by Lyn Andrews
‘At a lodging house only for men near what the Liverpool people call the “Dock Road”,’ he informed her. ‘It has the name of “Mulligan’s Lodging House”.’
She’d heard of it. It was little more than a doss house for drunks and vagrants and in a very tough area near the docks. Her heart sank. If he stayed there he’d be bound to have a rough time, but how could she ask Hetty to take him in, especially as the old lady had had two strokes and needed to rest and certainly not be put under any kind of stress or worry? Nor could she ask Lizzie to house him, for once Ben Seddon found out there would be trouble. ‘Hans, you must try to find somewhere else, that place is . . . bad, very bad.’
He nodded and smiled wryly. ‘It is not good, I know, but I tell them I am Dutch; that I come from Amsterdam. They say I can find work unloading the ships.’
At least he realised the position he was in, she thought, but she just didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t leave him to hang around in the road until Maria came home from work. Someone would be bound to notice him; he was a stranger to the neighbourhood and so obviously foreign. He might even be reported to the police as a vagrant or a ‘suspicious character’ and that was the last thing she needed to happen. Her mind was working quickly; if she could keep him away from the house until after lunch, then Hetty would go for her afternoon nap and she could install him in her workroom until Maria came home. She would explain to Arthur and thankfully Bella was going to her friend Anne’s house after school. Bella was a curious child and would certainly demand to know who he was.
She delved into her bag and took out her purse. ‘Hans, take this and go and get yourself something to eat, and then come back here – to the house – at two o’clock. Then you can wait with us until Maria comes home.’ She handed him some coins.
He took them and nodded. ‘Thank you, Sophie. I will come back at two o’clock.’
She watched him walk away and turn the corner before she resumed her journey, praying Arthur might be able to think of some solution to this problem, for she could see nothing but worry and trouble ahead.
Arthur agreed with her but could offer no solution except that the lad be persuaded to go back to Peel. ‘Maybe he’ll listen to Maria, if she can prevail upon him that it’s for the best.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘But will Maria agree it’s for the best? I don’t know, I just don’t know. He might convince her that now he’s told everyone he’s Dutch he will be fine staying in that doss house and trying to get work on the docks – and he might be Arthur, he just might. And then again he might not.’
Hans returned at two o’clock on the dot and she showed him into her workroom.
‘You have a very fine . . . grand . . . house, Sophie,’ he said, looking around the large room with admiration.
‘It is not mine, Hans, it belongs to an old lady, Miss Foster. She is very kind and lets us live with her. Maria will not be home for many hours yet and I have chores to do, so I must leave you to wait,’ she informed him.
‘I do not mind that, Sophie. I am happy to wait here for Maria,’ he said affably, sitting down on the chair she used at her sewing machine.
To her relief Arthur offered to go and sit with him for he was curious to meet this young man.
When it was nearly time for her sister to arrive home Sophie went into the hall to wait for her. Arthur was still sitting talking to Hans; she’d taken them tea an hour ago and they seemed to be getting on very well. She had also taken Hetty her tea in her room, saying it was warm and cosy there with the fire burning in the hearth and that the less Hetty climbed up and down the stairs the less tired she would feel. It was no trouble at all to bring it up on a tray and set it out on the little table by the fire. When Bella got home she would send her up to tell her all about her day, as usual.
Maria was tired for they had been stocktaking and it was not something she enjoyed, but thankfully it only occurred twice a year.
‘Lord, Sophie, you gave me a fright! What on earth are you doing hiding behind the front door?’
‘I’m not “hiding”, I was waiting for you.’
‘Why? Is something wrong? Is Hetty all right?’
‘Hetty is fine; she’s having her tea upstairs. I . . . I have something to tell you and I don’t want you to go shrieking and upsetting Hetty. Hans is here. He’s in my workroom with Arthur.’
The weariness instantly left Maria and her face lit up. ‘Hans is here!’ she cried, ignoring Sophie’s warning.
‘Hush! He left Mam and Maude Sayle a note; he was waiting for me at the bottom of the road when I got back from Lizzie’s this morning. I gave him some money to get something to eat and he’s been here all afternoon, but he can’t stay, Maria. I . . . we can’t risk upsetting Hetty.’
Slowly Maria nodded as reality began to dawn on her, dimming some of her delight. ‘But where can he go, Sophie? You know how people will treat him. You can’t have forgotten Ben Seddon.’
‘He’s already found himself lodgings although I wonder how safe he’ll be there. He hopes to get work on the docks. He’s told everyone he’s met so far that he’s Dutch, from Amsterdam.’
Hope surged through Maria. ‘Oh, Sophie, that might just work! How many people will be able to tell the difference? He . . . he could be a Dutch sailor who has jumped ship; he could say he’s had enough of life at sea and wants to stay in Liverpool. I must tell him to say that. If people believe him he can stay here and I can see him every day. I must go to him, Sophie. I’ve missed him so much!’ Maria pushed past her sister, flung open the door to Sophie’s workroom and hurled herself into Hans’s arms.
Arthur quietly closed the door behind him as he left them. ‘Did you tell her everything, Sophie?’
She nodded. ‘She knows he can’t stay here, but she’s so taken with the idea that he can pass himself off as a Dutchman that she’s convinced everything will be all right.’
Arthur looked apprehensive. ‘I’ve had a good talk to him, Sophie. He seems an honest, reliable and resourceful lad and he’s been through a lot. He’s also very determined to be with Maria.’
‘As is she. She’s going to tell him to say he’s jumped ship,’ Sophie added.
Arthur considered this. ‘It might work, Sophie. There are a lot of foreign sailors in Liverpool; there always have been, with it being a port. I don’t think there are many who work on the docks and especially who lodge at the likes of Mulligan’s who would doubt him or know the difference between the Dutch and German languages.’
Sophie didn’t look convinced. ‘But we can’t let Hetty know or even Bella, she’d be bound to let it slip.’
‘No, I agree he can’t come to the house. We can’t risk upsetting Hetty. Maria will just have to meet him somewhere else. At least the weather is improving and the evenings are getting longer now,’ he reminded her.
Sophie nodded. If the ruse worked and Hans were to stay then maybe . . . just maybe in time they could get married and find a place of their own.
Chapter Twenty-Five
AT FIRST BOTH SOPHIE and Maria worried about Hans but as the days and then weeks passed they both began to be less concerned. He was still lodging at Mulligan’s, something Maria particularly was far from happy about, but he kept very much to himself – and in fact was well able to look after himself too, although he always stayed clear of arguments and trouble.
The docks were busy with ships arriving from all over the Empire and beyond, bringing in the goods so desperately needed by a country trying to rebuild its infrastructure, restore its industries and solve the desperate rationing and housing situation. It was true that many men, having been demobbed, were seeking work, but also the many thousands of women who had done their jobs during the war had now returned to their positions in shops and offices or were back taking care of their homes and families. Hans was a hard and conscientious worker with a strength that belied his slim build and so there were not many days when he had no work.
He always met Maria at the bottom of
Laurel Road. They would spend the evening together, usually walking in one of the parks or taking a trip across the river and back on the ferry, both of which cost little or nothing, and then he would escort her back to Laurel Road where they would say good-night. He was trying to save as much as he could, Maria had told Sophie, but he had to eat and pay for his lodgings. He kept just enough money with him to see him through each day, the rest he gave to Maria for safekeeping. It would have been quickly stolen had he left it at Mulligan’s. She had persuaded him to buy himself some second-hand clothes to wear after work: nothing too good in case they too were stolen. She just hoped in time he would be able to find better lodgings; they couldn’t spend so much time outdoors in the autumn and winter months. The situation was far from ideal but it was so much better than them being apart, she told herself.
Sophie was becoming increasingly busier both with her work and the preparations for Hetty’s birthday tea. She had discussed it with Arthur and they had agreed that it would be somewhat rash to make it a surprise party, bearing in mind Hetty’s increasing frailness. So, Sophie had allowed Bella to tell the old lady of their plans.
‘Oh, Sophie, Bella has just told me what you are planning for my birthday and I’m so delighted! I can’t remember when I last had a party of any kind for my birthday. Why it must have been when I was a small child, and that’s a very long time ago,’ Hetty had confided.
‘Did you not have one to celebrate your coming of age, at twenty-one?’ Sophie had asked.
Hetty had shaken her head. ‘Oh, no, dear. Our parents didn’t believe that girls should be encouraged to think about things like that. You must remember that when I was a young girl, women who had no need to work stayed at home – I never went out to work in my life. Women had no rights at all, not even the right to vote. My father was dead by the time the suffrage movement came into being but he would have been shocked to the core by its formation. He would have considered it scandalous that women should even want to vote or become involved in politics at all.’
‘Well, you will have a party to celebrate this birthday and we’ll make it a very special day,’ Sophie had promised. ‘I know for a fact that Bella is already planning to help, she’s excited too.’
Hetty had smiled. ‘I am so lucky to have you all, Sophie. It’s hard now to remember what my days were like before you came here. You, Bella, Maria and of course Arthur. He’s such a considerate man, a true gentleman.’
Sophie had nodded her agreement. She never even thought about his past now. ‘We’re a family, Hetty. Not a conventional one, I have to say, but we all know we can rely on and help each other.’
Hetty had patted her hand affectionately. ‘You’re the best “family” I could wish for.’
On the following Friday evening Sophie was helping Bella to stick paper lace on the card the child was making for Hetty and they had just carefully placed it between two books so it would dry flat when Maria came in looking very anxious.
‘You’re home early, what’s wrong? Don’t you feel well?’ Sophie asked, for Maria had only gone to meet Hans just over an hour ago.
Maria bit her lip and looked pointedly at Bella who was trying to decide what colour ribbon she should use for the bow that was to be added to the card next.
Sophie understood. ‘Bella, why don’t you go and ask Aunty Hetty what colour she would like?’ she suggested.
‘Mam, it’s to be a surprise and if I ask her she’ll know,’ Bella replied indignantly.
‘Then just ask her what her favourite colour is, then she won’t guess.’
‘We know what colour that is – lavender,’ Bella said stubbornly, sensing she was being sent on a wild-goose chase.
‘But she might have changed her mind, people do you know, and isn’t it best to be safe than sorry? Wouldn’t it be a shame if we put the wrong colour bow on it?’ Sophie said seriously.
Bella considered this and decided her mother could be right. ‘I’ll just go and make sure.’
‘Take the ribbons with you, then when you know you can cut a length off the right reel,’ Sophie added.
‘What’s wrong, Maria?’ she asked when the child had gone.
‘I’m so worried, Sophie. He didn’t turn up. I waited and I walked to the tram stop and back I don’t know how many times. I didn’t know whether to come back or not in case I missed him, but he’s never late, not even by a few minutes. It’s always me who’s late; he’s usually waiting for me. Something has happened to him, Sophie, I just know it has!’ Maria was frantic with worry. ‘What can we do? Should I go to that place – Mulligan’s – and ask?’
‘No! Neither of us is going anywhere near that place, not at this time in the evening,’ Sophie said firmly, thinking of the numerous pubs in the dock area. Even this early there were always drunken brawls; you frequently read about them in the newspaper.
‘Sophie, we have to do something! I have to know he’s safe!’ Maria pleaded.
‘We’ll wait a bit longer and then . . . then I’ll ask Arthur if he would go and try to find out. There could be some simple explanation, Maria.’
‘Like what, Sophie?’ Maria twisted her hands together in desperation and began pacing up and down the room.
‘He might have gone for a drink after he’d finished work and been delayed,’ she suggested lamely.
‘You know he never does that, he won’t waste money and he dislikes the pubs around there,’ Maria cried.
Sophie shrugged. She didn’t know what else she could say; she was as worried as her sister.
‘Oh, please, go and ask Arthur if he’ll go now?’ Maria begged.
Sophie nodded and got to her feet. There was little point in them sitting here worrying any longer.
Arthur agreed to go and make some enquiries, although he wasn’t looking forward to either visiting Mulligan’s or trawling the Dock Road in search of Hans Bonhoeffer, but he did realise the seriousness of the situation after Maria insisted that Hans had never failed to meet her before.
‘Please, be careful, Arthur,’ Sophie implored him as he left.
‘I will,’ he replied grimly.
Sophie tried to keep her mind on helping Bella tie and attach the lavender ribbon bow to Hetty’s card but it was difficult, while Maria sat watching the hands on the clock on the wall move agonisingly slowly from numeral to numeral, praying that Arthur wouldn’t be long and that he’d have news . . . any news. ‘Oh, please, please, God, don’t let anything bad have happened to him,’ she prayed.
Sophie had just got a reluctant Bella to bed and was coming down the stairs when she heard Arthur’s key in the lock. She ran the few remaining steps to the door and pulled it open.
‘Oh, dear God!’ she cried, her eyes widening in shock and horror as she saw Arthur struggling to support Hans whose face was a mask of blood, his hair matted with it, his clothes torn. One arm was hanging limply at his side.
‘Help me, Sophie, please. He’s in a bad way, I found him lying in the alleyway a few streets away from the tram stop. He’d been trying to get here. I was on my way back, I’d had no luck at Mulligan’s.’
Between them they got him into the hallway but before they could get any further Maria came rushing out of the sitting room and seeing him she screamed and rushed to him. ‘Hans! Hans! Oh, no! Oh, who did this to you?’ she shrieked, her voice rising in panic.
‘Maria, for God’s sake pull yourself together and help us to get him on to the sofa. Take care, I think his arm is broken,’ Sophie instructed curtly.
‘He’s badly hurt. He needs a doctor at least, if not an ambulance, Sophie,’ Arthur advised gravely. The lad had taken a severe beating and he could have internal injuries.
Hans groaned in agony as they laid him on the sofa and Sophie put a cushion under his head.
‘Maria, go and get some warm water and a cloth, we can at least bathe the blood from his poor face and, Arthur, could I ask you to fetch Doctor Franklin, please?’
‘Are you sure I shouldn’t call
an ambulance and inform the police?’
‘No, he can’t go to hospital! They’ll put him in a ward and won’t let me be with him and I can’t leave him, I can’t, I won’t!’ Maria sobbed.
‘And I think it would be a waste of time to inform the police, Arthur. They’ll never find who did this to him; they won’t even be very interested. He’s just another foreigner involved in a brawl on the Dock Road,’ Sophie added.
Arthur nodded. She was probably right and Maria was in such a state that if she was separated from the lad now she’d have a fit of hysterics. He left, heading again for the front door and wishing they had the luxury of a telephone. He was shaken himself. Even though he was no stranger to violence, he’d seen enough of it in jail, it still sickened him. In fact he abhorred it, and this mindless barbarity meted out to a lad whose only crime was to have been born in a country that had been part of the evil axis that had overrun Europe made him fume with both anger and impotence. The perpetrators would never be caught; there would be no justice or retribution for Hans Bonhoeffer.
Gently Sophie had bathed most of the congealed blood from his face, Maria was still quietly sobbing and her hands were shaking so much that she was of little use. Hans’s nose was obviously broken, his lips split and puffy and his right eye was so swollen it was closed. He’d winced when she touched his cheekbone and she suspected it too was fractured. She was afraid to try to ascertain if he had broken ribs but she noticed that the knuckles on both his hands were skinned and bleeding. He’d obviously tried to defend himself.
‘Hans, can you speak? What happened? Who did this?’ she asked quietly.
‘Oh, don’t, Sophie. Can’t you see how it hurts him to even try to breathe!’ Maria whispered.
Sophie nodded. They would learn in time, she thought. When he recovered . . . if he recovered – but she instantly pushed that thought away.
Both girls were so engrossed in tending to Hans that neither of them realised for some minutes that both Hetty and Bella were standing in the doorway watching them. Bella was clinging tightly to the old lady’s hand, her blue eyes filled with trepidation. Hetty’s face was drained of all colour but there was pity mixed with shock in her eyes.