Liza (38 page)

*
* *

Vince Bailey woke in the seamen
’s boarding-house. He lay on his straw-filled mattress and stared up at the cracked ceiling. He had asked the man who ran it to call him, and he had grumbled but agreed. Vince knew that the time had not come, but also that he would not sleep again. He was eager to be away. He dressed, stole out and made for the Spencer house.

Jasper Barbour woke at the sound of the alarm, groped his way out of bed and lit the gas-light. Flora blinked at him sleepily.
‘Get up and put your clothes on, then make us a cup o’ tea. My mouth’s as dry as a bone,’ he ordered her. He washed and dressed in a suit and overcoat. In the Gladstone bag he put a length of rope, some strips of rag and a blackjack — a fearsome little truncheon fashioned from a rubber tube packed with lead. It had a leather loop at one end that slipped over the wrist.

They drank the tea. Then he put on a bowler hat, Flora picked up the suitcase she had packed the night before and they left the house. The spade he had bought lay on the strip of back garden and he left that, too. It was no longer needed. They walked up the back lane, then through the empty streets to the stables. The boy was there, sleepily harnessing the pony in the trap. Jasper gave him some coppers and he watched as Jasper and Flora loaded the suitcase and Gladstone bag into the trap. He scratched his head and yawned, shivered in the chill of the night, then went back to bed. That
’s right, Jasper thought. Whatever they were up to, it was none of the lad’s business.

They crossed the bridge without meeting a soul, the ships in the river darkened. In Fawcett Street a policeman was patrolling his beat and stepped into the path of the trap, his hand upraised. Jasper reined in.
‘Where d’ye think you’re going?’ the constable challenged.

‘
Good morning, Officer.’ Jasper held up the Gladstone bag. ‘I’m on my way to a confinement. This young woman’s neighbour is having a bad time and she’s come for my help.’

‘
Ah! Sorry, sir, but we catch some villains out at this time o’ the morning.’ He stepped aside and waved them on. Jasper shook the reins and waved his whip in salute as they trotted on.

He hid the trap in the copse outside Spencer Hall, told Flora curtly,
‘Wait here,’ and walked up the drive.

Liza woke as she needed to, with the facility that had resulted from years of practice. William lay beside her with one long arm thrown over her. The fire was now only glowing embers and she stared into the gloom of this once strange room, now so familiar, summoning her courage.

William was the only man she would ever want but she had lost him. He had cried out, ‘Oh, Cecily!’ When he found that she was not Cecily Spencer but only a disgraced, out-of-work servant, and how she had deceived him, he would hate her. She remembered his hostile look when they had first met. He would wear it again and she could not face that. Her heart ached.

She slid out of bed and stood beside it for a moment. Then she pulled on her clothes. She wore the brown dress and apron she had bought for working. She had no right to the fine clothes in the wardrobe now: they had been bought for her as Cecily. Among the shoes she found her old button boots, which she had told William she had borrowed from a servant girl, just one of the lies she had told him. She was ready, taking nothing with her that was not hers. Cecily was due to pay her five pounds because she had carried out her side of the bargain. She would write to her and tell her where to send it.

Now she stood by the bed again and stooped over it to kiss William for the last time. He stirred but did not wake. She left the room, closed the door behind her quietly and turned to the stairs, carrying her boots. At the head of the flight she transferred them from her left to her right hand so that she could grip the banister. One slipped out of her grasp and bounced down two steps, bumping softly. Liza paused, breath held, but all was silent. She picked up the boot and started down the stairs.

Elspeth had woken suddenly from a dream in which Cecily had skipped lightly through the crowded kitchen. She cried out to her,
‘You’ve done that before!’ She sat bolt upright in the bed with images crowding her mind, of Cecily washing the front steps and performing a host of other household duties. She recalled her surprise at how the girl had behaved, her willingness and humour, so different from what she had expected of Cecily Spencer, a spoilt child educated to be a lady. There was her cool acceptance that Edward had left her only the funds to train for a job, then her volunteering to learn to be a housekeeper, and at the hands of Elspeth Taggart. Then there had been her befriending of Iris Cruikshank. None of these would be expected of Cecily Spencer — if that was who she was.

Surely she had to be. But now other memories came back to Elspeth: How the girl had bought shoes in size five to replace those lent her — by a servant girl? But the shoe Elspeth had found among the heavy luggage — Cecily
’s shoe — had been size six. And the clothes! A wardrobe full had come with the heavy luggage, but the girl had never worn them, only those she had bought here. And those household tasks, carried out with dexterity — born of practice? She recalled William saying, ‘She’s a different girl from the one I knew.’ Yet they had never doubted her.

But if she was not Cecily Spencer, then who
... ?

Elspeth swung her legs out of bed and pulled on her dressing-gown. She fumbled, fingers shaking, as she picked up an electric torch, a flashlight, that she kept by the bed. It was still a novelty, a Christmas gift from William. He had paid eighteen shillings for it. She descended the stairs, following the cone of light from the torch, and entered the drawing room. She took down the photograph from the mantelpiece, and shone the torch beam on the picture. Was she the same girl? She could not tell. Then she heard — just — the soft double thump out on the stairs.

Elspeth switched off the torch and listened. Who was about? The door was open to the hall and now she saw a slight figure flit like a ghost across the doorway. She switched on the torch and directed the beam. It lit Liza, her boots in her hand. She was reaching for her coat where it hung on the hall-stand. She peered, blinded, into the glare and turned away her head. She seemed vulnerable. Elspeth shifted the beam from her face and took in the brown dress. Confused, she asked, ‘Where are you going?’

‘
I’m just — going.’

Now the old housekeeper asked the question that had brought her downstairs in the night:
‘Who
are
you?’

Liza could answer that now: there was no need to pretend any more.
‘Liza Thornton. I met Cecily Spencer on the ship and she saved my life, pulled me out of the sea when I was going to be crushed. I was grateful and felt I couldn’t refuse when she asked me to take her place for a few weeks because she wanted to go to London.’ Tactfully, Liza did not say why — that Cecily had gone to see her lover. ‘I’m a lady’s maid.’ That was said with pride, which Elspeth could understand: she respected the achievement. ‘When I was younger I made a fool of myself over a man and I have a little girl, Susan. I was out of work and needed the money Cecily promised me, to tide me over for a bit until I could find another position, and so my mam and Susan wouldn’t want for a meal. I didn’t realise I might hurt others, like William and yourself.’

Elspeth could understand about Susan, too: it was a story she had heard before and more than once, the girl abandoned to care for her child alone. For the rest
... She switched off the torch and sank down on the chesterfield, patted the place beside her. ‘You’d better tell me from the beginning.’

Liza told her most of it, as the glow from the fire cast shadows leaping on the walls. When she was done, Elspeth asked,
‘And what are you going to do now? You’re dressed to go out.’

‘
Cecily will be here on Monday and everybody will know I’m a fake so I must get away.’ Liza rose, but stooped to kiss Elspeth. ‘Don’t think too badly of me, please.’ She left her staring into the red coals and shaking her head in disbelief or wonder.

*
* *

Liza closed the door behind her and shrugged into her coat, shivering in the chill of the night. The sky was overcast, with only a few stars pricking the dark and a glimpse of a waning moon between the clouds. She knew there was an early train to Newcastle and she could wait in the station until it drew in. The tears came now and she hesitated, her resolve weakening. But she knew she could not stay and started down the drive. She walked round the belt of woodland that screened the house from the road, stepping close under the trees. A figure loomed out of the darkness, a man who lifted his hat to ask,
‘Miss Cecily Spencer, I believe.’

Instinctively, she played her part of the last four weeks.
‘Yes?’

The man seized her, clamped a hand across her mouth, an arm round her waist, and threw her to the ground, her face pressed into the soil. She tried to struggle but could do nothing against his strength, spreadeagled as she was. He held her there while he jammed into her mouth a gag he took from his pocket, then tied it in place with another. Then he drew the rope out of his pocket and lashed Liza
’s hands behind her. He yanked her to her feet, took a blackjack from his pocket and thrust it in front of her face. He whispered, ‘Give me any trouble and you’ll get this.’ And he led her away.

*
* *

Flora stood with the trap in the copse opposite the gateway. She could not see Jasper or Liza, but the figure plodding up from the town was clear against the grey of the road. She watched him — in silhouette it was clearly a man — turn in
through the gates. She wondered what she should do. How could she warn Jasper? But she was too late.

*
* *

Vince saw the woman as the moon shone through a break in the clouds. He had expected Liza, but not with her face dirty, a gag in her mouth, being led on a rope by a man.

‘Here! What d’ye think you’re doing?’ he said.

*
* *

The man lashed out with the blackjack, a blow that took Vince on the side of the head and he fell flat on his back. From the sound of that blow, like an axe into timber, and the way he had toppled, Liza knew he was dead, the life struck from him. Then the man, who had been crouching, teeth bared in a soundless snarl, stood up and hauled on the rope again.

Out in the road they met a frightened Flora, who asked, ‘What happened, Jasper? A feller came up and went in. I wanted to warn you but I didn’t dare shout.’

‘
He won’t trouble us,’ Jasper growled.

‘
What have you done?’

‘
I told you, he won’t trouble anybody.’ Flora gave a little moan but he ignored her and shoved Liza into the trap. She was beginning to recover. She was still shocked from the murder but she knew now she was the victim of a mistake, which she had made possible. When Jasper reached under her skirts to seize her legs she kicked out at him. He cursed as her heel tore skin from his hand, and lifted the blackjack.

‘
No!’ Flora cried.

He swung round and hissed,
‘Shut your mouth! Give me a hand with her.’

He held Liza
’s legs while Flora lashed them together, then thrust his face close to Liza’s. ‘You got me sent down but you never thought I’d come for you. Now, are you ready to beg?’ Liza mumbled incomprehensibly through the gag. ‘Keep your voice down, but I want to hear you sing.’ He took out the gag.

‘
I’m not Cecily Spencer,’ Liza said, tongue thick in her dry mouth.

‘
Yes, you are. And I’m going to bury you like you buried me, but they’ll find you five thousand miles away. Now will you beg?’

‘
I didn’t lie. I’m not Cecily Spencer. I’m—’

He shoved the gag back into her mouth and tied it in place.
‘You won’t beg? We’ll see, Miss High and Mighty.’

‘
What are you going to do with her? You said a leathering.’ Flora sounded terrified.

‘
I changed my mind.’

‘
What if she isn’t the one?’

‘
She is. Galloway fingered her, and that maid.’

‘
Maybe he made a mistake and she was lying,’ she pleaded.

‘
Don’t do it.’

He started to climb into the trap.
‘She’s the one — said it herself. “Miss Cecily Spencer?” I said. “Yes,” she said.’ Flora clung to his arm. ‘No! You can’t!’

‘
Can’t?’ He threw her off. ‘I’ll show you whether I can or not!’ And he struck her a blow that sent her sprawling. ‘You’ll be nothing but a bloody nuisance. Go down to the station and wait there for me.’ She lay inert, and he wheeled the trap out into the road and headed for the town.

Liza was curled on the floor of the trap, her mouth packed with the evil-tasting rag. Jasper had one foot on her to prevent any movement, his boot grinding into her. She was able to ignore all these as minor tribulations. But fear filled her. She had to escape.

* * *

Elspeth sat in the firelight
’s glow, huddled inside her dressing-gown, miserable. She was looking back over the weeks, remembering how she had been hostile when the girl first came — and for some time after. She had come to respect her, and eventually grown fond of her — very fond, she realised now. She could forgive the girl’s duplicity; she had been virtually forced into it by Cecily Spencer — and the need to provide for her child. Elspeth would miss Liza Thornton, and so would a lot of others.