When the Clouds Go Rolling By

by When the Clouds Go Rolling By (retail) (epub)

  She pushed open the gate and closed it behind her. As she began to walk up the path, her ears caught the sound of rustling in the bushes. There was no wind and she wondered if it was a cat. She paused and listened but now all was quiet, so she continued on her way. Even so, she kept thinking that there might be someone hiding in the shrubbery, ready to jump out on her. She glanced sideways and thought she saw a shadow move near one of the bushes. Her pulses leapt. Was it her imagination or was there really someone there? She was not going to wait around to find out and ran the remaining few yards and hammered on the front door, looking behind her as she did so. It was then she heard the squeak of the gate and saw a dark figure sprinting away.

  Her sister opened it and Tilly almost fell over the threshold. ‘Why the racket, Tilly?’ asked Alice.

  ‘There was someone lurking in the garden,’ gasped Tilly.

  ‘Honestly?’ Alice stared over her shoulder into the darkness. ‘What did you see exactly?’

  ‘I heard rustling in the bushes and then I actually saw him! By then I was banging on the door so I wasn’t going to go after him. Hurry up and let me in and close the door.’

  If Seb had been home, Alice would have gone down the path to see if she could see anyone, but because they had no man in the house she closed the door and shot the bolts top and bottom. ‘Are you absolutely sure you saw someone?’

  Tilly said, ‘I told you what I saw.’

  Alice continued to stare at her. ‘I suppose I’d have panicked, too,’ she said. ‘It could have been a youth playing a game.’

  Tilly frowned. ‘I didn’t panic. I just wasn’t chancing someone jumping out on me. There are plenty of desperate people around since the war.’

  Alice placed an arm around her sister’s shoulders. ‘Better safe than sorry. Let’s not worry about it now we’re safely locked inside.’

  ‘Is Clara still up?’

  ‘No. She’s gone to bed.’ Alice patted her sister’s shoulder and released her. ‘Did you speak to Freddie?’

  ‘No.’ Tilly avoided her gaze. ‘He and Kenny had gone to a lecture about the Bolsheviks in Russia, so I had a chat with Hanny, drank a cup of cocoa with her and then came home. She told me that I had to make a friend of Clara.’

  ‘Sounds sensible to me,’ said Alice, looking relieved. ‘I’d hate to think of the two of you being at daggers drawn while I’m away. Now, let’s get to bed. I’ve a lot to do tomorrow and must be up early.’

  ‘Make sure I’m up early, too,’ said Tilly. ‘I’ll do breakfast and take it up to Clara so she can have it in bed.’

  ‘Now that’s more like the Tilly I know and love,’ said Alice, smiling and kissing her on the cheek.

  Without more ado they went upstairs to bed.

  * * *

  So that was Tilly, thought Bert, gazing at the house from across the road. He stood, smoking a cigarette. Quite the beauty but not the first target he had in mind. He thought of Alice as she had sat in the court and clenched his fist. He had considered long and hard in that stinking jail how best to punish her, if he ever got the chance. Now he knew exactly what he was going to do.

  He tilted back his trilby and gazed up at the house from coldly amused blue eyes and thought about the little girl, playing with a toddler in the garden the other day, who must surely be Alice’s daughter. He imagined the silky feel of her red-gold hair between his fingers and the softness of her skin beneath his lips. His mouth went dry and his heart began to thud. That child could have belonged to him if Alice had not so cruelly jilted him. Those others might have angered him but her rejection of him was when everything had really started going wrong. She must be punished first. The girl was his by right and, when the opportunity rose, he would take her and do what was necessary to cause Alice anguish. Then off back to Liverpool, where he planned not only to make some quick money but consider further punishment for those who had put him behind bars. They all believed him dead, so would have no idea who was responsible when they found the little girl’s body.

  * * *

  The following morning Clara woke and straightaway knew where she was, not only because the bed was so roomy but because there was no sound of Bernie wheezing and coughing from the next room. For a moment she lay, thinking about Mary coping with Gran and hoping Bernie wasn’t playing her up and being a nuisance. She did not want to lose the nurse as a lodger. Then she thought about Freddie and looked forward to seeing him soon. But before that she was going to have to face Tilly and learn how to cope with Georgie. Suddenly, she became aware of the murmur of voices below and the smell of frying bacon.

  Had she overslept?

  She pushed back the covers and climbed out of the bed, and then went over to the window to see what the weather was like. Pulling aside the curtain, she looked out and saw a cloudless sky. Her spirits lifted and she just knew that she was going to enjoy the day ahead. She gazed down at the garden below and noticed a blackbird tugging at a worm in a flowerbed. As she watched, the worm twanged free of the soil and the bird flew off with it dangling from his yellow beak. She smiled. It was an unfamiliar sight because at home there was no garden, although, occasionally, she heard the cooing of pigeons and the chattering of sparrows from under the eaves.

  Clara was about to turn away from the window when she caught sight of a man standing on the other side of the road, gazing up at the house. They stared at each other and then, to her surprise, he doffed his cap revealing reddish-grey hair. She had a vague feeling that she had seen him before and lifted her hand in greeting. A smile broke out on his face and he, too, waved, then called, ‘Good morning, lassie!’

  Clara smiled and then remembered she was only wearing her nightgown and drew back so she could not be seen.

  There came a knock on the bedroom door. ‘Who is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Tilly. I’ve brought you some breakfast.’

  ‘Oh. You’d best come in,’ said Clara, unable to disguise her surprise.

  The door opened and Tilly carried in a tray. ‘Alice is seeing to Georgie, so I thought you might like breakfast in bed,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks!’ Clara was even more surprised when she saw that it was a proper cooked breakfast.

  ‘I won’t do it tomorrow so make the most of it,’ said Tilly. ‘You’d best get back into bed.’

  ‘I will after I’ve been to the lav.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait. Flora’s in there. What were you doing over by the window?’ asked Tilly, placing the tray on the dressing table.

  ‘Seeing what the weather was like. I saw a blackbird pulling up a worm and there was a man outside looking up at this house.’

  ‘A man! In the garden?’ Tilly hurried over to the window.

  ‘No. On the other side of the road.’

  Tilly opened the window and leant out. ‘There’s a man shuffling in the direction of the path going down to the river. Is that him?’

  Clara looked out of the window. ‘Yes, I’m sure it is.’

  Tilly muttered, ‘Then it couldn’t have been him last night.’

  Clara said, ‘Last night?’

  Tilly closed the window and turned to face her. ‘I saw someone lurking in the garden last night but he’d be younger. I can’t imagine the one below managing a sprint, can you?’

  Clara shook her head and smiled. ‘I’m sure I’ve seen him before. He wished me good morning in a Scottish accent.’

  Tilly chewed on her lip. ‘Where d’you think you’ve seen him?’

  ‘Can’t remember,’ said Clara, moving away from the window. ‘But it might come back to me. Should we mention him to Alice?’

  Tilly hesitated and then shook her head. ‘We don’t want her worrying about us while she’s away.’

  That made sense to Clara. After all, the man hadn’t looked dangerous. She was about to ask Tilly more about the person she had seen lurking in the garden when she heard the sound of the lavatory being flushed, so excused herself and hurried from the room. She bumped into Flora and wished he
r a good morning.

  ‘Hello, Daddy’s cousin,’ said the girl with a grin, before skipping along the landing to her room.

  Smiling, Clara gazed after her and felt part of the family. Then she went into the bathroom. Tilly had followed her out and now went downstairs.

  Several hours later, after Clara had eaten her bacon and egg and then been initiated into the messy business of changing a nappy and shown a variety of other things to do with taking care of Georgie, Clara was happy to be outdoors and pushing the pram through the bustling streets of Chester, accompanied by Alice. She gazed with interest at the shops surmounted by black and white upper storeys that Alice told her had been fashionable in the Middle Ages.

  ‘They’re in good nick for buildings having been around all that time,’ marvelled Clara.

  ‘I’m pretty sure some have been renovated,’ said Alice, steadying the cardboard box that rested on the brown gabardine apron of the pram. ‘You need to ask Kenny or Hanny if you’re interested in history,’ she added. ‘They know far more than I do about Chester. But I do remember my mother telling me that some buildings in the city centre were in such a bad state when she was a girl that they would have fallen down if something hadn’t been done.’

  ‘That sounds sensible to me,’ said Clara. ‘I’d be hard put to find which ones have been renovated. What about the cathedral?’

  ‘That’s pretty old, too. You’ll see it closer up because we’re taking a shortcut through Abbey Square right next to it. There used to be monks living in an abbey here, you know, in the Middle Ages.’

  ‘It’s so different from Liverpool,’ said Clara, not for the first time since she had arrived in Chester. She gazed up at the sandstone edifice of the cathedral. ‘We don’t have anything near this old back in Liverpool. There’s a Proddy cathedral going up on St James’ Mount. You get a really good view from up there, right down to the Mersey and across the river to Birkenhead and Eastham. Then there’s the Liver building.’

  ‘I haven’t seen it since it was finished,’ said Alice. ‘I found the docks quite scary when my father took me there once.’

  Clara said, ‘It’s huge. I love watching the ships coming and going. It gives me a thrill thinking of them travelling to faraway places with odd sounding names… and the smells coming from the dock road make my nose twitch,’ she said dreamily. ‘There’s Bibby’s soap factory. You should smell the nut oil after the peanuts have been ground down. Then there’s the sugar and tobacco factories, and we’ve several breweries. I love the smell of yeast fermenting.’

  ‘We have a brewery here in Chester,’ said Alice, not to be outdone. ‘I notice you haven’t mentioned cotton. I remember going with Victoria Waters, when I worked for her, to meet her father and Seb off a liner from America. Mr Waters was a cotton broker.’

  ‘I didn’t know Seb had been to America,’ said Clara in surprise.

  ‘Oh yes. And when Seb and I were first married, we went to India and Egypt, combining a honeymoon with business. It was a lovely experience. Unpleasant at times because of the insects and the heat, though.’ Alice paused before adding, ‘You do know that your aunt has gone to America, don’t you?’

  Clara nodded. ‘It seems an odd thing to do when you’ve only just been widowed.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Alice firmly. ‘But Gabrielle has always been a law unto herself. I wish I knew why she’s gone there. As far as I know that country holds unhappy memories for her because, supposedly, her first husband deserted her and left her to starve.’

  ‘I think someone’s told me about this. Wasn’t he a musician?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Alice. ‘Seb grew up believing Robbie Bennett was his father. He’s kept the name on. I think he told you about him, didn’t he?’

  Clara’s brow knitted in thought. ‘I’ve a feeling he did. Strange, there’s a new musician started at the Palladium. He plays in the orchestra. His name is Robbie Bennett.’

  Alice darted an excited glance at Clara. ‘Some coincidence, two musicians with the same name.’

  Clara said slowly, ‘He’s been to America, too. I believe he did well for himself and has come back to Liverpool to help his widowed sister.’

  ‘What’s he like? It could be the same man.’

  ‘I suppose it could. He’s got a shock of white hair and isn’t bad looking for his age. A brilliant musician, he plays the piano and the clarinet.’

  ‘Goodness,’ said Alice, her green eyes sparkling. ‘Wait until I tell Seb about this. He’ll be really interested. For years he believed him to be his father, but of course, it turned out Mr Waters was. Even so, this Robbie Bennett could be said to be his stepfather, couldn’t he?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Clara, feeling confused. ‘I find it difficult to believe that, if Mr Bennett is the kind of man to return to England to help support his widowed sister and her children, he’d leave a young wife to fend for herself in a strange country.’

  ‘You’re saying that Seb’s mother might be lying?’ said Alice.

  ‘I can’t see why he should lie about why he’s come back to Liverpool,’ said Clara. ‘But I’ve only spoken to him once, so I really don’t know much about him.’

  ‘Then speak to him next time you get the chance,’ said Alice. ‘Find out if he knew your aunt.’

  ‘I will,’ said Clara, thinking it would be interesting if he really had been married to her aunt. He would know what she was like and might have some stories to tell about her. It would be really odd if she had gone to America to find him after all these years and all the time he was in Liverpool, performing not far from where the mother she hated lives.

  Alice changed the subject. ‘I’m hoping to make my travel arrangements at the General Railway Station. But first I’ve a detour to make,’ she added.

  Clara wondered where this detour would take them and it came as a surprise when they turned off the main thoroughfare into Trafford Street, where she was told to stop outside a pawnshop.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ said Alice, lifting the cardboard box off the pram and disappearing inside.

  It was the first pawnshop that Clara had noticed in Chester and she reckoned that was because there were few desperately poor people living in the city – unlike Liverpool, where there were numerous premises, nicknamed Uncle’s. This shop was called Pope’s and was situated in a far less salubrious area than that where Alice lived.

  Her thoughts were disturbed by Georgie holding up his arms and saying, ‘Out! Mamma!’

  Clara shook her head, convinced that Alice would prefer her son to stay where he was. ‘No,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Peas.’ He smiled winningly, revealing a number of teeth. ‘I be good.’

  She felt herself weakening but shook her head. He repeated her action and the word, ‘Peas.’

  She turned her back on him and gazed at the window display. It was amazing the range of goods that people had hocked but not redeemed and were now on sale; chamber pots, vases, dolls, tablecloths, jewellery. What could have been in the box Alice had carried inside? Alice had told her that they were not rich and Tilly had said almost the same about Freddie but she hadn’t realised they needed to hock things for money. The squeak-squeak-squeak of the pram caused her to turn and she saw to her dismay that Georgie had somehow managed to kneel up in the carriage, causing his harness to twist in a way that could possibly strangle him. ‘You’re naughty,’ she said, setting about trying to untangle him from the fix he was in.

  He clung to her hand. ‘Out,’ he gasped.

  And out he eventually came because no sooner had she released him from his harness, than he pushed himself upright and clung to her. He placed a starfish-like hand on her face and squeezed her lips. ‘Kiss,’ he said, puckering up.

  She could not help laughing as she removed his hand. He giggled and would have put his hand on her face again if she had not prevented him. ‘No, naughty,’ she said.

  ‘You two having fun?’ asked Alice.

  Clara smiled. ‘He wante
d to get out.’

  Alice smiled. ‘Of course he did. He wants to walk but he’ll slow us down if he does so now. He can walk in the park on the way back.’ She took her son from Clara and strapped him back in his pram to a roar of protest. Alice ignored the sound and, releasing the brake, began to push the pram.

  ‘We’ll go to the station now and buy my ticket and after that I’ll treat you to a bun and cup of tea down by the river.’

  Clara was dying to ask her could she afford it but knew that would be overstepping the mark. They were still in the early stages of getting to know each other and, although it was obvious that Alice must trust her to have her as a guest in her house and to look after Georgie, Clara could not expect her to tell her all her troubles. Obviously, Alice had pawned whatever was in that cardboard box and was now in funds to the tune of enough money for her journey south and to buy them a treat.

  Once Alice’s ticket was purchased, they returned home via Grosvenor Park and a tearoom overlooking the Dee. It had been an enjoyable outing and Clara was a little more confident that she would be able to cope with Georgie, most of all because she had fallen for his childish charms. Nappy changing was going to be an ordeal but having to deal with Bernie when she had been ill and bedridden for a short while had been much worse.

  * * *

  The following morning, Freddie arrived early in the motor to convey Alice and her luggage to the station. He had called in briefly the evening before to tell them that Kenny had suggested his giving her a lift. Clara only had the slightest opportunity to exchange a few words with him as he had been in a rush to get back to the yard, where he was going to help the motor engineer on a big repair job. She was looking forward to seeing him again later that day.

  Alice hugged and kissed everyone, including Clara.

  ‘You’ll give Seb our love, won’t you?’ said Tilly.

  ‘That goes without saying,’ said Alice gaily, climbing into the passenger seat. She was wearing a homemade costume of green woollen cloth. The collar and sleeves were piped with white and she wore an eau-de-nil crêpe de Chine blouse underneath. Her hat was a frivolous bit of nonsense constructed of yellow buckram, ribbon and veiling.