When the Clouds Go Rolling By

by June Francis

  He shook his head. ‘She said it arrived the day Martin was killed, so she didn’t have time to read it. I told her about Clara and her mother being ill and wanting to see her, but I doubt she’ll make the effort to visit. She clearly still hates her. Wouldn’t you agree, Freddie?’

  He nodded.

  Before he could say any more, the door opened and Tilly entered. She was accompanied by Flora, carrying a plate of scones. After that little was said about the funeral and conversation became general. Tilly asked Freddie how Gabrielle had reacted when she had got her first glimpse of Seb.

  ‘She was shocked, as you’d expect,’ he said.

  ‘But she didn’t faint?’

  He shook his head and drained his cup. ‘I don’t think she’s the fainting kind. Look, I’m going to have to return the motor to the yard.’

  Tilly almost snatched the cup and saucer from him and said coolly, ‘You go. I was going to tell you about the letter I received from America but I can see you’re not interested. See you around,’ she said with a tilt of her chin. Swooping down on Georgie, she picked him up, and walked out of the room.

  Freddie stared after her in astonishment, wondering what had got into her, but he dismissed her from his mind pretty quickly because he remembered he had not asked Alice for Clara’s address. Fortunately, Seb had remembered to mention it to her, so she had it to hand and gave it to him. She thanked him for taking Seb to the funeral.

  ‘It was… interesting,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Seb didn’t say how his uncle died. Did his mother tell you?’ Alice stared at him intently.

  ‘Trampled on by a herd of cattle, apparently.’

  ‘Oh. I never thought of that.’ Alice looked almost disappointed. ‘Nasty. Anyway, see you soon, Freddie. And if you write to or see Clara, then give her our warmest wishes and tell her I’ll be in touch.’

  He nodded and hurried out, in a rush now to pick up Kenny from the other side of the city. Despite his crippled foot, Kenny could drive himself, but he found it painful and appreciated Freddie doing so, especially when it was obvious that the younger man enjoyed driving anything on wheels.

  As Freddie started up the motor, he noticed a man loitering outside the house opposite and gazing up at the Bennetts’ home. He dropped his gaze when Freddie looked his way and began to amble in the direction of the footbridge. At any other time Freddie might have given more thought to what the attraction was, but right now he had other things on his mind. An idea had occurred to him and he decided to mention it to Kenny when he picked him up.

  His brother-in-law had on his tweed overcoat and a cloth cap covered his light brown hair, and he was obviously waiting for Freddie.

  ‘How did the funeral go?’ asked Kenny, hoisting himself into the passenger seat.

  ‘It was an experience,’ said Freddie seriously. ‘She’s a real character, is Seb’s mother. I’ll tell you more in a minute.’ He drove the motor out of the yard and then, taking the keys from Kenny, closed the large wooden gates and locked them before climbing back into the driving seat and heading for Lower Bridge Street and the Old Dee Bridge. After a few minutes he said, ‘You know about Clara, Seb’s cousin?’

  ‘Yes. Joy’s told us about her. So is Gabrielle going to visit the grandmother? I have doubts about it myself.’

  ‘Is she hell! You can tell she still hates her.’

  ‘A woman of strong passions, is Gabrielle, inclined to give herself airs and graces. I remember the first time I met her she made me feel about two inches high. I was trying to trace Alice, and Seb was going to give me a hand,’ said Kenny. ‘You were only about three at the time. It seems a long time ago now.’

  ‘Clara’s going to be upset. She wrote to Seb’s mother but she hasn’t even opened her letter. Mind you, it was the day her husband was killed so I guess it’s understandable. I’m going to see Clara and tell her the news.’

  Kenny glanced at him. ‘You like the girl.’

  Freddie nodded, his hands steady on the steering wheel as he frowned ahead. ‘I feel sorry for her, too. I’d like to bring some fun into her life. I suspect she doesn’t have much of that.’

  ‘Hanny would like to meet her. I know it’s a good few weeks off but invite her to the twins’ christening. Tell her we’d like to see her there.’

  Freddie’s face lit up. ‘I’ll do that. It’ll mean she can see Alice and Seb at the same time.’

  Kenny smiled. ‘Great. I’ll look forward to it. Now, tell me more about the funeral. How did Gabrielle behave when she saw Seb?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in a minute but first I’ve something I want to suggest to you. I’ve been thinking about how the business can make some money while we’re waiting for sales to pick up. How about hiring a motor out with me as a driver if necessary? I’ve driven Mrs Black so far, and now Seb. We could also give driving lessons to those considering buying a car in the near future.’ Freddie glanced at Kenny. ‘What d’you think?’

  Kenny did not answer immediately but after several minutes, said, ‘It’s not a bad idea. We’ll have to price it, thinking of the cost of fuel and wear and tear to the car… I’ll need to consult Seb, too.’

  Freddie was delighted that Kenny could see merit in his proposal and suggested eagerly, ‘We could put an advertisement in the Chester Chronicle and the Daily Post.’

  Kenny nodded. ‘Good idea. I’ve had articles in both newspapers. I could do a couple more so we won’t have to pay out cash for the adverts.’

  Freddie gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks. I really do want to pull my weight and really get the business on the road. That’s almost the same words Seb’s mother said about the funeral: Let’s get this show on the road. I tell you, she really is some woman, and is glad her husband’s dead. I’m going to have a lot to tell Clara when I see her.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Clara covered her nose and mouth with her scarf and hurried along Boundary Lane. Earlier that day the sun had shone in a clear blue sky but round about four o’clock the fog had descended. In the distance she could hear the foghorns issuing a warning to shipping in the Mersey and pitied those sailors having to navigate in such weather. She thought of Freddie and wondered if he had returned to sea yet. A sigh escaped her because she had not heard from him and she was starting to believe it was as Tilly had said – that he flirted with all the girls.

  She felt miserable and lack of contact with Freddie and the weather were only partially to blame. Not only had she still not heard from her aunt but, worse than that, the Palladium had closed down again. She had scarcely been able to believe it when it happened. But several members of the orchestra had gone down with the flu, as had she, herself, two of the usherettes, Mr Walsh and his wife, as well as his nephew, Teddy, and the projectionist. Sadly, the usherette, Iris, had died, and so had Teddy. The projectionist and Mrs Walsh were still very ill. Luckily, Clara was feeling a lot better now, but it had really brought the danger from this unseen enemy very close. The death toll in Liverpool now stood at a hundred and sixty, and twenty schools in the city had closed down. Her grandmother had also suffered a scary bout of bronchial trouble. Clara had called out the doctor, believing she had passed on the flu to her, but he had soon washed his hands of the old woman when she swore at him. He had told Clara bluntly that Bernie would be dead within the week for refusing his advice.

  Concerned that her gran might die without seeing her daughter, Clara had written another letter to her aunt. She was still waiting to hear from her. By some miracle, her grandmother was still hanging on to life, and Clara now reckoned that Bernie might not have had the flu at all, but just her old trouble with her chest. Even so, her grandmother had refused to take to her bed, so Clara had brought down blankets and pillows and pulled the sofa close to the fire so she could lie there in the warmth, as they could scarcely afford to keep one fire going, never mind two. Their stock of winter coal was nearly all used up and she could only hope that spring would come early that year.

  The Ch
inese laundry loomed up through the fog and Clara’s heart lifted. She was nearly home. A gas lamp glowed yellow and the sound of her boots echoed eerily on the pavement. Besides making familiar sights appear mysteriously alien, the freezing fog penetrated one’s clothing. She could not wait to get in and make herself a hot drink. She took a short cut through an entry into their street. She began to count the front doors and did not see the motorcycle parked on their step until she almost fell over it.

  Who did that belong to?

  She wasted no time dragging out the key on the string, opening the door and hurrying inside. She slammed the door, marched up the lobby and pushed open the kitchen door. She could scarcely believe her eyes when she saw Freddie Kirk sitting in an armchair at the side of the fireplace. For a moment she was lost for words.

  Bernie glanced round the side of the sofa at her. ‘Yer’ve got a visitor, girl. Take off yer coat and come and get warm by the fire.’

  Clara found her voice. ‘As if I couldn’t see him sitting there. What are you doing here?’ she asked him. ‘I thought you’d returned to sea.’

  ‘Hello, Clara. I’ve given up the sea.’ Freddie smiled as he rose to his feet. ‘I know I should have written and warned you I was coming but I didn’t know exactly when I’d be able to make it and I didn’t have your address.’

  She removed her scarf and returned his smile. ‘You chose the right day to come, didn’t you? It’s like pea soup out there. I presume you got here on that contraption outside?’

  Freddie nodded. ‘Came over on the luggage boat but it was still sunny when I reached the Pierhead.’

  ‘Then you’ve been here a few hours,’ said Clara, drawing off her gloves and manoeuvring her way between sofa and table so that she could get to the fire. She held out her cold hands to the pathetic little blaze.

  ‘Not here. I reached Liverpool about two. Had a look at a couple of motor showrooms that Kenny had mentioned and then I rode up here. I wasn’t sure I would find you in but I thought if your gran didn’t mind, I’d wait for a bit. Then she told me that the picture house where you worked is closed and you’ve had the flu.’ He gazed intently at her face. ‘You do look a bit peaky. Could do with a holiday, if you ask me.’

  ‘If only,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Right now I need to find myself a temporary job to tide us over until the Palladium opens again. No luck today, though, another girl beat me to it.’

  ‘Bad luck,’ he commiserated.

  ‘Has Gran been keeping you amused?’ she asked.

  He grinned. ‘Your gran’s got a good sense of humour.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Clara dryly.

  ‘She wants me to speak to Joy and ask her to tell Mrs Black she’d like a visit when it’s convenient. This side of the grave, not the other, if she doesn’t mind.’

  Clara gasped and looked at Bernie. ‘You’ve got a cheek, Gran.’

  ‘He hasn’t told you all of it,’ smirked Bernie. ‘I asked him to arrange a cruise for me, but he said no can do.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to know any more,’ said Clara, covering her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be worrying about what your gran says to me,’ said Freddie, his eyes twinkling. ‘If I could arrange a cruise to a nice warm part of the world for her then I would. I agree with her that it could give her a new lease of life.’

  Clara could not help giggling. ‘She’s awful. What did you reply?’

  ‘I told her the truth – that I had worked on a merchant ship and also that hundreds of ships had been sunk during the war and it’s going to take some time before they’re replaced. That fact more than anything convinced me that I’ve made the right decision in giving up the sea. I plan to work in the family business.’

  ‘Yer lucky to have a family business so yer can choose to do what yer want,’ said Bernie. ‘Women aren’t so fortunate.’

  ‘I wouldn’t argue with you,’ said Freddie easily. ‘Both my sisters were involved with the Women’s Socialist Party Union. They felt strongly about improving the lot of working-class women.’ He turned to Bernie, ‘Your grandson’s wife, Alice, who is my sister’s best friend, even went to London and marched through the streets to a rally in Hyde Park.’

  Clara was impressed. ‘London! Chester’s the furthest I’ve ever been. At least you have seen a bit of the world, Freddie.’

  ‘It wasn’t much fun,’ he said, folding his arms. ‘Christmas 1917 I was in the North Atlantic. It was freezing and miserable and there was no Christmas pud.’

  ‘I like Christmas pud but we didn’t have any this past Christmas,’ wheezed Bernie. She cocked an eye in Clara’s direction. ‘Talking about food, what have we got to eat?’

  Clara hesitated. ‘I’ve some potatoes. I could do us scallops… and there’s bread.’ She turned to Freddie. ‘Are you hungry?’

  He nodded. ‘And I love scallops. But I did bring some food with me. Hanny knows my appetite and said I mustn’t eat you out of house and home if you invited me to tea.’

  Relief flooded through Clara and she beamed at him. ‘All we need is to check that we’ve enough pennies for the gas meter and we’re in business.’

  ‘Then put the kettle on, girl,’ said her grandmother, ‘and peel the tatters.’

  ‘I’m a dab hand at peeling potatoes,’ said Freddie, a lazy smile in his blue eyes as he gazed at Clara. ‘Peeled hundreds when I was at sea. Lead me to them and I’ll peel while you put the kettle on.’

  She led him into the back kitchen. ‘Remember you volunteered,’ she said, taking the potatoes out of her shopping bag and fetching the specially sharp potato knife. ‘I want no complaints that I forced you into this,’ she said in a teasing voice as she handed the knife to him.

  ‘Aye, aye, Captain.’ He proceeded to prove that he was as he had said, a dab hand at ridding the vegetables of their skins.

  Clara still had some dripping from the very small joint they’d had at the weekend and spooned it out of a cracked cup into the frying pan and lit the gas ring beneath it. ‘We’ve no butter so you’ll have to do without that on your bread,’ she said, watching him slice the potatoes as she filled the kettle.

  ‘Don’t need butter if we’re having nice crispy scallops. But you do have salt?’ he asked.

  She smiled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. I like salt on everything.’ He sliced the last potato and tipped the scallops into a handy bowl and brought them over to her. She patted them dry with a clean tea towel and started to place the slices into the frying pan.

  He watched her for a moment and then went over to the window and lifted a curtain. Clara glanced at him. ‘Are you worrying about the fog? Do you think you’ll be able to get home in this?’

  He shrugged. ‘You mustn’t worry about me. If the luggage boat isn’t sailing, I’ll put up at a lodging house in Mount Pleasant here in Liverpool.’

  Clara was stupidly about to offer him the sofa in the kitchen when she remembered her grandmother was sleeping on it. Though, there was a cold, leatherette horse-hair stuffed couch in the parlour, or she could offer him her father’s former bedroom. Of course, both rooms were like iceboxes at the moment and most likely damp. Even so, she could take out both oven shelves, one to warm his bed and one hers, and she could air some clean sheets. Trouble was, Gran might not approve of them both sleeping upstairs, unchaperoned. She decided to keep quiet for the moment.

  When both returned to the kitchen with plates of hot scallops and slices of bread, Bernie looked up at the pair of them. ‘I was just thinking,’ she said. ‘We can’t expect the poor lad to go out into the fog. He’ll have to stay here.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Freddie, darting a look at Clara.

  She flushed. ‘I did think of it, myself, only I was trying to work out exactly where to put you,’ she said, before hurrying out into the back kitchen to fetch the teapot.

  ‘He can go into Denny’s bedroom,’ said Bernie, as Clara poured the tea. ‘I’m sure I can trust yer to behave yerself, can’t
I, lad?’ She winked at Freddie.

  Clara felt a deeper blush flood her face and she did not dare look at him.

  ‘Of course you can, Mrs O’Toole,’ he said solemnly. ‘My sisters brought me up to treat young ladies with respect.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ said Bernie, her breathing laboured as she hoisted herself up into a more comfortable sitting position to eat. ‘So what’s this food yer’ve brought?’ she asked.

  From a black bag he produced a couple of paper bags. He emptied a greaseproof paper bag of boiled ham onto one of the plates and from the other bag he carefully drew out six tarts. Three were lemon cheese tarts and the others raspberry jam.

  ‘Oh, I love lemon cheese,’ said Clara, wanting to give him a thank you kiss for this unexpected treat. ‘Did your sister Hanny makes these?’

  He shook his head. ‘She told me to get them from the bakery where she used to work. Now she has the twins, she doesn’t have time to make things like she used to, but she said Bannister’s food was as good as her homemade.’

  Clara fetched more plates and, as she handed one to him, she felt strangely content, despite having plenty to depress her.

  They ate in peaceful silence and after every crumb had been consumed, Clara got up and washed the dishes. When she returned to the kitchen it was to find that Bernie had dozed off and Freddie was placing the last of the coal from the bucket in the alcove beside the fireplace on the fire. She knew there was little left in the cellar. A couple of shovelfuls, maybe, but there was no point in telling him that. He was a welcome guest and the hotter the fire, the warmer the shelves in the oven would be. Fortunately, she had brought the potatoes home wrapped in newspaper, which could go round the shelves.

  He straightened up and smiled at her as he brushed the coal dust from his fingers. ‘You’d best wash them,’ she said. ‘We can put the kettle on the fire for cocoa later but right now there’s still some warm water in it.’

  He nodded. ‘We used to have a blackleaded range in the house where I grew up. Mother used to take in lodgers.’