Liza (28 page)

‘
As you wish.’

Once he would not have believed that Cecily would care about the housekeeper
’s feelings, but he remembered how she had changed. He was happy with the arrangement, however, knew Elspeth had a soft heart.

They did not speak again until he used his key to let them into the hall, which was silent save for the ticking of the clock. He took her coat and she turned to face him.
‘I’ve had a lovely time.’ She stood on tiptoe, put her arms round his neck and pulled his head down. ‘Thank you.’ She kissed him and ran up the stairs. He watched her go, flitting light-footed like a ghost, silent as her own shadow, but her voice came softly back to him: ‘Goodnight, William!’

Liza had told Martha not to wait up for her so she undressed
herself and slid into bed by the light of the fire. She lay still, and in the quiet house heard his heavy tread on the stairs, then in the passage outside her room. Did it hesitate there or did she imagine it? But it went on and she heard his door close.

She had made an important discovery, while in William
’s arms. She lay small in the big bed and thought that the man was impossible — wasn’t he? From their first meeting he had been cold and distant, his disapproval verging on dislike. But not for a while now and that had been intended for Cecily. So ... Still, an affair was impossible.

Yet she smiled as she fell asleep.

When Liza ran down the stairs to breakfast she met the housekeeper in the hall. ‘Good morning, Mrs Taggart. Captain Morgan tells me he asked you to excuse me for a week to sail to London. May I go, please? Or will it be inconvenient?’

Elspeth Taggart eyed her.
‘I’m thinking you’ll have packed already.’

‘
Yes, I have,’ Liza admitted. Quickly, that morning.

Mrs Taggart looked down her nose at her.
‘I expect I’ll be able to manage on my own for a week.’ Then, with a shadow of a smile, ‘Aye, you get away, Miss Spencer. Ye’ve worked awful hard and learned verra quick. We’ll soon make up for lost time when you come home.’

Liza blinked. Come home? That had a warm sound to it.
‘Thank you, Mrs Taggart.’ She swung an arm round the woman’s waist and planted a kiss on her apple cheek, then whisked in to breakfast.

William had been only minutes ahead of her.
‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’

‘
I did, thank you.’ She was flushed and smiling as she served herself from the dishes on the sideboard. She thought that Mrs Taggart had justified her assessment as a dear. She could go to London with William so that was all right. Perfect.

He thought that this new Cecily had always seemed a pretty girl, but now she had blossomed.

They talked easily as they ate and William left the newspaper untouched by his plate. Only at the end, as they sat over coffee, did he glance at it casually. Then he said, ‘Good Lord!’ Liza wondered idly what had seized his attention. He stood up and walked round the table. ‘That chap Jasper Barbour has broken out of prison and half killed a warder. You’ll remember him.’

She did not.
‘Oh, yes.’ What
now
?

William was going on:
‘I was at sea at the time but Edward told me the story later. You testified against Barbour when you were only fifteen or so, and he swore to have his revenge, threatened you.’ He laid the paper on the table before her and pointed at the headline: ‘Prisoner Assaults Warder and Escapes’. ‘But he’s a long way away and no doubt he’ll be recaptured in a day or two.’ He frowned, then added, ‘Still, I think it would be a good idea if you didn’t go out alone from now on.’ He glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘I’ve work to do before we sail. I’ll see you at lunch.’

He strode off and Liza read the story. She thought wryly that she need not fear Barbour unless he found her before Cecily returned. If he did, would he shout to the world,
‘This woman is a fraud!’? She giggled. But then she saw the small item at the bottom of the page or, rather, one word of it: Calvert. Wasn’t that the name Cecily had said she would use? she thought. And now she took in all of the report with one swift scanning. Mr Mark and Mrs Cecily Calvert had been remanded in custody on charges of attempted extortion and blackmail. Cecily jailed! Liza stared at the newspaper, Jasper Barbour forgotten. Cecily would not come back to claim her inheritance now. What was she to do?

*
* *

Herbert Galloway, private investigator, ex-policeman (dis-missed from the force for accepting bribes), awoke late in his lodgings near Sunderland station. He lay on his back staring up at the cracked ceiling and thought with satisfaction that he had done a good day
’s work on the Saturday. Now he could get back to London and collect his fee from Flora Gibb. For a moment or two he thought he would include hotel costs on his account, although his lodgings were little more expensive than a seaman’s boarding-house. Then he decided against it. Flora was obviously acting for someone else, and the very fact that she had come to him meant that that person might be criminal and violent.

It had been an easy enough job, anyway, to find that the girl
’s parents had died but her uncle and guardian lived in Sunderland and was a prominent citizen. When he had got there he had found that the uncle was dead but a Captain Morgan was living in the house — the electoral roll had shown him that. All he had to do then was watch the place, mark the tall captain driving the Vauxhall and the young lady who must be the one he wanted — whom Flora had asked him to find — and then confirm it. He had hired a cab and followed the carriage on Saturday night. At the theatre he had edged up to Gibson and asked, awed, ‘Your governor — Captain Morgan, isn’t it?’ He flourished a notebook. ‘I’m doing a bit for the
Echo
, "who’s who at the Empire tonight". I know most of them by sight but I’m not sure about your feller.’

‘
Ah!’ Gibson had shut the carriage door. ‘That’s right, Captain Morgan.’

‘
And that’ll be the old man’s niece — Miss Cecily Spencer?’

‘
Right again.’ Gibson had swung up into his seat. ‘D’ye want my name?’ They had both guffawed as the carriage rolled, and Galloway put away his notebook.

Now he decided to eat a bite of breakfast, then catch a train south to take him home. Whoever wanted to know where Cecily Spencer lived, he was sure it would be bad news for her, but that was not his problem.

1
8

SUNDAY, 3 FEBRUARY 1907, AT SEA AND IN LONDON

The coal thundered in a black torrent down into the hold of the
Wear
Lass
where she lay under the Wearmouth coal staiths. As it did so it spewed out a cloud of dust that boiled about the ship then drifted away on the wind. Liza watched from a safe distance, standing on the bridge over the river. She squinted against the low sun, which was shining directly into her eyes.

She had come out for a walk after lunch, claiming to need fresh air, but in fact just to be alone with her cares. William had said,
‘With that chap Barbour on the loose, you should not be on your own.’

‘
He will still be hiding in London,’ Liza argued, ‘if he hasn’t been caught already.’

He had seen the logic in this, but added,
‘Don’t forget we sail this afternoon.’

Liza smiled now at his concern for her but the smile faded as her gaze focused again on the ship. She knew the
Wear
Lass
, the ship that had brought her to this place. It had saved her life then and it might save her from disgrace now, because it would take her to London. She did not know how, only that she had to see Cecily Spencer and talk to her. Cecily had to come to Sunderland to claim her inheritance in just two weeks’ time. Liza could not claim it for her: she would be guilty of a criminal offence, she was certain. She also knew she could do nothing until she had seen the heiress. When Liza had taken on this task it had seemed simple — or so Cecily had made her believe. Now she decided that ten pounds and a reference were not enough.

But she was looking forward, excited, to the journey south.

She had time to call in on Iris, she decided, so she walked briskly to her house and found her sitting in her chair before the fire. Her shawl was around her shoulders and her head bowed over the knitting in her lap. She snored gently, but woke with a jerk as Liza entered. ‘I was just resting my eyes,’ she said.

‘
I came to see how you were. We’re off to London this afternoon.’

Iris lifted the needles and smiled at her.
‘I’m very canny now, thank ye. And London, eh? I always wanted to go there. Are you going with that Billy Morgan?’

‘
He’s the captain of the ship.’

‘
Yell have to do everything he tells you, then.’

‘
Oh, no, I don’t,’ Liza riposted but felt her face colouring. To hide it she turned to peer out of the window, as if looking at the weather. ‘We should have a smooth passage.’

‘
We’ll see,’ Iris said. It was only later that Liza wondered what the old woman had referred to — the weather or William. Now Iris said, ‘You’ll have to come and tell me all about it when you get back.’

‘
I will,’ Liza promised.

She returned to the Spencer house, running the last furlong, skirts flying in a flurry of lace and a hand on her hat. Gibson sat in the back seat of the Vauxhall with their suitcases, the engine ticking over, while William stood by the driver
’s seat consulting his wristwatch. Liza arrived panting. ‘Sorry if I’m late.’ She glanced at Cecily’s watch. ‘No, I’m not.’

William grinned.
‘Nearly.’ He handed her in, then waited while she whipped a silk scarf over her hat and tied it on.

‘
Right. We’re off.’ He drove away from the house and made for the town.

They sailed that afternoon, the
Wear
Lass
dropping down the river and steaming out between the piers, butting into the sea. Later, at night, Liza stood on the open bridge beside William. The air was chilly but instead of the fashionable coat she had brought with her, which was hanging in her cabin, she snuggled into a thick navy blue bridge coat with its wide collar turned up around her ears. It was a smaller copy of the one William wore and he had bought it for her. Made for a man, it hung down to her ankles.

He glanced down at her.
‘Warm enough?’ She nodded, smiling, as errant locks of her hair whipped on the wind. ‘Seagoing ladies usually have a coat made to measure but I didn’t have time.’

‘
Never mind. It was a nice surprise.’ Liza wondered if he had done it before. ‘Do many ladies go to sea?’

‘
A few skippers take their wives, some occasionally, some as a regular arrangement. The latter are usually newly-weds without a family to keep them ashore, or older, with their children out in the world. Few stick it because of the wandering life, not knowing where you’ll be next week or next month.’

Now they could see the lights of other ships pricking the darkness.
‘I didn’t think there would be so many,’ Liza said.

‘
Most nights you have company on this east coast route. And talking of company ...’

Archie Godolphin, the cook, had climbed up to the bridge, his bald dome gleaming in the dimness.
‘Tea, Skipper.’ He held out two thick white mugs. ‘Saw the lady come up here so I brought one for her too.’

Liza took hers.
‘Thank you.’

‘
You’re welcome aboard, Miss.’ He clattered away down the ladder.

William and Liza stood in companionable silence for a while, sipping their tea, then Liza said,
‘I think I’ll say goodnight now.’

‘
One last thing,’ said William. ‘I’ve arranged a party on the Saturday before your birthday, a sort of early celebration so that you can meet a few people. Dancing and a buffet.’

‘
Thank you. What a nice idea. You are good to me.’

‘
I thought if you got to know a few of us you might learn to like this North Country.’’

‘Bu
t I
do
like it. I love it,’ Liza said indignantly.

His black brows lifted.
‘You always used to say you would never come back to the north.’

Cecily again! She had mentioned something like that.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Liza said. Let Cecily talk her way out of it. Then she remembered where Cecily was and the point of this voyage. ‘Goodnight again.’

‘
Goodnight.’

*
* *

William watched her climb down the ladder to the deck and make her way aft to her cabin, staggering a little with the motion of the ship. He was still amazed at the way the girl had changed in recent years. She
’d said he was good to her. Maybe he was. Because of her transformation — as an expression of relief ? He gave a low growl of laughter at that. He knew the real reason.