Lovers and Liars (32 page)

‘Aye, she is that,’ Aggie readily agreed. ‘What’s more, she’s got a lovely nature to go with her good manners.’ She paused. ‘Mind you, she can be strong-minded when the mood takes her.’

Lizzie was curious. ‘Really?’

‘Oh, I’m telling you, when her and her great-grandad get started, it’s a case of who might outwit the other. They’re so alike it’s unnerving.’

‘How old is she now?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Five … six? She must be getting on that way by now.’ Suddenly she was hungry for information.

Grateful that, at long last, Lizzie appeared to be taking an interest in Cathleen, Aggie happily enlightened her. ‘She’s six year old … and a few months.’

‘She’s at school then?’

‘Oh, aye! Loves it, an’ all. She’s been attending the village school for some time now.’ Aggie beamed with pride. ‘She’s especially good at drawing and painting pictures. But o’ course they don’t care much for teaching that sort o’ stuff. They like to concentrate on reading and writing and learning ’em their times tables. Still, I can’t say it bothers me, ’cause I’m a firm believer in a child learning its three Rs.’

Lizzie wanted to know more, like had they told the child who her father was yet, and had she become aware of the lies about John being labelled the villain? But she kept all that to herself, and instead she asked after Emily. ‘And you say your daughter’s fine?’

‘She’s well, yes. Thank you.’

‘Enjoying married life, is she?’

Aggie was a little more coy. ‘Seems to be.’

Lizzie smiled. ‘Good.’ She owed the family an apology. ‘Look, Aggie, thank you again for inviting me to the wedding, but like I said, I wasn’t feeling too clever that day.’ It was a downright lie, and they both knew it.

In truth, it was shame and guilt that had kept her away. Shame because she had lied, and guilt because she was the one who had split John and Emily up and driven her into marrying another man – possibly Cathleen’s father, although she might never know the truth about that.

Since Danny had taken her as his wife, Lizzie had deliberately avoided Emily, which was such a shame, because at one time, she and the young woman had been the best of friends.

‘And is everything fine with you, Lizzie? I was concerned when I couldn’t seem to get hold of you. But at least you got my notes.’ Never able to catch her at home, Aggie had taken to sending her notes by way of Danny, and she always received one in return. It was a pleasing thing.

‘I can’t complain,’ Lizzie answered. ‘Oh, and thank you for your notes. Young Danny delivered them along with the milk. All in all, he seems a very nice young man.’

‘He is,’ Aggie retorted. All of a sudden, her good humour left her, and the truth of her feelings began to spill over. She had kept them locked away for so long. ‘Danny is a good husband and a good father to Cathleen, which is just as well because as we both know, the child’s own father doesn’t care enough about her to even ask after her!’ Aggie was outraged by the way Lizzie had seemed to skilfully move away from the subject of her own great-grandniece. Lizzie’s refusal to acknowledge Cathleen as part of her own family rankled deeply. It was a wicked thing, to Aggie’s mind.

Taken aback by the ferocity of Aggie’s remarks, Lizzie retaliated. ‘John is
not
Cathleen’s father!’ she retorted. ‘How many times do you need to be told, before you see the truth of it?’

‘Oh, and what
is
the truth, pray tell?’

‘You had better ask your daughter that.’ Not wanting the conversation to degenerate into a shouting match, Lizzie stiffly bade her a polite good day and went about her shopping. The other woman let her go and this time, did not call after her.

An hour later, Lizzie paused to take refreshment in the pretty little café on the boulevard.

‘Morning, love. I haven’t seen you in a while.’ Bessie, the woman behind the counter was a jolly sort with rolled-up greying hair and a wide, gap-toothed smile. ‘Been poorly, have you?’

‘No, just taking things easy,’ Lizzie answered cagily. In truth she
had
been feeling unwell on and off for some weeks now, during which time she had only ventured out whenever she needed something for the larder. Even then she was always quick to hurry back home.

‘What’ll it be then?’ Bessie asked kindly. ‘Tea and a bun as usual?’

Gasping for a drink, Lizzie was thankful. ‘That sounds like a good idea, yes, thank you.’

‘Would you mind if I joined you?’ Bessie asked. ‘Only we’ve been that busy I’m fair worn out.’ She glanced about at the empty room. ‘Being as we’re quiet now, I thought I’d stop for a few minutes while I’ve got the chance. I could just do wi’ a cup o’ tea an’ a sit-down.’

Though she would have preferred to be on her own, Lizzie told her she’d be glad of the company, and so the dear woman hurried away, happily bustling about and singing to herself as she went.

While she was gone, Lizzie delved into her bag and took out a small, square envelope. Opening it up, she removed the letter inside, and read it through for the umpteenth time:

Dear Aunt Lizzie,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I’m writing again, because I have some important news to tell you. You remember I told you in my last letter, of how I had joined forces with a young lady called Rosie Taylor, and how together we have gradually brought her dad’s business back to full swing?

Well, we’ve got on so well, and found so much pleasure in each other’s company, that we’ve decided to make our vows as man and wife. It will happen in spring next year.

I know you’ll be wondering if I truly love her, and in all honesty I can say that I could never love anyone as much as I loved Emily, and still do. But Rosie is a good, kind soul. We’re both very lonely, and since I’ve got to know her so well, I really believe we can make each other happy. We already do.

Please come to our wedding if you can. I want you to be here. It’s been five long years since we saw each other. I really need you beside me when I get wed, and there is so much to show you, as well as so much for us to talk about.

I’ll be eagerly awaiting your reply.

Please say you’ll come. PLEASE.

All my love, as always,

John

There was an address along with a suggestion as to the best route to take once she reached Liverpool. At the bottom of the letter, a postscript:
I’ve enclosed a sum of money to put away for the time being. It will cover train and carriage, with enough left over for refreshments and such along the way
.

Lizzie sighed. You shouldn’t be getting wed to no stranger, she thought, for that was how she saw this Rosie Taylor. You should be here, son – here, wi’ me, and Emily.

Disheartened, she folded the letter and putting it back in her bag she withdrew a second one.

Taking it from its envelope, she read:

My dear,

I’m glad you’ve found a measure of happiness with this young lady called Rosie, though I must say, I hadn’t realised it had gone so far as you and she planning to be wed. All the same, if that’s what you want, then it makes me happy too.

As you already know, I’m not good at travelling. But I’ll be there for you on the day.

God bless. See you in a few short months.

Lots of love,

Auntie Lizzie

The letter was duly signed and now she slid it back into its envelope and sealed it.

‘There you are, luv.’ Bessie returned with a tray of tea and two buns. ‘My poor feet feel like two raw chops,’ she groaned, dropping herself into a chair. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I’m ready for this break.’

Oblivious to the fact that Lizzie would much rather be left alone with her thoughts, she launched into a harrowing account of how bad feet had always run right through her family. ‘My poor old mam was a martyr to them!’ she exclaimed. ‘A martyr!’

Some time later, with her ears ringing about bad-smelling feet and relatives who suffered from wind, Lizzie made good her escape. Dropping her letter into the post-box, she had to smile. ‘Poor Bessie,’ she murmured as she went for the tram. ‘I think
she’s
the martyr, working all day on her own in that café.’

A short time later, seated on the tram, she took out John’s letter and read it again, hoping with all her heart that he wasn’t leaping out of the frying pan and into the fire.

In spite of the hope and assurances in John’s letter, the stark truth was unsettling. Here was a man, in love with one woman and about to wed another. What good could come of it? Lizzie wondered.

Part 5
February, 1910
Hidden Truths

Chapter 14

‘W
HERE ARE WE
going?’

Half-asleep, his hair standing on end, and with two small squares of paper stuck over the areas where he’d sliced himself with the razor, old Archie was none too pleased to have been dragged out of his warm bed.

‘For Gawd’s sake, it’s seven o’clock on a February morning!’ he grumbled as they boarded the early tram. ‘It’s freezing cold and what’s more it’s Sunday – my only day for a lie-in. You work me like a dog from Monday to Sat’day. You’d think I’d be entitled to a lie-in!’

The three nights under Harriet’s roof that Archie had been grudgingly allowed had long since extended themselves to several years spent as the new lodger in the cosy back room – an arrangement that suited the little man down to the ground. Spruce and well-fed, he was more fond of his formidable landlady, and she of him, than either of them would ever admit.

Ushering him to a seat, John slid in beside him. ‘I don’t know what all the fuss is about. If Harriet and me can get out of bed on a Sunday morning, why can’t you?’

‘Because I’m a poor old man, that’s why.’ Archie folded his arms sulkily and slunk deeper into the seat. ‘Wake me when we get there.’

John let him sleep. He needed this quiet time anyway, to think about his future with Rosie. He had doubts – of course he did – but it had been years now, since he and Emily had made plans together.

His love for Emily was as strong as ever and always would be. But he knew now that in spite of everything, Emily had never felt the same way, or she could not have turned her back on him the way she did. It had taken years for him to accept the truth of that. Years when he had hoped and prayed there might be a way in which he could turn back the clock, but that wasn’t to be, he knew that now. And painful though it was, he had to look forward, or live a lonely, empty life till the end of his days.

Putting Emily behind him would not be easy, but he could no longer spend precious time yearning for something that could never be. Lizzie was right. It was time to accept that Emily had gone her way, and he must go his, for it was plain that they were never meant to be together.

‘Albert Docks!’ The conductor’s voice rang through the tram. ‘Last stop before we turn round. All off that’s getting off.’

John gave Archie a nudge. ‘Time to go.’

The old man didn’t hear. Instead, with mouth hanging open, he remained seemingly unconscious, his robust snores shaking the tram while John tried frantically to wake him, but with no success.

‘Here. Let me.’ Impatient to be on his way, the conductor leaned forward and, taking the end of Archie’s nose between finger and thumb, he held on tight and squeezed hard. At once the snoring stopped and Archie was fighting for air. ‘Gerroff!’ With arms flailing and feet kicking, he lashed out at all and sundry.

‘There you are!’ Giving John a triumphant wink, the conductor moved on. ‘Pinch the nose till they can’t breathe. It’ll do the trick every time.’

As they got off the tram, Archie gave the conductor a hard stare. ‘I won’t forget
you
in hurry, matey.’

‘And a good morning to you, sir.’ The conductor tipped his hat and walked away grinning.

‘I’ve a good mind to smack him one!’ Archie rubbed his nose. ‘He could ’ave broken it!’

Glancing at Archie’s bright red nose, John couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘It’s a good job the rozzers aren’t after you,’ he said. ‘See you coming a mile off, they would.’

That tickled Archie’s funny bone, and at once his mood was lighter. ‘Where are we off to then, eh?’

‘Be patient,’ John answered. ‘You’ll know soon enough.’

As soon as they turned the corner to the boatyard, Archie guessed. ‘You’ve finished the house, haven’t you?’

‘I might have.’

Archie was excited. ‘
You have!
’ He gave John a nudge that nearly sent him hurtling into the canal. ‘What’s it like?’

John told him to wait and see.

They launched the narrowboat and were soon under way. On workdays it was a good half-hour to the site, but this Sunday morning, with fewer barges chugging about, the waterway was quieter.

Twenty minutes later they had moored the boat and were on their way across the site. ‘I still can’t believe what you’ve achieved here.’ Not for the first time, Archie looked at the place where they worked and was amazed. Where the site had been unusable and derelict, it was now a thriving business, with large, well-designed buildings, a small office, and dozens of watercraft lined up in different stages of repair or construction.

Instead of rubble and grass underfoot, it was all neatly paved, with areas of concrete and a slipway second to none, complete with winches and machinery to lift the craft out of the water like a child might lift a toy.

‘You’ve done yourself proud,’ Archie told him. ‘And thanks to you, we’ve all got work, so’s we can hold up our heads in anybody’s company.’

That meant a lot to Archie. There was a time back there when he thought he’d end up a tramp like Michael. And now, even Michael was respectable, thanks to John.