A Liverpool Lass (43 page)

‘Yes. But Art, what about coming home? To the Scottie?’

Art stared at his boots. Nellie registered that they were very large boots for very large feet and that they were quite new, as well. But all she could think of, really, was Lilac.

‘Would you ... would you mind if she stayed with them Mattesons ... just till she’s old enough to leave school?’ Art enquired at length. ‘They feed ’er well, she ’as the best of everything ... you’ve only gorra look at ’er to see that.’

‘I did my best and so did Aunt Ada ...’ Nell began, but Art put a very large young hand over hers and squeezed gently.

‘So you did, but we don’t live like them, queen! They treat our Lilac more like a daughter than a servant, honest to God. An’ that can’t be bad, eh? She looks so growed up, but she’s only a kid at ’eart and she’s enjoyin’ the good things, the good times. She’s got a dog called Petal ... leastways it’s Mrs M’s dog, but they let Lilac do all the trainin’ and walkin’ and she do love Petal. An’ I don’t know if she said anythin’ to you, but she’s desperate keen to find ’er mother an’ she seems to think she’s close, now. Per’aps it would be cruel to make ’er come away.’

‘But what does it matter who her mother was? And anyway, she
is
a servant, Art, even if they treat her like family, and that isn’t what I wanted for her! She’s so bright and clever, she could be a teacher, she could work in a bank, she could do anything, if only she keeps on her with education!’

‘Oh aye?’ Art looked down at her from his superior height with compassion in his round, brown eyes.
‘Well, last year it were quite a struggle to stop ’er leavin’ school, but I managed it and she’s still there. Whether she’ll stick it much longer I wouldn’t like to say. And she’s rare ’appy in Rodney Street, Nellie. Don’t that count for anything?’

‘Yes, of course it does! But she could be happy with me, couldn’t she? In Coronation Court?’

Art raised his brows and then fell to contemplating his boots again.

‘Aye, perhaps. She’s growin’ up fast though, Nell.’

Nellie laughed suddenly, with genuine amusement.

‘So are you, Arthur O’Brien! I hardly knew you. And just why are you still at school? You must be fifteen, going on sixteen.’

‘That’s right. But it’s different for me; I’ve got me way to make. Mr Wainright says if I keep on workin’, there’s no reason as I shouldn’t get into a bank! That’s steady work, right? I could mek a good ’ome for someone with a job like that.’

And Nellie, looking hard at Art’s averted face, knew who he meant and, in her turn, squeezed his hand. It was not only she who would be left alone if Lilac turned finally to the Mattesons. But Art did not grudge Lilac her happiness. Art was prepared to let the little bird fly, hoping that she would, in the end, fly home.

I could learn a lesson from this lad, Nellie told herself. And I must go careful, or I’ll alienate my girl for ever.

It was good to be back in the court again, though the house seemed tiny, dark and cold despite the sunny day that had just passed. Looking round it, Nellie wondered how she could have imagined it was a cosy little home, a home a girl would enjoy coming back
to – after years in a great, clean hospital and billets where the ceilings were high and the beds soft, this place seemed dank and unwelcoming, the entire way of life of the court dwellers narrow and deprived.

But the same was not true of the inhabitants of Coronation Court. Old and young alike, they went out of their way to welcome Nellie and tell her how they had missed her. Nellie had never really liked or trusted Mrs O’Brien but even she seemed well-disposed towards the girl they had last seen over three years before.

‘The Thompsons were awright, but we ’ated the ’ouse empty,’ she announced. ‘Not nat’ral. I brung you some scouse; just warm it up an’ it’ll feed a little thing like you for a coupla days.’

It was greasy and sour-tasting, but Nellie appreciated the thought behind the gift. She accepted it and mixed it with a bag of mouldering oatmeal she found in the cupboard, then sneaked it round to Mrs Lennox, who kept four chickens penned into a corner of her living room since she said, rather mysteriously, that the house was too big for one.

Mrs Lennox, delighted to feed her hens free for once, said she was powerful glad Nell was home.

‘Bring the tiddler back too,’ she said earnestly. ‘That’s a good gairl, that Lilac a yourn.’

And Nellie was busy, too. That evening and all the next day she hardly had time to think. She scrubbed and brushed, cleaned and polished, lit fires and bought kindling, coal and logs. She stocked the cupboards fiercely full, then scolded herself for trying to bribe Lilac back. But with every hour that passed the house grew pleasanter and cosier, and gradually Nellie managed to convince herself that Lilac would come home willingly, gladly, once she had had a chance to square things with her benefactress.

‘She’s a good kid,’ she told herself that second afternoon, as she arranged the table for tea, laying two places, and banked up the fire. ‘She’s a good kid, if her head’s been turned by these people, who can blame her? Everyone wants a comfortable life; well, she can have one here with me just as much as skivvying for the Mattesons.’

It was another blowy March day so she had taken the opportunity to wash her print dress and the grey cloak. They dried quickly, blowing on the line, and she heated the flats on the stove top and ironed everything, then polished her shoes, made sure the seams of her stockings were straight, brushed her hair until it shone and set out at last for school, convinced that everything would be all right.

Lilac would soon be home, where she belonged.

Lilac had gone home after leaving Art and Nellie on the tram, with her mind afire with conflicting desires. What on earth should she do – what did she really want to do? She did love Nellie, and Nellie had always made a home for her, but she was really happy at the Mattesons, she saw George Elcott once or twice a month, they discussed the search for her mother, and Lilac just knew that Nellie, if she discovered what was going on, would put a stop to it.

Besides, the most important thing in her life, right now, was to find her mother. Not only because it would enable her to marry George when they were both old enough for matrimony, but because she did not intend to go through her life rootless, a foundling. So if it came to the crunch, Nellie would jolly well have to lump it – Lilac needed to know that her mother was a high-born lady, and find out she would! And if Nellie didn’t
approve of her marrying George, why she would have to lump that, too.

In the deepest recesses of her mind, Lilac knew that if Mrs Matteson knew what was going on she would be none too pleased. And as for Lord and Lady Elcott ... well, she shuddered to think what they would say if they knew George was intent on marrying to disoblige them, as the saying went. For George was now most definitely courting Lilac, and Lilac was, if not encouraging him, not dismissing him out of hand, either.

But of course they both pretended it was the search for Lilac’s mother which drew them together. George pretended it, Lilac knew, because it was the only way he could be sure of getting Lilac to himself and Lilac pretended because she was being very careful. She loved life at the Mattesons, the food, the warmth, the easy acceptance of the good things of life. And she had begun to see that her best hope of getting such a life for herself was to marry well.

Nellie had wanted her to be a teacher, but the teachers at Lilac’s school wore grey skirts smudged with chalk and had chilblains in the winter time. They lived in neat little houses compared with the courts and terraces of the city, but they lived carefully and almost never seemed to marry. Lilac liked the Mattesons’ comfortable house, but even more she liked Elcott Hall. All those servants, the marvellous grounds, the dinners and dances ... and it would all be George’s one day. His father was dead, his mother a complaining lady who took little interest in her only son ... and the grandparents were, in Lilac’s eyes, incredibly old. They disapproved of her, but if she could just produce a high-born parent then marriage to George would be not just a dream but perfectly possible. She still
yearned after Stuart, but he had not written or visited and almost without noticing it, she had begun to see her future as being shared with George, her life as being lived out at the Hall and in the town house in South John Street.

Yet she loved Nellie, she really did. She knew that without Nellie she would not have amounted to much ... well, probably not, anyway. But the meetings with George would soon stop if she had Art and Nellie watching her, and she had no faith in her ability to hold George’s interest for long without these meetings, for George was eighteen and almost a man. Although she was getting on for fifteen, she was very much afraid that she lacked the arts of older women. Now that she was virtually Mrs Matteson’s personal maid she had a small room of her own adjoining that of her mistress. So it became possible for George to sneak up to her room sometimes, when the weather was too inclement for the long walks which they shared.

They had done nothing to be ashamed of, though, Lilac thought defensively now, tossing and turning in her comfortable bed as she tried to make sense of her own very mixed feelings. They kissed and cuddled and lately she had allowed George to put a trembling hand down the front of her blouse and caress her breasts, but that was the extent of it. So far. She wanted to do right, to save herself for marriage, but if George showed signs of straying ... well, it would be tempting to let him have what he wanted, and then to persuade him to marry her.

Not that she knew what he wanted, far less whether he wanted it! He was so diffident, so easily shoved off, but she supposed that his urge to fondle her breasts could have been turned to her advantage – if only she could work out just what that advantage was.

Lilac sighed and pushed the blankets down so that the breeze coming through the window could cool her hot flesh. What was more, they were getting close to her mother, she was sure of it. George had a lead! It was all terribly complicated, but he really did think it was a possibility. Apparently his mother, of all the unlikely people, had begun to talk about a cousin of hers, a very high-born lady, who had had a wild, tempestuous
affaire
with a young man which had ended mysteriously.

‘I might not have asked about it, except that I met her, d’you see, and was much struck by her, she’s the most glorious creature ... with hair the very colour and texture of yours, Lilac. So of course I asked Mother about her when she had gone – she was paying a morning call – and she told me what she could. Apparently this cousin lived with Mother’s family after her own parents died. Well, when they were quite grown up her cousin went away to stay with friends and when she came back she kept to her room for several weeks; her maid said she had scarlet fever, the doctor came and went ... and then one day she was fit as a flea once more,’ George said impressively. ‘I couldn’t help but think it was possible that she’d had a baby and managed somehow to get it to the Culler, for Mother said that though her cousin was beautiful she was sly and difficult to live with, only I expect there was some jealousy there, don’t you? My mother is no beauty – though very nice, of course.’

The two of them were walking in St James’s cemetery at the time, since it was quiet and seldom frequented by members of the Matteson household. Having imparted his information, George put his arm round Lilac’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Lilac, conscious of obligation, snuggled against him.

‘What was this cousin’s name, do you know?’

‘Well, she’s Mrs Herbert Allan now,’ George said. ‘She’s been married twice, though. Why? Does it matter?’

‘No-oo, only I’d like to know my mother’s first name ... if she is my mother.’

‘We’ll find out for sure,’ George said confidently. ‘I’ll think about it and you must do the same. Apparently the Allans have just moved back to the city after being in London for twelve years or so. They’re living in Abercromby Square, in a positive mansion – Mother said trust her cousin to fall on her feet!’

Everyone wants to know who their mother is, Lilac thought defiantly now, turning over yet again and laying her hot cheek against the cool pillow. She would stay with the Mattesons until she had got her parentage sorted out and then – perhaps – she would consider making some changes in her life. She must remember, however, that Nellie, though nice, was nothing to her really, no relation, nothing. So she need never go back to nasty, common Coronation Court.

So when Nellie met Lilac out of school that day, the die, so far as Lilac was concerned, was already cast.

‘Do come and see Mrs Matteson,’ she said cordially. ‘Only my mind is quite made up, Nellie dear. I’ll visit you often at number eleven, I promise, and I’ll come back for my holidays, but I’m going to go on living in Rodney Street. Look, I get pocket-money, and they feed and clothe me, and when I leave school in the summer Mrs Matteson is going to take me on full-time, properly, as her personal maid. Then I’ll
have
to live in ... and Nell, dearest, jobs are so difficult to find in Liverpool, you must know they are! I can’t risk losing one where I’m so very happy!’

‘L-leave school?’ Nellie stammered. ‘Oh, but queen, your career ... your education! I thought you’d try for a teacher ... I want more for you than I’ll ever get ... I don’t mind for meself ... ’

‘Oh Nell, you’re so good – I don’t deserve you,’ Lilac said, hugging the older girl’s arm. ‘We can go back to the court now, Mrs Matteson said of course I must spend some time with you, just so long as I’m home before ten o’clock ... she’s given me money for a tram! Can you forgive me? Dear Nell, try not to hate me for what I’m doing.’

But Nellie, hugging Lilac back, scarcely heard anything past the word ‘home’. So Rodney Street was home to Lilac now – and it served her, Nellie, right. She had gone off twice, once to give birth to the little son she had never set eyes on since, once to escape from that little son’s father. She had not meant to go for long the first time, but the second time she had known she would be away for months, perhaps years. Who was she to blame Lilac if the kid had made a satisfactory life for herself whilst she was away?