The White Empress

by Lyn Andrews

  ‘Cat! Cat! I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you!’ His words were muttered with a passion he couldn’t conceal.

  A gull screeched overhead and the raucous cry mingled with the laughter of children and these sounds served to drag her back to reality. She pulled away from him, her hands trembling. ‘Stephen, no! I . . . I can’t.’ Sitting up she smoothed out the creases in her skirt. He still lay on his back beside her as a young family passed them. She watched them until they were further away.

  His hand sought hers.

  ‘Stephen, I can’t . . .’ She couldn’t trust herself. If he were to kiss her again like that, she would be lost.

  ‘Is it because of Joe?’

  ‘No. Well, Joe is part of it!’

  ‘He doesn’t love you, Cat, he doesn’t own you!’

  ‘No one owns me!’

  ‘You know what I mean. Do you love me, Cat?’

  She stared out over the river. ‘I . . . I don’t know! I don’t think I even know what love is.’

  He reached out for her but she jumped up and ran to the edge of the roadway that bounded the river wall, her emotions in turmoil. She stood gripping the rail. Of one thing she was certain. Whatever it was she felt for him, it was far stronger, far sweeter than anything she had ever felt before and she knew if he were to ask her to marry him now, she wouldn’t be as resolutely opposed to the idea as she had been with Joe.

  She gripped the rail harder, staring out down river. The sun was strong and she narrowed her eyes against the glare. Then her heart lurched, seemed to stop dead, then raced on again. Surely, surely it wasn’t! At this distance and in the strong light shapes were distorted, colours faded. Her heart lurched again. It was! She wasn’t just imagining it! She turned to where Stephen still sat on the grass verge.

  ‘It’s her! It’s her, Stephen! It’s the White Empress! She’s come home!’

  By the time they had reached the landing stage, via the tram and overhead railway, the Empress was well up-river and had taken on the massive hawsers of the tugs needed to manoeuvre her alongside. Stephen and his advances were forgotten as she pushed her way through the crowd of people at the landing stage. Again she shielded her eyes from the sun. It was just as though the years had rolled back. The gleaming white hull rose like a cliff from the murky waters of the Mersey, but somehow to Cat she seemed bigger and there was something unfamiliar about her shape. Then she saw the black letters on her bow. It wasn’t ‘her’ ship. It wasn’t ‘her’ Empress, for the name ‘Empress of Britain’ could be clearly read.

  ‘So that’s the shape of my rival! I’ve got to admit that she’s certainly a formidable sight.’ Stephen was beside her.

  ‘It’s the Empress of Britain.’

  ‘You sound disappointed?’

  ‘Perhaps I am, a little.’

  ‘Then there’s hope for me yet?’

  She smiled. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve dragged you all the way here for, well . . .’ she shrugged.

  ‘Not for nothing. She’s a wonderful sight and besides, if we stay here longer I may see an old school friend. I heard he was sailing on this particular Empress.’

  She clutched his arm so tightly her fingers dug into the flesh. He knew someone on board! He had never mentioned this fact.

  ‘You’re joking! You never mentioned it before!’

  ‘I didn’t want to mention it, I was trying to block these great white whales out of your mind, Captain Ahab, or don’t you remember?’

  She was too excited to admonish him for his derogatory remarks. ‘Oh, Stephen! Can you introduce him to me? What’s his name? What does he do?’ She failed to notice the downward quirk of his lips.

  ‘His name is David Barratt and he’s a junior officer, but I don’t think we’ll be able to see him. He’ll be busy and won’t disembark until they tie up properly in Gladstone Dock.’

  Her face fell and she suspected him of concealing something from her. She turned back to look at the ship, now being nosed alongside the landing stage, unaware of the hard gleam in his blue eyes.

  ‘Do you want to wait?’

  She sighed. It was too much to ask of him, he obviously thought she was using him to further her own ends. ‘No. Let’s go.’

  ‘I’ll see you to the tram, then.’

  Reluctant though she was to drag herself away from the scene, she followed him. Later she would try to sort out all the conflicting emotions she felt now. Later she could lie in bed, when Shelagh, Dora and Ethel were asleep, and try to sort out in her mind the events that had brought about such an extraordinary day.

  The Empress of Britain’s stay in Liverpool had been brief. A twenty-four hour turnaround before she sailed from the Mersey to her home port of Southampton. And she had sailed on the early tide so Cat had not seen her go.

  She had decided not to mention the matter again to Stephen as she would not have him accuse her of ‘using’ him. She had also spent long hours turning over her feelings for him in her mind. At length she had admitted to herself that what she felt for him was nothing like the affection she felt for Joe. Joe had always been . . . just Joe. A friend, a close and dear friend she knew she could rely on. A haven and a refuge. But when he had kissed her she had felt nothing of the flood of passionate longing she felt for Stephen. She and Joe were, well, just like childhood sweethearts. She’d only been a child when she had first met him and he had been the first and only boy to take an interest in her.

  With Stephen the feeling was deeper, stronger and yet, when she searched her heart, she knew that if he asked to marry her she would have to think about it. She couldn’t rush into it. She wouldn’t rush into it and it was this realisation that made her wonder if she really did love him. She was nearly nineteen now and often she wished for the uncomplicated, naivety of the life she had known at sixteen. When all that had mattered was money in her pocket and a roof over her head.

  Thanks to Mrs Grindley’s training her Dublin accent had become less pronounced and she was finding evening classes easier. She still saw Marie often, but usually only at weekends for Marie was now at commercial college and destined to be a fully fledged shorthand typist when she finished in another year’s time. Stephen took her out on two more occasions, once to the pictures and once to the museum. He had kissed her goodnight on both occasions in the sheltering doorway of the shops, before she boarded her tram. She had felt that same longing, that yearning fill her each time. And the last time she had nearly missed the tram, staying within the circle of his arms, held in the thrall of his embrace until the voice of the conductor broke the spell and she had been hauled bodily on to the platform. It had been the last tram going her way that night and as she had tried to hide her embarrassment, the conductor had laughed and said, ‘There’s always tomorrow, luv!’

  There had been quite a few ‘tomorrows’ until Joe had returned home. With a wallet full of pound notes, decked out in his uniform, he had called for her. Only to find out from Shelagh, who eyed him in a new light and attempted to become coy and flirtatious, that she had gone to one of her evening classes.

  ‘I don’t know why she wants to fill her head with all that stuff, it’s not going to be any use to her, not when she’s married and bringing up kids! I thought you and she were “walking out”? Now if it was me, I’d be waiting on the landing stage for my bloke. One of these days I just might go and take a look myself at these evening classes. I don’t know what she finds so interesting, or maybe it’s who she finds interesting.’

  He inquired where the evening classes were held and what time they finished and after giving his regards to both Maisey and Mrs Cleary, he left to catch the tram to Warbreck Moor. He tried to ignore Shelagh’s innuendoes – she was a born troublemaker.

  He stood opposite in the doorway of a shop and watched while the students filed out, but he saw no sign of her. The last man he had watched leave crossed the road.

  ‘Any more in there, pal?’ he asked.

  ‘Only Mr Hartley, the teacher, and Miss Clea
ry. She sometimes helps him to tidy up. You a friend of hers?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Sometimes he walks her to the tram, too.’

  ‘Oh, aye, what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing, pal! Got a light?’

  Joe delved into his pocket and brought out a box of matches. He lit one and held it out. The man lit his cigarette, nodded and went on his way. He tried to push away the doubt Shelagh had planted in his mind. He looked at the new watch he had bought in New York. Nearly a quarter past nine. He pushed both his hands into his trouser pockets. He’d wait.

  A few minutes later they came out, laughing and joking, and he scowled as he watched Stephen take Cat’s arm and guide her across the road. Then he stepped out, directly into their path.

  ‘Hello, Cat!’

  She gave a cry of surprise that was quickly followed by one of delight. ‘Joe! When did you get in? Why didn’t you get word to me?’

  ‘Late this afternoon.’ He was looking past her.

  She caught his arm and pulled him forward. ‘Joe, this is Stephen. Stephen Hartley, my teacher and friend.’

  He made an effort to smile and shake the man’s hand, but he had taken an instant dislike to him. Something he did very rarely for he was gregarious by nature. There was something about him, about the way he looked at Cat. He’d seen that look before. He pushed the thought aside for Cat was linking arms with them both and chattering on as they all walked in the direction of the tram stop.

  She had been utterly surprised by his appearance. Then she remembered Mr O’Dwyer saying something about the Scythia but she had been in too much of a rush to take much notice. But she hadn’t failed to notice the tension that crackled like lightning between Joe and Stephen. She bade a very hurried goodbye to Stephen as Joe pulled her forward in time to catch the number twenty-two tram.

  ‘I hear he often walks to the tram with you. Is that all part of the service?’ he asked, unable to keep the note of sarcasm out of his voice.

  She stared out of the window. ‘No, it’s not! I told you, you don’t own me!’

  ‘Oh, it’s like that, is it?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Has he taken you out then, are you doing a Johnny Todd?’

  Her mind went back to the night in Mrs Travis’s kitchen and the old sea shanty. ‘I didn’t say I’d stay at home and wait for you. I’ve got my life to live and he’s been very helpful . . .’

  ‘I’ll bet he has!’

  ‘Stop it, Joe!’ She hissed. ‘Don’t let’s quarrel, you’ve only just got home!’

  He grunted and they sat in silence for the next two stops.

  ‘Did you enjoy your trip?’

  ‘It was alright.’ He paused. ‘Well, no I didn’t, it was bloody awful, if you must know!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a hellhole down there with those turbines going day and night. Far worse than the Marguerita and all the damned rules and regulations! It’s stinking hot, smelly and dirty. It’s a gaping cavern full of pipes, dials, stopcocks, boilers and eternal bloody noise!’

  ‘I thought it was what you wanted?’

  ‘It is! I’m getting used to it. The chief says I’ll make a good engineer one day!’

  ‘Then it’s better than being a steward, isn’t it?’

  He looked at her, knowing she was trying to goad him. ‘You bet it is. I wouldn’t have their job for the clock off the Liver Buildings!’

  ‘So stop complaining!’ she laughed.

  As they walked down Boundary Street he slipped her arm through his. ‘I’ve brought you something.’

  ‘What? Oh, Joe, you shouldn’t be wasting your money on me.’

  He stopped and drew out a box from his pocket and handed it to her. She hesitated and he noticed. ‘It’s nothing nasty!’

  Still she hesitated, fearing it would be a ring and wondering what she would say if it were. Slowly she opened it and her heart sank. Inside was a ring set with a small yellowish stone.

  ‘It’s what the Americans call a friendship ring. The stone is a tiger’s eye. I thought it very suitable seeing as how you can be a right little cat at times!’

  She breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing she had wanted to do was to hurt him. She slipped it on the middle finger of her right hand. ‘It’s lovely! I’ve never had a ring before and I’ll ignore your remarks about me – for now!’ She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘When do you sail again?’

  ‘I’ve only just got back! Why?’

  ‘No reason.’

  ‘How is it going?’ He indicated the pile of books under her arm.

  ‘Hard. It’s damned hard work, but I’m finding it a little easier now.’

  ‘I might have to go back to school myself, one of these days. That’s if I want to get on and try and work for my National Diploma. I’ll have to go to the Mechanics Institute.’

  She was surprised. She had thought that now he had obtained a steady job he would be satisfied. ‘Is that what you want? What will that mean?’

  ‘More pay and more chances of promotion. The chief said it’s been known for lads like me to get as far as second officer. Only a few do though.’

  She stopped and stared into his face. ‘You should try, Joe, you really should! Wouldn’t it be really something if you were to make second officer and I were to make chief stewardess?’

  ‘It would be a bloody miracle! I see you’ve still not given up on that one?’

  ‘No. And you know I won’t!’

  ‘And what about him? That Stephen Hartley?’

  ‘I’ve been out with him a couple of times, that’s all! Don’t let’s quarrel again!’

  They had reached Maisey’s front door. ‘Come on in, everyone will want to hear about your voyage?’

  ‘No thanks, I’ve already spoken to your Mam and Maisey and I couldn’t take any more of your Shelagh’s simpering and eyelash fluttering! I’ll see you tomorrow. Do you go to classes again?’

  ‘No. The night after.’

  ‘Fine. See you tomorrow.’ He bent and kissed her, then turned and walked away.

  She fingered the small gold ring, feeling a dart of jealousy, remembering his words about Shelagh. She fought it down. She wasn’t being fair. She was forever telling him that he didn’t own her; it worked both ways after all.

  The more Joe thought about Stephen Hartley the less he liked him. The look he had seen in his eyes as he watched Cat was the same as that some of his friends had in their eyes when they first went ashore. It didn’t have anything to do with affection or love. It was lust. He made up his mind to find out more about Stephen Hartley.

  It wasn’t hard. He just enquired at the school and found out that he didn’t teach there during the day. He also found out where he did teach, waited until Hartley left and then followed him home, at a distance.

  He stood on the corner of Arnot Street and watched him walk down the street. He himself was dressed in his old shabby clothes, his old cap pulled low down over his forehead, a copy of the Liverpool Daily Post in front of him. Hartley wouldn’t recognise the smart, young merchant seaman he had met last night. He lowered the paper as Hartley stopped in front of a house. A young woman with a baby in her arms and a toddler clinging to her skirts opened the door. Joe turned away, grim-faced, as Hartley picked up the child. He’d sensed it all along. He was only using Cat! The cheating, lying sod was married!

  He hammered loudly on the door of number eight and it was pulled open by a startled Cat, an apron around her waist, her arms wet and covered in soapsuds.

  ‘Joe! I didn’t expect you yet!’

  ‘Dry your hands and get your coat on, we’re going for a walk!’

  Noting the dark anger in his eyes and the low, tense note in his voice she went back inside and without giving an explanation to anyone, did as he bade her.

  Neither of them spoke until they had reached the bottom of the street, away from prying eyes and sharp ears.

  ‘He’s taken you for
a fool, Cat! What’s he promised you? What’s he done to you?’ He had grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and was shaking her.

  ‘Who? What? Let go of me, Joe, you’re hurting me!’ She struggled free of him, but she had never seen him so angry before.

  ‘Stephen Hartley! What’s he done to you, Cat?’

  ‘Nothing! What’s got into you, you’re going too far this time, Joe, I told you . . .’

  ‘He’s married! Did he tell you that, Cat? I’ll bet he didn’t!’

  Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened and she felt as though she had been dealt a physical blow. It wasn’t true! His jealousy had driven him to make this accusation! ‘Liar! You’re a jealous liar, Joe Calligan!’

  ‘Call me what you like, it’s the truth and if you don’t believe me then ask him!’

  She was too stunned to do anything but stare at him in disbelief.

  ‘I followed him home from the school where he teaches during the day. Arnot Street. I saw him and his wife and his two kids! He’s been leading you on, Cat, and you’ve been fool enough to believe him! Did he promise to marry you? Did he?’ He began to shake her again.

  Pain fuelled by hurt and anger began to well up in her. ‘No, he didn’t!’ She yelled at him.

  ‘He couldn’t very well could he, not seeing as how he’s got a wife already! And they talk about sailors!’ He released her and she stood staring at him for a second, white-faced. Then she whirled around and fled, back up the street and into the house. She leaned against the door, her breath coming in painful gasps. It wasn’t true! It couldn’t be true!

  ‘Cat, is that you, luv?’ Maisey’s voice filtered through her wild thoughts.

  She dashed upstairs and fiercely brushed her tangled hair. Then she changed her skirt and slipped on a woollen cardigan. She caught a glimpse of herself in the cracked mirror on the wall. Her face was paper-white and her eyes blazed, resembling the small stone in the ring she wore. She glanced down at it. A tiger’s eye. Oh, she’d claw his eyes out if this were true and she’d claw Joe’s out if it wasn’t!