Beyond a Misty Shore

by Lyn Andrews

  He’d sat down opposite her, looking concerned. ‘Ah, yes. I’m afraid Mrs Nora Ryan isn’t blessed with either manners or tact,’ he’d said quietly.

  ‘She’d been drinking, which didn’t help. She was angry because I have befriended Frank. Oh, it’s nothing, we just walk home from the tram stop together, but . . .’

  ‘But she accused you of something more?’ he’d pressed.

  She’d nodded slowly, biting her lip. ‘He’s very nice and I find him easy to get on with. I feel sorry for him, he’s lonely and miserable. His family shuns him because of Nora and . . .’

  ‘I know Frank’s situation, Sophie. Mrs Quine enlightened me about the Richards family – and Nora in particular – when I first became a lodger here and I feel very sorry for Frank. He’s in a hopeless position.’

  ‘Surely it’s not such a terrible thing, just to be friendly with someone? Oh, I know people are beginning to gossip, not that I care about that. While they’re talking about me they’re leaving someone else alone.’

  ‘Of course it’s not wrong, Sophie. I’m certain that he values your friendship, given his circumstances.’

  ‘Besides, I haven’t got over Andrew and I sometimes think I never will.’

  He’d looked at her kindly. ‘You will, Sophie, in time. You are still a young woman and you’ve many years ahead of you yet and it can be very lonely . . . being on your own, without someone who cares for you.’

  She’d nodded. There was a note of understanding and regret in his voice. ‘Then . . . then you think I should . . . ?’

  ‘I’m not telling you what to think or do, Sophie, that would be intrusive and wrong. All I am saying is that you don’t have to envisage a future alone. You don’t have to spend a lifetime grieving for a young man who in all probability wouldn’t want you to be on your own for ever. Who would be happy to see you secure and . . . loved.’

  She knew he was right. Andrew wouldn’t have wanted her to struggle on by herself for ever and with Bella to bring up. He would have wanted her to be happy.

  ‘From what little I know of him, Frank Ryan seems to be a decent, hard-working young man trapped in an intolerable situation, but as far as Frank is concerned, that’s just it, Sophie. He isn’t free.’

  ‘I know and isn’t that why it would be foolish of me to look on him as anything more than a friend? It’s all he can ever be.’

  ‘Of course, but I just wanted you to stop thinking negatively. You can’t bury your heart for ever, Sophie.’

  She’d felt the sense of loss wash over her again. ‘I can never bury my husband either, Mr Chatsworth. I have no grave to visit, I have no sense of things being over and finished . . . final, and I find that so hard to come to terms with.’

  ‘Arthur, please call me Arthur, Sophie. I know what it is to lose someone you love and if you ever need to talk . . . well, you know anything you tell me will be kept in the strictest confidence.’

  She’d managed a smile. ‘I know and thank you . . .Arthur.’

  Quite soon after she had confided in Maria, relaying her conversation with Arthur Chatsworth.

  ‘What he said does make sense, Sophie.’ Maria had paused. How could she tell her sister that she couldn’t bury her heart for ever when she just couldn’t forget Hans? ‘Maybe . . . in time, you might be able to love someone else, but you might not. As you told him, you think of Frank as a friend, that’s all. Just as I think of Ben Seddon as a friend.’

  Sophie had nodded and smiled at her, knowing she was thinking of Hans Bonhoeffer. ‘We make a right pair of fools, don’t we?’

  It was Bella who was instrumental in Sophie seeking Frank’s help and therefore more of his company. As Christmas approached she suggested that Bella, Emily, Billy and Robbie Ryan write to Santa Claus requesting gifts.

  ‘I tried that a couple of times, last year. I asked him for a proper casie but I never got one,’ Billy said sceptically.

  ‘Maybe that’s because he knew the damage you’d do with it,’ Lizzie put in grimly, shaking her head. A real leather football had been beyond her means and not only because of the cost, hugely inflated by the shortage of leather and skilled men, but the scarcity of the item itself. And then there would have been the added expense of replacing the panes of glass in the windows that would have been broken by Billy with his football and the ensuing arguments with the neighbours.

  ‘Maybe he was a bit short of things last year, Billy. The war was still on, perhaps there weren’t enough to go round,’ Sophie reminded him. ‘Try again.’

  ‘I’d ask for something different this time,’ Lizzie urged, looking pointedly at Sophie.

  ‘I’m going to ask him for a dolls’ house with curtains and rugs and proper furniture in it,’ Bella announced.

  Lizzie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really? That will cost him a pretty penny.’

  Sophie nodded, wondering where on earth she would get one and all the furniture her daughter seemed to have set her heart on.

  Emily said she’d be happy with a doll and Robbie said he was going to ask for a box of lead soldiers, which prompted Billy to announce he would like a fort, then they could share their toys in the evenings when it was too cold and dark to play outside.

  When the notes had duly been written and poked up the chimney by Sophie and Maria, Emily and Robbie had gone home and Bella and Billy were in bed, Lizzie brought the subject up again.

  ‘I wish you hadn’t encouraged them, Sophie. It’s been hard enough to get them anything decent at all these last years, I couldn’t get him a casie because they were scarce and cost a small fortune. Where in the name of God am I going to get a fort?’

  ‘Where am I going to get a dolls’ house and all the stuff for inside it? I thought she’d just ask for a doll with some clothes for it. I’m sorry I opened my mouth now but I thought it would keep them quiet for an hour or two.’

  Maria had been sewing some braid on the bottom of a skirt to brighten it up but she put it aside. ‘Ask Frank Ryan, he’s a joiner or carpenter, isn’t he? I would think he’d be delighted to have something to occupy him in the evenings and odd bits of wood aren’t hard to get. He probably wouldn’t charge much. You can make the curtains and rugs for it, Sophie, from scraps of material. You can’t disappoint the pair of them, especially after Billy not getting a football last year.’

  Lizzie didn’t look convinced. ‘I don’t know, Martha might take umbrage . . .’

  ‘She barely speaks to him so why should she take umbrage?’ Maria couldn’t see why her aunt was taking this attitude. ‘Ask him, Sophie. You’ll see him tomorrow night.’

  Sophie wasn’t sure. On the one hand she didn’t want to disappoint either Bella or Billy, but on the other, it might make matters worse. If he agreed he’d obviously want her opinion as his work progressed, which would mean either she would have to go over to the Richardses’ house or he would have to come over here, neither of which would please Lizzie. ‘I don’t suppose it would hurt to just ask, he might not want to commit himself, especially as there are only three weeks to Christmas now.’

  Maria tutted as she’d renewed her efforts with the skirt. ‘I can’t see what the fuss is about. Even if you could find one in the shops it would be too expensive.’

  Lizzie said nothing more on the matter so Sophie decided that she would ask Frank’s help.

  She broached the subject as they walked home, heads bent against the icy blasts of wind coming down the Mersey estuary.

  Frank was both pleased and touched. ‘I’d be delighted to do it, Sophie. There are always offcuts and bits of wood lying around at work. People usually take them to get the fires going at home.’

  ‘We wouldn’t want anything very elaborate. I’ll make the curtains and rugs and quilts for the beds. Perhaps I can buy some bits of furniture and Billy’s only asking for the fort, nothing to go in it. Your Robbie wants lead soldiers so they’ll be able to share.’

  ‘How big do you think they should be?’ Frank asked, already planning to sc
rounge some paint with which to embellish the finished items.

  ‘Oh, nothing too big. Lizzie hasn’t got the room for a big fort and a grand dolls’ house in the kitchen.’

  Frank nodded. It would fill the empty hours each evening. He’d keep them in the yard under some sacking until they were finished. ‘I could probably manage a table and two chairs for the dolls’ house, and perhaps a sideboard and a couple of stools too.’

  ‘That’s really good of you, Frank, and both Lizzie and I will pay you for your time and skill. We’d never be able to afford them otherwise.’

  ‘There’s no need for that, Sophie. I’m just delighted you’ve asked me. I’ll make a start on them right away; I’ll bring the wood home tomorrow, then when I’ve nearly finished them I’ll bring them over for you to see. When the kids are in bed, of course.’

  ‘Do you think I could see the dolls’ house a bit earlier, just so I’ll know what size the windows are?’

  ‘Of course, and I’ll show you the bits of furniture too, but will Lizzie object to me calling over so often?’

  Sophie frowned. ‘Seeing as you are doing her a great favour I don’t think she has any right to object and I certainly won’t. If I had my way, Frank, you’d be most welcome.’

  Frank felt his heart skip a beat. ‘Do you really mean that, Sophie?’

  ‘I do. I can’t understand either Aunty Lizzie or your mam’s attitude. You haven’t done anything wrong, Frank. You’re not some sort of criminal. You made a mistake, that’s all, and it’s about time they put that behind them. You’d never bring Nora or her family over to their houses and they know that, but why they stop you visiting I don’t know, especially your mam.’

  ‘She . . . she’s ashamed of me,’ Frank said bitterly.

  ‘She shouldn’t be. You fought in the war. You have a good job, you work hard, and you don’t spend your money on drink or the horses or . . . other things. She’s ashamed of Nora but she shouldn’t tar you with the same brush.’

  He sighed heavily. He just wished his mam took the same attitude as Sophie but he didn’t hold out much hope of her changing her mind at this stage. Where Nora was concerned she was pretty implacable.

  ‘What will you do on Christmas Day?’ Sophie asked.

  ‘Probably what I did last year. Walk down to the Pier Head and watch the shipping, that kills a good few hours, then call in somewhere on the way back for a pint or two. You’d be hard put to get any kind of a Christmas dinner out of Nellie. They all spend most of the day in the pub – Nora included.’

  Sophie’s heart went out to him. What a miserable way to spend Christmas Day – a day when families all tried to spend time together. Surely Martha could show some Christian spirit on that one day in the year and have her eldest son for dinner? It wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she’d mention it to Lizzie, who seemed to have a bit of influence with Martha. But she would say nothing to Frank, she thought, in case his mam refused to relent. That would only make matters worse.

  Chapter Eight

  AS CHRISTMAS DREW NEARER the more excited both Billy and Bella became. They wrote more notes to Santa Claus and tried their best to improve their behaviour, which seemed infinitely harder for Billy than Bella, but Sophie had said firmly that Santa could see everything they did and made a note of it.

  ‘I’m beginning to think these little letters are a good idea, Sophie. That lad isn’t half the handful he usually is, he’s even polished his own boots,’ Lizzie had remarked after Frank had carried across the fort which was almost complete. You couldn’t have got anything better in the shops and it hadn’t cost her a penny so far, she’d thought. Jim had also admired it and had said later that he’d take Frank out for a drink as a sort of payment for he was flatly refusing to take any money for his time and work. It was a pleasure to do it, he’d said and she could see that he meant it.

  When he’d brought over the dolls’ house, in the first stages of its construction, Sophie had been delighted with it. ‘It’s going to be perfect, Frank. The size is just right; it will fit easily on top of the table so she can play with it to her heart’s content after meals.’ She’d examined the miniature table and chairs he’d made closely. ‘You really are very clever with wood, Frank. Look, Aunty Lizzie, the chairs even have little stretchers holding the legs together.’

  Frank had smiled, basking in the unaccustomed attention and the praise being heaped upon him. ‘I can sit and do the little pieces in my break at work.’

  ‘Sophie’s found some lovely material for curtains and things and she’s going to decorate them with bits of lace and ribbon. She should have been a proper seamstress, she’s so good at sewing,’ Lizzie had impressed upon him, not wishing her niece’s talents to be ignored.

  Martha had just tutted and raised her eyes when she’d first heard how Sophie had asked him to help out with the toys but now Lizzie gave her a running commentary on their progress. The fact that her son seemed to be welcome in Lizzie’s house and was refusing any form of payment had initially annoyed Martha but lately she’d begun to take more notice of her friend when she said that it really was such a terrible shame that a pleasant, well-mannered, generous fellow like Frank should have to put up with the likes of the Richardses, working away in that kitchen until all hours and then having to keep the half-finished toys in the back yard and pray that Bertie wouldn’t fall on them and smash them as he staggered to and from the privy. Lizzie had shuddered when she’d uttered the word. ‘I just dread to think what that place is like!’

  Both women were desperately trying to get together enough food to put a decent dinner on the table on Christmas Day but it was far from easy. Nearly all the ingredients for both the pudding and the mince pies were unobtainable for rationing hadn’t been relaxed, let alone abolished.

  ‘I’ll be lucky if I can get a bit of meat – any kind of meat at all for the dinner,’ Martha had complained after they’d stood for hours in the queue at the butcher’s, only to learn there would be not the slightest chance of a turkey, goose, duck or even a very small chicken, unless you knew someone who lived in the country and kept them, the butcher had stated morosely. He was having to bear the brunt of his disgruntled customers’ outraged disappointment.

  ‘I ask you, Lizzie, who around here knows anyone who lives in the country? The man’s a fool! You’ll see, we’ll finish up with a few pathetic sausages if we’re lucky.’

  ‘We’ll have potatoes and veg, we’ll manage, Martha. We always do,’ Lizzie had replied, but without much conviction. They were both very disappointed; they’d thought now that the war was over this Christmas would be a big improvement on the last six.

  She was bemoaning the fact later that evening to Jim and the girls, wondering if they could manage between them to save their rations of flour, margarine, sugar and eggs to make a plain Victoria sponge which could take the place of the traditional pudding. There would be no jam to go in it, of course.

  Sophie had been hemming a pair of tiny red and white gingham curtains for the kitchen of the dolls’ house but she pondered the dilemma as she rethreaded her needle. ‘I wonder if we wrote to Mrs Sayle – she’s the wife of the farmer Maria worked for when she was a Land Girl – and sent her the money, would she let us have a goose? They’ve always kept chickens and geese. If she parcelled it up well in straw and cardboard she could send it across on the steam packet and one of us could go down and pick it up,’ she suggested.

  Lizzie looked at her with astonishment before her face became wreathed in smiles. ‘A goose! A whole goose! Lord above! We haven’t had one for years and years. That would be the best Christmas present ever, Sophie! Do you think she would let us have one?’

  ‘Who would let us have what?’ Maria asked, catching the end of the conversation. She was going out to the cinema in town with Ben Seddon and looked very smart in her black and white tweed coat and the small green hat with the black feather that she’d saved up her coupons to purchase at Heaton’s (although she’d added the black feather her
self ).

  ‘Will you write to Mrs Sayle and beg her to let us have a goose for the Christmas dinner? We’ll send her the money. You know you always got on well with her and Aunty Lizzie is having a terrible time trying to get anything to make some sort of a festival meal.’

  ‘Oh, please, Maria? It would be such a treat,’ Lizzie pleaded.

  Maria smiled. ‘I’ll write when I get in later tonight and then you can post it in the morning, Aunty Lizzie. We’ll need something festive to cheer us up; it’s our first Christmas away from the island. That will be Ben now, see you later.’ Maria picked up her bag and went into the lobby. She liked Ben Seddon but that was all. She often went out with him, mainly to the cinema or a dance, but there was no romance in the offing. Not on her part anyway. She’d realised weeks ago that this Christmas would bring back very painful memories. It would be the first one away from the island and her mam, and without Hans, and writing to Maude Sayle would only make her think of the times she’d spent working beside him in the fields.

  Sophie carried on with her tasks while Lizzie made a pot of tea and Jim was engrossed in his newspaper but an idea was taking shape in her mind. When Lizzie placed a mug of tea beside her, she put down the sewing.

  ‘Aunty Lizzie, if she sends us a good size bird do you think we should share it with Mrs Ryan and her family? It seems a bit sort of selfish for us to keep it all for ourselves when things are so scarce.’

  Lizzie frowned. ‘You mean cut it in half?’

  ‘No. What if we shared everything and had our Christmas dinner together? Maria and I would be glad to help out with all the preparations and the washing up.’

  This hadn’t occurred to Lizzie. ‘You mean ask Martha and Pat to come in here?’

  Sophie nodded eagerly. ‘And young Robbie and . . . Frank too, of course. And we can’t leave Mr Chatsworth out either, not when it’s going to be such a great meal.’