When Day is Done

  Kate’s mood changed when they reached home and the thought of Henry’s wedding filled her mind. She had long ago abandoned hope that her fairy tale might come true and Henry would decide that he loved her, but just to see him and speak to him daily enriched her life. Soon she would not even have that.

  Davy Thomson had spent the afternoon with Josie, and it was hard for Kate to join in Josie’s joy and excitement about her new love. Her mood was more tuned to that of Mrs Molesworth, who was still very worried about her husband and quite unlike her usual cheerful self.

  The White Star liner the Titanic had gone down with tremendous loss of life after a collision with an iceberg on 14 April, and Mildred’s reaction to the news was to say grimly, ‘It was flying in the face of God to say that ship was unsinkable. God is not mocked.’ Kate was shocked by her words, and even more so when Mrs Molesworth agreed with her, but Josie said that it was only because Mrs Molesworth was so low in spirits.

  Billy had been on the New York run and returned home to find his father no better. The following day, Mrs Molesworth and Kate were working together in the dining room when the charwoman said abruptly, ‘Our Billy wants to arrange for his sister to come and see his dad, but I don’t want her.’

  She had never mentioned her daughter since her first brief reference to her when she had talked to Kate of her family, so Kate had never asked about her.

  When Kate hesitated about how to reply, Mrs Molesworth went on, ‘You think I’m hard, girl, but it’s what she done. She was working on the ships, cabin crew, and when she come home and her dad was laying there with his back broke, she took fright. Got married and scarpered off to America for fear she’d have to nurse him, and I’ve never forgive her. He thought the world of her and he’d been a good dad, and then to treat him like that. I never mention her name, but Billy reckons his dad is fretting to see her.’

  ‘Do you think he is, Mrs Molesworth?’ Kate said cautiously. Mrs Molesworth was polishing the sideboard, and when she looked up, Kate saw that her eyes were full of tears.

  ‘I don’t know, girl,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It’s breaking me heart to see the way he is – no life in him. I’d pull the moon outa the sky if it’d do him any good, but he’s never spoke about her all these years.’

  ‘Perhaps he didn’t want to upset you?’ Kate suggested, and Mrs Molesworth shrugged.

  ‘That’s what Billy says. He’s tracked her down where she’s living in New York, and he says she’s desperate to come and see us. I’ll let her if it’ll do Charlie any good, but I won’t speak to her.’

  ‘If she’s sorry, I’m sure you’ll forgive her when you see her,’ Kate said, but Mrs Molesworth was implacable.

  ‘Not after what she done to Charlie. Him laying there in agony, worrying about the future, and all she could think of was herself. No, queen, I can’t do it.’

  Kate said no more. She felt sure, though, that Mrs Molesworth would feel differently when her daughter arrived.

  During the following weeks, Mrs Molesworth spoke several times about her daughter. ‘The feller our Florrie married, Con Ryan, he was born in America but he come to Liverpool as a baby. He was cabin crew too, but I only seen him the once.’

  ‘Did you go to the wedding?’ asked Kate.

  ‘No, girl. We wasn’t asked. My feller was too bad anyhow, and we didn’t know nothing about it till it was done. She said she done it that way to save me worry. She wasn’t expecting or nothing.’

  Another day she told Kate that Florrie had written to her from America soon after she had arrived there, but that she had thrown the letter on the fire. ‘I was near outa me mind with worry at the time,’ she said. ‘My feller said, “She’s only a child.” A child! She was nineteen. When I think what I’d gone through by the time I was nineteen! He never said no more about her, though.’

  Kate suspected that Mrs Molesworth was feeling guilty about her daughter and nervous about meeting her, and she asked what Florrie had been like as a child.

  ‘She was real good,’ said Mrs Molesworth, ‘and tidy! She’d go out to play and all the other kids’d get filthy, but she’d come home like a new pin. I don’t know how she done it. Her dad thought the sun shone outa her. I used to put her hair in rags of a Saturday and twist it inta rinklets of a Sunday, and he’d walk out with her as proud as Punch. All round the docks, so the fellas doing Sunday shifts could see her.’

  Kate felt that at last Mrs Molesworth was softening towards her daughter. She said so to Josie, adding that she was glad. ‘It didn’t seem like her to be so bitter,’ she said. ‘I’d never have believed that she could be like that.’

  ‘She probably wouldn’t be if it was herself who was hurt,’ Josie said shrewdly. ‘It was Charlie being hurt that made her so resentful.’

  ‘You’re very wise, Josie,’ Kate said admiringly and Josie laughed. ‘I think I’ll need to be,’ she said. At Davy’s insistence, his mother had invited Josie to tea, but she had not tried to hide her hostility. ‘It’s not you,’ Davy assured her later. ‘She’d be the same whoever I wanted to marry. You won’t let it put you off me, will you, Josie?’ he added anxiously.

  ‘No. It’ll make me more determined to marry you,’ Josie said, laughing. ‘You’d better tell her that.’

  Later, Josie told Kate about the conversation, and Kate looked at her with dismay. ‘Married!’ she gasped. ‘I didn’t know you were talking about getting married.’

  ‘Not for ages,’ Josie assured her. ‘But I told you we were serious, Kate. We will get married, but we’ll have to save up for ages first. Davy’ll still have to give his mam some of his wages even after we’re married, ‘cos she depends on him, like. We’ll have to have a bit behind us, so it’ll take us a while. I’m getting as much as I can in my bottom drawer and Davy’ll work late for extra money, so we’ll do it all right.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ Kate said. ‘I know it’s selfish, Josie, but I’m glad it won’t be for a while.’

  ‘A year or eighteen months at least,’ Josie said. ‘You might be married yourself before then, Kate.’

  Kate shrugged. ‘And the moon’s made of green cheese,’ she said. ‘I can’t see myself ever getting married, Josie.’

  ‘There might be more chance of that after September,’ Josie said bluntly. ‘Once Mr Barnes is married, you might stop dreaming about him and look at other fellers.’

  Kate blushed deeply. ‘Oh Josie,’ she gasped. ‘I don’t dream about him. Not since he got engaged,’ but Josie looked sceptical.

  ‘I know you don’t intend to, Kate, but seeing him every day and that, you haven’t got no chance of forgetting him. It’ll be better when he’s gone. You might take an interest in other fellers then.’

  ‘But will they take an interest in me?’ Kate said, forcing a smile. ‘They haven’t done so far.’

  ‘Only because they think you’re spoke for. You’re so standoffish,’ Josie said sturdily. ‘You’ve got to give lads a bit of encouragement, like, and you’d soon start courting.’

  She looked so earnest and concerned that Kate hugged her and pretended to agree, but she felt that she would never marry. Even in the unlikely event that a man asked her, could she be content with second best? No, she thought. No matter what happened, Henry was the only man she would ever love.

  Chapter Nine

  The summer months passed quickly for Kate, too quickly she sometimes thought, as the wedding day approached. Agnes told her that the arrangements were going smoothly. She went every Saturday to her home in Prescot, a market town a few miles from Liverpool, to help her mother with the wedding plans, and told Kate that wedding presents were arriving every week.

  Presents were also arriving at Henry’s mother’s home near Delamere Forest, and some at the guesthouse. ‘At this rate we won’t have to buy anything but furniture,’ Henry joked as Kate handed him yet another parcel.

  Kate was determined to buy them a good wedding present. She was torn between an ornate teapot and stand with ma
tching hot-water jug, and a cut-glass whisky decanter and six whisky tumblers. She decided on the decanter and glasses. Agnes would probably use the teapot for tea parties with her friends, but she thought that Henry would use the decanter and glasses and, she hoped, be reminded of the giver.

  She took the gift to Agnes and Henry when they were together, and both enthused over it. ‘It’s beautiful, Kate, and very generous of you,’ said Agnes. ‘Such good taste too,’ Henry said cheerfully. ‘The best present we’ve had, Kate. I’ll think of you when I’m relaxing with a whisky after a hard day.’ But Agnes said reprovingly, ‘On social occasions only, Henry.’

  She needn’t have picked Henry up so sharply, Kate thought indignantly. I hope she’s not going to change him – and she needn’t have sounded so surprised that I had good taste either. But she was delighted with Henry’s reception of her gift and his promise to think of her.

  The wedding was to be a quiet family affair at the Parish Church in Prescot. The only anxiety seemed to be that Henry’s sister Lucy might not be well enough to act as bridesmaid. She had been diagnosed as consumptive several years earlier, and although her health had improved, lately there had been signs that she was losing her brave fight against the dreaded disease. She had set her heart on being a bridesmaid and assured everyone that she was perfectly well, and Henry felt that sheer determination would carry her through the ceremony.

  Mr Molesworth, too, had rallied. Billy had arranged for his sister to work her passage home from New York to see her parents in Liverpool. He had planned the visit as a surprise for his father, but Mrs Molesworth insisted that Charlie be warned. ‘He can’t stand no shocks, the way he is,’ she said.

  The news seemed to stimulate Mr Molesworth and give him something to which he could look forward. Kate told Mrs Molesworth to take a few days off when Florrie was due, and the others shared her work between them. Lottie willingly scrubbed the steps and cleaned the brass, feeling that she was taking part in a story like those in her ha’penny magazines.

  The following day Mrs Molesworth arrived at her usual time. ‘I meant you to have a few days at home,’ Kate protested, but the charwoman said she was not putting on good nature. ‘I was glad I was off yesterday though, queen,’ she said. ‘My feller was getting that worked up he wouldn’t have been a bit o’ good by the time she came if I hadn’t been there to calm him down, like. She come in as bold as brass, dressed up to the nines, but when she seen her dad she just put her arms round him and cried like the rain. Charlie cried too, huggin’ and kissing her. I was sorry I kep’ her away for so long when I seen them.’

  ‘But you had good reason to be vexed with her at the time,’ Kate said.

  ‘I know, girl, but I didn’t know he fretted that much over her. I still wasn’t going to speak to her but he said something to her and she got up off her knees, like, and come over to me. She told me after that she had a speech ready but she just put her arms round me and said, “Oh Mammy, I’m sorry.” I couldn’t bear no grudge after that, could I, girl?’

  ‘It must have made Mr Molesworth happy that you were friends again,’ Kate said.

  ‘Aye, it did. We were fine till I said I was coming here today, and she said all hoity-toity, “What about Dad? Do you leave him to look after himself?” I turned round and told her, “The neighbours have helped us all these years. I don’t like putting on them, but there was no one else, was there?” She didn’t know where to look.’

  ‘I suppose she spoke without thinking,’ said Kate.

  ‘Charlie told her too. He said, “Your mam’s worked her fingers to the bone to put food on the table and then come home and seen to me and done the cooking and the cleaning. She’s been wore out many a time but she’s kept me alive. Been a Trojan,” and she started crying again. “I wasn’t criticising Mam,” she said. “I know all she’s done, and I’m sorry.” Good job our Billy never heard her or he’d o’ given her something to cry about, I can tell you.’

  ‘I thought Billy was on the same ship,’ Kate said.

  ‘He was, but he had to stay on board overnight. Home today,’ said Mrs Molesworth. ‘He won’t half see a change in his dad. I done spare ribs and cabbage for them, and Charlie didn’t half muck in to his. Hasn’t ate like that for ages.’

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ Kate exclaimed, and Mrs Molesworth agreed but, it seemed, with reservations. Later she said to Kate, ‘It’s funny. All me and Billy done for Charlie, yet we couldn’t do nothing to rouse him up, like. He was slipping away from us, then she arrives and he comes to life again, like.’ She tried to smile as she spoke, but Kate could see that her old friend was hurt.

  ‘Only because it was a novelty to see Florrie,’ she consoled her. ‘Gave him something new to think about. He says himself that you’re the one who’s kept him alive, and it’s for your sake he’s struggled on. He must have been tempted to give up many a time but he cared too much about you.’

  She was rewarded by a grateful smile from Mrs Molesworth. ‘You’re a good, kind girl, Kate, and a clever one. You deserve a good husband,’ she said.

  Kate smiled and changed the subject by talking about Josie and Davy. Davy’s mother was still as hostile, and Josie had said to Kate, ‘If she was different, me and Davy could get married sooner and live with her, but the way she is it’d mean bloodshed. Either I’d take a chopper to her or she’d poison me. She’s only the size of six penn’orth of copper, but bitter in every inch.’

  Josie was determined not to allow the woman to spoil her happiness and sang as she worked, until Mildred said irritably, ‘Tell that girl to stop singing, Kate. Who does she think she is, the Swedish Nightingale?’ Josie only smiled and hummed to herself instead.

  When the school year finished in July, Agnes Tate left the guesthouse and went to spend her remaining time as a single girl at her parents’ home in Prescot, a few miles outside Liverpool. Henry was still at the guesthouse, and he and Agnes had arranged to rent a large house in Rufford Road in Fairfield, about two miles out from the city centre and not very far from Mildred’s.

  His brother, who was to be his best man, stayed in Agnes’s old room the night before the wedding, and his mother and sister stayed with the Tates in Prescot. Before his brother arrived, Henry met Kate on an upstairs landing. She had been polishing, and felt hot and dishevelled, with a voluminous apron over her dress and strands of hair escaping from her bun and hanging down her flushed cheeks, but Henry seemed to notice nothing amiss.

  ‘I’m glad to see you, Kate,’ he said eagerly. ‘I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for me over the years. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?’

  ‘It has, Mr Barnes,’ Kate agreed shyly.

  ‘I would have liked you to come to our wedding, but it has to be very quiet, just family, because of my sister’s health.’

  ‘I know,’ Kate said. ‘I hope she will keep well enough for tomorrow.’

  ‘She’s determined to,’ said Henry. ‘You brought Agnes and me together, you know, because we were both concerned about your future.’ He seemed to notice her appearance for the first time and said indignantly, ‘You work far too hard, Kate. It’s not right. All hard work and no pleasure. You deserve better.’

  ‘I’m all right really, Mr Barnes,’ Kate said. ‘I like the work, and Josie and Lottie and Mrs Molesworth are good friends. I see my sister regularly too.’

  ‘But you should have a better life than this. Don’t accept things so meekly, Kate,’ Henry urged her. ‘We couldn’t make your aunt let you go to Bryant’s when you were a child, but you’re old enough to be your own mistress now. You’re a refined, intelligent girl and you could have a better life. Take any opportunity you get to break away. Do what you want to do.’

  ‘But I am happy here, honestly,’ Kate said. As happy as I can be without you, she thought. ‘Thank you for your advice, though.’ She smiled at him.

  Henry laughed. ‘You’ve got a lovely smile too, Kate,’ he said. ‘That was the first thing I noticed about you when I s
aw you with that heavy coal bucket on your first day here. Do you remember?’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ Kate said fervently, then, feeling that she had been too emphatic, she added quickly, ‘It was a sad day for me, and I appreciated your kindness.’

  ‘Repaid a thousandfold,’ Henry assured her. ‘By all you’ve done to make life easy for me over the years.’ He kissed her cheek and held out his hand, and Kate took it and said shyly, ‘All good wishes for the wedding.’

  ‘Thank you, Kate,’ he said. ‘And I wish you a happy life, whatever form it takes. I won’t forget you.’

  They were standing still, holding hands and smiling at each other, when Josie appeared on the landing, and he said cheerfully, ‘I’d better get on with my packing or my brother will tell me off.’ He disappeared into his room, and Kate smiled vaguely at Josie and went downstairs to her own room.

  She touched her cheek where Henry had kissed her, and then sat thinking of all he had said. I’ll never forget a word of it and the way he smiled at me. I’ll treasure it all my life, she thought. She sat in a happy dream until the striking of a nearby clock reminded her of the time, and she washed and changed and tidied her hair ready to meet Henry’s brother.

  The wedding morning was bright and sunny. Henry had said his farewells to the other guests at breakfast, and afterwards to Mrs Molesworth and Josie and Lottie.

  While Mildred and Kate stood in the hall with Henry’s brother, waiting for the wedding car, Henry slipped out to the porch and returned with two bouquets. The larger one, of mixed flowers, he presented to Mildred, and a smaller one of pink roses to Kate.

  ‘Many thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ve been very happy here and very comfortable.’ Before they could respond, the car arrived. Henry shook hands with Mildred, then squeezed Kate’s hand, saying, ‘All good wishes for the future, Kate. Remember what I said,’ then he looked into her eyes and added in a low voice, ‘I’ll miss you, Kate.’ He kissed her cheek, and in a moment he was gone.