The Pawnbroker's Niece

by June Francis

  ‘Hello!’

  He glanced down and flashed her a disarming smile. ‘Hello! I hope you’re going to forgive me for being so rude last time we met. I meant to visit the shop and say thanks. I’m sure it’s down to you that your aunt got us out of trouble.’

  ‘You’re forgiven,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Things better up at the yard now?’

  ‘Yeah! Pops bought a new horse.’

  ‘That’s great!’ she shouted above the noise of the traffic. ‘Didn’t think of getting a lorry, though?’

  Jimmy scowled. ‘Don’t like bloody lorries! The smell and — look at this jam.’

  She was of a mind that lorries took up the same space as a horse and cart, and that the smell of manure was just as bad as petrol fumes, but she kept her thoughts to herself, and said in way of comfort, ‘It’ll all be sorted out once the tunnel’s finished. There won’t be those queuing up for the luggage boat.’

  ‘They reckon it won’t be finished for a couple of years.’

  The traffic moved a few inches. When it came to a halt again, Jimmy called down, ‘I suppose you wouldn’t want a lift? I’m going your way.’

  She thought walking would be quicker but if she accepted his offer she might get to know him better. ‘Thanks!’ She pulled herself up and sat sidelong on the wooden seat so she could look at him. Despite the greasy cap and his well-worn working clothes he still looked good.

  ‘You’re staring,’ he said, without looking at her.

  She said glibly, ‘I was just seeing if your jaw had gone down.’

  He laughed. ‘That’s ages ago. Bloody Billy! You’ve no idea what a bloody swine he is.’

  ‘I suppose he’s back at sea?’

  ‘Yeah! Won’t be seeing him for months.’ He glanced at her. ‘Anything exciting been happening to you?’

  She pulled a face and smoothed down her skirt. ‘I suppose you heard about our break-in? I’m to be a witness at the trial soon.’

  He blinked long golden eyelashes and looked thoughtful. ‘I think Pops mentioned it.’

  She had forgotten Mr Brodie had dropped by to pay off some of his debt. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I bet he surprised your aunt with that nice big payment.’

  Rita chuckled. ‘She hit the roof when he said it came with love from a horse.’

  Jimmy grinned. ‘That was down to Mam. She nagged him into backing it. The horse was out of a dam her father had once owned so she knew it had breeding. We all won money. You’ve no idea what it feels like to have a couple of pounds in your pocket after being skint for ages.’

  The traffic moved and Rita clutched the seat with both hands as Jimmy took a corner too sharply into Parliament Street. It was hard work for the horse because the street veered steeply. She asked after his mother.

  His face clouded. ‘Better for proving that she can still be of use to the family but I’d rather not talk about her, if you don’t mind. She’s not too good.’

  Rita remembered the haggard-faced woman shaking her fist at her, and wondered what was wrong with her. ‘How’s Alice?’

  ‘Got a job. Pops insisted, saying he’ll keep his eye on Mam, as well as get a woman to come in for a few hours a day.’

  ‘Doesn’t that defeat the object of Alice getting a job?’

  ‘Pops thinks she’s too much at home. A member of the church choir spoke for her and she’s sewing for Weatheralls.’

  ‘Well, I’m pleased for her,’ said Rita. ‘Jobs aren’t easy to come by.’

  His face lit up. ‘Thanks! I can tell you mean that.’ He rested a hand on her knee and squeezed before taking it away.

  The intimate gesture caused her heart to race; she had to look away, conscious of a sudden happiness. He must like her! She glanced up towards the unfinished Anglican Cathedral, which appeared to claw at the sky, perched high on St James Mount. She caught a whiff of salt-laden air blowing up from the Mersey, and knew there was nowhere else she wanted to be in the world at that moment.

  Jimmy dropped her off outside the shop and asked would she like to go for a walk in Sefton Park with him on Sunday. She said yes. Certain that her aunt would disapprove, she arranged to meet him by St Luke’s church at two.

  Mr McGinty’s trial took place two days later. His wife was not at the trial; she was staying with her sister. The McGinty males were there in force.

  During the trial no mention was made of an intruder in black, even by the defence lawyer, so Rita was not called upon to perjure herself. Obviously, no one believed in Alf’s mystery attacker, and there was the matter of the stolen lead. He was pronounced guilty, not only of theft but also of assault, and sentenced to ten years’ imprisonment. As he was being taken to the cells he cursed Margaret and Rita and shouted that they hadn’t heard the last of him.

  The following day, Rita was minding the shop while her aunt went to visit Mrs McGinty to see when she would be back at work. When Margaret returned, her face was white and a bruise showed on her cheek. The brim of her new hat had been torn and she was trembling. Rita came out from behind the counter. ‘What’s happened? You look terrible!’

  ‘I was attacked. There’s some brandy in the sideboard cupboard. Get it for me!’ She lifted the flap and followed Rita through and sank onto the sofa.

  The girl poured an inch of brandy and handed the glass to her. ‘Who attacked you?’

  ‘He wore a balaclava helmet so it covered his face. I can only guess.’ Margaret’s hand shook as she held the glass to her lips.

  Rita had never seen her in such a state and knelt on the rug at her feet. ‘You think it was one of the McGintys?’

  ‘Could be. He was crafty enough not to open his mouth.’

  ‘So what are you going to do? Report it to the police?’

  ‘When I’ve stopped shaking.’ She tossed off the brandy and held out the glass for more.

  Margaret sipped slowly. The bell rang in the shop and someone shouted. ‘I’ll go,’ said Rita.

  ‘No, we’ll both go in case it’s the McGintys,’ said Margaret, with some Dutch courage down her. She seized the poker.

  Rita was alarmed. ‘We need a bodyguard!’

  ‘What are the police for? I’d have to pay a bodyguard.’ Margaret drained the brandy glass, then thumped her chest. ‘That went down a fair treat,’ she croaked and, swaying slightly, she made her way through the storeroom to the shop, followed by Rita.

  Margaret did not have to use the poker because here was the police in force. Well, one bobby, but he was huge. At least six foot six and with a handlebar moustache; a very different man from their usual bobby on the beat. He reassured them that they were in no danger and could put the poker away. ‘I’ve come to tell you that we’ve had a phone call saying you’ve been threatened. I want to assure you that there’s nothing for you to fear.’

  Margaret thanked him profusely, the brandy having gone to her head.

  ‘Who called you?’ asked Rita.

  ‘The woman didn’t give her name.’

  ‘What about the name of the attacker?’

  He shook his head. ‘Sorry, miss. But acting on suspicion of a certain family I’ll be giving them a warning to keep their noses clean or else they’ll be in trouble.’

  Rita thanked him and saw him out before turning to Margaret. ‘What did Mrs McGinty have to say when you saw her?’

  Margaret leant against the counter and yawned. ‘She’s decided to pack in her job here and stay on at her sister’s. She knows where there’s another cleaning job going apparently.’

  Rita thought it was just as well — until she found out from Jimmy that Mrs McGinty’s sister was the woman Mr Brodie was employing to help in the house and that sometimes she helped out, too. It was some coincidence and Rita would rather the McGintys were out of their circle of acquaintances altogether, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  That coming Sunday she and Jimmy went and listened to a brass band in Sefton Park. They sat on the grass and he talked about horses, the business and
the May Day Horse Show. It was his ambition to have one of the Brodie horses win a rosette. He enjoyed talking of the future he envisaged for himself and the yard. She was content to gaze into his handsome face and let his words wash over her.

  Sunday afternoons fell into a pattern for Rita. Sometimes he would drive her to the Pierhead and they would walk along the landing stage, watching the ships coming and going. Reminded of Billy she asked for news of him but Jimmy only said that it was Alice who kept in touch. One Sunday Rita suggested they window-shop in the city centre, but Jimmy said that it was a waste of time if you couldn’t buy anything, so they went for a drive along the dock road as far as the Dingle. He kissed her for the first time; a moment she relived for days after.

  The following Sunday Jimmy did not turn up and, worried that something bad might have happened to him, Rita went up to the yard. The place looked deserted. Then a man came out of the cookhouse and stood in the doorway, drinking from a steaming mug. She waved to him and asked after Jimmy’s whereabouts.

  ‘They’re all up at the hospital.’

  ‘Is it Mrs Brodie?’

  ‘Yeah! They cut her open yesterday and they sent for them today. Nothing down for her if you ask me.’

  Rita was shocked, imagining how Jimmy must be feeling. She had not realised his mother was so seriously ill.

  When Rita told the news to her aunt, Margaret did not comment immediately but went and made a cup of tea. She sat down in front of the fire and asked Rita what she was doing up at the yard.

  ‘I’ve been seeing Jimmy.’ She could see no point in keeping quiet any longer. After all, he had kissed her, which must mean that he was perhaps serious about her. Before Margaret could say anything about her deceit, Rita added, ‘It’s going to be hard on him if she dies. He’s really fond of her.’

  ‘I’m sure! But death comes to us all and if she’s been ill for some time it could be a relief to them,’ murmured Margaret. She wondered how William would deal with it, as well as searching her own feelings. ‘Alice will find it difficult, too. She’s bound to miss her mother, but she’ll also have to give up her job and stay at home to look after the house and her father and brother.’

  ‘Perhaps Mrs Brodie won’t die,’ said Rita.

  ‘If she does or doesn’t you’re best not seeing Jimmy again. He’s a man with a man’s needs. You’re not even seventeen yet. Don’t be like your mother; show some sense. There’s plenty of time for courting when you’re twenty-one.’

  Twenty-one! That birthday was ages off and Rita had no intention of doing what her aunt said. Jimmy would need comforting if his mother died and she wanted to be there to provide it.

  Her aunt eyed her speculatively, guessing exactly what she was thinking. She was determined not to let her out of her sight on Sundays in future.

  The following day Margaret was alone in the shop when William staggered in. His clothes looked like they had been slept in and his tie was askew. On his chin was several days’ growth of beard. ‘You’ll come to the funeral, Maggie?’ he said without preamble, slumping over the counter.

  ‘She’s dead, then?’ Margaret was determined to remain calm and businesslike.

  A laugh escaped him and he rubbed his eyes. ‘Aye! Would I be burying her if she weren’t?’

  ‘Sorry. It was a daft thing to say but that’s all it was: something to say. I never knew your wife but I know how difficult it is seeing someone you’ve lived with die. I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to help, but if there is let me know.’

  He looked surprised. ‘That’s very gracious of you, Maggie. I have to admit that I’d hate to go through the last few weeks again. She was a stubborn woman and hated doctors. She knew about you and what was between us, unfortunately.’

  Margaret was taken aback. ‘You told her?’

  ‘No! She found an old photograph of the gang taken years ago and wouldn’t rest until she knew who everybody was. Perhaps if I hadn’t been drinking at the time I wouldn’t have reminisced so much and betrayed how I felt about you.’ He rubbed his jaw and grimaced. ‘It ruined our marriage, which never had much going for it. She smoked opium, you know?’

  Margaret was shocked. ‘How could I know? Where did she pick up that habit? From you?’

  ‘The hell she did!’ William glared at her from bleary eyes, his chin on his hands as they rested on the counter. ‘A pipe of ordinary tobacco’s enough for me.’

  ‘Sorry! But I thought maybe the pair of you went along to one of those dens in Chinatown.’

  ‘You’re not far off the truth. I didn’t realise it until Billy told me that he’d seen her there. I chose not to believe him at first. I mean, he hated her. I thought she was ill and got the doctor out. You can have no idea how many doctors I’ve had look at her. The bloody money I paid out trying to get her sorted out and all the time he was telling the bloody truth.’

  ‘Poor Will,’ she said softly, placing a hand on his bowed head.

  ‘My own fault. I should think more before I go marrying people.’

  ‘You mean Bella as well?’

  His eyes drooped and he was quiet so long she thought he had fallen asleep. Then he said in a tired voice, ‘I didn’t see how I had any other choice there.’

  ‘What d’you mean? You weren’t engaged to her like I was to Alan.’

  ‘If you’d stayed friends with her instead of dropping her and me like hot chestnuts because I flirted with her once or twice, then you’d know why I had to marry her.’ He stared at her intently. ‘Am I getting through to you?’

  She returned his stare. ‘You mean she was having a baby?’

  ‘Hip, hip, hooray! The penny’s dropped at last. You were supposed to be good at arithmetic but you hadn’t worked that out.’

  Margaret felt the blood rush to her face, remembering how she had fought the urges inside her when they were young. Dear Lord, the times she had wanted to melt into him. Once they had almost made love. It had been a May afternoon out in the country near Speke. The air had been rich with the intoxicating scent of hawthorn blossom. They had cycled there, picnicked and lain among the buttercups. How they’d kissed, biting kisses because they were so hungry for each other, but in the end he had pulled back and insisted they cycle home. Now he had the nerve to tell her that he had been unable to resist Bella. Oh, the pain of that thought! Much worse than when he’d married Bella, because she had believed herself in love with Alan. She felt angrier than she had ever been before.

  ‘Get out of my shop! I don’t want you here! Haven’t you hurt me enough?’

  ‘I never meant to hurt you!’

  She came from the other side of the counter. ‘That’s the trouble. You don’t think!’ She pushed him, and he staggered back, almost fell over but managed to grab the display cabinet and steady himself.

  ‘Maggie, will you listen to me?’

  ‘I don’t want to listen to you anymore. You’d probably tell me a pack of lies just to get round me.’ She flung open the door. ‘Out! I never want to see you again.’ She trembled with the strength of her emotions.

  His face screwed up in disbelief. ‘Maggie, listen, please? I want to marry you.’

  ‘What — marry you? I wouldn’t have you if you were the last man on earth.’ She shot out an arm and pointed outside. ‘Now go!’

  ‘God! You’re unforgiving!’ He released his hold on the cabinet, pulled back his shoulders, and with his eyes fixed on the doorway he walked carefully towards it, not looking at her as he went out.

  She closed the door and bolted it top and bottom before resting her back against it. She took several deep breaths trying to calm down. How dare he ask her to marry him!

  The latch rattled and someone tried to push the door open. When it did not give way, a voice called, ‘Aunt Margaret, it’s me. Mr Brodie’s collapsed on the pavement!’

  ‘Then get him up! He’s been drinking.’

  ‘I can’t get him up. He seems dazed. I think he’s banged his head.’

  Marg
aret had an urge to swear, burst into tears, kick the door, but she unlocked it instead.

  Rita was kneeling on the pavement, clasping William’s hand.

  ‘Here, darlin’! I’ll be helping yer up with him,’ said a big burly Irishman.

  Margaret watched as they got William to his feet. ‘He’s not coming in here. Take him home.’

  ‘You’re hard, Maggie.’ His words were slurred.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Rita, gazing at her aunt’s flushed face.

  ‘Never you mind. Just get him away from here.’

  The Irishman looked at Rita. ‘I can’t be helping yer any further, girl. I’ve got to get to the docks. Will yer be orlright with him, yerself?’

  ‘It’s OK. Thanks,’ said Rita. But immediately the Irishman let go of William she had a struggle holding him up. She stared at Margaret. ‘Why can’t he come in? What’s he done?’

  ‘Nothing to do with you,’ said her aunt harshly. She went back into the shop and slammed the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Rita helped William to rest against the shop window and peered inside but her aunt had already vanished into the back.

  ‘Never you mind her,’ said William, smoothing back a lock of hair that had stuck to the graze on his forehead. ‘I’ll get off home.’

  He pushed himself away from the window and began to walk in the direction of Berry Street, but was swaying so much that Rita ran after him, and without a word, dragged one of his arms about her neck and placed her arm about his waist. ‘Thanks,’ he muttered.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  They reached the bread shop on Berry Street before Rita said to rest before crossing into Leece Street. He slumped against a wall, his eyes shut. Worried about him, she glanced at passers-by, looking for a likely helper. Then she spotted the padre from the Sailors’ Home crossing the road near St Luke’s. She darted towards him and seized his arm. ‘Padre, you’ve got to help me. I’ve Billy Brodie’s father here and he’s had a fall. I need to get him home.’