A Liverpool Legacy (25 page)

The following Monday, Millie returned to the lab after eating her sandwiches in Andrew’s office to find Denis waiting at the door for her.

‘This is my mother, her name is Geraldine,’ he said. She was sitting at Denis’s desk in the far corner.

‘Hello, I hope Denis has shown you round,’ Millie said. ‘Come down to my desk and we’ll have a chat.’ Geraldine was a big woman, tall as well as plump, with greying hair, but her face strongly resembled that of her father. She bustled rather than walked and looked very capable.

‘I’m keen,’ she said, ‘to follow in the family footsteps and work in your laboratory.’

Millie thought she would be ideal.

Sylvie was getting excited. On Friday, Denis had said, ‘Now our engagement is official, I want to buy you a ring. I don’t know much about jewellery or what style you’d like, so I’ve been into that jewellery shop in Church Street and arranged it. Tomorrow I’m going to take you there and you can choose the ring you want.’

Sylvie was fizzing inside as he led her into the shop. Her feet sank into deep carpet and she was dazzled by glistening rings, necklaces and brooches displayed all around her in glass cases. Denis spoke to a salesman dressed in a very formal suit. He spread a black velvet cloth on the counter and ushered Sylvie into a chair in front of it.

‘Up till now we’ve had to rely on a supply of second-hand jewellery,’ he told her, ‘but at last we’ve had a delivery of new rings that I can show you.’

Sylvie looked at the first tray he brought and thought they all looked beautiful. ‘Denis,’ she whispered, ‘some of these rings could be very expensive and I don’t want to put you in hock.’

‘You won’t,’ he said, ‘that’s why I came in the other day. I can afford any of these he’s showing you.’

‘Trust you to do the right thing.’ She smiled and gave herself up to deciding which one she liked best. She pointed out a three-stone diamond ring. The salesman was about to lift if from the tray but Denis’s hand reached it first and he slid it on her finger. His touch sent thrills up her arm.

‘I like that one too,’ he told her.

‘While you’re here, you should try on some of the other rings,’ the salesman said. ‘This is a very nice sapphire,’ it had a small diamond each side of it. ‘Or there’s this emerald in a similar design.’

Sylvie tried them on but came back to her original choice. ‘You wouldn’t prefer this solitaire diamond?’ Denis asked. She shook her head. ‘Then we’ll have the three-diamond one,’ he told the salesman.

‘It fits you perfectly.’ He smiled at her, and twisted it on her finger, ‘Could have been made for you. Shall I wrap it up?’ He produced a small leather box for it.

‘Would you like to keep it on?’ Denis asked her.

Sylvie looked at it sparking fire on her finger. ‘Yes, I think I would.’ She’d chosen to spend the rest of her life with Denis and she couldn’t have felt happier about it. She’d always wear this ring. Really they would be exchanging rings, but she’d wait until his birthday to give him his.

Outside on the pavement he took her arm and said, ‘You thought of me in there, you didn’t want me to spend more than I could afford. Did I get it all wrong?’

‘No, you didn’t get it wrong. I’m trying harder to grow up.’

Denis hugged her closer. ‘On my birthday I’m going to take you to the Bear’s Paw to celebrate. We’ll have a slap-up supper and a dance. I’m told it’s Liverpool’s premier nightclub.’

Neither of them had been to a nightclub before, and Sylvie was delighted.

Denis came to work as usual on his birthday and Millie gave him a birthday card and the gift-wrapped cufflinks. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’ll feel very smart when I wear these.’

‘They belonged to my husband,’ she told him. ‘They’re better than anything I could see in the shops. He didn’t wear them very often.’

‘I shall think of him when I wear them,’ Denis said. ‘I’ll take good care of them.’

To go out that evening, Sylvie wore the fashionable New Look blue and grey striped taffeta party dress that Helen had helped her make. She loved the feeling of long voluminous skirts rustling about her legs and was very pleased with the way it had turned out.

They went to first house at the Empire to see a variety show and then on to the Bear’s Paw and were shown to a table on the edge of a tiny dance floor. ‘Gosh, it’s dark in here, isn’t it?’ Denis whispered.

Sylvie half wished there was more light so that her outfit could be appreciated. The other customers seemed older, some were in evening dress. Wine glasses were tinkling and soft dance music was playing. It seemed a very sophisticated place and Sylvie loved it. They were both hungry and ate the first two courses before she brought out her birthday gift to Denis. ‘I hope you like it.’

He smiled. ‘A signet ring. I’ll treasure it.’

‘It isn’t new, it belonged to my dad.’

‘Your mother said the same about these cufflinks. I’ll wear them with pride, treasure them all the more.’

‘Really, we’re exchanging rings.’

Denis stretched across the table to kiss the tip of her nose. ‘Very right and proper that we should, now we’re engaged,’ he said.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Marcus felt Elvira was doing her best to choke him off and he was getting brassed off with the treatment. He rang Greg’s number one day and she picked up the phone. ‘Are you living with him?’ he barked.

‘No, I’m working for Greg too, so we can get some money together for the house,’ she said shortly. ‘It’s better if we both carry on earning the money while we can. After all, we know how painful it is to be short of a penny or two. We don’t want to go back to that, do we?’

‘But where are you living?’

‘I’m staying with an old school friend. You’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Greg has never been anything more than a friend.’

Marcus wanted to believe her but a few days later Greg said there were too many calls coming in on his number, it never stopped ringing, and it might attract the wrong sort of attention when it was supposed to be a residential number.

‘In future, don’t bother ringing in when the job has gone as expected, only do it if something goes wrong,’ he told Marcus. ‘It’ll be safer that way.’

Marcus thought it was to stop him speaking to Elvira, but then something did go wrong. He’d been delivering a car to a garage in Barrow-in-Furness, only to find the place had been cordoned off by the police. That threw him into a panic but he saw it in time to drive on. He went round a few corners until he was well out of sight then pulled into the side of the road and sat back for a few minutes to calm his nerves. He was sweating but blessed the fact that he hadn’t left his own car in that garage as he sometimes did, he’d been expecting to pick up another car from them to take back to Liverpool.

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 and 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.