Sunlight on the Mersey (5 page)

‘So, Rose is quite happy with the idea of spending summer in this . . . Tregarron? I have to say, Iris, from what you’ve told me it sounds lovely – very peaceful and quaint.’

‘It’s only what Mam has told us about it. We’ve never been there and it was years and years ago when Mam went. It might well have changed beyond all recognition now. What have you got in your sandwiches today?’ Iris asked, peering at the nicely wrapped package Florence had taken from her lunch box. It was a warm sunny day and they were sitting in St John’s Gardens at the back of St George’s Hall where the flowers in the ornamental beds were coming into bloom.

Florence smiled; it was a question Iris asked each day. ‘Ham. What have you got?’

‘Potted meat paste – again. Mam’s not very imaginative.’

‘I’ll swap you two of mine for two of yours, I don’t mind meat paste,’ Florence offered generously.

‘Thanks. Would you like to come to our house on Sunday afternoon so we can talk about this trip with Rose? I could get an atlas or something from the library and we could look it up. I’ve promised to get her some books for when she’s feeling better. She’s very fond of romances.’

‘Is she? So am I but you don’t sound very keen on them.’ Florence hadn’t failed to notice the rather disparaging note in her friend’s voice.

‘Oh, I don’t mind some of them, as long as they’re not too far-fetched, but I don’t read as much as our Rose does. I prefer to be out and about more.’ Iris bit into a ham sandwich with relish.

‘You’re more active than Rose then?’

Iris nodded, her mouth full. ‘When I do read I prefer newspapers or journals. I like to know what’s going on in the world so I can form my own opinions about people and things. I mean, isn’t it great that now finally some women can actually vote and are able to run businesses and even become doctors?’ she said when she could speak.

Florence frowned. She wasn’t too sure about some of the changes taking place in society. ‘I think I’ll be quite happy just to get married and have a family, when I’m older of course. I’ll leave things like politics and business to the men.’

Iris tutted. ‘That’s rather a staid view, Florence. Mind you, our Rose seems to prefer to live in a dream world.’

‘I’d love to come and see her; will she be up to having visitors by then?’ Florence asked. It was the first time Iris had invited her to her home.

‘I expect so. She seems to be a bit better each day and she’s always said she’d like to meet you. I talk about you quite a lot, you see,’ Iris said. ‘So, it’s settled then. Come about three. With a bit of luck our Charlie will have gone for a walk with Da, they usually do after dinner as they’re both stuck inside all week.’

‘I’ll bring her some flowers to cheer her up,’ Florence suggested. It was something her mother always did when visiting friends whether they were ill or not.

‘I’d better make sure Mam has got a decent vase to put them in although if she hasn’t Da’s bound to have at least one in the shop she can borrow,’ Iris replied cheerfully.

When she informed her mother of her invitation to her friend Kate had frowned. ‘I hope she’s not expecting anything fancy like afternoon tea?’ Kate was aware that Florence Taylor lived in a far grander house than they did. ‘And did you not think to ask your sister first if she wanted a visitor?’

‘She’s only coming to meet Rose and have a chat about her visit to Aunty Gwen’s. She’s not expecting afternoon tea, Mam, and she’s not a snob,’ Iris assured her mother, which mollified Kate a little.

Rose was delighted when she learned that Florence was coming to see her and wanted to get up for a few hours on Sunday afternoon.

‘You most certainly are
not
getting up, Rose! I’ll get our Charlie to bring a couple of kitchen chairs up here for Florence and Iris. They’ll just about fit in here beside the bed,’ Kate replied, glancing around at the limited space in the room. The
bed, a chest of drawers, a washstand, a single wardrobe and a bedside table took up most of it but both Rose and Iris were lucky to have their own rooms. Granted, the rooms upstairs above the shop were all small – they had been built as storerooms – but there were four of them, which meant everyone had a bedroom of their own, something unheard of in this area.

Although curious to see what this Florence Taylor was like Charlie agreed to go with Bill on their usual Sunday walk and Iris heaved a sigh of relief. The last thing they needed was Charlie breathing down their necks and uttering snide remarks about how fortunate Rose was to be going on this ‘holiday’ as he insisted on calling it.

Florence arrived very punctually at five minutes to three looking very out of place in the dismal, run-down neighbourhood dressed as she was in a pale blue and white linen two-piece, a small blue cloche hat trimmed with a white ribbon rosette over her fair hair, white cotton gloves, white shoes and bag and carrying a posy of late spring flowers. Her appearance had caused quite a stir for such finery was seldom seen in the area. She had been acutely aware of the curious and envious stares as she had walked down the street and was embarrassed. Of course she had known where Iris lived but she had never ventured into the dock area before and the sight of such obvious deprivation disturbed her. In Cedar Grove there were no thin, pale, barefoot children dressed in ragged clothes playing in the gutter, their faces, hands and feet filthy. No women, also poorly dressed, standing on their doorsteps.
No curtainless windows, some of which had missing panes covered by cardboard or stuffed with rags. No peeling paintwork and cracked steps.

‘I think I’m a bit early but I wasn’t sure how long the tram would take,’ she explained to Iris, who had been standing at the shop door waiting for her friend.

‘Come on in. Rose is dying to meet you and I must say you look very smart, Florence. I love your hat – it’s gorgeous.’ Iris guided her through the shop and into the kitchen where Kate, wearing her good navy dress with the white collar, was setting out the cups and saucers.

‘Mam, this is Florence,’ Iris announced proudly.

Florence smiled shyly and held out a white-gloved hand. ‘I’m really pleased to meet you, Mrs Mundy.’

Kate smiled back, thinking what a pretty girl she was, so well mannered and with obviously expensive clothes. ‘You are very welcome, Florence. Rose has been getting herself into a right state because I said she couldn’t get up and come down to meet you.’

‘Oh, no! She mustn’t get up yet. My mother said it’s quite serious and she must have rest and not get over-excited, so I was instructed not to stay too long and tire Rose. I brought these for her, I thought they might cheer her up,’ Florence indicated the posy.

Kate nodded, reflecting that women in this area usually only had flowers given to them on two occasions in their lives: as a wedding bouquet and the wreath that was laid on their coffins; but it was thoughtful of Florence to bring Rose a gift.
‘I’ll find a nice vase for them. Iris, take Florence up before our Rose takes it into her head to come down.’

Although still feeling weak and rather listless Rose immediately brightened at Florence’s appearance and was delighted with the flowers. Taking in – a little enviously – her sister’s friend’s very smart outfit, she decided Florence was the best-dressed girl she’d ever seen; she was pretty too. Iris had brought a book on the history and geography of North Wales from the library along with a novel and they poured intently over a detailed map of Denbighshire.

‘It doesn’t look to be too far from Denbigh, which is the county town, so it says here,’ Florence remarked, pointing to where it was marked.

‘And it has a castle, which might be interesting to visit,’ Rose added, entering into the spirit of things.

Iris privately wondered what could possibly be interesting about a pile of old stones but kept her thoughts to herself.

‘You’ll love it, Rose. My father and mother went on a day trip once to Llandudno which is . . . there on the coast.’ Florence indicated it on the map. ‘You can get a boat that sails around the coast directly from the Pier Head; they said the scenery was quite lovely. It will really do you good and I’m sure you’ll make some friends, just like your mother did.’ Florence was beginning to wish that she could go on an extended trip to the countryside, although she certainly would not want it to be convalescence.

‘It says here there are quite a few “country houses and estates of note”,’ Iris remarked, studying the text closely.
‘There’s actually one listed near Tregarron, Rose. Mam never mentioned that, did she?’

‘Where does it say that?’ Rose asked and Iris pointed the lines out to her.

‘“Plas Idris was built in 1846 by Sir Richard Rhys-Pritchard, a prominent industrialist and mine owner, and lies two miles from the village of Tregarron,”’ Rose read aloud. ‘Now, I’d like to go and see that,’ she added enthusiastically. ‘I wonder why Mam never mentioned it?’ she mused, trying to imagine what Plas Idris was like. Was it similar to the big Georgian houses in Rodney Street but set in beautiful grounds, or was it more like a castle?

They chatted on about what else Rose could do to occupy herself until Kate appeared with a tray on which she’d set out her best cups and saucers and side plates, plus a plate of digestive biscuits, as a reminder that it was time the visit was brought to a conclusion. To Rose’s questions concerning Plas Idris she answered that she’d heard it spoken of as ‘the big house’ but she’d never seen it during the time she’d spent there; there had been so many other new experiences to savour and she didn’t think Gwen or her family had much to do with the Rhys-Pritchards, they being, she supposed, the gentry in those parts.

When they’d finished their tea Florence said her goodbyes to Rose, asking her to write when she got to Tregarron, and Iris ushered her downstairs. Her father and brother had just arrived back and so she had to introduce her friend.

Florence smiled at Bill and said how pleased she was to
meet him and how much she had enjoyed her visit and then rather shyly extended her hand to Charlie, thinking that Iris had never said how handsome her brother was. ‘It . . . it’s very nice to meet you . . . er . . .’ She hesitated, unsure whether to address him by his Christian name or not. Would that seem too forward?

‘Charlie. Call me Charlie, and it’s nice to meet you too, Florence. Our Iris is always talking about you.’ Charlie was quite taken with her. Oh, Iris was always going on about her and about what a good job she had, the big house she lived in and how successful her father was, but she’d never mentioned that she was a very attractive girl. She was small and slightly plump but with wide blue eyes, a perfect pink and white complexion and fair hair that seemed to wave naturally, showing beneath a very smart and, he deduced, expensive hat.

‘I hope everything she says is . . . good, Charlie,’ Florence replied, acutely aware that he was still holding her hand, which made her blush.

‘It is indeed. I hope Rose didn’t bore you to tears going on about this . . . trip of hers?’ He tried to keep the note of resentment from his voice.

‘Of course she didn’t and we all enjoyed reading about it, didn’t we, Florence?’ Iris interrupted.

Florence nodded, not wishing to offend anyone. ‘I think I’d better be going now and thank you again for the tea, Mrs Mundy.’

‘I’ll walk you to the tram stop,’ Iris offered. She hadn’t missed the admiration in her brother’s eyes or the length of
time he’d held Florence’s hand and she hoped he wasn’t getting any ideas about her friend. Florence was far too good for Charlie.

‘Perhaps you’ll come and visit us again?’ Charlie pressed.

Florence smiled. ‘Perhaps, but it’s only good manners to wait to be invited.’

Kate smiled at her. ‘You are very welcome to visit any time, Florence.’ From the little she had seen of the girl she judged her to be thoroughly nice and with no side to her at all.

Charlie bestowed one of his rare smiles on his mother. Well, there was the invitation Florence had requested so he hoped she would come again to visit. He too thought she was well mannered and very ladylike, and he wondered why she had chosen someone as outspoken and strong-willed as his sister as a friend – although he was glad she had. Yes, Florence Taylor had made quite an impression on him and of course she was the only child of a successful businessman . . .

On the way to the tram stop their progress was slowed down by all the introductions Iris was obliged to make as the girls in the street, whom Iris had known since childhood, went out of their way to pause and chat. When they finally reached the corner Florence was quite relieved.

‘You didn’t mention that Charlie is so handsome,’ she ventured.

Iris shrugged. ‘He’s my brother so I don’t suppose I’ve ever really noticed if he was handsome or not,’ she replied vaguely.

‘Well, he is and I . . . I thought he was rather . . . nice,’ Florence said firmly.

Iris grimaced. ‘You wouldn’t think that if you lived under the same roof as him. Ever since he came out of the Army he’s been moody and very tight-fisted over money. He’s not a bit thankful that the Blue Funnel Line took him back on. No, he wants to order Da around in the shop.’

‘Well, you can’t blame him for being moody, Iris. They all went through so much, it must have been horrific for them. My dad says the experiences will scar them for life.’

‘I know and we were all really worried sick when he was away and especially when he was wounded,’ Iris replied repentantly. ‘But he wasn’t like that before. You could always have a laugh and a joke with him and if you had a problem you could talk it over with him. Now . . . now he’s quieter, more withdrawn and sometimes I think he’s really only interested in his own problems.’ They had all indeed been desperately afraid that he would be killed as so many had been, or gassed, or blinded or badly wounded, but there was no denying Charlie had been different before he’d gone away. Always that bit more serious than herself or Rose . . . but she didn’t wish to dwell on this. ‘Here’s the tram now. See you tomorrow in work, Florence,’ she said, relieved, for the conversation had disturbed her a little.

‘See you then and thanks for asking me, Iris. I did enjoy meeting everyone. Will you come for tea next Sunday to meet my parents?’