The Liverpool Rose (34 page)

‘But Aunt Annie, I’m not courtin’ with either of ’em,’ Lizzie objected. ‘In fact, after this evening . . .’ She was interrupted by a loud knocking on the door and got to her feet with a sigh. ‘I wonder if that’s Sally? She ought to be back from her party by now. Perhaps she’s come round to see how my evening went.’

She crossed the room, went into the little hallway and opened the front door. Clem stood on the step. The rain had stopped and he was carrying his hat in one hand, so that the pale moon, peeping between scudding clouds, cast its light on to his dark, rumpled curls. He grinned at her. ‘Lizzie, can you come out for five minutes?’ he asked urgently. ‘I left in such a hurry, I forgot to tell you when we will be docking in Liverpool next.’

Lizzie looked doubtfully at the puddled court. ‘It’s awful wet out there, although the rain’s stopped,’ she said. ‘Can’t we talk here? Will you still be in the city tomorrow? Only I could come down to the canal . . .’

But Clem, clearly not wanting to waste time in argument, caught hold of her wrist and pulled her down the steps, then tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow and set off across the court. ‘I can’t talk properly when I know your aunt’s listening,’ he said frankly. ‘She doesn’t like me, Lizzie, and that makes me feel awkward. As for your pal Geoff . . . but never mind that. Come down to the canal, I’ve something to show you.’

‘Hang on, Clem, I’ve not even got a coat and it
might come on to rain again any minute,’ Lizzie objected. ‘Why the rush?’ But he would only pull her onwards.

It was midnight before Lizzie got into bed, and when she got there she was so tired and so distressed she did not think she would ever sleep. She and Clem had had the most almighty row, ending with her flinging away from him and almost running along the towpath and up on to the Houghton Bridge. He had caught her up a short way along Burlington Street, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her round towards him. Lizzie, still hot with fury, had slapped his face so hard she had almost knocked him sideways. ‘Why, you spiteful little . . .’ Clem had said, fingering the red wheals which were already beginning to show on his moon-whitened face, but Lizzie had not waited either for retaliation or whatever it was he wanted to say, but had merely run towards her home as fast as she could go.

When she rounded the corner into the courts, she had glanced back, not sure whether she hoped or feared he might be in pursuit, but the street was empty. She had slowed to a stroll, determined not to let anyone see the state she was in, and had found that in her absence Aunt Annie had closed the front door, damped down the fire and gone off to bed. Lizzie had made herself a cup of cocoa and sat at the kitchen table drinking it, half hoping even now that Clem would come knocking on the door to apologise for the things he had said, about both Aunt Annie and Geoff. But he had not done so and as her temper cooled Lizzie realised she had no right to expect an apology from him. Thinking it over coolly, or as coolly as she could, she knew she had done little or nothing to
make the evening a success and that Aunt Annie had purred over Geoff and been extremely off-hand to Clem. There had been good reason for his outburst, for his request that she should never bring Geoff to the boat again nor expect him to be treated like an outcast by her aunt.

At the time, however, she had simply resented his criticisms and thought him unfair to blame her for Geoff’s antagonism and her aunt’s prejudices. She had said she would ask Geoff to go with her whenever she wanted, since he was her good friend, and Clem would have to learn to put up with it or stop seeing her altogether. She had also said that Aunt Annie had not been nasty to him, even though she knew this was patently untrue. She had said her aunt was old and did not understand canal folk and merely wanted a secure future for her niece.

‘You mean, she wants you to marry a bleedin’ bank clerk so the pair of you can look after her in her old age,’ Clem had replied contemptuously. ‘I thought you had more to you than that, our Lizzie. I thought you were a girl who wanted to see a bit of life, who was prepared to work hard and play hard – not the sort to sit back on your bum and count the shekels some feller brings in after sitting on
his
bum all day in a nice clean office, writing in a ledger. Because that Geoff hasn’t ever done a real hard day’s work in his life, nor he isn’t likely to, working in a bank.’

After that, things had simply gone from bad to worse; by the time Lizzie had turned and run for the Houghton Bridge, she had ripped Clem’s character to shreds, said unkind things about Priddy and Jake, and told him that she never wanted to see him again. She marvelled now that he had bothered to run after her, had clearly meant to try to put things right. She
had been unfair, unkind and untruthful, she could acknowledge that now she was calmer. Even so, Clem had said some pretty unforgivable things himself. Geoff might be a bank clerk but he worked extremely hard, if not physically. As for Aunt Annie, Lizzie supposed ruefully that she had a right to prefer Geoff to Clem, if she truly thought that Geoff was the better prospect. The fact that she had let it show was unfortunate, but surely Clem, who was the oldest of the three of them, should be more understanding of an old woman’s prejudices. Aunt Annie had actually called the barge people ‘Water gypsies’ – though not in front of Clem – and Lizzie knew that a lot of people thought the canal folk strange and unreliable, though even knowing this, she acknowledged Aunt Annie should never have let Clem see how she felt.

For some time Lizzie tossed and turned in her bed, finally falling asleep when dawn was already streaking the sky. She awoke late and bad-tempered, rushing downstairs and out of the front door without so much as a cup of tea. She had grabbed her hat and coat in passing, having the forethought to yell to Aunt Annie before she slammed the door behind her that she would be back late that night. Still sore from the thought of the previous evening’s encounter, she meant to go round to the YMCA as soon as she finished work, to pour out her troubles to Geoff.

Fortunately, Sally had clocked in for her so she was not actually late for work, but she had a horrid day. She had told Sally what had happened the previous night and had received little sympathy. ‘What did you expect?’ Sally had said. ‘Don’t be so daft, Lizzie. Two fellers and one girl isn’t likely to make for a pleasant evening.’

By four o’clock, Lizzie was so tired she could
scarcely keep her eyes open after her restless night and very nearly decided to give her visit to the YMCA a miss. However, having told Aunt Annie she would be late, she went round there and met Geoff just as he was leaving and very soon the two of them were seated opposite one another at a window table in Lyon’s Corner House and Lizzie was leaning forward to tell her tale.

An hour later Lizzie, pink-faced and furious, was hurrying down the road a good deal faster than she had gone up it. I hope I never see Geoff Gardiner again as long as I live! she told herself, angry tears forming in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. He’s smug and self-satisfied and the last person on earth I’d want to marry. So far as I’m concerned, he and Clem can go to the devil together. And on this pious thought she returned to the court, where Aunt Annie, dishing up supper, asked no questions, merely said that she was tired out and needed an early night.

‘Me too,’ Lizzie said, going into the kitchen and hanging her coat and hat up on the hooks. ‘See you in the morning then, Aunt Annie.’

‘Well? Did you have a good time wi’ the young lass?’ Priddy asked next morning, when Clem came aboard
The Liverpool Rose
to get his breakfast. ‘We’ll be off in half an hour, so you won’t be seein’ her again this trip, but next time we’ll hope for better weather, eh, lad?’

‘We quarrelled,’ Clem said briefly. ‘She brought another feller along, a chap called Geoff. We – we didn’t get along.’ He was ashamed, now, that he had not managed to hide his annoyance and disappointment over Geoff’s presence. After all, the younger boy was not to blame because Lizzie had dragged him
along, and come to that Clem could scarcely blame her for wanting a pal with her on such a wet and lousy evening. Had the barge not berthed, the poor kid would have spent a pretty miserable time, keeping a look-out for him on the towpath. What was more, he knew the canal could be a dangerous place for a young girl out on her own. Most of the boatmen were grand fellows, the salt of the earth, but there were some – the Trelawney brothers for instance – who might try to take advantage of a girl alone, or even rob her if they were short of beer money.

‘Quarrelled? What, with Geoff? But you went to meet Lizzie, she’s your pal. . . you didn’t quarrel with her surely? You were lookin’ forward to . . . what about the present, then?’

Priddy’s voice was surprised, even a little disappointed, which was no wonder when Clem thought how hard she had worked over Lizzie’s present. He had spent his first wages on it, though he had not told Lizzie that. How could he, when she was being so aggressive and cross, and perhaps not even taking in that he was showing it to her because it was
for
her, had been ’specially chosen, ’specially made in fact?

‘Oh, I quarrelled with Lizzie later, when I brought her back here. I meant to give her the present then. The trouble was, I forgot old Brutus was in the butty boat. I more or less dragged her on board . . . she began to struggle . . . I thought she was just messing around, you know . . . and then Brutus came out of the cabin like an arrow . . . he was only going to greet me but she shrieked . . . don’t say you didn’t hear . . . and then he jumped up at me, you know how he does, so glad to see me back . . .’

‘We heard,’ Priddy said. There was grim humour
in her voice. ‘We’d ha’ had to be deaf as postses not to hear – your young leddy’s got a shriek on her wuss’n a steam train a-goin’ into a tunnel. Only we didn’t know what had caused it. Well, wi’ some young fellers we might ha’ made a guess, like, but we knows you better. Whatever your faults, Clem, you’re a gentleman where gals is concerned. So it was Brutus, eh? But he didn’t growl nor bark nor nothin’, so we never guessed . . .’

‘He never barked or growled because he wasn’t attacking anyone,’ Clem said patiently. ‘Anyhow, I bundled him back into the cabin and fetched out the fancy Fair Isle jumper what you knitted so beautifully, Priddy. I showed it to Lizzie, meaning to tell her that it was your work and that I’d only paid for the wool, but she never even gave me a chance. She pushed it aside and started saying she’d had a horrid evening anyway and I’d just about crowned it by encouraging the dog to attack her. Attack her! I kept telling her that Brutus was meek as a lamb but she wouldn’t listen, just kept saying he might have killed her, and in the end I got cross, too, and said that if he’d meant to hurt her, she wouldn’t be standing there yelling at me, she’d be a hospital case.’

‘Oh, Clem! I know you’re a gentleman, like what I said, but I don’t believe you’ve got an ounce of tact,’ Priddy said reproachfully. ‘She’s such a lovely girl and I’m sure she’s fond of you. Why not nip round to her house right now and take the jumper? There’s time before we sail.’

But Clem, with the image of Lizzie’s pink and furious face still dancing before his eyes, decided that discretion was the better part of valour. If he left it a few weeks and then went round to the court with his present, surely she would have cooled down and be
in a more receptive mood? He still liked Lizzie better than any other girl he knew, even though he now acknowledged she had the devil’s own temper when she was crossed. He would let her simmer down before approaching her again, and what was more, in a few weeks the autumn weather would have begun to edge towards the bitter chill of winter, which would make the Fair Isle jumper a far more appropriate gift.

He said as much to Priddy, who nodded a trifle doubtfully. ‘But what about this other feller?’ she demanded. ‘Will he use these few weeks to fix her interest? You don’t want to leave it too long, not if you’re serious, that is.’

‘I don’t know whether I’m serious or not,’ Clem said, having given the matter some thought. ‘I think we’re too young to be serious, Priddy. Well, no, that’s not right. The trouble is, we don’t see enough of each other. It’s like the girls I meet on the canal – we can spend a couple of evenings in each other’s company, then we may not meet again for three or four months. It makes courting kind of difficult.’

‘Oh, canal people all have the same problem,’ Priddy said comfortably. She was cooking breakfast in the tiny cabin and preparing to serve it to her menfolk before
The Liverpool Rose
cast off her moorings. The smell of bacon and fried tomatoes was very tempting and presently Clem sat down at the tiny table, with Jake opposite him, and began to eat, telling himself that it was useless to worry over Lizzie. The boat would be back at the ‘Pool in two or three weeks; he could decide what best to do then.

After the quarrel with Lizzie, Geoff told himself that women were creatures he would never understand
and flung himself into his studies with more enthusiasm than ever. In fact, a little thought convinced him that both he and Clem were to be pitied. They were the victims of the contrariness and illogicality of the feminine mind. However, the fact that Lizzie and he had quarrelled so bitterly did not put him off women altogether. He had tried very hard to banish the recollection of Evie Evans, but she kept appearing in his mind’s eye as though she were appealing for his help and he became even more determined to try and find her.

The quarrel with Lizzie had, in fact, come about because he had tried to explain to the girl that he could see Clem’s point of view. If Clem was keen on Lizzie, and he obviously was, then his reaction to finding another feller included on their date was a natural one. Geoff had thought this a perfectly feasible argument, but it had caused Lizzie to go off like a rocket. She had yelled at him that Clem didn’t own her any more than he, Geoff, did and said she would go around with any feller she fancied and they could both put that in their pipes and smoke it.

Geoff, very startled by her words, had said reasonably that he had not meant to offend her. ‘I like you a lot, Liz,’ he had said. ‘I thought you liked me too, which were why I were a bit stiff when Clem’s hackles started going up at the sight of me. But I’ve thought it over, and I reckon I never should have gone along wi’ you on a date. No wonder Clem wasn’t too thrilled . . .’