A Liverpool Legacy

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A Liverpool Legacy Page 29

by Anne Baker


  Greg sounded shocked when Marcus found a phone booth and rang him. ‘Bring that car back to Liverpool,’ he told him. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow at work to let you know where you can deliver it.’

  ‘I’m not doing that. I don’t want it outside my office or my father’s house.’

  Greg tried to persuade him that it wouldn’t attract attention in his office car park, but he wasn’t having that. ‘I could park it outside your flat,’ he said, but finally Greg suggested another garage in Liverpool and as Marcus had been working for him for so long, he knew where to find all the bent garages.

  Everything went quiet for a week after that, but it left him shaking in his shoes. When he rang Greg to find out what was happening, he told him that a man had been shot on the garage premises and had since died.

  ‘It’s caused a lot of trouble, of course. The police have arrested and charged a man with murder and it seems they found a cache of illegally held firearms on the premises so they’re busy investigating that. That has nothing to do with us and it looks as though it will blow over, but in future,’ Greg said, ‘we will not be using that garage.’

  Marcus knew he’d been lucky to avoid being caught up in any violence until now, but knowing it was there made him more fearful than ever. He carried on doing more jobs but the faces of the men in the ring were changing, some dropped out and new ones took their place. The atmosphere amongst them was changing too, they seemed less confident and, like him, more fearful.

  Marcus was asked to collect a truck from a garage in Carlisle. He was having a pie and a cup of tea in a café next door when he recognised George, who had been a long-term member of the ring. He looked furtive and he spoke of his worries that the scam could not go on much longer without one or other of the members being caught. That terrified Marcus, the thought of being caught always had, though Greg did his best to talk that possibility down.

  Marcus felt he’d reached the point when he couldn’t stand much more and was coming to the conclusion that he’d have to stop. The job was playing havoc with his nerves, and besides, he’d done what he’d set out to do, he’d saved enough money to buy the house Elvira had set her heart on. It was time they got out.

  He overslept the next morning and was an hour late getting to the office. He met Nigel as he was going in and he said impatiently, ‘For goodness sake, Marcus, why can’t you get here on time?’

  That made him feel guilty and completely stressed out; it was Friday the thirteenth and even the date gave him collywobbles. He couldn’t put it off any longer. The first thing he did when he reached his desk was to ring Greg and ask to speak to Elvira.

  ‘I’ve got to see you,’ he told her. ‘I can’t go on like this. I’ve done everything you asked of me and I want things to change. I want to know when we’re going to get this house.’

  He could hear her consulting Greg, then she said, ‘Marcus, there’s an auction of surplus equipment at that military establishment near Chester. Greg and I are both going but we need more people. Why don’t you come too? You and I will have time to talk there.’

  ‘All right,’ he said, but he didn’t like the fact that Greg would be there too. ‘I’ve not been there before, where is this place?’ He took his little notebook from his breast pocket and opened it on his desk.

  ‘It’s Dale Barracks,’ she said. ‘Greg says to come by public transport so you can do some driving.’ She went on to give him precise directions about how to get there and he wrote them down carefully.

  Marcus wasn’t pleased. She was staying too close to Greg who was using him like a lackey. He had to bring this situation to an end one way or another.

  Over recent weekends, Millie had been having long sessions with the family turning out the attics and spare bedroom cupboards, and setting out all they found of value or interest in one room. Then, starting with their grandparents’ jewellery and personal effects, she let each of them choose what they wanted to keep for themselves.

  Millie thought her sons should keep what was left of the personal belongings, pocket watches, etc., that had belonged to their father and grandfather, but what fascinated them were the old train sets and tinplate toys. Helen brought Eric round to view the collection and advise on what would be worth putting in his saleroom. He recommended that Simon and Kenny keep their share of binoculars, pens and watches until they were grown up.

  ‘By then,’ he said, ‘you may appreciate and want to use your grandfather’s effects, and even if you don’t they’re likely to appreciate in value and be worth more.’

  There were other pieces of jewellery that nobody wanted, several small pieces of furniture and a whole lot of ancient garden ornaments and furniture, and gardening equipment, outdated fishing tackle and cameras that Eric took away to sell. Millie had asked him to invest the proceeds and divide it between Pete’s grandchildren. The whole process took some time because Eric had to wait for specialist sales to sell some things. But today, Sunday, he had told her he’d come round in the afternoon with all the figures.

  While she was waiting for him to come she opened one of Eleanor’s diaries at the roll-top desk in the study and started to read. She was so engrossed that she heard nothing until his footsteps were coming down the hall. She jerked to her feet and not wanting Eric to know about the diary, slammed it shut and put it on top of the other two that were on the desk.

  ‘Hello, Millie,’ Eric greeted her. ‘Kenny let me in.’ He pushed his briefcase onto her desk and added a cake tin he was returning. ‘Helen said to thank Sylvie for the cake and tell her it was excellent. How are you?’

  Suddenly there was a sound of sliding wood, and both Eric and Millie spun round to see that part of the ornamental beading along the back of the desk seemed to have collapsed. Eric said, ‘Heavens, have I broken . . .?’

  Millie whipped the things off the desk and piled them on the carpet. Together they peered at the damage. Eric bent nearer and lifted the beading back in position round the series of little drawers. He started to laugh. ‘It’s a secret drawer, did you know about it?’

  ‘No.’ Millie was amazed. ‘What happened? What did you do?’

  ‘I must have pushed my briefcase against something . . . See this flower in the carving? The drawer must open when it’s pressed. Yes, look.’ He pushed it closed to demonstrate the action. ‘Secret drawers are not unusual in old furniture like this, and look, there’s something in it.’ Eric reached inside and brought out a notebook. He flicked through the pages before handing it to her. ‘Just a notebook,’ he said, but Millie had seen that it contained the same tiny, crabbed handwriting as the diaries. It was smaller than the others, and she’d seen a lot of blank pages too. She cradled it in her hands like a hot potato.

  Eric reached for his briefcase. ‘I’ve brought you the figures. Shall we run through them?’ He pulled up another chair to the desk and took out a file of documents. But Millie couldn’t concentrate on what he was telling her. Her head was swimming. Why had this diary been hidden in a secret drawer instead of being kept with the other twelve? Did it contain something more important, even more secret than the truth about James’s birth?

  For the rest of the afternoon, Millie was on tenterhooks wanting to read the diary she had just found. As soon as Eric went home she snatched it from the study, ran up to her bedroom, and sat on her bed to open it. On the flyleaf she read: ‘To our beloved son Peter. The truth cannot be told yet but I write all this down so that when you are grown up you will know the truth and understand.’

  Millie was more intrigued than ever. She turned to the first page and it was dated 1886. So Peter would have been an infant when Eleanor had written this.

  Freddie and I both come from large families but babies don’t come for us. It’s not for want of trying. I have just had my fifth miscarriage and Freddie and I both feel very low. We have not yet told Father-in-law as he will be as upset a
nd disappointed as we are. I had four miscarriages in the first two years of marriage and we waited a whole year for me to regain my strength before trying again, but with the same result.

  It now seems hopeless and Freddie thinks we should give up and resign ourselves to childlessness before repeated miscarriages ruin my health. He hasn’t yet screwed himself up to tell his father. Poor Papa-in-law still lives in hope that we will give him grandsons to continue the Maynard line.

  I was back on my feet again but at low ebb when on Sunday afternoon I went to visit my parents, meaning to tell them my bad news and have their sympathy. Before I had time to say anything, they were telling me how concerned they were about the health of my little sister Alice, only sixteen, and the youngest of the family.

  ‘Suddenly, she seems to have outgrown her strength,’ Mama said, wringing her hands. ‘She’s lethargic, eats little, and spends far too much time alone in her room lying on her bed.’

  ‘Shall I go and fetch her down for tea?’ I offered.

  ‘I wish you would.’

  Poor Alice did indeed look ill, drained and woebegone. She seemed pleased to see me and I persuaded her down to the sitting room. By then Mama had wheeled in the tea trolley, and when pressed to eat, Alice nibbled half-heartedly at a cucumber sandwich.

  It seemed completely the wrong moment to add to their worries by telling them of my fifth miscarriage. I wanted to cheer Alice up and tried to interest her in a game of croquet after tea. Father, looking serious, said he’d ask the doctor to call, but Alice was adamant that she didn’t need a doctor.

  ‘I’m beginning to feel better,’ she told them, though she was sucking on her upper lip and dragging it in over her teeth.

  ‘A change of air might help,’ Mama said. ‘Could she spend a few days with you, Eleanor?’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, thinking it might do us both good. I turned to Alice and said, ‘Why don’t you come back with me this afternoon?’

  She agreed with alacrity, and I went upstairs with her to help pack a few necessities. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, as soon as we were alone. I could see that something was.

  She shook her head, her eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘Later,’ she gulped, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ inferring she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears if she talked about it before we got away.

  Normally I drive myself over in the governess cart but Freddie had dropped me off en route to the golf club, as he thought me not sufficiently recovered to cope with the pony. We played a game of croquet as we had to wait for him to come back to pick us up.

  ‘I’m glad you’re coming to stay,’ he told Alice, thinking she was coming to divert my thoughts from yet another miscarriage. ‘It’ll do Eleanor good to have a bit of company.’

  Alice was very subdued on the way home and as Freddie could hear everything we said, I didn’t press her to confide. Once we reached home, I asked Mrs Bowler, our housekeeper, to take Alice’s bag up to our guest room and have the bed made up. I hurried her into the garden where nobody would hear us. ‘Whatever is the matter?’ I asked. The last time I’d seen her she’d seemed perfectly normal. ‘What’s happened?’

  Alice grew agitated and burst into tears, she was clearly in a desperate state. It took promises of help and a lot of persuasion before she whispered that she was with child. It was a bombshell I wasn’t expecting. I was shocked but at the same time envious, and said, ‘I didn’t know you even had a boyfriend!’

  There is no sin so great as producing a child before gaining a husband. I didn’t learn until the following day that the father was Robert Haskins, a 26-year-old distant cousin of ours several times removed, and a rakish young officer in the militia. He’d already been sent with his regiment to Abyssinia and didn’t even know of the trouble he’d landed Alice in. His parents, General Sebastian Haskins and his lady wife, lived nearby and were revered by our parents. Alice had been meeting him without Father’s consent or telling anybody.

  ‘Did his parents know he was meeting you?’

  ‘Robert doesn’t get on with them,’ Alice wept. ‘He says they order him around as though he’s still ten years old and expect instant obedience.’ I couldn’t believe Alice hadn’t seen him as a dangerous friend before this had happened! ‘You must swear to keep it a secret,’ she implored.

  ‘Alice, this isn’t a secret that can be kept for long.’

  ‘But for now, keep it from our parents and everybody else, please.’

  ‘There’s no way I can keep it from Freddie,’ I told her, ‘not while you’re living in his house.’

  She nodded, and eventually she let me tell him.

  Freddie was horrified. ‘Little Alice? Her reputation will be in ruins! Nay, not merely her reputation, this will ruin her whole life. No decent man will look at her, let alone marry her after this.’

  I spent that night tossing and turning, pondering on why some girls who don’t want babies have them forced on them, while wives like me, who long for them, try and try to produce them but fail. By morning, I knew what I wanted. I knew how to solve Alice’s problem as well as my own, but it was much harder to persuade Freddie that it would be possible to do and keep the whole process a secret.

  The next morning, before I let Freddie get out of bed to go to the factory, I said to him, ‘We are desperate for a family, we could keep Alice’s baby and pretend it’s ours. The baby will be much in need of a home and, after all, it will be related to us. It would solve our difficulties, Alice’s difficulties and please your father.’

  ‘I don’t see how we can possibly keep it a secret.’

  ‘Yes, we can. For Alice’s sake we have to. What a blessing we didn’t tell anybody about this last miscarriage. Nobody knows. Nobody will question—’

  ‘Dr Richards knows. He attended you so he’ll certainly have questions if you try to pass the baby off as yours. And what about Alice? She’ll need a doctor when her time comes. It can’t be done, not and be kept secret.’

  ‘It has to be done, Freddie. Think of the gossip if we let this be known! Think of Alice’s reputation. Think of your father’s feelings as well as our own. I know you want a family and I certainly do. Really we’ll be aunt and uncle to this baby, but where is the harm in bringing the child up as its parents? Alice can’t do it, can she? There has to be a way to keep all the details between ourselves.’

  I had been thinking of hiring a nurse, choosing a woman who had brought many babies into the world and hoping and praying that Alice wouldn’t need the services of a doctor when her time came.

  It took Freddie a little while to come round but eventually he said he’d been friendly at school with a man who was now a doctor. He was actually an orthopaedic surgeon working in the Royal Southern Hospital, but he’d ask his advice about dealing with Alice’s predicament. He gave Freddie the name of a doctor who had rooms in Rodney Street and suggested that I make an appointment to take Alice to see him.

  Alice, of course, was nervous and embarrassed, but he was very matter-of-fact and spoke more to me than to her. He checked her over and told us that the baby was developing normally, and that she could expect to be delivered about the end of March.

  That shocked me because it was only four months off and there was little noticeable change in her figure. He said that was because she was very young and healthy. Alice enjoyed a daily walk and had played a lot of tennis in the summer. He booked her into the Tavistock Nursing Home where, he said, she would be well cared for when her time came.

  I came out feeling relieved that all had been satisfactorily arranged. Alice had a big weep when I got her home and thanked me a dozen times. She also thanked Freddie and said she was sorry he’d have to pay for it all. He laughed that off, of course, and the next day drove us round to find out exactly where this nursing home was.

  It was in Aigberth and conveniently close to home
. It looked like an ordinary large Victorian house except for the board alongside the gate announcing its name, and the fact that it could provide luxury accommodation and treatment to patients suffering from many diseases.

  That weekend, I went to visit my parents again and took Alice and Freddie with me. Mama holds open house on Sunday afternoons for our many siblings and their families, and teatime there is always well attended. The state of both my health and hers was asked for more than once. Alice told them she was feeling better and everybody agreed she was looking a little better. I told Papa that I would like Alice to stay with me for at least six months and that I meant to restore her to perfect health and give her a good time over the Christmas season.

  Freddie told them that Alice would be company for me when my condition would make it difficult for me to get about. We received their blessing for our plan and Alice took me up to her room where we packed her clothes and belongings to take back with us.

  ‘So far so good,’ Freddie said, as he drove us home, ‘but you both can’t stay in purdah from now until the end of March. Soon the situation will become obvious.’

  He was afraid of upsetting Alice’s feelings by putting it bluntly but she understood only too well that shortly her condition would be noticeable, while I would remain relatively slim. I had my own ideas about overcoming that. I began to wear a little padding round the waist and abdomen while Alice took to wearing my clothes. She had been wand slim and I was a couple of inches wider round the waist. She fitted into them well enough and with the waist in the normal place looked only a little plumper. That enabled us to get through the many Christmas celebrations with our secret intact. Many wives withdraw from the social scene towards the end of pregnancy and we were planning to do the same.

  Alas, we did not get away with it. In January, Mama came calling to see how we were getting on and took in the situation at a glance. She fainted and it took our combined smelling salts and care to bring her round.

 

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