O
N THE FIRST OF February, Emily and Phoebe-Ann went to Toxteth Park Cemetery. It was a bitterly cold day and, in the weak sunshine, the frost sparkled like silver on the bare branches of the trees. They were both well wrapped up and Emily carried a small bunch of early primroses.
The inquest was over. The verdict was accidental death, and Rhys was due that very afternoon to take both Albert and Phoebe-Ann back to the small Welsh valley. For Albert it would be a poignant homecoming, for Phoebe-Ann a new life, for she’d promised to marry Rhys as soon as they got back. The lines of sorrow and suffering were still etched on her face, but the dark shadows had gone from beneath her eyes and her cheeks were once again tinged with the rosy glow of good health. The coat and hat she wore were of good quality, as were her shoes and bag and gloves. All paid for by Rhys, and in his letter he’d told Emily to stifle all Phoebe-Ann’s protests. He wasn’t having people talk about his future wife in a derogatory way. She could look forward now to a life of peace and comfort and security. The past was behind her. She wasn’t the girl that Rhys had fallen in love with, but she had learned many hard lessons; she would appreciate everything he could give her to a much fuller degree. She wouldn’t be sorry to go. Liverpool had nothing to offer her now except memories and most of them were bitter.
Emily placed the flowers on the well-tended grave with the marble headstone and gilt lettering. She’d never come here again but she knew Lily would understand. She’d waited so long for love and marriage. She’d taken Lily’s place when they’d all needed her. She’d given Phoebe-Ann every ounce of love, protection and support that it had been in her power to give. Now it would all be bestowed on Edwin. Rhys would take good care of Phoebe-Ann.
She looked back sadly over the years. They had both travelled a long way on the road of life since the days they’d spent in service to the Mercers. She, too, was leaving this city she’d always called home, this great, sprawling metropolis with its elegant, gracious buildings and wide thoroughfares, its slums and its squalor, the mighty river its highway and lifeblood, its ships that plied the sea lanes of the world, beckoned home by the winking beam of the Bar Light and watched over by the Liver Birds. Tomorrow, she and Edwin were to be married and then they would travel to Southampton but they wouldn’t stay there. They would sail on the
Mauretania
to join Jack and Jimmy. Neither of them had wanted to stay now. It would be a new life in a new world and Edwin had joked that it would seem funny to travel on the
Maury
as a passenger, albeit third class, and not as a member of her crew.
She reached out and laid her hand on the cold marble stone. ‘I know you understand. It’s time for us to go, Mam. Time for us to leave Liverpool.’ She turned towards her sister and took her hand.
Phoebe-Ann smiled at her. ‘You’ve never let me down, Emily, and I love you for it.’
‘Then she’ll rest happy, Phoebe-Ann. She’ll rest in peace now.’