raising her glass to him.
‘Ireland!’ Edwina spluttered out champagne. ‘If you heard Father on the subject you wouldn’t be talking about going to Ireland. It’s still much too dangerous for a honeymoon.’
‘My sentiments exactly,’ said Joshua, putting the bottle on a convenient occasional table.
Rebekah’s smile faded. ‘But you promised! You said—’
‘My dear, you said when the fighting ends,’ he interrupted in a gentle voice. ‘The fighting still goes on and it’s not just in Belfast, where it broke out first after the truce. It’s happening all over the place because North and South can’t agree where the borders should be. It could end in civil war because the Dáil is at outs with itself. It’s what one expects of amateurs in government. But at least if there’s a civil war they’ll be killing each other and not British soldiers. My man’s already been threatened and we had a fire at the farm.’
‘You never told me,’ stammered Rebekah, her fingers tightening on the stem of the glass. ‘How much of it was destroyed?’