When Day is Done

by When Day is Done (retail) (epub

  She embarked on a series of affairs, not only with men known to her, most of them officers home on leave, but also with men of the Army or Navy stationed in Liverpool. She skilfully shuffled them like a pack of cards so that they were unaware of how widely her favours were spread. The only one who knew about all the others was Robert Willis, the second cousin of one of Beattie’s friends.

  Robert was a quiet, diffident man in his early forties who was still running the family ship’s supplier’s business. Infantile paralysis as a child had left him with a pronounced limp, which made him unfit for military service, and he was always on hand when Rose needed an escort for some boring duty. He adored Rose, and she treated him in cavalier fashion, calling on him at short notice if her escort for the evening was forced to cancel due to service duty.

  ‘“The crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table”,’ he quoted wryly to her once as he escorted her to a show, but he was always available, even though she would readily cancel a date with him if it suited her.

  Essy’s dislike of Rose grew, but Beattie could see no fault in her darling, and Rose always showed her a smiling, dutiful face. Now that Mildred had stopped visiting her sister, Beattie often told Rose that she was all she had. ‘Nobody loves me but you, Rosie darling,’ she wept. Beattie had become almost a complete invalid now, grossly fat and inactive, and although she talked of cruises for herself and Rose when the war was over Rose knew that they were only fantasies.

  Rose had little free time now to spend with the empty-headed young women of her set, some of whom were now married, but occasionally they met to shop and lunch in Liverpool’s shopping centre. They all belonged to wealthy families, many of them made even more wealthy by the war, and well-dressed and light-hearted as they were, they drew envious glances from many of the people, drably dressed or in mourning, who passed them.

  It was on an outing with two of her friends in the spring of 1918 that Rose met Kate, a meeting that was to have fateful consequences.

  Rose and her friends were strolling along, giggling, among the numerous sailors, American servicemen and shabby civilians, when Rose suddenly caught sight of Kate and was shocked at what she saw. Kate’s face was white, her eyes red-rimmed, with wisps of hair escaping from beneath a shabby felt hat carelessly pinned to her hair. The jacket she wore over a rusty black skirt was too large for her thin frame, and her boots were scuffed and unpolished. She wore no gloves.

  Her eyes met those of Rose, and on an impulse instantly regretted, Rose looked away without acknowledging her. Kate seemed to rock for a moment with shock, then turned and sped away through the crowds on the pavement. Before Rose could turn back she was gone, swallowed up by the crowds, and Rose walked on, suddenly silent and unable to respond to her friends. ‘I’m sorry. My head – I must go home,’ she said, and amid cries of dismay from her companions she summoned a cab and was driven home.

  She felt so distressed that she went immediately to her aunt to pour out her tale. Beattie was kind and reassuring. ‘It was a mistake, Auntie,’ Rose wept. ‘You know I wouldn’t cut Kate. It was just such a shock seeing her I didn’t think, and when I turned back she’d gone.’

  ‘Of course you wouldn’t, dear. Don’t worry about it. You were just taken by surprise and probably Kate’s thoughts were miles away too. I expect she rushed off for quite another reason. Probably remembered something she had to do. She must be quite harassed with Mildred being so odd.’

  In the past Rose had been scornful when Beattie found plausible reasons to excuse her own selfish behaviour, but now that it was for her benefit she gratefully accepted the excuses and let the soothing words flow over her.

  ‘She didn’t speak to me either, come to that,’ she said, and Beattie replied comfortably, ‘There you are then. You were both taken by surprise, and Kate rushed away. Living with Mildred is bound to make her behave oddly.’

  ‘She certainly looked odd,’ Rose said. ‘As though she didn’t give a button about her appearance.’

  ‘Don’t think any more about it, dear,’ Beattie comforted her. ‘Dry your eyes and ring the bell. We’ll have a nice cup of tea.’ Rose was pleased to obey and to take her aunt’s advice, although she knew in her heart that it was wrong. At odd moments the memory of Kate’s stricken face rose before her, but she thrust it away and resumed her life of pleasure.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As 1917 drew to a close Kate was becoming worn out by the worry and the constant search for enough food to feed four guests and herself, Lottie and Mildred. Even bread and potatoes were scarce and dear, and things became worse as the U-boat attacks on shipping increased.

  People like Beattie were cushioned by their wealth, but attempts at rationing were a farce and ordinary people were becoming desperate, even rioting in some places. Kate felt that worry about food dominated her life.

  After Davy’s death Kate thought that Josie might wish to return to the guesthouse, and was ashamed that she dreaded the prospect of another mouth to feed, but Josie had other plans. ‘Davy’s uncle said I can keep on this house rent-free,’ she said when Kate visited her. ‘He said I’d given Davy more happiness in a few years than he’d had in the rest of his life. He’s broken-hearted. Davy was like a son to him.’

  ‘Have you seen – er, his mother?’ Kate asked.

  Josie replied forcefully, ‘No, and I don’t want to. If I never see her again it’ll suit me.’

  They were silent for a moment, then Kate said gently, ‘But what will you do, Josie? How will you live?’

  ‘I’ll get a job,’ Josie said. ‘But not in service. There are jobs in shops going now. A girl from the street works in the Maypole and she’ll speak for me in the greengrocer’s in Brunswick Road.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you have to know about reckoning up and weighing and that?’ Kate said doubtfully, but Josie said confidently, ‘I know all about dealing with money after the last few years, and it’d only be like weighing for cooking. If Ivy can manage the work in the Maypole I can manage in a greengrocer’s. I’m sorry about not coming back, Kate, but you can manage with Lottie, can’t you? And we can still see each other.’ Kate was ashamed to feel relief but told herself she would have welcomed Josie if she had needed to return.

  Once Mrs Burroughs and Miss Andrews had departed, followed shortly by Mrs Bradley, only Mr Culshaw remained, and Kate felt that it was time to make a decision about the guesthouse, but Mildred refused to discuss the subject. Kate went to see Josie.

  ‘I’m sorry about Mrs Bradley, but it’s such a relief not to have to feed them. I was getting desperate, dashing about all day whenever I heard of anything, then trying to eke it out to make a meal, and it’s getting worse all the time. Even things like barley and lentils that I used to help out the meat have disappeared. I think we should close until after the war, but Aunt Mildred won’t talk about it. She’s in one of her down moods.’

  ‘How is she fixed, do you think – with money, like?’ Josie asked.

  Kate shook her head. ‘I just don’t know. She’s never told me anything about money. It seems silly, but you know what she’s like. I tried to ask but she made me feel I was being nosy.’

  ‘Mrs Molesworth reckoned she had a long stocking,’ Josie said. ‘She told me once that the missus bought that house and furnished it with the money her father left, but there wasn’t nothing over. Her husband never left much so all she had was the house, and that’s why she opened the guesthouse.’

  ‘She told me that too,’ Kate said. ‘And she said Mildred felt it was beneath her and that’s why she wanted it to be high class.’

  ‘Well, she did have nice people and they lived comfortable, so she must’ve charged them for it,’ said Josie. ‘Mrs Molesworth said although the house was high class, like, and the food was good, the butcher and the grocer never made much out of the missus. She always beat them down for price and she hated paying for servants.’

  ‘I know,’ Kate said with a smile. ‘It was like getting blood out of a stone to g
et her to raise Mrs Molesworth’s wages, or yours and Lottie’s.’

  ‘She got a bargain with you, though, Kate,’ Josie said indignantly. ‘She’s always taken advantage of your good nature. I know she did all the cooking herself at first, but as soon as she could she threw it all on to you on top of all the rest she expected you to do, and she sat back being a lady.’

  ‘I didn’t mind that. I like cooking,’ Kate said. ‘And we had some good times, me and you and Mrs Molesworth, didn’t we? I really miss the times when we sat round that table with our cups of tea, and the laughs we had.’

  They both smiled fondly, then Josie said briskly, ‘But you didn’t come just to talk about old times, Kate. We’ve got to talk about the future. I think you’re at a crossroads in your life.’

  Kate smiled, and Josie went on, ‘It’s no laughing matter. It’s the time when you’ve got to start thinking about yourself, and standing up for yourself. Don’t just drift on. You think the guesthouse should close?’

  ‘I think it makes sense. We could ask Mr Culshaw to find somewhere else. I’ve talked to Lottie and she says she’d get a job like you’ve done, and I could get some cleaning part time, so I could still see to the three of us and the house. My money and what Lottie could pay would keep us going. Don’t you think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘And the missus would sit in her room like Lady Muck while you got run ragged,’ Josie said indignantly. ‘No, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Kate. Mrs Molesworth talked a lot to me. She thought the world of you and she was always mad about the way you was put on. She said you got the dirty end of the stick when your sister went off to live in luxury and you got taken by the missus to be an unpaid drudge. You don’t owe her nothing, Kate.’

  ‘But what else could we do?’ Kate said.

  Josie replied swiftly, ‘You could get a proper job, Kate, even a living-in job in service but with proper time off and a set amount of work. You could have some life for yourself.’

  ‘I couldn’t just go off and leave her,’ Kate protested.

  ‘Why not? You don’t owe her nothing. She’s just used you and never thought about your life. I know she says she’ll leave you the house and that, but who knows? She’s that moody she might just leave it to the Mission or anything.’

  Kate flushed. ‘That’s not why I feel I should stay, Josie,’ she said. ‘She often threatens me about the house, so I’ve never counted on it.’ She smiled. ‘Never thought about that or the future really, Josie. I’ve just drifted along.’

  ‘Well, now’s the time to stop drifting,’ Josie said firmly. ‘She must’ve saved plenty over the years, so let her use what she’s been hoarding to pay people to work for her, but you break away, Kate. Think of the life you’ve had. You’ve never had a feller because you’ve never had no time to yourself.’

  ‘That’s not why,’ Kate said. ‘You had plenty of fellows asking you out even before Davy, but I’m not pretty like you. Fellows aren’t interested in me.’

  ‘Because you never got out and met people. Never had no sort of life, and you was too shy. You’ve got to let fellers know – encourage them, like. I suppose the missus frightened ordinary fellers off the way she kept saying you was her niece.’

  ‘Oh Josie, there was no one to frighten off,’ Kate said, but Josie said stubbornly, ‘Mrs Molesworth always said the missus had made you neither fish nor fowl and that spoiled you with fellers. Too good for some and not good enough for gentlemen, or so they thought.’

  They were both silent for a moment. Kate thought about Henry and the dream world she had created which had given her much happiness over the years. As though by telepathy, Josie said suddenly, ‘Mrs Molesworth thought you and Mr Barnes might’ve got married, y’know, Kate. She said he got you a place in Bryant’s and if you’d have took it you could’ve got married. I always thought he was in love with you, the way he looked at you and that.’

  Kate blushed deeply and bent her head. ‘He was kind to me when I first came when I was a little girl, and he never realised I’d grown up, that’s all,’ she said, but Josie insisted, ‘He always treated you different, Kate. Mrs Molesworth said if the missus had let you take that place he’d have seen you away from the guesthouse, like, and Miss Tate wouldn’t have got a look-in.’

  Kate smiled. ‘Oh Josie, you’re worse than me,’ she said, then, as Josie looked puzzled, she confessed, ‘I’m always thinking about him. Not with me now he’s married – I mean, I don’t dream about us. I only think about him and pray he’s all right. I’m terrified to look at the casualty lists in case he’s on them, but so far, thank God, he’s safe.’

  ‘Have you ever seen him since he was married?’ asked Josie.

  ‘Not to speak to, but I have seen him,’ Kate confessed. ‘I used to hang about near the house in Rufford Road and I often saw Miss Tate – I mean, Mrs Barnes – with the baby, and when Henry was on leave once I saw him. I dodged away so he wouldn’t see me. I couldn’t explain what I was doing there, you see.’

  ‘I never knew you still thought about him so much,’ Josie said, and Kate said quietly, ‘I’ve never talked about it to anyone, Josie, but it’s made a lot of difference to me being able to think about him. That’s partly why I’m not interested in other fellows. I’d never meet anyone as good as Henry. Not that anyone has been interested in me,’ she added hastily.

  ‘Oh Kate, all these years,’ Josie said. ‘I know he’s a lovely man, but he’d want what was best for you. He wouldn’t want you to miss having a feller of your own and a home, maybe even a family, because you was dreaming about him.’

  ‘I can’t help it, Josie,’ Kate said simply. Now that she had spoken about Henry, the floodgates were opened and for the next hour they talked about him and about various incidents that had happened at the guesthouse.

  ‘I thought of applying for the job of general at Rufford Road,’ Kate said. ‘But I couldn’t leave my aunt, and then I thought I couldn’t bear seeing them together. I’d have loved to do things for him, though, more than I could do here.’

  ‘Remember Hetty?’ Josie said. ‘She loved working there, because of him mostly. He was so good to her, but his wife was a bit of a Tartar to work for. Running her finger round looking for dust.’

  ‘She was good to me,’ Kate said. ‘She was a good teacher – taught me to like books. She was friendly too, never seemed to worry about class any more than Henry did, though her friends did when I went to things with her.’

  ‘I bumped into Hetty about a year ago, but I never thought of telling you,’ said Josie.

  ‘Did she say anything about the house in Rufford Road?’ Kate asked eagerly. ‘I went in a shop in Kensington where Mrs Barnes got her groceries and the woman there told me the baby was lovely and the two grandmothers were living there now.’

  ‘Yes. Hetty said she’d been back to see them but it wasn’t a happy house no more. Y’know Mr Barnes’s mother had come to live with them after his sister died and his brother got killed, and she was a nice quiet woman, no trouble. Then Mrs Barnes’s father died and her mother came there for good. Miss Tate – I mean, Mrs Barnes – was always bossy, but her mother was worse. A real bully. Tried to take over with the baby and everything although old Mrs Barnes had always looked after him. There was always trouble and girls wouldn’t stay. Hetty said she was glad she was out of it.’

  ‘Poor Henry. He can’t have much peace when he comes on leave,’ said Kate, looking worried. It was now late and Kate said she must go. Nothing had been decided about her future, but Josie urged her to think of what she wanted to do without worrying about her duty to Mildred.

  ‘Make your plans and then tell her,’ Josie said. ‘And don’t take no notice if she starts bullying you. And tell Lottie to do the same. She could do a lot better for herself too.’

  ‘The trouble is, Aunt Mildred’s so moody, and she seems worse since her stroke,’ said Kate. ‘And she’s so secretive about money. She won’t go to Greenfields any more. Says Aunt Beattie’s too in
quisitive. I still go to see Rose whenever I can and we’re just as close. I’m not going to stop going just because the aunts have quarrelled.’

  As Kate walked home she thought how much she had enjoyed the evening. It had been lovely to talk about Henry to someone who knew him, and knew all that had happened in the past. Had Mrs Molesworth been right about that job in Bryant’s? She hugged the thought to herself that Josie believed that Henry had loved her. She respected Josie’s judgement. She had always been so shrewd and sensible, so what she believed must be true.

  She thought no more about her future but fell asleep happily thinking about Josie’s words and with Henry’s card clutched in her hand.

  The next day she talked things over with Lottie, then screwed up her courage and went to see her aunt to suggest again that the guesthouse should be closed. She felt unable to make her plans in secret but she was determined that this time she would not be fobbed off by Mildred.

  She tapped on the door and walked in, then took a deep breath and said, ‘I’m sorry, Aunt, it’s just been impossible to find enough food for the guests and ourselves, and I think we should close up the guesthouse until the end of the war.’

  Mildred looked at her with astonishment, and Kate went on nervously, ‘I thought now while almost all the rooms are empty would be a good time,’ but Mildred held up her hand.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ she said triumphantly. ‘My rooms are not empty. I told you they are always in demand. I didn’t ask for these new guests. I was approached by the butcher, Mr Dyson. He’s asked me to take his two nieces, quiet, ladylike girls, he says, from his wife’s side of the family. They closed up their family home last year and went to live in a hotel in Southport, but Mr Dyson thinks they should be nearer his wife. I think there are expectations. The ladies are quite wealthy.’