Lovers and Liars (35 page)

‘I can tell that, yes.’

For a long moment, while Lizzie sipped at her tea, deep in thought, Harriet discreetly regarded her. She thought Lizzie to be well past her sixtieth birthday, though she would never ask a lady her true age; it was too personal.

In the same way Lizzie had taken to Rosie, Harriet had taken to her. She could see by the workworn face and the leathery hands that Lizzie had had a hard life. In many ways she wished she had met her earlier. They could have been good friends from the outset, but never mind, she told herself, we’ve met now, and we’ll meet again many a time, no doubt.

Just then Lizzie glanced up. ‘Sorry!’ She was mortified to have been so rude. ‘I was miles away.’

‘Oh, that’s all right,’ Harriet assured her. She suspected Lizzie might be of the same mind as herself, with regard to John and Rosie so, daring to voice her opinion, she said warily, ‘I’m not so sure he loves Rosie – in the same way, I mean.’

Lizzie was astonished. It was almost as though Harriet had seen into her mind. ‘What makes you say that?’

Harriet explained, but with some reservations. ‘When John first came here we made friends straight off. There were times when we talked a lot, about life and stuff like that. He said something to me, about someone he loved … Emily, was it?’

Lizzie felt relieved. At least John had spoken about her to someone. ‘What did he say?’

‘Not much – though you could see he desperately missed her.’

Lizzie didn’t want to get into too deep a conversation about John and Emily, but she did tell Harriet, ‘Emily was his first love. They planned to wed, but things sort of got in the way. He went away to sea, and she found comfort in somebody else.’ She choked on the words. ‘She’s wed now, with a child – a delightful little girl called Cathleen, and –’

Harriet finished the sentence for her. ‘And John returned home, learned the truth and started a new life here, in Liverpool.’

Lizzie nodded. ‘He was heartbroken.’ She let slip a glimpse of what bothered her. ‘I was that surprised when I learned he was about to be wed. I worried he might be doing it for all the wrong reasons.’

Harriet could understand Lizzie’s concern but, ‘Rosie is good for him. They look out for each other. He helped her and got her more work by repairing a badly damaged narrowboat.’

She went on to explain how the two of them had got closer. ‘Later on, John bought the site he has now.’ The fact that it had belonged to her would remain a secret for ever. ‘Rosie ran the barges, and John built and repaired them. It was a natural thing that they should join forces. During the time they worked together they became friends, and I think the friendship gradually turned into something else.’

Lizzie was beginning to see the way of it. ‘So, during that time, Rosie fell in love with him, and now they’re wed. I can see how it all came about, but what of John? What was
his
reason for getting wed?’

‘Who knows?’ Harriet took another swig of tea. ‘He might have thought they’d do better business-wise to be man and wife. Think about it, love. They’re both very clever people when it comes to making things happen.’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘You’re saying that John got wed because he wanted to expand his business?’

‘That’s the way I see it.’ As a businesswoman herself, Harriet admired him for it.

‘But that’s not my John’s way of thinking,’ Lizzie objected. ‘It’s too cold and empty a reason for him to take such a big step as marriage.’

‘Well, maybe when Rosie told him she loved him, he married her because he liked her enough. Emily was lost to him and Rosie needed him. The business needed him, too, and to my mind that’s a very suitable arrangement.’

Turning Harriet’s words over in her mind, Lizzie lapsed into silence. It was possible Harriet was right in her assumption, but Lizzie wasn’t satisfied with that. She needed to know that John was content in his marriage. It was true, the couple seemed well suited. But was it enough?

‘Are you sure you’re all right, dear?’ Seeing how Lizzie had paled, Harriet was concerned. ‘And you haven’t eaten a thing.’

‘I’m weary, that’s all.’ Getting out of her chair, Lizzie thanked her for the tea. ‘I think I’ll leave on an earlier train. I know John said he’d come back this afternoon and show me his site and everything, but I’m just too tired. I can always visit another time, can’t I?’

‘He’ll be so disappointed.’

Lizzie was stood, her two hands gripping the back of her chair as though without the support she might fall over.

‘He’ll understand – and besides, I’m sure he’s got more important things to do than fuss over an old woman like me.’

Harriet wagged a finger at her. ‘You’d best not let him hear you say a thing like that!’ she chided. ‘He thinks the world of you. What! When he gets started on the subject of “my Auntie Lizzie”, you can’t stop him.’ She paused. ‘Aw, Lizzie, are you sure you can’t wait a while longer? Maybe go home tomorrow?’

Lizzie shook her head. ‘He and I found time to have a good long chat,’ she revealed, ‘though there’s never enough time, is there?’

Harriet gave a wry smile. ‘Not in my experience,’ she answered knowingly.

‘I wanted to see him wed, and I’ve done that. I needed to know if he was all right in himself, and he seems fit and well enough, and doing good in business, just like he said.’ She smiled. ‘I feel a bit more settled now I’ve seen him. But I’m fair worn out, so I’ll start my journey home on the next train. If I write him a note and explain,’ Lizzie took hold of Harriet’s hand, a look of gratitude on her face, ‘you will make sure he gets it, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will,’ Harriet assured her. ‘The minute he comes through that door to see you and collect the rest of his things.’

‘You’ve been so kind, Harriet. It’s been a joy to meet you, but I really do need to get home now. The journey to Blackburn is a fair old way.’

Lizzie’s one thought was to see Aggie. It was time that dear woman knew the truth of it. Moreover, it would be a burden off Lizzie’s mind, to confess what a terrible thing she had done.

Harriet could see how determined she was. ‘There you are.’ Going to the drawer she handed Lizzie pencil and paper. ‘When you’ve done that, prop it behind the clock on the mantelpiece.’ Collecting her coat from the door she shrugged it on. ‘While you’re fetching your bag, I’ll pop down to the inn to order a carriage to take us to the station.’

Growing more weary with every step, Lizzie climbed the narrow stairs to her room. In a surprisingly short time, she had packed and returned with her hand-made tapestry bag, to find Harriet back already. ‘I’m ready for off,’ Lizzie told her.

‘And I’ve got the carriage waiting outside,’ Harriet informed her proudly. ‘My treat.’

Lizzie was horrified. ‘I can’t allow you to pay out for a carriage!’

Harriet was adamant. ‘You’re John’s aunt and my guest, so don’t argue!’

A few minutes later, wearing her outdoor clothes and carrying her precious handbag, Harriet led her to the door. ‘If it’s all right with you, I’m coming to the station,’ she said. ‘John would be happier to know I’d seen you board the train.’

‘That would be nice, thank you.’ Lizzie valued her company.

The carriage-driver took Lizzie’s carpet-bag and helped her aboard, though when he came to give Harriet a hand, she cast him such a wicked glare, he scurried away and almost lost his footing as he clambered onto his lofty seat. ‘All right for off, are we?’ he shouted, and before Harriet had fitted her backside into the seat, he started forward.

‘Hold your horses, you mad bugger!’ she screamed. ‘Are you trying to kill us or what!’

At the station, she ordered him to wait while she saw Lizzie on to the train. ‘I can take myself onto the platform,’ Lizzie pointed out, ‘if you’re in a hurry to get back.’

Harriet would hear none of it. ‘I came to see you off, and that’s what I mean to do,’ she answered in her sergeant-major fashion.

Once Lizzie was aboard, Harriet waved until the train was out of sight. Poor little devil, I hope she’ll be all right, she thought. She crossed to the waiting carriage. Something had upset the woman, that was for sure. Poor Lizzie didn’t look at all well.

Before she climbed back into the carriage, Harriet gave the driver another of her warning glares. ‘If you want paying, you’d best make sure I’m good and seated, before you go flying off up the street!’

‘Certainly, missus.’ He tipped his cap. ‘I’ll be as gentle as a babby.’

‘Hmh!’ The carriage tipped dangerously to one side as she hoisted her sizeable weight into the seat. Slamming the door shut behind her, she bawled out, ‘You’d better be, if you know what’s good for you!’

Up front, manoeuvring his carriage down the narrow cobbled street, the driver made faces as he chatted to himself. ‘Yes, miss, no, miss. Think yourself lucky I let you in my cab at all, you lard-arse!’

When they reached the lodging-house, he smiled sweetly at Harriet, took her money and went away at the double. ‘And good shuts to you an’ all, madam!’

A few hours later, John arrived to see Lizzie. ‘She’s gone, lad,’ Harriet informed him. ‘She went some time ago. Said she were dog-tired and needed to get home. She’s left you a letter, mind.’

Surprised and disappointed, John took the envelope she handed him, and opened it. The contents soothed him, for Lizzie had written a bright and happy letter:

My dear John,

Please forgive me for taking my leave, but I need to get back. Your Rosie seems a really nice young woman, and I’m so glad I came to see the two of you wed. Thank you both.

I’m sorry not to have waited for you this morning, but I know you will understand, son. In all the years I’ve lived, I’ve never once been this far from Salmesbury and Blackburn town. It just goes to show what an old stick in the mud I am, doesn’t it? I know you’ll be bringing your new wife to see me, and I really look forward to that.

I’ll write when I’m home, and maybe you will do the same? For now, God bless you, son.

Give Rosie my love, won’t you?

Lizzie XX

P.S. John, I’m so glad things appear to have worked out for you. You deserve all the happiness and all the luck in the world.

John read the postscript at the end and knew what Lizzie meant.

She was thinking of Emily, and wondering if he had got over her. Funny that, he thought, because he had spent many a sleepless night asking himself the very same question.

Chapter 15

F
OR LIZZIE, FEELING
poorly as she did, the journey from Liverpool to Blackburn seemed to take a lifetime.

Twice the passenger opposite had tried to engage her in conversation. Each time she smiled and listened but didn’t feel able to do more than that. In the end he gave up and when he got off the train at the first station, she was relieved to be left on her own.

As the train drew away again, great billows of steam crept up to envelop the carriages and everyone inside. In the midst of that huge, grey cloud, it seemed to Lizzie that she was the only person left in the whole wide world. It was an eerie feeling; though the steam soon evaporated and glimpses of the outside world crept in.

A moment later she heard the muffled tap of footsteps going along the corridor. Fearing that people might come in if she smiled at them, Lizzie looked away when curious passengers peeped inside, their faces pressed to the window of her compartment. When they walked on by, she settled back in her seat and, closing her eyes, began to relax. The gentle rhythm of the train and the distant, soothing clatter of iron against iron, soon lulled her to sleep.

Many hours later, the weary soul finally arrived in Blackburn town.

The station was always busy, and this morning was no exception. With porters scurrying about, frantic people rushing in all directions, some passengers queuing for tickets and others reading papers or merely chatting to colleagues, it was all Lizzie could do to forge a way through.

‘Need any help? Want a carriage, do yer?’ The ruddy-faced little porter came tripping forward with his trolley.

Too fagged to answer him, Lizzie shook her head and moved on. She only had the one bag, and had no intention of travelling to Salmesbury in a carriage, not when there was a perfectly reliable tram service at half the price. ‘Thank you all the same.’

She had tried to press on John the money he had left with her when he had first come back from sea, bursting with health and optimism, ready to marry his Emily. John had made her bring it home again: she must save it for her old age, he said – not that she would ever be old to him. But he and Rosie, and all who saw it, admired the beautiful patchwork bedspread she had painstakingly made for them over the months leading up to their marriage. It was a wonderful gift.

The symptoms she had experienced earlier still lingered. So now, as she wended her way towards the exit, Lizzie’s footsteps got slower and slower, until she felt the need to lean against a pillar where she took long, gasping breaths.

‘Are you all right, my dear?’ A kindly old gent came up alongside. ‘Do you need help?’

Embarrassed, Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I’m feeling better now.’ Mustering all her strength, she moved on. Behind her, the gent watched her for a moment before hurrying for his train.

Outside in the fresh air, with the keen March breeze in her face, Lizzie took a few invigorating breaths and set off in search of the tram to Salmesbury.

‘That’s right, luv. We’re about to leave for Salmesbury now. If you’re coming along, you’d best get on board.’ The conductor was a lanky sort, with a mop of wild ginger hair.

When Lizzie arrived, he had been lolling against the tram and puffing away at his pipe. Now though, he tapped out the bowl against a street-lamp. Helping Lizzie aboard he continued to chat. ‘Been on holiday, have you?’ He pointed to the big tapestry bag, which he had collected from Lizzie by way of his common duty. ‘Somewhere nice, was it?’