When the Clouds Go Rolling By

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

  ‘In a minute.’ Clara did not recognise the writing on the envelope and her heart increased its beat as she wondered if it could be from Freddie. It settled down again when she turned over the sheet of paper and saw that, to her surprise, it was signed Tilly. She wondered what the girl was writing to her for and went back to the beginning and began to read.

  Dear Clara,

  I thought you might like to know about a few things that have happened over here since you went home. First, my father is improving and Mrs Black will soon be taking him home to her house. She has told me that I can go and see him there, so I will take the opportunity of doing so whenever I can. Recently, I saw Freddie, who is now working for Mrs Black as her chauffeur, gardener and general odd job man, and I have to say I believe he likes you lots. We all do here, but don’t want you to get tangled up in our troubles, so don’t take it amiss if you don’t see us for a while. We believe that Bert is waiting ready to pounce just like a cat waiting outside a mouse hole. Always a thorn in the family’s side, we suspect he is wanted by the police in Liverpool because there was a report in the newspaper. He’s an armed robber who disguises himself with different wigs, which he also stole. The other thing I have to tell you is about your aunt, Seb’s mother. He had a postcard from her and apparently she’s searching for her first husband and was on her way to Chicago. Anyway, Alice remembered you telling her about a musician called Robbie Bennett and she’s told Seb that he’s over here. His mother gave the name of a hotel in Chicago, so he’s written to tell her that she’s on a wild goose chase and to come home. So it’s possible you might see her soon. Hopefully before your grandmother passes away.

  Best wishes, Tilly.

  Clara took a deep breath because she felt as if she had read the letter at breakneck speed. Maybe that was due to Tilly’s lack of paragraphs, probably done to save paper. Still, she appreciated the girl writing to her in such an informative way and would write and tell her so. What she had said about Freddie made Clara want to question how Tilly knew this about him. Had they discussed her? She supposed she was going to have to wait to find that out. The news about her aunt was, of course, not surprising, but the bit about Seb telling his mother to come home would certainly be of interest to Mr Bennett and her gran. But perhaps she should keep mum about that until her aunt actually made an appearance. As for what Tilly had said about Bert being an armed robber, that was terrifying. Yet it would be foolish of her to get worked up about it. As Tilly had said, he was wanted by the police, so no doubt they could be looked upon as cats ready to pounce on a rat.

  ‘Haven’t you finished reading that letter yet?’ demanded Bernie.

  ‘Yes.’ Clara pocketed the sheet of paper and reached out for Mrs Black’s letter and began to read aloud.

  ‘Dear Mrs O’Toole,

  ‘I do so hope you are keeping reasonably well and your chest is not giving you too much trouble. I also pray that Clara is feeling herself once more after her bout of flu. Such a horrible disease. Anyway, I will get to the point of this letter.

  ‘Young Freddie Kirk informed me that you wished me to visit you. I am very busy the next few weeks but, if it is convenient to yourself and Clara, I will call the evening of Saturday May 31st. There is no need to answer this unless it is not convenient. I plan to stay in Liverpool for the weekend and Freddie will be driving me…’

  Clara paused when she read those last words and had to clear her throat before continuing,

  ‘I plan to visit the Spiritualist church on Sunday morning and have suggested to Freddie that he might like to take Clara out for some fresh air during that time. Until then,

  ‘Warmest regards,

  ‘Eudora Black.’

  ‘She does write nice, doesn’t she?’ said Bernie with a smirk. ‘She’s a bit of a matchmaker, too.’

  Clara’s response was, ‘Does that evening suit you, Gran?’ but her head was in a whirl at the thought of seeing Freddie in a few weeks’ time.

  A laugh rumbled deep in Bernie’s bosom. ‘Where else have I got to go, duck? I’m already looking forward to it.’

  ‘A pity I won’t be here that evening.’

  ‘Your day will come, duck,’ said Bernie, leaning forward and patting her hand.

  ‘I hope so. At least in your case, Gran, you haven’t long to wait.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘Buy a flag, buy a flag for the sailors,’ urged the woman, standing outside Vines public house in Lime Street.

  ‘Give her some money, Freddie dear, and then we must be on our way,’ said Eudora, handing him a florin before settling herself in the passenger seat of the car. ‘Really, it’s time the poor woman went home, she must have been there all day.’

  He pushed the coin through the slot in the tin and took the two tiny flags with King George’s Day for Sailors printed on them along with the two pins offered to him, then climbed back into the car.

  Eudora took them from him and pinned his flag onto his lapel. ‘We must be seen to support the sailors. We would have starved without their bravery during the war.’

  ‘You can say that again, missus,’ said the woman.

  Eudora gave her a keen look, thinking there was something odd about the voice. She shook her head and told Freddie to drive off. Soon they were bowling along London Road and up Brunswick Road into West Derby Road, past the Palladium Picture Palace where Clara worked and within a few minutes, they were turning into the street of red brick houses where the O’Tooles lived. Being careful to avoid the children who were still playing out with ropes and balls, Freddie parked the vehicle neatly outside Clara’s home. Discovering the front door had been left on the latch, he called up the lobby to announce their arrival.

  ‘Come in, lad,’ called a faint voice. ‘I’m in the parlour.’

  Freddie returned to the car to assist Eudora before reaching for the hamper she had ordered from Cooper’s store on Church Street late yesterday afternoon. Eudora smoothed down her skirts and, after a moment surveying the house, told him to lead the way.

  Freddie entered the parlour and found Bernie sitting in an armchair, dressed in her best pink blouse and a navy blue serge skirt that brushed the floor. ‘Nice to see yer, lad,’ she wheezed.

  ‘And you, Mrs O’Toole. I hope you’re well.’

  ‘Fair to middlin’,’ she replied, eyeing the hamper. ‘What’s that yer’ve got there?’

  It was Eudora who answered, ‘Just a few treats, dear. I hope they’ll meet with your approval. Freddie, place it on the floor and you’d best find some plates, glasses and cutlery before unpacking it. Of course, we must save some food for dear Clara,’ she said, removing her gloves.

  Bernie opened her mouth enough to tell him the best dishes were in the sideboard and gaped as Freddie took out a bottle of port, slices of chicken breast and boiled ham, bread rolls and a box of petit fours.

  Then she found her voice, ‘Bleedin’ hell! What it is to be rich!’

  Eudora’s eyes sparkled. ‘I admit that having money does have its advantages, Mrs O’Toole. One of them is giving pleasure to other people.’

  ‘Listen to you,’ gasped Bernie. ‘I can hardly believe yer little Edie from the old street.’

  ‘Yer’d rather I talked like this, girl?’ she said, reverting to the speech of her childhood. ‘I can, like, if yer really want me to.’

  ‘Na, no. Yer might start me laughin’ and that’ll kill me,’ spluttered Bernie.

  ‘And we don’t want that just yet, do we?’ said Eudora seriously.

  The smile died in Bernie’s eyes. ‘Did yer really speak to my Denny?’

  ‘Do you believe I did?’

  ‘I dunno. But I don’t want any jiggery-pokery here.’

  Eudora’s expression was a mixture of horror and amusement. ‘I don’t indulge in jiggery-pokery, but I think you’re wise not risking getting in touch with him again. Even the Bible owns to there being evil spirits and that a war is being waged in the spiritual realm.’

  ‘So yer re
ally do believe there’s life after death?’

  ‘Yes, dear. Otherwise, I’d be utterly unconvincing at what I do.’ She raised a hand and wiggled it in Freddie’s direction. ‘Open the port, dear, and have a glass yourself.’

  Freddie did as instructed, and when the glasses were charged, Eudora lifted her glass. ‘Shall we have a toast? To the young people. May life be better for them than it was for us.’

  ‘Humph!’ muttered Bernie, downing her port in one go. She held the glass out to Freddie and, at a nod from Eudora, he filled it again. ‘It looks to me like life’s done you a lot of favours, Edie. Why didn’t Gertie do as well as you?’

  Eudora placed her fox fur on the back of the chair and her expression was thoughtful as she sipped her port. ‘Gertie could have had the same good fortune as me if she hadn’t been so impatient and reckless.’

  ‘She married, though, had me a grandson,’ said Bernie with a hint of pride.

  A shadow crossed Eudora’s face and her tone was sharp when she spoke, ‘That’s true, but she didn’t marry the father because he was already married. After his wife died, he still didn’t marry her because he considered her beneath him.’

  Bernie spluttered port wine into her glass. ‘Are you saying that my grandson’s a bastard?’

  ‘Yes. But I’ll say no more on that matter. I suspect life will improve for Sebastian in the not too distant future.’

  ‘What about my Gertie?’ croaked Bernie, putting down her glass. ‘What is she doing in America? Surely she isn’t hoping to go on the stage again?’

  ‘Perhaps she’s hoping to relive her youth. I remember she was badly smitten by Robbie Bennett in those far off days.’

  Bernie hit the arm of her chair. ‘Never mind all this. Can you see her coming to see me in yer crystal ball?’

  Eudora frowned and her right hand curled into a fist. ‘I’m not a fortune teller, Mrs O’Toole, but my feeling is that she will. So tell me, what is it you want from me?’

  ‘I’d like a new heart and liver but I don’t suppose yer have any of them,’ said Bernie.

  Eudora’s lips twitched. ‘I wish it was in my power to say yes but I’m afraid new organs are beyond my abilities.’ Eudora drained her glass. ‘Be honest, you didn’t really expect me to cure you, but maybe I can make you feel a little better.’

  Bernie shook with laugher and broke into a coughing fit. It was a couple of minutes before she was able to say, ‘Well, it was worth seeing yer, just to ask if yer had a bottle of your special tonic.’

  Eudora winked at Freddie. ‘Yes, I did think on to bring a bottle of my special tonic for you.’

  Bernie watched as Eudora produced a bottle from her capacious handbag and handed it to her. The old woman poured some into her glass. ‘Now, tell me more about this feeling of yours to do with Gertie?’

  Eudora leant back in the chair and closed her eyes. There was silence and Bernie took a sup of the tonic as she waited. ‘My feeling is that she will be sailing into your life very soon.’

  Freddie raised his eyes to the ceiling and thought about what Tilly had told him about the telegram Seb had received yesterday. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Seb’s mother was already in Liverpool.

  * * *

  It was several hours earlier in the day that Gabrielle Waters had stood on the deck of the liner, gazing down at Liverpool’s dockland as the tugs that had guided the ship to berth chugged away. Her time in America had been one of enjoyment, frustration, boredom and eventual disbelief. She had visited clubs, music halls and theatres in New York, New Orleans and Chicago, where folk knew the name of Robbie Bennett. It had come as an almighty shock to receive a letter from her son informing her that Robbie had left for England several years ago.

  Apparently, he was now earning a living playing in an orchestra in the picture house where her niece Clara worked in Liverpool. Something of a coincidence, but these things happened. Unfortunately, Seb had not named the picture house. So she had two choices: either she called at her mother’s house or she toured Liverpool’s picture palaces in search of Robbie. Her fingers curled into fists for, although she was willing to meet her niece, she still had no desire to see her mother.

  She pursed her lips, wondering if she had made the right move by wiring ahead to her son, thanking him for his letter and also informing him that she would be staying in Liverpool at the Stork Hotel for the next few days. She desired a few days settling back into the country on her own.

  Besides, the hotel had memories for her. Situated in Queen Square in the centre of the city, not far from Lime Street, it was where she had often stayed with Seb’s father. She had found it a romantic place as a young woman. Once the home of a rich eighteenth-century merchant, William Roe, it had class.

  A tinny voice informing passengers that it was time to disembark roused her from these thoughts. She was tired and not looking forward to the bother of going through customs and all the rigmarole involved before she could get to the hotel. Still, once she had a wash and brush up she would be as right as rain. Then she would start her search for Robbie that evening at the Scala picture house on Lime Street.

  * * *

  As it was still a fine evening when Eudora and Freddie left Bernie, she suggested that Freddie leave down the car hood. So it was that, as he drove along Lime Street in the direction of the Adelphi Hotel, she spotted Gertie. Although Eudora knew from Tilly that her erstwhile childhood friend was heading home, she had not expected to see her so soon standing on the steps of the Scala picture house, pulling on a black hat with an enormous red ostrich feather. The colours were duplicated in the black dress and jacket she wore, which had red braiding around the collar and sleeves.

  ‘Stop here, Freddie,’ urged Eudora, tapping him on the arm.

  ‘I can’t stop, Mrs Black,’ he responded without taking his eyes from the road. ‘There’s a carriage just behind me. I’ll pull over once I’m past this cyclist.’ He wondered what was so urgent as they were only yards from the Adelphi hotel. At last he drew up by the kerb opposite Vines public house, where earlier the flag seller had stood.

  Eudora twisted in her seat and gazed behind her. ‘Get out, Freddie. You’ll have to run after her.’

  ‘Who?’ he asked, screwing up his face as he climbed out of the car.

  ‘Gertie, of course. That woman in black,’ she cried, pointing.

  From where he was standing, Freddie could see several women dressed in mourning clothes. ‘I need more clues than that,’ he muttered.

  ‘She’s crossing the road now and is wearing a black hat with a red ostrich feather.’

  ‘Right,’ said Freddie, spotting his quarry. ‘What d’you want me to do when I catch her?’

  ‘Bring her here, of course. It must have been meant that I was to see her. Tell her that I’ve been to visit her mother.’

  Freddie grinned, thinking there might be high jinks when his employer and Clara’s aunt met. But she was already out of sight because a tram was rattling towards him. He skirted round it and ran, and then caught sight of her in Elliot Street, just outside St John’s Market.

  He touched her shoulder. ‘Excuse me, but my employer wishes to speak to you.’

  Gabrielle spun round and stared at him in the fading light. ‘I assure you, young man, that if this is some trick to rob me, I have a rock in my handbag and I won’t hesitate to use it.’

  Instantly, Freddie could trace the likeness to Seb and Clara in her features and thought how pleased Clara would be to see her. ‘My employer is Mrs Eudora Black.’

  Gabrielle blinked and then her mouth tightened. ‘I don’t wish to speak to her.’

  ‘She’s been to visit your mother.’

  ‘What! How dare she?’ said Gabrielle in a seething voice and her hands tightened on her handbag. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘We’re parked on Lime Street.’ She gave a sharp nod and fell into step beside him. ‘I’m Freddie Kirk, by the way.’

  She stared at him and shook her head as if in di
sbelief. ‘What is it about that woman that she’s got you working for her now?’

  ‘I’m only working for Mrs Black temporarily, chauffeuring her about and doing odd jobs while Alice’s father is recovering. He works for her.’

  ‘Alice’s father! I always suspected there was something between the two of them. You can’t trust that woman. I remember when she moved to the crescent, the men were going in and out of her door like nobody’s business.’

  ‘They worked for her, collected rents and saw that repairs were done to her property over here.’

  She glared at him. ‘I can see you’re the kind that has an answer to everything. Say no more, just lead me to her. I’ll not have her saying things to Mam without me putting my side.’ An amused Freddie did as she said. Suddenly, it seemed possible that Seb’s mother would visit her ailing mother that evening and he wanted to be there to see Clara’s expression when her aunt made her appearance. Surely she would have finished at the Palladium by now.

  On reaching the car he stated the obvious, ‘Here’s Mrs Waters, Mrs Black.’

  The two women eyed each other up.

  ‘Where did you get that hat?’ asked Eudora, who was wearing a cream linen suit and fox fur wrap with a russet coloured hat with a tangerine rose attached to its brim.

  ‘Where did you buy that dead animal?’ retorted Gabrielle.

  ‘At a furrier’s shop that you couldn’t possibly afford to frequent,’ said Eudora in honeyed tones. ‘I did not say I didn’t like your hat, so shall we agree that we both pass muster as women of means. Climb in and we can talk.’

  ‘I’ll need to light the lamps if you’re going to talk in the car, Mrs Black,’ said Freddie.

  ‘Then do so, dear,’ she said.

  ‘We should also move on. It’s Saturday night and you’ll soon have drunks staggering out of this pub.’

  Eudora sighed heavily. ‘I take your point. You light the lamps while I have a quick word.’

  ‘Help me into the car, young man,’ commanded Gabrielle.