Beyond a Misty Shore Read online

  Lizzie stared at her hard. ‘Martha hasn’t had him for a meal – any meal – since he married that one.’

  ‘I know, but he told me that last year he spent the day walking to and from the river, just stopping off for a pint on the way back. They were all in the pub so I don’t think he even got any kind of dinner. Aunty Lizzie, that’s a terrible way to have to spend Christmas Day and he’s been so kind making the toys for us and not taking a penny for them. Surely it’s the least we can do to include him? It will be a chance for us all to have a really great day,’ she pleaded.

  Put like that Lizzie could find no reason to refuse but she wondered how Martha would take it. Still, Sophie was right. If they managed to get a goose, with potatoes and vegetables, and if she and Martha scraped together enough ingredients for a cake, and if Jim could get something for them to drink, it would be a meal to remember. She smiled at her niece. ‘You’ve got a kind heart, Sophie. You’re right, it’s no way for anyone to spend Christmas. We’ll have a great day. The kids can make paper chains to decorate the kitchen, that will keep them quiet, and we should be able to get holly and a small tree. Yes, luv, we’ll have the best Christmas we’ve had in years.’

  Lizzie had worked out what she was going to say to her friend before she went to see her, after she’d posted the letter Maria had written. Martha was so taken with the thought of a communal Christmas dinner with the Quines, and with the possibility of a whole goose no less, that when Lizzie informed her that Sophie was insisting they invite Frank too, considering he’d made the toys, she felt she really couldn’t object.

  ‘Under normal circumstances, Lizzie, I wouldn’t have him over the doorstep, but . . .’

  ‘It’s not your doorstep, Martha,’ Lizzie succinctly reminded her.

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean. But . . . but these are exceptional circumstances. Does she think this woman will actually send a goose over?’

  ‘Maria said she told her in her letter how bad things still are over here, about how the city is still in ruins and there’s hardly anything in the shops – the ones that are still standing – and that it’s their first Christmas away . . .’

  Martha nodded. ‘It will seem like a miracle, Lizzie. We’ll be the envy of the entire street!’

  Lizzie beamed with satisfaction. ‘We’ll be the envy of the entire neighbourhood, Martha. Now, let’s sit down and see about getting together the rest of the stuff and you can send your Robbie in after school and we’ll get the kids started making the paper chains. The few I had were years old and all fell to bits when I took them down last year.’

  To Lizzie’s delight and Sophie’s relief, Maude Sayle agreed to send the bird over, ready plucked and wrapped in straw and cardboard. One of the captains employed by the Steam Packet Company was a cousin and would see that the parcel arrived safely and Jim would collect it. Billy, Robbie and Bella spent hours making paper chains from newspaper which they’d painted red and green, and with the sprigs of holly and a small tree, festooned with some rather tarnished and tatty tinsel plus a variety of homemade decorations, Lizzie declared that she’d not seen the kitchen looking so bright and cheerful for years.

  On Christmas Eve it took all Sophie’s patience to get the two over-excited children to bed while Lizzie, whose patience had worn thin, warned them both vociferously that if there was any more nonsense out of them then they’d find that Santa hadn’t left them anything at all when they woke in the morning.

  ‘They’ll settle down eventually, Aunty Lizzie,’ Maria laughed. ‘We used to be so excited that every little sound we heard, we thought Santa had arrived, didn’t we, Sophie?’

  ‘We were in and out of bed by the minutes, we drove Mam mad,’ Sophie replied. She wished her mother could be with them for Christmas, but they’d sent gifts to her and she was going to spend the day with friends.

  ‘Well, the last thing we want is for them still to be up when Frank brings the toys over to us, there’s not enough room in this kitchen to hide them. He’ll just have to put them in the yard. Martha will be in later with her dishes and things and Pat’s going to bring their chairs in tomorrow morning. I did ask Mr Chatsworth if he would join us but he refused – something about not wanting to intrude – so I said I’d pass a plate in to him. It’s just as well as it’s going to be a terrible squeeze, but—’

  ‘We’ll manage!’ Sophie and Maria interrupted together, laughing.

  The following morning Lizzie declared the shrieks of delight from Bella and Billy must have been heard at the top end of the street. Sophie looked on with pride and affection as Bella examined and exclaimed over the curtains, the chairs and table – complete with a tablecloth – and the little beds with their lace-trimmed coverlets. The hours of work both she and Frank had put in had been well worth it, she thought, just to see the wonder and delight in Bella’s blue eyes. Billy was so overcome that he informed Lizzie, rather rashly she thought, that he intended to be on his best behaviour for the next year so that Santa would bring him something just as fantastic next Christmas.

  At length the toys were put aside as Pat and Jim manoeuvred the table and chairs into place, Katie and Maria set the table with both Lizzie and Martha’s dishes and cutlery and Sophie helped her aunt with the meal, the smell of which would drive you absolutely mad with anticipation, so John declared happily.

  ‘That’s a very flowery way of putting it, have you been reading a dictionary?’ Katie quipped good-naturedly as she arranged the glasses.

  But the smell of the goose cooking was certainly making everyone’s mouth water, and there was a bottle of port for the women and some bottles of beer for the men to look forward to as well.

  By the time Frank arrived, wearing his best suit, bearing a half-bottle of whisky and looking slightly apprehensive, Lizzie and Martha were dishing out the soup. Although it was a little on the thin side, Lizzie declared it was very appetising just the same. Sophie, Katie, Maria, John, Pat and Jim and the three children were all seated around the table where there was barely room to move their arms. Billy declared that was going to make eating difficult, earning him a black look from his father.

  ‘Squeeze in beside our John, and a drop of this will go down a treat later on,’ Jim urged Frank, taking the proffered bottle.

  ‘After such a feast and a few drinks, we’ll have trouble keeping our eyes open, Jim,’ Pat added, thinking that it was years since he’d sat down to a Christmas meal with his eldest son but that maybe it was time to let bygones be bygones. Just as long as Nora and her family didn’t think any future fraternising included them.

  Frank said little during the meal but his lack of conversation was barely noticed; everyone else more than made up for his long silences. He knew it was Sophie who had instigated this unheard-of and totally unexpected invitation and he wished there was some way of telling her how full his heart was. He once again felt part of a generous, happy family, who had made such an effort to make this day truly special for everyone, not just the kids, instead of spending it in the pub drinking until oblivion took over. He had been included . . . welcomed . . . to share the food, the drink and the cheerful ambience of the occasion and it was all because of Sophie Teare. He thanked God that she’d come to Liverpool, even though he knew what he felt for her could never be reciprocated.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘IT DID TURN OUT to be a great day, didn’t it? God bless Mrs Sayle and the goose,’ Sophie sighed as she sank wearily down in a chair beside the range. The kitchen was warm and the delicious odours of the meal still lingered. The tinsel and silver paper ornaments on the tree glowed in the dying light of the fire, adding to the sense of cosy peace, quiet and contentment.

  The Ryans’ furniture and dishes had been taken back next door, the toys reluctantly put away and the children – equally reluctantly – put to bed, the pans and dishes washed and the room restored to some semblance of order. The three girls had volunteered to finish clearing up when the neighbours had all departed, as Lizzie said she was fa
ir worn out with it all. Both she and Jim had retired and when the last dish had been put away Katie too had gone up to bed.

  ‘It went much better than I expected it would, although you have to admit this kitchen resembled a bear pit at times,’ Maria summed up as she eased off her shoes, took the pins from her hair and ran her fingers through the long, thick curls. ‘It’s no wonder Mr Chatsworth stayed in his room for a bit of peace and quiet.’

  ‘In a way I was sorry he didn’t join us. It’s a day for families and as far as we know we’re all the “family” he’s got,’ Sophie mused.

  Maria nodded. ‘He’s a very strange man, but nice enough. Frank certainly looked as though he was very happy to be included as family today.’

  Sophie smiled, thinking she’d never seen Frank looking so content or happy as he’d chatted to his parents, but she had also caught the dull look that had come into his eyes when his parents and brother had departed. It was so obvious that he didn’t want to return to the house across the road where little or no ‘festive spirit’ would be in evidence, apart from that which came out of a bottle.

  ‘Do you think now that the ice has finally been broken, Martha will let him visit them?’ Maria asked, thinking how much more at ease Pat Ryan had seemed with his son. Far more so than Martha.

  ‘I hope so. I think Aunty Lizzie has been working on her but I didn’t want to say anything to raise his hopes.’

  Maria got to her feet and picked up the almost empty bottle of port. ‘Aunty Lizzie and Martha seem to have drunk most of this but shall we finish it off, as a nightcap?’

  Sophie smiled at her. ‘Why not, I’ll get two glasses.’

  When Maria had poured the remaining very small amount of port into the glasses, she raised hers. ‘To our first Christmas in Liverpool.’

  Sophie laughed. ‘It’s one neither Bella or I will forget and it was good of Mam to send us those little gifts.’ She looked fondly at her sister. ‘Has it really been happy for you, Maria?’

  Maria looked wistful as she twisted the stem of her empty glass between her fingers. ‘When I woke this morning I wondered how Mam was feeling, not having us there and then I . . . I began to wonder where Hans was and what he was doing. Was he back on their farm? Was it snowing, did they have enough to eat? Did he . . . did he think about me today and wonder if I was happy? Had he sent me a card? Then I remembered that he doesn’t even know where I am. He doesn’t know we’ve left the island.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘If he had Mam would have mentioned it in her note.’

  There had been no word from Hans Bonhoeffer since he’d returned to Austria, but Maria hadn’t given up hope of hearing from him and seemed hurt that even at this special time he hadn’t thought enough of her to send a card, but maybe it was for the best. ‘That was a lovely little brooch Ben gave you,’ Sophie said quietly. ‘He’s a nice lad, I like him a great deal.’

  Maria nodded, fingering the little gilt brooch in the shape of a leaf that was pinned to her dress. ‘He is nice, Sophie, and I do like him a lot but . . . but . . .’

  ‘You could do worse, Maria. He’s got a decent job, he’s steady and generous and it’s obvious he’s very taken with you.’

  Maria sighed heavily. ‘Oh, I know all that, but . . . I just don’t love him, Sophie.’

  ‘Don’t give up on him, you might change your mind . . . in time,’ Sophie urged. She wanted her sister to be happy, not pining for a lost and unsuitable love.

  ‘I don’t think I will, Sophie,’ Maria said quietly. Her eyes were full of sadness and longing as she twisted a strand of dark curly hair between her fingers, a habit from childhood that always re-emerged when she was upset. The silence from Hans had upset her deeply.

  ‘Oh, Maria, don’t waste your life wishing for something you can’t have.’ She could have her pick of the young men in this neighbourhood but at this present time she didn’t want any of them.

  Maria looked at her sister and smiled wryly. ‘You’re a fine one to give me advice, Sophie,’ she said, not unkindly.

  ‘Why?’

  Maria put down the glass. They had always been close, always been able to share their feelings, and Sophie had known about her love for Hans almost from the start. ‘Sophie, I know how you feel about Frank Ryan, even if you won’t admit it, even if you can’t come to terms with it yourself. The look on your face, the light in your eyes gave you away. Each time you looked at him today, it was obvious. At least to me it was, whether anyone else noticed I don’t know. And he loves you too, that was blindingly obvious. Even Martha noticed, I saw her shaking her head sadly. But he’s tied to that Nora and there is nothing either of you can do about it.’

  Sophie looked down and studied her hands, not wanting to meet her sister’s eyes. She’d been so happy that he’d been included in everything today, happy to see him enjoying himself but . . . but that was all, wasn’t it? ‘I know that, Maria,’ she said quietly, ‘all I wanted was for him to have the kind of Christmas he used to enjoy before . . .’

  Maria stood up and put her hand on Sophie’s shoulder. ‘So neither of us can have the man we really want.’

  Sophie looked up at her. ‘You might, one day. You might have a change of heart for Ben.’

  Maria shook her head but bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Sophie.’

  When she had gone Sophie stared into the dying embers of the fire in the range and shivered. The room was becoming chilly – or was she feeling the coldness of a life without love? Andrew’s love had gone and what she now felt for Frank could never be realised. Just when her initial liking had turned to friendship and then deepened into affection she didn’t know, but it had. Maria had been right, each time she’d looked at him today she’d felt so happy. Happier than she’d been for years, she now sadly admitted to herself. She had known the passionate love of a man, Bella was the proof of that, and she wished with all her heart that she could tell Frank of her feelings for him, but it was impossible. It would destroy them both.

  She stood up, drawing her cardigan closer around her. Whatever the future held for her she must put her feelings for Frank aside, she must think of Bella now. She must put all her energy into securing that better future for herself and her daughter because there was no future for her with Frank Ryan.

  In the following days Lizzie declared to her family and neighbours that there would be no point in having yet another party for New Year. Everyone was hard up and still facing a grim future of shortages and as they’d had three street parties during the year that was more than enough. It was time to tighten their belts.

  ‘Won’t it all be a bit flat and depressing, like? I mean it’s the first proper year of peace, seems a shame not to celebrate it in some way,’ Maggie Dodd argued when Lizzie had issued her comments to a shop full of customers.

  ‘I’m not saying don’t celebrate it at all, we’ll just be having a quiet drink in the house. Then Jim can go out into the street just before midnight with his lump of coal and bit of bread and salt to let the New Year in, same as always. It’s just that I don’t think there should be another communal celebration, it’s taking things a bit too far,’ Lizzie replied firmly.

  ‘It will end up like one just the same, Lizzie. You know that everyone likes to go out and wish friends and neighbours “Happy New Year” and sing “Auld Lang Syne”,’ Martha said.

  ‘And this year they’ll ring all the church bells, which they haven’t been able to do for six years in case people thought it was the signal we were being invaded,’ Mary Seddon added.

  ‘And we’ll all be deafened by the noise of the ships’ whistles coming from the river and docks,’ Ada Caldwell reminded everyone.

  ‘I bet those two nieces of yours and little Bella will never have heard the like before. Don’t deprive them of it all, Lizzie. It would be a shame if you did,’ Maggie urged.

  Lizzie pursed her lips, thinking she was sorry she’d opened her mouth. She’d had no intention of depriving anyone of anything; she’d just thoug
ht they’d had enough parties for one year.

  Bella was excited to hear from Billy that they’d both be allowed to stay up and to go out into the street with everyone else, and when the hands on the Liver clock got to midnight, join hands in a big circle and sing and be kissed and hugged and listen to the bells and the ships on the river, which was great – although he wasn’t all that keen on the being kissed bit.

  ‘Is he telling the truth, Mam? Can I stay up?’ she asked Sophie.

  Sophie laughed. ‘Of course you can, but you might be so tired that you’ll fall asleep before midnight,’ she warned.

  ‘I won’t! Really I won’t, Mam!’ Bella exclaimed, thinking that life in Harebell Street seemed to be very exciting with all kinds of parties and celebrations going on.

  She tried so hard to stay awake on New Year’s Eve as they sat in the kitchen playing games. Aunty Lizzie handed round the drinks and some biscuits she’d saved for the occasion but by eleven o’clock Bella lost her battle and was fast asleep with her head on Sophie’s lap, still clutching her blue tiddlywink. Billy was manfully still fighting to stay awake although Lizzie doubted he’d last another half hour.

  ‘Take her up, Sophie, she’s out like a light. She probably won’t even stir come midnight, despite the noise,’ Lizzie urged.

  Gently prising the little blue disc from her daughter’s hand, Sophie carried her gently upstairs, took off her shoes and put her into bed fully dressed. She bent and smoothed the dark curls from her cheeks and kissed her. Aunty Lizzie was probably right, Bella would sleep through the noise.

  At five to midnight there was a knock on the scullery door and Pat Ryan poked his head round. ‘Right then, Jim? Five minutes to go.’

  Jim put on his jacket and wound his muffler around his neck, took the coal, bread and salt Lizzie handed him and followed Pat out.