Liza (12 page)

He took her hand.
‘That’s why I’ve given it to you. It didn’t cost me anything because it was left to me by my gran. But it’s to do with the hotel because I want you to come in with my mother and me — as my wife.’

Liza had thought he might propose some time, and she was attracted by his offer to take her into the hotel venture, but marriage was a much bigger step.

‘Please say you will,’ he begged, his arm around her now. ‘I think we were made for each other. Marry me, Liza.’

She was excited. He was close and she remembered what had happened when she had turned Toby down. Vince was offering her a life out of service, a life where they could get on — together. She hid her blushes in his chest and mumbled,
‘Yes.’

He lifted up her face and kissed her then, again and again. The candle guttered and he blew it out.
‘We don’t need that.’ There was still a faint light from the window. His hands were on her body, busy and knowing.

‘
Vince!’ She protested uncertainly.

‘
Don’t send me away tonight,’ he whispered. ‘You’re my wife, except for the churching, and that will be soon. I’ll give notice before Easter. When we’re both free, we’ll be wed. Man and wife.’

Man and wife. She gave herself to him, her slim body silver in the light from the window.

She woke in the dawn to see him pulling on his clothes. He stooped over her to brush her lips with his and whisper, ‘My wife, my love.’ She smiled as she watched him go.

It was in the afternoon of that day that Liza answered a ring at the front door. She hurried along the hall to open it. A burly man of middle age, dressed in a cheap blue serge suit, was on the step. He wore a cap set squarely on his head.
‘I hear you’ve got a Vince Bailey workin’ here, right?’

Vince?
‘Yes, sir,’ Liza stammered.

‘
Right. I want to see the master here. You tell him it’s Mr Butcher on a personal matter.’

Liza saw now that there was a girl with him, standing at the foot of the steps. She was obviously pregnant, a woollen shawl around her shoulders. Liza made the stock answer:
‘I’ll see if he’s in.’

‘
Aye, get on wi’ it.’ He glowered at her. ‘And you can tell him I’ll come back wi’ the pollis if I have to.’

Liza shut the door, ran through to the kitchen and found Vince drinking a mug of tea.
‘There’s a man at the front door, says his name’s Butcher,’ she whispered. ‘He asked if you were working here and he wants to see the master.’

Vince swallowed and set down the mug, which rattled on the table. The others in the kitchen, the cook and one of the maids, looked at him and Liza curiously.
‘What does he want?’ Liza asked.

Vince licked his lips.
‘I don’t know but I’ll bet he’s come to make trouble. Still, you’d better tell old Wakely and I’ll tidy myself up in case I’m called.’

Liza went to Mr Wakely, then ushered Butcher and the girl into his presence. As she shut the door she heard Butcher say, voice blaring,
‘I’ve come a hundred miles lookin’ for justice and I’ll have it here or in court.’

When she got back to the kitchen, Vince wasn
’t there. ‘He shot up the stairs,’ the cook said. Liza ran up to the top of the house and Vince’s room. The door stood open but he was not there. A curtain hung on a string stretched across one corner, making a makeshift wardrobe, but it was empty. The livery he had worn was scattered about the floor. Liza looked for a suitcase but could not find one, did not expect to. An old newspaper was lying on the windowsill and underneath it was a letter. It was addressed to Vince but the sender’s name, Miss G. Bailey, and a London address were on the back.

Liza made her way slowly down the back stairs again. She harboured an awful fear and fingered the ring he had given her. She had hung it round her neck inside her dress, on a cotton thread. In the kitchen she found them talking about Vince. The scullery-maid, just thirteen, had seen him leave by a side window.
‘He had a case and he jumped out and ran!’ The child was big-eyed with excitement. ‘He didn’t go down the drive! Run through the trees and climbed over the wall, he did!’

Then the butler entered.
‘Where’s Vince? The master wants to see him.’ The scullery-maid told her tale again and he pursed his lips, muttered under his breath and set off up the back stairs. He returned a few minutes later. ‘He’s done a bolt,’ he said tersely.

‘
What for? What’s he been up to?’ the cook asked pointedly.

‘
That chap in with the master now — Butcher, he’s called — he’s got his daughter with him and says Vince has got her into trouble. They both worked in a house down Birmingham way. When she told Vince her condition and said he’d have to marry her, he ran off. Butcher’s been trying to find him ever since.’

The cook sniffed.
‘Serves her right, if you ask me. She must ha’ give him encouragement.’ The two maids nodded.

‘
Aye,’ the butler said. ‘But I’ll have to tell the master.’ And he went off to report.

Liza was in a daze, but managed to act normally while she wondered if Vince had made a fool of her or if he would return soon and explain. Surely that had to be the answer, because he loved her, didn
’t he? But he did not come back, nor did he write, and she faced up to the fact that she had been duped. After a while she had to face another.

Liza asked the housekeeper for two days off: her mother was missing her, she said.
‘She’s got nobody but me, Mrs Carey.’

‘
You’ve only been here six months.’ The housekeeper peered down her nose. ‘But you’ve done very well, so, yes, you can have the two days. But you’ll lose the pay for them and you can’t expect to make a habit of this, mind.’

‘
No, Mrs Carey. Thank you.’

Liza remembered the address in London and went to it. She caught an early train out of Leeds and was in the capital by noon, then found the long terrace of cramped little houses, many of which had their front doors standing open and barefoot children running in and out. At the one she sought she found a young woman sitting on the step. Her hair was wrapped in a cloth tied beneath her chin and she wore a canvas apron.

‘Excuse me, but does Miss Bailey live here, please?’ Liza asked.

The girl squinted up at her, eyes narrowed against the watery sunshine.
‘I’m Gert Bailey. What d’ye want?’

‘
I’m looking for your brother, Vince.’

Gert gave a bark of laughter.
‘You’re not the only one!’ ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘
Who’s asking?’

‘
Liza Thornton.’ She held out her hand. Gert wiped hers on the canvas apron then shook Liza’s.

‘
I know where he is but it won’t do you no good. He come back here a few weeks ago but he only looked in for an hour to say he was off to Australia.’ She saw Liza’s startled look. ‘There’s a lass lives round here, she has three brothers and they’re looking for him. Gawd help him if they find him. Why are you looking for him? Let you down, did he?’

Liza still hoped, did not want to give up. She related how Vince had wanted her to join him in running the hotel, then added,
‘He proposed to me, gave me a ring—’

‘
That belonged to his gran?’ Gert broke in. ‘There was a ring. Can I see the one he gave you?’ When Liza brought it out on its thread, Gert studied it, then passed it back to her. ‘Grandma’s ring was supposed to come to me but when she died he made off with it. That isn’t it. I expect he’s sold it, knowing him. As for my ma cooking for him, she’s done that all her life, and now she’s old he never gives her a copper.’

Liza knew now that she had been seduced, used. Her dreams and plans were shattered.

Gert stood up, brushing down her canvas apron. ‘I’ve got to go into the factory for the afternoon shift.’ She jerked her head in the direction of a grim building at the end of the street. She nibbled her lip, then said, ‘Excuse me asking, but has he got you expecting?’ Liza nodded, lips pressed tight. Gert said, ‘Oh, Christ!’ She put her arms round Liza and hugged her. ‘I can’t tell you any more than I have, can’t help. All I can do is say how sorry I am. He’s my brother but he makes me ashamed.’ She let go of Liza. ‘I have to go now.’ She hurried away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. The factory’s siren hooted and girls came out of doors all along the street and the flood of them, hurrying to work, swallowed Gert.

Liza stood still, holding the ring in the palm of her hand. She could not think what to do with it, but she would not wear it. She snapped the thread and shoved the ring into her bag. Then she set out on her way back to Leeds, blinking away the tears. She threw the ring out of the window of the speeding train.

Liza handed in her notice before her pregnancy became apparent, left with a good reference and travelled to her home in Newcastle. Dry-eyed now, she told her mother, ‘I’ve been let down by a man.’

‘
Are you in trouble?’ Kitty asked, and when Liza nodded, she sighed. ‘Oh, God!’ Then: ‘Will he marry you?’

‘
I wouldn’t marry him. His sister said he’s gone to Australia and he’s a bad lot. I never want to see him again.’ Liza was definite about that.

Will you look for a man?
’ Kitty ventured. ‘To give the bairn a name, I mean.’

‘
The bairn can have my name.’ Liza had had time to think, coldly and clearly, after the first bitterness. She did not know if she could entice a man like that but knew she did not want to. She had known of girls who had persuaded a man to wed them, not hiding their pregnancy. She had also heard of one who told her hastily acquired husband that the child she produced so soon was his but premature. That was not for Liza, either.

Kitty never censured her but when she was alone Liza knew she cried. She also knew betrayal, shame, bitterness and misery.

She had some savings, just enough to see her through to her confinement: Kitty could not support her on the meagre wages she earned as a cleaner. Susan was born at dawn on a day of pelting rain and Kitty said, ‘Just like you!’

The child was an immediate joy to Liza. Her mother had told her, unhappily,
‘You’re a lot harder now,’ and Liza did not regret this, but Susan brought happiness into her life again, a joy in living. That only made it more difficult to leave her but Liza knew she must. Her savings were almost gone and she had to find work. She applied for two vacancies advertised in the
Newcastle
Journal
, local jobs where she would be able to return home once a week, but she wasn’t taken on. She began to worry.

One day she was writing a letter, applying for yet another job, when there came a knock at the door. Kitty had taken Susan for a walk in the second-hand pram, so Liza covered her letter and answered the knock herself. The kitchen door opened on to the passage and Gillespie, tall and sandy-haired, the butler from the Grange, was standing there. He smiled at her.
‘Hello, Liza. How are you?’

‘
Mr Gillespie! What a surprise! Come in.’

She sat him down in a chair by the fire and talked as she made him a cup of tea.
‘What brings you here?’

The butler grinned.
‘You. I kept your address in case.’

‘
Me? Why?’ Liza paused, teapot in one hand, kettle in the other.

‘
I might have a job for you — or are you suited already?’

A job! Liza poured carefully, put the kettle on the hob, stirred the tea and set the pot to draw for a minute.
‘I’m not working at present.’

‘
Right, then. A couple of weeks back the family paid a visit to some people in Buckinghamshire and Mr Gresham took me along as his valet. I was talking to the butler there, a decent man by the name of Polkington. He told me they were looking for a maid who was good with a needle and at the dressmaking.

They were wanting a woman over twenty-five but I told him I knew somebody younger who would be just the ticket. The job sounds right up your street. You
’d be working directly under the lady’s maid. I met her, Miss Jarvis, a pleasant lady but one who knows what she wants. You’d get on fine with her. And they’re offering twenty pounds a year.’

Twenty pounds a year! Liza had been writing away for jobs paying sixteen. She would be making a real advance. But then she remembered how she had thought she would be happy at the house in Leeds, and hesitated. Buckingham was a long way off. She poured the tea, added milk and sugar, then handed him the cup and saucer. She was tempted. She would love to stay at home with her mother and Susan but she needed the job. They all needed the money.

Gillespie added gently, ‘And Polkington tells me Miss Jarvis is a lady of fifty-five and her employers will give her a pension at sixty. Then you’ll be lady’s maid.’ He had remembered Liza’s ambition.

Liza was just coming up to her nineteenth birthday. If all went as Gillespie said, she would be a lady
’s maid at the early age of twenty-four! It was a position always held by women of thirty or older, and it could make an enormous difference to her life — and her daughter’s. She had to take this chance for Susan’s sake.