Liza (31 page)

‘
Damn you!’ the bearded man shouted. He was half turned away from her but Liza knew him, too, now she saw him with Una: Piggy Cooper. He had changed, but not for the better. From a plump youth he had grown into a menacing brute. He took a long stride towards the older man who, Liza guessed now, was Major Roxborough. Piggy reached under his jacket and drew out a wicked-looking knife. Light glinted on the blade and he threatened, ‘Try to run and I’ll carve you! I’m going to thrash you then sue you, drag you through the courts! You’ll pay for this!’

The major eyed the knife warily but stood his ground and answered,
‘I’m damned if I’ll let you thrash me!’ Then he temporised: ‘It’s all a misunderstanding. Surely we can settle this between ourselves and save the lady embarrassment?’

‘
Trying to buy me off ?’ Piggy said contemptuously.

‘
Please, Leslie, my love,’ Una begged, ‘I don’t want publicity.’

‘
If you say so,’ he grumbled. ‘I’ll settle for cash.’ He took another pace further into the room.

Now Una lowered her hands and saw the dark-haired girl in the corridor. She gaped, then pointed a finger.
‘What are you doing here?’ And then, to Piggy, ‘It’s that Liza Thornton.’

He spun round.
‘Who?
Her
! What the ‘ell—’ He strode towards Liza, who backed into the corridor. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘
Long enough,’ Liza answered coolly, because now Merryweather and the two constables were hurrying along the corridor from the direction of the service stairs. Piggy saw them, too. He grabbed for the vase of flowers on the table by the door and threw it in the path of Merryweather and his men. The sergeant stumbled over it, blocking the way of the constables. Piggy lashed out at Liza with the knife but she shrank away. He charged off along the corridor and she followed on his heels, reached out with the umbrella and thrust it between his legs. He fell with a
woof
as the wind was knocked out of him. Liza jumped on to his shoulders and squatted there, driving his face into the carpet. He still held the knife but he was unable to reach back to use it.

She did not have to hold him there for long. In seconds a constable was twisting the vicious weapon out of Piggy
’s grip. Then he clamped on handcuffs and hauled Liza’s prisoner to his feet. She straightened her skirts and brushed herself down, examined the umbrella and found, with relief, that while some of the spokes were bent it still worked. Then she saw Una, properly dressed now, being led out of her room by the other constable. She glared at Piggy and snarled, ‘You yellow bastard! You ran like a rabbit and left me to it.’

‘
Keep your gob shut,’ Piggy snapped back at her.

‘
I will not! I’m not taking the blame for your big ideas.’

‘
You were all for it when you saw the money! A damn sight more than we took off old Kitty Thornton when we burgled her place. And you couldn’t wait to come down to London.’

‘
I thought you knew what you were doing, thought you were a man, but you’re a bloody cheapskate!’

Now Liza knew where her savings had gone and rage filled her. Merryweather had been talking to the major but with an eye and an ear on Piggy and Una, writing busily in his notebook. Liza waited until he was done, then she went to him and came straight to the point:
‘I’ll be a witness.’

He smiled sourly.
‘Thank you, but you probably won’t be needed. You heard them just now? I reckon they’ll sell each other out. Besides, I told the major we’d keep his name out of the papers and he’s agreed to testify. They’ll go down.’

‘
There’ll be another charge.’ Liza told him briefly of the theft from Kitty, admitted by Piggy.

‘
That, too.’ And Merryweather wrote again in his notebook. Liza had not finished by a long chalk. ‘Will you discharge Mr and Mrs Calvert, please?’

He sighed.
‘You must appreciate that there are formalities.’

‘
I appreciate that I’ve helped you to catch the real criminals. It’s most important to me that the Calverts are released and I’m asking you to help me.’ As if casually she glanced down at the twisted umbrella that had stopped Piggy — and Merryweather took the point.

He cleared his throat.
‘True. All down to you, Miss. I’ll do all I can.’

*
* *

Within two hours Cecily and Mark were back in the Jefferson Hotel, with Liza and Merryweather. The sergeant told the startled manager that a terrible mistake had been made.
‘Is Mr Randolph Stevenson still a guest here?’

‘
Why, yes, Sergeant.’

‘
I’d like to see him.’

Randolph came to the office and stared at Mark and Cecily, who were dishevelled after their time behind bars. To begin with he was both suspicious and antagonistic, but as Merryweather explained the changed situation he grew red in the face. At the end he was silent for a minute, then muttered,
‘Looks like I made a fool of myself.’

‘
It’s a mistake anyone might have made,’ Cecily said, seeming kindly.

He glanced at Mark, saw his nod, and said,
‘Good of you to say so.’

‘
I did try to tell you that I only wanted you to think about restoring my husband to his position, but you wouldn’t listen,’ Cecily reminded him gently.

‘
Ahr Randolph said. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. To tell the truth the estate hasn’t been performing very well.’ His gaze shifted to Mark. ‘I wonder, if you aren’t suited elsewhere or if you can get away, would you care to come back?’

Cecily rose from her chair.
‘Mark, darling, I must bathe and change. Why don’t you and Mr Stevenson discuss your business in the bar and I’ll join you later? Come along, Liza.’

She and Mark had already expressed their gratitude to Liza but in her room Cecily did it again.
‘I’m very grateful, but if you’d waited another few days this man would have arrived from America and we’d have been let out. Still, all’s well that ends well.’

Liza seized on that.
‘So you’re stopping this silly game and coming up north? It’s just as well. William is planning a birthday party for you on the Saturday.’

Cecily stared at her, lips parted.
‘Good heavens, no. There’s no question of that. If Mark didn’t have this position to go to I would stay here with him because we are very happy. But now that I’m sure Stevenson is going to take him on I want to go to the estate as his wife and see him settled in there. I’ll marry him when I can. I will be in Sunderland to claim my inheritance, be sure of that, but not before my birthday. That was our agreement and if you want the other five pounds you’ll have to see it through. It’s not such a hardship. I told you it would be all right, didn’t I?’

Liza was struck dumb. All right?
All
right
! She recalled that first night when William had produced the photograph of Cecily. Then the confrontation with Betty Dixon, née Wood, and William’s assertion that she had virtually invited him into her bed. But when she recovered the power of speech she said nothing. She knew Cecily would brush aside those nerve-racking experiences.

‘
Surely you can manage for a few more days?’ Cecily said.

Could she? In the big house, with Martha and Mrs Taggart, and
... Yes, but Susan was waiting for her. Liza longed to see her.

‘
We agreed,’ Cecily reminded her.

They had, Liza because Cecily had saved her from the clutches of the cold North Sea.
‘I suppose so.’

When Cecily had bathed and changed they went downstairs together. Randolph Stevenson and Mark were in the bar, deep in conversation about the estate, the details of Mark
’s contract already agreed and sealed with a handshake. Cecily joined them but Liza said her farewells. Then Cecily murmured, for only Liza to hear, ‘Enjoy the party. William arranged it? I think I may have behaved badly to him and Uncle Edward. Please don’t tell Mark.’ She glanced at him fondly. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t approve and he’d be disappointed in me. I don’t want that.’

So Liza left her to it. The rain still pelted down and she stood in the hotel doorway, a slight, erect figure under the shelter of the uniformed doorman
’s umbrella. It was much more respectable than Merryweather’s battered one with its bent spokes. He hailed a hansom for her, and she returned to her hotel alone. She was happy and relieved. She had resolved another crisis and would be back aboard the
Wear
Lass
next day.

A message awaited her at her hotel, a note from William telling her to rejoin the
Wear
Lass
just below Tower Bridge the following afternoon. Liza was eager to do that, but next morning she splashed through the rain again and made a hurried call at Harrods. A dress there had caught her eye when she had been shopping for Cecily. She had told herself then, with wry humour, that it was not suitable for wearing in prison — and wondered what was. But Liza had a use for it and bought it. The waist needed some alteration to fit her slim figure but she could manage that.

The pilot boat took her out to rejoin the
Wear
Lass
, and when the ship sailed Liza was admiring the dress in her cabin.

She replaced it carefully in its big box, then dressed in the glistening black oilskins William had bought for her. She had not used them on the journey south but needed them now on the open bridge, where she found William, similarly dressed. The rain still fell steadily and the ship was butting into the wind: drops rattled on the oilskins. William was scowling into it as it sluiced down his face, but he grinned down at her when she appeared at his side.
‘Room for two of you in there.’

Liza knew the oilskins were voluminous, the hem of the coat sweeping the deck, but she didn
’t care. The ship was slipping downriver in the early dusk, on either side the jewelled strings of lights on the shore, and more moving on the river, white and yellow, and the red and green navigation lights of the other ships that crowded the water. Liza found it hugely exciting and stood with William through the hours until his watch was done and he handed over to the first mate.

They went down to their cabins, which were side by side, and shrugged out of the oilskins, close to each other in the narrow passage.
‘You enjoyed yourself up there,’ William said.

‘
It was exciting.’

He looked at her flushed face and shining eyes.
‘I can see that.’ She could feel her cheeks warming, but then he went on, ‘I learn something new about you every day. The Cecily I knew would never have done that. You’re not like her at all.’

Liza did not trust the direction in which the conversation was turning.
‘Well,
I
loved it,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Goodnight, William.’ She stepped over the coaming into her cabin, shut the door behind her and leaned against it with his ‘Goodnight’ echoing in her ears. She heard his door close, hung up her oilskins to dry and undressed. She could hear him moving in the cabin next door, faintly, through the steady beat of the engines. Then he was still and she curled up in her narrow bunk, blew out her oil lamp, closed her eyes and slept. She could not know it, but William lay awake for some time.

*
* *

A thousand miles south another ship ploughed northward. Down in the hold the chief stoker, stripped to
a coal-blackened vest, bawled, ‘Put some muscle into it, you lazy bugger! You’re only half-way through your watch and we want more steam.’

Vince Bailey, similarly dressed and blackened, took up his shovel again.
‘I didn’t sign on for this.’

‘
You wanted to work your passage and that’s what you’re doing.’

Vince had found life hard in Australia, too hard for his liking. He had spent his money and had no way except this of returning to England. Shovelling coal for four hours at a time, twice in every twenty-four, was fiendishly hard.
‘I said I wanted a passage back to London,’ he whined. ‘That’s where you said we were going.’ He had intended to batten on his sister in London.

‘
That was before we took on this cargo for somewhere else,’ said the chief stoker contemptuously. ‘This is a cargo ship, not a bloody cab. Now, put your back into it!’

Vince moaned but obeyed, driving the big shovel into the coal and hurling it into the gaping red mouth of the furnace. Somebody will pay for this, he swore to himself.

* * *

Liza awoke to sunshine streaming through the porthole of her cabin. The rain had ceased but she could feel the worsened motion of the ship, the soaring lift and then the drop, the roll and slow recovery. She dressed and went up to the bridge, where she found William standing his watch, balancing easily on long legs set wide. She stood beside him but cautiously kept one hand on the bridge rail.
‘You’re a glutton for punishment,’ he joked, ‘but we’ll make a sailor of you yet.’ Then he pointed over the bucking, plunging bow. ‘A friend of ours.’