Gaslight in Page Street (17 page)

‘Why does Father shut himself up in that miserable room, Nora?’ she asked, sitting down in a chair beside the large table.

Nora gave the child a brief smile. ‘Yer farvver needs ter be alone, child,’ she replied. ‘’E’s got a lot on ’is mind.’

Josephine ran her finger along the raised grain of the wood. ‘Geoffrey took me to the stable today to see the horses. They’re lovely, but Father said I shouldn’t go near there any more. He told Geoff so. Why, Nora?’

‘Yer farvver’s worried in case yer get knocked down by one o’ them carts, luv, or in case one o’ them ’orses kicks out at yer,’ Nora told her kindly. ‘A transport yard can be a dangerous place for a little gel.’

Josephine clasped her hands on the table and looked wide-eyed at the housekeeper. ‘When I was at the stable I saw the children playing out in the street. Isn’t it dangerous for them?’ she asked.

‘They’ve got no choice, they live beside the stable,’ Nora said, smiling. ‘Yer lucky. Yer live in a nice ’ouse in a nice square, an’ there’s no ’orse-an’-carts ter worry about, ’cept the traders who call.’

Josephine pouted. ‘I think it’s much nicer in Page Street, and the children there seem very nice too,’ she remarked. ‘Geoffrey told me that the boy who waved to me was Mr Tanner’s son, Charlie. I think he was very nice.’

Nora glanced up at the large clock on the mantelshelf. ‘I’ve got ter go out, Josephine, an’ you’d better get off ter bed, it’s gettin’ late,’ she told the child.

Josephine stood up obediently and presented her cheek to receive Nora’s goodnight kiss, then as she was going out she stopped suddenly and turned in the doorway. ‘You’d never leave us, would you, Nora?’ she asked, her violet eyes gazing appealingly at the housekeeper.

Nora shook her head firmly. ‘I’ll always be ’ere, child, an’ yer can always come an’ talk ter me if yer need to. Now off ter bed wiv yer this minute.’

Josephine was about to say something, but instead she just smiled quickly as she turned and hurried up to her room.

Nora put on her coat and walked down the stairs, hoping to catch Geoffrey before he left. He had said he was going out to meet someone and Nora wanted to find out just what was wrong. Geoffrey was always ready to confide in her, although lately he appeared to have something on his mind and she felt he had become evasive.

The house was quiet, however, and as Nora let herself out of the front door she heard George Galloway’s throaty cough coming from his room. It was cold and damp and not an evening for taking a stroll, but she wanted time to think. Things had changed in the house of late and she did not understand why George was so morose this evening. Recently he had become very talkative and often, after Josephine had gone to bed and the two young men had gone out, had called her into his room. They had chatted about the early days and of trivial things which Nora found amusing. George had laughed with her, and on one or two occasions had tempted her with a glass of port. Nora had found herself becoming excited in his presence and her long suppressed physical feeling for him had been rekindled. George had not made any advances, other than to remark on what the lads might think should they return unexpectedly, and she had not felt able to give him any hint of her secret desire.

At first she had felt pity for George, pity for a distraught man left alone to care for three young children, but her pity had soon changed to something deeper. She soon realised that he hardly ever noticed her. He was a hard man, with a streak of arrogance and meanness in his nature, but there was something difficult to define about him which she found very attractive. Maybe it was the single-mindedness that had brought him comparative wealth. Such strength of purpose might change to devotion and release the goodness in his character, Nora thought to herself, if he would only start to be aware of her as a woman. He had never seen her as anything other than hired help and she had suppressed her feelings for him and gone about her tasks, wishing secretly that one night he might visit her, if only out of loneliness. He never had, and the solitariness of her own existence weighed heavily on her.

I’ve been alone too long, she thought as she crossed the square and walked out into the empty Jamaica Road. Why can’t I show him how I feel about him? Maybe he is only waiting for a sign or a hint.

George had not been drinking so heavily of late and seemed to have come to terms with his bereavement, but tonight there was something on his mind. Maybe she should confront him in his room and let him see she was concerned for his happiness.

The muffled sound of a tug whistle carried from the river lanes as the fog drifted down. Nora pulled the collar of her coat around her neck and buried her hands deeper into her fur muff. Her high-heeled shoes echoed on the deserted pavements and when she reached the park gates she stopped and turned round. Normally she would have carried on a little further but the fog seemed to be getting thicker. She hurried back towards the quiet square, her thoughts centred on a warm fire and a hot drink before retiring for the night.

It was then that she saw the couple standing in a dark doorway. The man had his back to her and was pressing against the woman whose face was resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she was groaning as the man’s rhythmic movements became faster. Nora turned her head as she walked quickly past, but the couple seemed oblivious to her presence. She hurried on and turned into the quiet square feeling strangely roused. The woman was probably one of those tarts who frequented the music hall, she thought, and he might be a merchant seaman. Maybe she was wrong. Perhaps they were two young lovers who for their own reasons had to resort to a dark doorway on a cold miserable night to express their love for each other.

Nora let herself in the house and closed the door behind her. She stood in the hall for a few moments, then taking a deep breath tapped gently on the front room door. She heard George’s gruff voice and as she stepped into the room Nora saw her employer sitting slumped in his armchair before the fire. He had a glass of whisky in his hand and his face was flushed.

Nora’s heart sank as she sat down facing him. He looked at her enquiringly. She hesitated before speaking.

‘I wanted to ’ave a chat, George,’ she said at last. ‘I noticed you were quiet ternight. Is anyfing wrong?’

He shook his head and stared down into the fire. ‘I’ve ’ad a few words wiv young Geoffrey. It’s nuffink really,’ he said quietly.

Nora paused for a moment then sat forward in her chair. ‘I’ve bin enjoyin’ our little chats, George,’ she began. ‘I ’ope yer feel the same way. I jus’ want yer ter know I’m always ’ere, in case yer need me.’

George looked up and noticed that his housekeeper was eyeing him intently. ‘Yer look a bit edgy, Nora. Anyfing wrong?’ he asked.

She smiled. ‘I came in ’ere wiv the same question. I don’t like ter see yer miserable, George. It grieves me ter see yer drinkin’ alone.’

‘I don’t ’ave to,’ he replied. ‘Yer could always join me.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ she said quickly, her face flushing slightly. ‘It used ter upset me when yer spent all that time shut away in ’ere wiv the bottle. I wanted ter ’elp yer, but I didn’t know ’ow. I know yer was grievin’ over Martha but it’s bin a while now an’ I was pleased when yer let me share the evenin’s wiv yer. I thought it was ’elpin’ yer, an’ me too. I don’t like ter see yer go back ter drinkin’ ’eavily again, George. Don’t shut the children out o’ yer life, an’ me too fer that matter.’

He was watching her closely while she spoke, aware of her embarrassment. Nora was strange, he thought. She had always seemed so prim and proper, never giving way to her feelings. Now she was making him feel uncomfortable. She was a fine woman, he had to admit. Her face was well shaped and her eyes warm and friendly. The high-necked blouse seemed to accentuate her sloping shoulders and small breasts, and her hands were those of a younger woman, long and slender. George noticed how she sat upright in the chair, with her long black cotton dress almost touching the floor. Her still raven hair was pulled high on top of her head and secured with a fan-comb, giving her a matronly appearance that was more suited to an older woman. He realised he had never seen it any other way and wondered if she wore it like that when she went to bed.

Suddenly he got up, averting his eyes from hers. ‘Let me get yer a drink,’ he said, walking over to the sideboard.

Nora felt she should decline his offer but the strange excitement she had felt on seeing the lovers still persisted. She made no effort to stop George pouring out a large port, telling herself she was going to need it if she were finally to unburden herself to him. The time was ripe, she tried to convince herself.

George was standing beside her with the glass of port held out to her. He smiled, and she noticed how his eyes appraised her.

‘Yer know, I’ve never seen yer wiv yer ’air let down,’ he said suddenly.

Nora took the glass from his hand and sipped the port, hoping it would ease her fluttering stomach. ‘That’s a strange fing fer yer ter say,’ she replied, attempting to stay calm.

‘Let it down,’ he told her.

‘I beg yer pardon.’

‘Let it down. Let me see yer wiv it down on yer shoulders,’ he said.

Nora’s face felt hot and her cheeks flushed a bright red. ‘Mr Galloway,’ she said indignantly, ‘I’m forty years old. You’re making me feel like a flighty young woman.’

George put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. ‘Martha used ter wear ’er ’air like that an’ she would never let it ’ang loose. Take it down, Nora, please.’

Slowly she placed her glass on the small table at her elbow and reached up to her hair with both hands. George sat down on the edge of his armchair, transfixed, as she removed the fan-comb and the two long hairpins. Her hair dropped down and she slipped her fingers through the raven locks until they were spread evenly and resting on her shoulders. Her face had paled and her eyes dropped as Galloway reached out his hand to hers.

‘Yer’ve got beautiful ’air,’ he said in a low voice that made her tremble inside. ‘Will yer stay wiv me ternight?’

Nora picked up her glass and sipped the drink, purposely evading his gaze. ‘Are yer sure, George?’ she whispered, hardly recognising her own voice. ‘Is it me yer desire? Me, Nora Flynn?’

He held her trembling hands in his and fixed her with his dark eyes. ‘I’ve wanted ter make love ter yer fer a long time, Nora,’ he said softly. ‘Yer’ve always fended me off wiv yer reserve, but I knew that there’d come a time. I could sense it when we talked. Until now I couldn’t make a move wivout yer givin’ me a sign. Yer never did, though.’

‘Is ternight so different?’ she asked.

He looked down at her hands for a moment. ‘Young Geoff an’ me got at it again,’ he said with a sigh. ‘It was nuffink really, only about Jack Oxford. I was gonna put the idiot off an’ Geoff was against it. ’E sided in wiv that yard foreman o’ mine. I gave way in the end but Geoff wasn’t satisfied. ’E felt I should give ’im more sway in the runnin’ o’ the business. That’s what the argument was over ternight. When Geoff finally stormed out I got ter drinkin’ an’ I realised ’ow empty me life’s become. Ternight I need yer, Nora. Yes. Ternight I need yer, an’ ternight I could see the change in yer eyes the minute yer walked in that door.’

Nora felt her breath coming fast as he stood up and reached down to her. She got up from her chair to face him and he pulled her to him, kissing her hard. ‘No, George!’ she gasped as his hands moved down her body. ‘Give me a few minutes, then come to my bed. Please?’

Before he could say anything she turned and hurried from the room, her whole body shaking as she made her way quickly up the stairs.

When she reached her room Nora stripped and climbed into her old bed, eagerly listening for his footsteps on the stairs. She stroked her hands along her hot body as she waited for what seemed an eternity, then at last the creaking of the stairs sounded loudly and she heard the door opening. He stood silhouetted there by her bed, his bulk rising above her, then he was beside her, his hands roughly caressing her nude body, his wet lips moving along her neck. Her whole body shook and she let out a faint sob as he joined with her in a fierce embrace.

Chapter Ten

Carrie made her way to the factory, her coat collar turned up against the bitter cold. She was now just seventeen and it seemed to her as though she had worked at Wilson’s for ever. It was really only three short years since she started, but in that time she had been moved from the top floor to the floor below, where she learned to trim the hides and chamois leather pieces, and then to the ground floor to learn grading and sorting. Each move had been a step up the ladder for her but she felt a little sorry for her friend Mary, who seemed to have been overlooked for promotion and was still sweating away on the top floor. Carrie knew that her friend had not helped herself by her frequent absences from work and her reputation for being actively involved with the suffragette movement. Mary seemed happy enough though, especially since she had got herself a new workmate.

Carrie normally took little notice of the stories abounding throughout the factory, but this time she knew it was true that Mary had found herself a lover. Her new companion was a girl of her own age who would sit enthralled as Mary went on about her campaigning. The two were inseparable and sat holding hands during their lunch breaks, leaving the factory in the evenings arm in arm. Nevertheless, although Mary’s private life was the talk of the factory, she had earned the girls’ respect for her dedication to campaigning on behalf of women. Some of the other girls were becoming interested in the suffragette movement, and one or two had gone along to watch the marches. There had also been a lot of publicity in the newspapers recently and only a week ago it was reported that two of the leading figures in the movement had been arrested and sent to prison for interrupting a court hearing in Manchester.