Ruby Flynn (26 page)

‘What’ya like at smoke rings then? Bet I can do a better one than you,’ said Stella, interrupting his thoughts.

Charles had no idea what Stella was talking about.

‘Me record is eight on one drag, what’s yours?’

‘Eight sounds a bit excessive,’ said Charles.

‘Oh my giddy aunt, where d’ya learn to talk with big words like that?’ She leant up on one elbow, shyly pulling the pink candlewick bedspread up to cover the breasts he had almost eaten, only moments before.

Charles pulled deeply on his cigarette. ‘Just ’avin’ a laugh,’ he said, grinning at her. ‘Go on then, show me your best effort.’

She lay flat on her back. ‘Don’t breathe near me, you’ll blow them off,’ she warned, giving him a very stern and serious look, before exhaling eight perfect smoke rings. Grinning and proud of her achievement, she sat up in bed cross-legged and flicked the ash away from Charles. ‘Go on then, show me yours.’

‘I will,’ said Charles, ‘with the next one. Is there an ashtray?’

‘Yeah, down ’ere on the floor by my side of the bed.’ Charles handed her his cigarette so that she could extinguish it.

The only light came from the glow of the Victorian street lamp directly outside the window. Charles could make out a sink in the corner of the room, and a Formica-topped table nearby, which appeared to be covered in dishes and food. A loaf of bread stood exposed on a board, with a bread knife lying next to it, while a hard-backed chair stood near the window with what looked like a small pile of clothes, folded on the seat. There was an unlit fire hearth in the corner, which smelt acrid. There was very little else. The room was cold and his breath formed white clouds that mingled with the smoke. Charles thought that the girls in service at Ballyford lived in better conditions than this.

‘Where d’ya work, then?’ Stella asked him, breaking into his thoughts. ‘What’s yer wage?’

Charles thought hard. Liverpool girls did not surprise him. Their forthright openness used to take him by surprise, but not any longer. He had recently agreed a wage with Kimble, who ran his office. He had an answer.

‘Ten pounds and eight shillings a week.’

‘Do yer?’ She had turned to look at him with eyes wide. ‘No wonder you were flashin’ the cash in the pub, that’s smashin’ that. That’s better than at Plessey’s on nights. Who d’ya work for?’

Another question. She had no notion of social boundaries, but then neither did any of the girls he had met. He could talk to Liverpool girls for hours and never be bored.

He thought of the following day and the publicity that had been arranged for the launch of the ship. He said the first thing that crossed his mind.

‘The
Echo
,’ he replied. I work for the
Echo
.’

‘Oh, go’way, do yer? My cousin, Tommy, he works for the
Echo
. A photographer he is. Really good. Does all the family occasions, weddings, christenings and the like. If me and you get married, he can do ours.’

Charles knew that there was only one way to distract her from this train of thought, so he flipped her onto her back and disappeared under the bedspread, reminding her to keep quiet as he did so.

‘In case yer mam’s spies hear you,’ he said, in his pseudo-scouse accent.

‘Oh my God, what’yer doin’, where are you goin’? I’ve never ’eard of that before, you dirty beggar. Can I get caught like that?’ They were her last coherent words for the next half an hour.

When he finally slipped from her bed, she begged him to stay

‘I can’t,’ he replied gently. ‘Tell you what though, Stella, I’ll meet you back in the pub soon, eh? Keep an eye out for me.’

‘Promise,’ she whispered back sleepily. ‘’Cause if I’m pregnant, you’ll wanna know won’t you. I can tell you’re the kind of fella who will wanna do the right thing. Won’t you?’

‘Course I would love, see you soon,’ he replied, before he was away and back out onto the street, looking for a cab.

Later, back in his own bed, Charles heard the grandfather clock in the hallway chime eight o’clock and it suddenly dawned on him that he was due at the dockside in half an hour.

Today was a big day. The
Marianna
was due to sail out of Liverpool and they were holding a press and launch party in the Liverpool Swan building, two hours before the bore took her back down the Mersey, and out onto the Irish Sea, on the first step of her journey across the Atlantic to America.

Mrs Bat stood at the bottom of the stairs outside the morning room door, like a sentinel guarding the gates of hell. Her bony shoulders quivered like the black nubs of wings as she looked up at him in disapproval. She always dressed in black, dour and foreboding. Once again he wondered if she slept in a bed or simply refreshed herself, hung upside down on the hallstand.

‘You came home past midnight,’ she said, disapprovingly. ‘You didn’t lock the front door properly and the hallway smelt of alcohol and sin. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.’

For a delicious moment, Charles wondered what she would think if he brought Stella back home for an evening. He pictured her suspender belt and stockings lying on the stairs to her flat and wondered what Mrs Bat would have said or done, if they had been here in the Sefton Park house instead.

‘I heard you and checked and just as well I did, or we could have all been murdered in our beds.’

‘I really would not be that lucky,’ muttered Charles, as he removed the silver dome from his breakfast plate. Underneath were two nearly black slices of bacon and two rubbery eggs swimming in a puddle of almost solidified cold fat. In her interview, she had told him she was possibly the best cook in Liverpool. He shuddered at the thought of how bad the others must be.

He thought of Ballyford and the pork sausages made from his own pigs and the bacon which he could smell cooking each morning as the servants’ door opened out onto the landing from the kitchen. The large brown eggs laid by his chickens in the stables were carried into the kitchen early each morning in a basket by Danny. As Charles buttered the cold, toasted bread, in his mind he smelt the fresh bread baked by Amy before anyone else had woken. He thought about the laughter he often heard coming from outside in the kitchen garden. The memory of Ruby’s laughter broke through and his heart lurched. He was almost relieved when he heard the telephone ringing.

‘Morning, m’lord, it’s McKinnon here. The salmon are in.’

‘Damn,’ Charles exclaimed down the phone. It was always a moment of joy when he joined the staff and they ran to the river. He had thought this year that maybe the river was too low and they would have problems.

‘That’s fantastic news, McKinnon, and a relief to Amy I imagine. It is the launch today, but I’ll be on the first boat back in the morning I’ll net a few of those salmon myself. Will you meet me in Dublin?’

‘I will that, Lord Charles. Everything is ready here.’

*

At Ballyford, McKinnon replaced the handset and sighed. It had been a long time since Lord Charles had sounded pleased to be coming home and it was the salmon that had done it.

‘Have you told him?’ Mrs McKinnon asked. She was polishing a brass table lamp in the hall. He couldn’t see a mark anywhere and he was sure he had seen her doing exactly the same thing only a few days before.

‘I have indeed and he said he cannot wait to return home. He was excited about the salmon. Perhaps he’s also got the taste for Amy’s cooking again. Maybe, just like you said, this ball is going to turn things around. I can already feel things slipping back into place. Slowly, mind, but if you think what it was like here six months ago and how everyone is today…’

Mrs McKinnon went on rubbing her lamp, thoughtfully.

‘I hope you have your wish ready for when the genie appears,’ said McKinnon, walking back through the baize door.

‘Oh, I do that,’ muttered Mrs McKinnon. ‘I do that.’

*

On the dockside Charles spotted Rory Doyle immediately and shouted out a greeting.

‘Rory, over here.’

They shook hands enthusiastically.

‘There’s a bit of a crowd gathering at the gate,’ said Charles. ‘The nationals are here, I met the man from
The Times
in the Grand and the
Liverpool Echo
are giving us a front page spread. They asked me did I think we could compete with
Cunard
and
White Star
. I thought it best to be humble and told them I hoped so.’

‘They have all gone mad,’ said Rory. ‘The
Liverpool Echo
have written a full-page spread on the laundry, can you imagine that?’

‘The laundry?’ Charles looked surprised. ‘Good Lord, why?’

‘Well, the laundry for the ships in Liverpool is all serviced by the Chinese community. We have given them an extra seven thousand towels and they have washed and starched all the uniforms for the officers and crew.’

Charles was amazed by the number of people thronging around the Huskisson Dock gate entrance. The landing stage was heaving with a throng of passengers and luggage. Cab drivers were unloading car boots and piles of chests stood there, many of them labelled,
Wanted on voyage
.

The dock road was full of taxis delivering passengers from the hotels and last minute fresh provisions were being delivered to the ship’s kitchen stores.

‘Look at the balloons,’ Charles shouted to Rory. ‘Kimble, Miss Taylor and the staff have done a fantastic job. The best thing we did was to pinch them from our competitors. Now that you and Nathan have finished sorting all the legal documentation, you can concentrate on the operational side of the business. It is going to be hard work, but such fun, taking on the big boys like
Cunard
and
White Star
. I bet they are hopping mad that we’re undercutting them on price. I have heard that they have almost two hundred free berths on their crossing on Saturday, thanks to ours leaving today.’

Rory felt no guilt about what he and Nathan had planned. He knew he was a cad. It was the survival of the fittest and anyway, wouldn’t Kimble and Miss Taylor simply be taken back by the
White Star
or
Cunard
? Of course they would. All of the staff would be fine.

Apprehension sat in Rory’s gut like stale vomit. His men had already left yesterday to head out to the place where they knew they would be most needed.

‘Don’t move in too quickly,’ Rory had told the captain. ‘We don’t want anyone thinking you was waiting there. Nothing must go wrong. Wait until the last possible minute. Just make sure no other salvage boat gets there first. The captain of the
Marianna
is our man. He knows just what to do. You have no worries there. Take your time. He’s expecting you.’

He said now, ‘The first class passengers were allocated their cabins first thing this morning. Everyone is boarding now. We are breaking the mould, only having two classes, when the
White Star
has five. God knows where those in the lowest class sleep.’ Then he added, ‘You haven’t used up all of Ballyford’s money on this venture have you, Charles?’

A frown crossed Charles’s face. He wasn’t used to talking about money with anyone other than his accountant. Rory had been his friend since childhood, they had grown up together, but it still felt unnatural.

‘I have used all my own capital, but what does it matter? Every cabin is sold for the next two months. At this rate, every penny will be paid back within two years and then the business will be in profit. Three years from now we’ll have our own fleet, and in ten years we will be the dominant shipping line sailing out of Liverpool to America. It’s all in the plan Rory, all in the plan.’

As they made their way into the building, the cameras began to flash and journalists started asking for quotes. Rory froze in horror. He had much to hide and many people to hide from. The last thing he wanted was for his picture to appear in either the national or local press. He now dropped back behind Kimble.

‘Stop being shy,’ laughed Charles. ‘This is our big day, Rory.’

‘No, not at all, this is all your baby, Charles.’

Charles was about to object, until Kimble turned to Rory.

‘The captain of the ship is waiting to speak to you, Mr Doyle.’

Rory felt beads of cold perspiration gathering on his top lip. He knew his face had paled and his mouth was as dry as tinder. The stupid man, he thought, he has asked for me, now they can connect us. I cannot talk to the captain.

His heart was beating rapidly and his chest felt as tight as a drum.

‘Yes, I’ve already spoken to him,’ said Charles, ‘I told him there were two owners and that you were on your way. It’s the accepted thing to do, I believe. Makes the captain look important in front of the crew. After all, he’s the man in charge of our assets from today onwards, so we’d better keep him happy.’

Rory felt himself begin to breathe again. The die was cast. Soon, he would be a very rich man and Charles would have lost everything.

‘Turn to face the camera, please, Lord FitzDeane,’ shouted the photographers.

The secretary, Miss Taylor stood primly at Charles side, frowning at the cameras. Suddenly she noticed a young woman at the very front of the crowd of bystanders behind the roped off area to the side of the customs hall. She was waving frantically at Lord Charles.

‘Charlie, it’s me, Stella,’ she shouted. ‘Hiya, it’s me, Stella. Come and get me, the bastards won’t let me through.’

As she jumped up and down on the spot, they were all blinded by the sudden popping of the flash.

*

Later, Charles sat with Stella in the Lyons tea rooms. He ordered her tea and handed her his pristine and folded handkerchief. He was trying his hardest to explain everything, but it was apparent that he would need to go through it all again. He beckoned the waitress over for a second pot of tea. Stella sniffed and cried and dabbed her eyes with his handkerchief. For a moment, he found himself comparing her with Ruby who, despite her start in life, or maybe because of it, appeared altogether more mature and robust.

‘Look, it’s not easy to explain, but I will try again. Do you think, if my sons had lived, I would be dressing up in pawnshop clothes and hanging out in spit and sawdust dockers’ pubs? No, I wouldn’t, Stella. I would be the proudest and happiest father alive. I would be happily occupied. My days would be spent riding across Ballyford land hunting, fishing and farming. I would have been planning trips abroad, employing tutors, worrying about their every waking moment. But fate robbed me of all that and it is a cross I have to bear.