A Wanton Tale (10 page)

Unnerved and almost choking with fear and trepidation, she turned away. She was sure that she had seen this man before but Sophie couldn’t place him. She sprinted off and mingled with the crowd. The people were too busy marvelling at the magnificent tower above and Sophie blended in unnoticed. But from one or two men, she was attracting too much of the wrong sort of attention. The man’s remarks and obvious intentions posed more questions than answers.

She was relieved to have escaped the creepy man and was beginning to take stock of her situation. She slowed down her pace and gathered her thoughts, ‘I am in New Brighton but this tower was demolished seven years ago.’

‘I am dreaming.’ All sorts of confusing thoughts were running through her mind. She clenched her fists, the pain of her nails digging into her hands would surely wake her from her ‘dream.’ But she didn’t wake up.

She turned and started to walk down towards the river. The sun was shining, it was a warm August day, she inhaled the familiar freshness of the river breeze. ‘Stay calm and things will sort themselves out. They usually did.’ However, Sophie failed to convince herself.

She was perplexed by the reaction of the crowds. They were behaving as though this construction had just been built, it had been completed in 1900. She had been told about the Tower in her history lessons, she had also seen it in books from the library.

She pinched herself hard, she wanted to wake up, she felt that she was trapped in a bad dream. She couldn’t comprehend how she had travelled back in time. ‘But why am I here?’

Her brisk walk soon turned into a jog and finally, a run as she felt that she had to leave the fairground, it was strangely unpleasant and oppressive.

‘Perhaps, if I left the fair and went home, things would go back to normal.’ In desperation she was blaming the place she loved, but it wasn’t
her
fairground. By the time Sophie had reached the promenade, she was gasping for air.

A ferry must have just disgorged its passengers as she was walking with a tide of families. They were heading towards the beach in front of her home, she found it easier to walk with them rather than against them.

With a determined stride, she turned towards home still trying to convince herself all would be fine… ‘Ma and Pa will be there to explain everything, they
will
believe me this time.’

Sophie was oblivious to the joyful squeals of the children playing on the shore, Some were making sandcastles, others were wading through rock pools, looking for crabs. Others were obediently strolling with their parents. Many of the boys were wearing old fashioned sailor suits and the girls wore smocks and knickerbockers.

As she walked towards her home the sounds and the smells of the fair were thankfully fading. Then the cries of the seagulls soaring above gave her comfort. It was all that was familiar to her in this strange new world.

Before turning into Oakland Vale, the place of her parent’s home, she stopped and drew a breath. Her hands were gripping the rails of the ‘prom.’ She tried to compose herself and control her breathing which had become shallow and laboured. As she looked across the river towards Liverpool, there was a shock in store for her. The skyline looked remarkably different, she expected to see the Liver Buildings. From where she was standing it had always been a prominent feature. It was gone. The buildings which flanked the landmark Liver Buildings, standing majestically each side were not there either! The Port of Liverpool Building and Cunard Building, were gone. Sophie’s knuckles were white as she gripped the rail tighter. This reinforced Larry’s explanation, she really
had
gone back in time, these buildings had not yet been built.

As she turned for home, her way was blocked by two elegant ladies who had stopped in front her. The cinched in bodices of their dresses and corsets gave them tiny waists. Sophie had never seen anyone dressed like this before except in books and old photographs. Despite her situation, Sophie’s curiosity was drawn to their elaborate bonnets, adorned with faux fruit.

‘Impudent hussy.’ Muttered one of the ladies to her companion. At the same time she took out her quizzing glasses from her beaded silk purse. Her beady brown eyes now surveyed young Sophie from head to toe and she didn’t approve of what was before her.

Oblivious to Sophie’s distress the two women continued to pass remarks about her clothes.

‘No corset, standing there in your petticoat, tut tut.’ Said one of the women.

‘Bunters, I think they call them.’ Answered her friend, nodding in agreement, she then turned to Sophie saying,

‘Did your mother not tell you, it is rude to stare, why are looking at our hats and why are you dressed like that? Prostitutes and beggars should not be allowed on the promenade.’

Sophie was angry. ‘And why are you wearing those awful dresses? Old hags!’ A gasp of indignation from the two women sent Sophie haring off towards her house. They clearly hadn’t expected her to retaliate.

This encounter had aggravated Sophie’s distress. The grown up fourteen year old felt like a frightened child. Fighting back tears, she now ran for the safety of home.

She still wanted to believe that all would be well when she reached her own front door. ‘ I will see Ma and Pa, hopefully Bertie’s back home too.’ Thought Sophie. ‘It will come right, it will!’ Her stride was more determined, leaving the revellers and cheap jacks behind her, she turned the curve of Magazines Parade.

It was quiet apart from the rattle of a horse and cart. Her heart leapt as she walked towards the front door of her home on the end of Oakland Vale. Number 6 was a grand villa with four storeys and a turret room to the side.

But the front door was painted dark green, it
was
the same house but the lace curtains were different, these were heavy and elaborate. The horse and carriage stopped outside the house as Sophie looked on, her father’s motor car was missing. She then saw a man and a woman leave the carriage, they were dressed like the folk she had seen at the fair. The coach driver opened the door for them, doffing his hat. They then walked slowly up the steps, the door opened and the couple were greeted by a housemaid.

‘That’s not Ma and Pa, there’s no point going back there. I
really
am in 1900.’

Sophie then turned away and ran back towards the promenade, she intended returning to the fair, she was desperate to find her way out of her predicament. She stopped running, slowing down to a brisk walk. She overheard a man passing by with a lady friend, ‘It is almost half past one my dear and time for lunch!’ He announced jauntily as he looked at his pocket watch. Sophie wasn’t orientated to time, place nor person but she did feel hungry, by now her stomach was rumbling.

Her brother Bertie, for whom she didn’t normally care one jot, came to the forefront of her mind. ‘Bertie was hungry, it was nearly lunch time when we had boarded the ride, the caterpillar ride
not
the merry-go-round.’ Her mind was in turmoil as she tried to make sense of it. She was now consumed with worry for her brother. ‘Is Bertie here too? Trapped in this awful time and place.’

With a flourish she removed her straw hat and wiped her beaded brow with the back of her hand. The time and the weather was the same as it had been when she had left the house. She tried to pull herself together as she stood allowing the river breeze to refresh her hot wiry hair. She then heard a voice that was strangely familiar, it seemed to be coming from behind her, it was a flamboyant, booming voice. With a judder, she spun round, there was nobody there, she could see the back of the young couple who had just passed her.

‘
Have no fear, he’s not here, for lunch he won’t be late, he’s ahead in time in 1928!’

‘It was Larry, he read my thoughts.’ Sophie couldn’t see him, it was
his
voice, peeling and distinctive.

‘Larry, where are you?’ There was no response. He continued with a more chilling message, ‘The courage you possess in abundance will preserve you.’

‘I want to go home, I don’t want to be here.’ She began to choke as her words became stifled with fear. Her heart sank when there was no sign of Larry. With some effort she pulled herself together, ever optimistic that all would turn out well in the end. She continued to walk.

Soon she passed the Pier and then, as she rounded the corner she could see the familiar sight of Fort Perch Rock and then the lighthouse. At least she could be sure of the place if not the time.

‘What the devil is that?’ She was thinking aloud. Further on, she stopped dead in her tracks. She was approaching an ugly four storey building that she did not recognise. There were cafes and shops on the ground floor and what looked like accommodation on the floors above.

It was a hive of activity in the cafes and on the narrow promenade between the building and the beach. She was now used to being stared at and was becoming quite bold. She asked a lady about the building.

‘It is called Ham and Eggs Parade, on account of the food that most of the cafes serve. I don’t wish to tell you what goes on up there.’ She raised her finger straight towards the rooms above. With a disapproving sniff she abruptly walked away before Sophie could answer.

Sophie was feeling decidedly hungry and even more curious. ‘This place was demolished in 1905, I have seen old photographs of this building in books…’ The sight before her was even more vulgar and brash than it had ever looked in photographs. The promenade and the beach was a hawker’s paradise with fortune tellers and street traders flogging their swag from baskets.

She glanced towards the wooden steps which led to the soft white sands. The whole seascape was disfigured with tawdry side shows, jugglers and every hawker and cheap jack in town.

Even in broad daylight, the garishly dressed women, even girls, were clearly soliciting. The street walkers of yesteryear, she had heard of from playground chatter, were right here before her. Now rooted in the promenade’s murky past, she was amazed at the sights before her.

Sophie began to blend into the eclectic throng of humanity. A few people looked at her with disdain. Others, mostly men, looked at her salaciously. Most hardly seemed to notice her at all. She expected people to be staring at the oddity of her clothes but surprisingly hardly anyone had noticed her. Folk appeared to be here for a purpose, not just idling and passing the time. Hardly anyone was interested in Sophie. It was an environment of ritual. This part of the Victorian seaside was more than a refuge from the stresses of everyday life. It appeared to have a life of its own.

As she passed by the open door of one of the eating houses, a waft of cooking smells filled her nostrils She was hungry and needed to eat, she wondered what would happen to her next. With an air of confidence she mustered up the courage to enter the cafe.

‘I must eat before I pass out.’ Rooting deep into her pocket she pulled out a shilling which bore Queen Victoria’s head, squeezing it in her hand, she entered the eating house.

A smell of stale grease immediately hit her as soon as she walked in. The walls and the ceiling were heavily stained from the gas lamps. She was soon approached by a flustered young waitress who looked about fourteen. Her greasy rat’s tails were held back by a starched white cap. Sophie was relieved to see that her apron was clean and began to relax.

‘Come and sit here Miss at the end by the window, you can see what’s goin’ on there.’ Said the waitress with a snigger. The waitress couldn’t help but notice her mode of dress and wondered how she managed not to get ravished in the street. As she sat down she was offered a menu, it was beautifully written in copperplate, almost as good as her father’s hand.

‘Ham and eggs, buttered bread and a nice pot of tea, please Miss.’ Her friendliness made the girl blush, making her lost for words. She then scuttled away, disappearing into the kitchen.

‘Must be like a dungeon in there.’ Thought Sophie. ‘Stinks out here too and I can smell drains.’

The waitress was clearly not used to exchanging banter with her customers. Sophie decided not to tease her and sat quiet for the rest of her meal which was surprisingly good. Her enjoyment was only distrupted once by the shrilly tones of the owner shouting.

‘Maisie, come and clear this table.’

‘They have no idea. Coarse.’ Thought Sophie with a wry smile. She glanced with dismay at the grubby looking dishcloth being wielded around by the café’s owner.

Unbeknown to Sophie, she was being watched intensely. The watching woman was sitting just out of her peripheral vision. Her aged face was heavily powdered, her lipstick was bright, her clothes were tidy, except for her hat which was tired and gaudy. She was fascinated with the young diner in the unusual clothes, she couldn’t take her eyes off her billowing red curls.

‘Mmm, wonder what your game is?’ With the law as it is now, you are worth a hundred pounds of any man’s money.’ She planned to wait a moment after Sophie had left, she would then follow her to see where she went. Betsy Hale was a devious woman and she was sure that she had seen this girl before.

Amazed that her meal had only cost sixpence, Sophie took her change and left the eating house, feeling much better. She felt ready to face the world. As she left the cafe, the sights painfully reminded her that she was trapped in 1900. Sophie was scared but she tried not to show it.

Unsure of what to do next she thought that she would step down on to the beach. Unbeknown to her, Betsy Hale had followed her out of the cafe with every intention of accosting her.

‘The young ‘uns are mine here.’ She said to herself fingering the knife in her belt ‘if there’s any tupping going on with youngsters, I want me cut – this little ‘un will do me? With her brassy looking hair and walking around half naked, she’s up to no good for sure.’

Unaware that Betsy was right behind her, Sophie was shocked to be confronted by a young man. The good looking, if slightly scruffy lad took Sophie by the hand.

‘I am Jim. Do not turn around, look straight ahead and I’ll lead you out of this. You are in danger!’