The White Empress Read online

  Her nails were biting into the flesh of Cat’s arm and she yelped and struggled. ‘No, I didn’t! I went to meet you from work and Bessie told me you’d come here! You’ve got to come home now!’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Pa’s lost his job. He came home drunk and broke!’ Shelagh laughed in her face. ‘Is that all! Jesus! I thought Maisey had had a heart attack!’

  Cat was furious, not only because Shelagh was laughing at her and taking the catastrophe so lightly, but because she had never heard her sister blaspheme and was shocked. She could also hear the titters of laughter behind her.

  Shelagh turned to her friends. ‘She’s run all the way here just to tell me me Pa’s drunk again!’

  Their laughter battered against Cat’s ears and grated on her raw nerves, but she tried again. ‘You’ve got to come home before you waste all your wages! You know how we’ll need that money! You’ve got to come home and I’m staying until you do!’ she finished defiantly.

  ‘Oh, no, you’re not! It’s my money, I worked for it and I’m not keeping the whole lot of you! That drunken sod can go and find another job, I’m not keeping him in booze and you can get out and find a job, too, and so can Eamon! He’s old enough. In fact he’s too bloody old to be at school when he could be out earning a few bob! You get out of here, you whinging little bitch and leave me alone!’

  Cat stood her ground. ‘No! I’m not leaving without you!’

  ‘Then I’ll have you thrown out, you’re too young to be in here anyway! I’ll call the barman; Kate Boyle don’t stand no nonsense and if you make a scene the scuffers will come and we’ll all end up in the nick! Now get out!’

  Cat’s resolve broke under these threats and she darted towards the door.

  ‘Scruffy bloody brat, shouldn’t even be allowed in here!’ Shelagh called after her.

  She didn’t stop running until she reached the corner of Prussia Square and then she sank down in the doorway of an office building and began to cry. She had failed and she couldn’t face going back. Everything had gone wrong and she couldn’t understand why Shelagh couldn’t see that. But her sister had changed. She’d always been prone to selfishness, but now it seemed that she didn’t care about anyone, not even Ma. That thought and the humiliation she had suffered brought on a bout of fresh sobbing.

  ‘What’s up with yer?’

  She rubbed her arm across her eyes and looked up. The figure of a man was outlined against the darkening sky. ‘Nothing,’ she muttered, sniffing.

  ‘What are yer whinging for then? I ’ate to see a girl cryin’.’ His voice was slightly slurred and she got to her feet.

  ‘I wasn’t crying!’

  ‘Liar!’

  She could see him more clearly now and she didn’t like what she saw. He was stocky and bull-necked. His hair was plastered down with a sickly smelling oil and glistened, as though it were wet, in the dim light cast by the streetlamp further down. His eyes were small and close-set and she could smell the beer on his breath.

  ‘I’m waiting for my Pa, he’ll be along in a minute, so will my brother.’ She hoped she sounded convincing for a pang of fear gnawed at her stomach.

  ‘Are they now? Which pub are they in?’

  ‘The Coffee House. I think I can hear them coming now.’

  He turned his head slightly and then smirked at her. ‘Not unless they’re two drunken swabbies!’

  The two sailors passed by, holding each other upright, a bottle clasped in both their hands. She’d get no help from them. The fear was growing. She’d heard about girls who had been caught alone in the dark back streets.

  ‘Yer not a bad lookin’ judy, a bit skinny like, but not bad.’ He leaned closer and she backed further into the doorway, frantically wondering if she could make a dash for freedom for she guessed he wouldn’t be very quick on his feet.

  ‘Not thinking of runnin’ out on me are yer?’

  ‘I’ll scream! I’ll scream so loud that the scuffers will hear me!’

  ‘What about yer Pa and yer brother?’ He moved closer and reached out, his stubby fingers touching her small breast.

  She seized his hand and sank her teeth into the flesh as hard as she could.

  ‘Yer bleedin’ little bitch! Just fer that I’ll teach yer what happens to girls like you!’

  She felt his hands tearing at the calico of her blouse and she began to scream and struggle. He pushed her back against the wooden door, banging her head hard. A pain shot through her head and her vision clouded, but she still fought on, trying to claw at his face with her nails.

  She wasn’t fully aware of what was happening until she heard him swear again, then scream in agony before crumpling in a heap at her feet, clutching his groin.

  ‘My God, is that you, Cat Cleary? Are you alright, has he hurt you?’

  She had never heard anything so sweet as her name on the lips of Joe Calligan who had knocked down her attacker with one swift, well-aimed kick. She fell against his broad chest, giving way to the hysteria that had swept over her.

  He held her thin, trembling body tightly. He hadn’t known it was she. He had only known that some poor girl was being molested and he had instinctively gone to her aid. He hadn’t seen her since the day she had landed but it was obvious that things hadn’t got any better.

  When her sobs began to subside he lifted her face gently with his hand. ‘Did he hurt you, Cat? What are you doing here by yourself at this time? Come on, I’ll take you home.’

  She drew away from him. ‘No! No, I can’t go back there! I won’t go back there!’

  ‘Are things that bad?’

  She leaned her head against his chest again. Oh, if only he knew.

  ‘How long is it since you’ve eaten, Cat?’

  ‘I . . . I can’t remember.’

  ‘Then first of all let’s get some food inside you and then you can tell me what’s the matter.’

  ‘I don’t feel hungry, I feel sick.’

  ‘You will if you haven’t eaten and you’ve had a shock.’ He prodded the still-writhing figure contemptuously with the toe of his boot. ‘Come on, there’s a clean, cheap little cafe down past the station.’

  Suddenly she did feel hungry. She also felt a little calmer and with his arm supporting her she felt safe.

  Over a cup of steaming hot tea and a plate of fish and chips she related to Joe most of the events of that night and also those of the previous weeks.

  ‘So, nothing much has changed then?’

  She pushed the empty plate away and rested her chin on her elbows. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You could take up Shelagh’s suggestion and get a job yourself. Is there something wrong with you that you can’t work?’

  ‘No! I told you, I’ve been looking after Ma and the house and seeing that our Eamon goes to school.’

  ‘From what I hear your Mam’s well looked after and it is Maisey’s house and she’s got enough kids of her own to clean it and as for “meladdo”, well if things are so bad, why shouldn’t he leave school and get a job? Oh, I know fourteen is the official leaving age, but the School Board don’t pay much attention to it when it comes to the likes of him – not when things are so bad.’

  She stuck out her chin stubbornly. ‘I want him to finish school and get a decent job.’

  ‘The only job he’ll get is a gofer.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You know, running errands. “Go fer this, go fer that!”’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to work in one of those stinking factories!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because . . . because I can do better than that!’ Seeing the quirk of amusement twist his lips, her colour heightened. ‘I can! I know I can!’

  ‘Oh, aye, you can read and write and add up in your head! So can most people and it hasn’t got them anywhere!’

  ‘I could get a job in a shop!’

  He was not cruel enough to mention her burning ambition, not even in jest. ‘You could go into service.’
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br />   ‘That’s just the same as being at home.’

  ‘Except that you get paid for it.’

  She wanted to change the subject, the food had made her feel sleepy and she was in no mood to argue with him. ‘Are you still working on the cattle boats? Shouldn’t you be halfway across the Irish Sea by now?’

  He ran one finger up and down the trellis design on the oilcloth tablecloth. ‘I got laid off. Last in – first out. That’s the company rule and I was last to join.’

  ‘What about the Cunard ships?’

  His handsome face clouded and he rose abruptly, the legs of the chair grating on the wooden floor. ‘Come on, I’ll see you home!’

  She was sorry she had brought the subject up. He had obviously tried and failed to get any other kind of ship. And he had been kindness itself. In fact he seemed to have the knack of turning up when she needed him most. ‘I’m sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean . . . thanks for the supper.’

  He ushered her out and they began to walk down Tithebarn Street.

  ‘I have got a job. A shore job.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘A sort of handyman, cum gardiner, cum everything, at one of the big old houses on Everton Valley. I could ask Ma Travis if she would take you on, that’s what I meant about going into service. She’s a widow. Her husband was a captain but he was lost at sea years ago. She’s very houseproud and particular, especially about all the stuff the captain brought home. That’s how come Rosie up and left her.’

  ‘Rosie?’

  ‘The housemaid she had. She dropped a vase and there was a right bust-up over it. The upshot was that Rosie packed up and left. The old lady’s been doing it all herself and she won’t let me help.’ He laughed. ‘I don’t suit an apron!’

  She laughed with him.

  ‘But it’s getting too much for her now and I reckon, the way things are, that she’d take someone on recommendation, without experience.’

  ‘What would I have to do?’

  ‘What you’ve been doing at home, except that she’d pay you and she’d probably want you to live in.’

  It was this last piece of information that made her really take interest. No more having to share everything. Being woken up constantly by Dora who had a habit of jabbing her knees into her, or Ethel who often talked in her sleep. No more waiting – jumping up and down in the yard – until whoever it was, finished in the privy. No more having to wait to see if you could have a whole slice of bread instead of half when Maisey had finished cutting up the remains of yesterday’s loaf for breakfast. But best of all, no having to listen to the constant bickering and rows. She wouldn’t have to see the dejection and despair on her mother’s face either when Pa rolled in from the pub drunk. ‘Won’t I ever have to go back to Eldon Street?’

  ‘She’ll probably let you go home one afternoon in the week and most Sundays.’

  The first initial rush of excitement at the thought of these undreamed of luxuries faded, to be replaced by guilt at leaving her mother. But if she could go back and see her, just for a day or so . . .

  ‘Well, do you want me to ask her or not?’

  ‘Would you, Joe? Would you really? But what if she says no?’

  ‘If you don’t ask, you don’t get! Besides, she likes me.’

  He was boasting again, she thought, but this time she hoped it wasn’t just an idle boast. It was with reluctance that she realised that they had reached the corner of the street. ‘How will I know if she will take me on?’

  ‘I’ll let you know. I only live in Silvester Street.’

  Her eyebrows shot up in amazement. He only lived a few streets away and yet she’d never seen him, until tonight. ‘Have you always lived there?’

  ‘All my life, with our Mam, me Dad and two brothers, but I’ve been away at sea, in case you’ve forgotten.’

  They stood under the streetlamp on the corner as Cat was still reluctant to go home.

  ‘Cheer up! I’ve got to go up Everton Valley tomorrow, I’ll ask her then. I’ll come round and tell you what she says.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Cross my heart and hope to die! And if she says yes we’ll go out and celebrate. I’ll take you on the overhead railway.’

  Her face lit up with a rare smile and in the pale light he thought how transformed her features became when she smiled. Impulsively he bent down and kissed her gently on the cheek, then straightened up, feeling embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to do that. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Cat!’ he called as he walked quickly away.

  She watched him go, her hand going to her cheek which his lips had brushed. She’d never had a boy kiss her before. Not that it had been much of a kiss, more a peck. She’d never considered herself to be attractive enough for anyone to want to kiss. She sighed. Oh, she owed him so much. She watched his tall, broad figure disappearing down the road, his hands in his pockets. She could hear him whistling. She stood watching until he was out of sight, then she turned and ran up the street, her feet skimming lightly over the cobbles.

  Chapter Four

  THEY HAD ONLY GONE as far as the Sandon Dock on the Overhead Railway for Joe had appeared at eleven o’clock on Sunday morning to tell her that Mrs Travis wanted to see her at two o’clock sharp and that he was to take her there. This news had thrown her into a panic because she had told no one about the events of the night before.

  Upon his arrival, Joe had been ushered into the house and his mother’s health enquired about solicitously by Maisey, who seemed to know the entire population of Vauxhall on a personal basis. It had been Maisey who had told Cat to ‘liven yerself up, girl!’ as she had stood staring at Joe blankly. Her father had just stared at her through bloodshot eyes, her mother had looked confused and bewildered.

  ‘Shelagh, luv, go an’ borrow Maggie’s best skirt an’ blouse an’ ask their Bessie fer those shoes of ’er’s. They’ll all be back from Mass now an’ as it’s Sunday it will all be out of ’ock an’ won’t need ter go back until termorrer!’

  Cat did not feel uncomfortable. It was the usual practice for best clothes and indeed everything of any value in the house, to be pawned on Monday and redeemed on Saturday night. And the custom of borrowing and lending for special occasions was also an old one.

  ‘I’d best go and wash my face . . .’ she stammered, as Shelagh with a face like thunder slammed out.

  ‘Yer’d better do somethin’ with that ’air, too, Cat! It looks like the Liver Birds ’ave nested in it! Purrit up or somethin’, like Bessie next door does.’

  Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, her stomach churning with apprehension, she ran upstairs to the bedroom she shared with half the household. As she struggled with her unruly locks, Shelagh entered and dumped a navy blue rayon skirt, a white blouse covered with small sprigs of blue flowers, and a pair of black shoes with high heels, on the bed.

  ‘Maggie said to be careful not to spill anything on them and Bessie said to mind you don’t get the heels stuck in the tramlines!’

  ‘I won’t.’

  Shelagh leaned against the wall and watched her as she tried to wind her thick mass of curls into a small bun. ‘He’s the lad you met on the boat, isn’t he?’

  Cat nodded, her mouth full of hairpins.

  ‘Proper little sneak, aren’t you? How long has this been going on?’

  ‘Mind your own business!’

  Shelagh curled her lip. ‘Doesn’t look as though he’s got much in the way of prospects.’

  ‘He’s a damn sight better than the lot you were with last night! He’s got me a job – nearly!’

  ‘Some job, skivvying for some daft old bat!’

  ‘At least I won’t have to put up with you all week, and I won’t have to share a room or a bed or a privy with a dozen other people!’

  Shelagh sniffed and left her, still struggling with her hair.

  The navy skirt and neat little blouse fitted her well but the shoes were tight and she wobbled on the unaccustomedly high heels, but when at last she wen
t downstairs, even her sister grudgingly admitted she looked neat and tidy. Her mother said she looked so grown up she hardly recognised her and from the look on Joe’s face she knew all the compliments were true. She did feel different. She felt clean and smart for the first time in her life and as she stepped into the street she smiled shyly at Joe as he offered her his arm.

  In place of the old trousers and jersey he wore grey-flannel trousers without the customary braces, and a clean white shirt with the collar attached and covering his dark hair he wore a jaunty cap, for no man was seen without some sort of hat on his head. She herself had Shelagh’s red felt beret clipped over her smoothed-down curls.

  She was conscious of the stares and nudges of the neighbours as they walked down the street, but it only made her feel more confident. She could hear them whispering to each other. ‘Cat Cleary’s finally got herself a feller. Walkin’ out, now she is, an’ he ain’t bad-lookin’ either!’ It was a good feeling and even Joe’s remark of ‘Mind you don’t fall off those heels and break your neck!’ failed to arouse any annoyance in her.

  They had taken the tram to the Pierhead and then boarded the Overhead Railway that ran in a straight line along the docks to Seaforth. Joe had pointed out all the ships and all the docks. The Princes Half Tide, Waterloo, Victoria and the Trafalgar that also encompassed the Clarence Dock Power Station. The Collingwood and Salisbury Docks, the Nelson, Bramley Moor, the Sandon Half Tide, the Wellington and finally the Sandon Dock itself.

  He had pointed out the ships of so many lines that her head buzzed. The Blue Star, Black Star, White Star. The Port Line, Shaw Saville & Albion, the Henderson, City and Ellerman Lines. Brocklebank, Booker and Booth Lines. The Houlder, Harrison and Blue Funnel, the latter known as the ‘Blue Flue’ Line. He seemed to know so much about ships and shipping, while she knew nothing at all.

  The sensation of being hurtled along above the roadway, looking down on the houses and up the rows of narrow streets, was exhilarating. It must be like flying, she thought. The carriage windows gave a good view of all the shipping and she could see figures moving across the decks. But none of these ships was as big or as beautiful as the White Empress. In her mind she called it ‘her ship’, her ‘White Empress’ and despite everything she had not forgotten the words she had spoken with such determination to Joe. One day she would sail on that ship. She didn’t know how she would do it, but she would find a way! Somehow!