Sunlight on the Mersey (22 page)

Charlie took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and sat down. ‘I’m a fast learner and don’t forget I’ve reorganised Mam’s way of working. Now, if you can show me your systems of ordering, distribution, expenses and payments – both in and out – I can make a start first thing tomorrow morning.’

Edward Taylor smiled. ‘I have to say our Florence certainly did well when she picked you, Charlie. It will be a load off my mind to get this lot sorted.’

Charlie smiled back. ‘And once we’ve got things under control again I can make sure they stay that way. It should only take a few hours a week then and give you peace of mind.’ Organising the wedding would keep Florence content and occupied, he thought, for he certainly didn’t want to spend his
weekends being dragged around hotels and churches and the like, or to spend hours discussing the merits of roast beef over roast lamb or what flowers would be appropriate. Not when he had the opportunity of learning the ropes of her father’s business and of being able to ascertain at the same time approximately how much Edward Taylor was worth.

When he announced to Florence that from now on his weekends would be spent helping her father to allow him to rest more she hadn’t been too perturbed, remarking that as he would be here in the house he would be on hand to help make decisions. He’d concurred but he still did not intend to become too involved; such matters could be dealt with by the women.

When he’d announced casually to Kate the following week his intention to spend his time at Cedar Grove on Saturdays and Sundays sorting out his future father-in-law’s paperwork he’d received a searching look from his sister.

‘You’re getting your feet under the table there all right, Charlie,’ Iris had remarked.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he demanded.

‘Just that you seldom do anything if there isn’t something in it for you, some sort of . . . reward,’ she shot back.

Charlie turned his attention to his mother. ‘Do you have any objections to me helping him out, Mam? He’s supposed to rest more.’

Kate shook her head. ‘No, lad, I’ve no objection.’

‘You could help Mam out on Saturdays, take over in the shop so she could rest,’ Iris persisted, suspecting that he was
only doing this to further his own ends but also realising that even if Mam were to have Saturdays off she would still find work to do in the house.

Charlie ignored her. ‘And it’s to stop Florence bothering him with all the wedding fuss and performance.’

This time Kate nodded: that she could understand. Florence was bound to be excited about her wedding, wanting everything to be perfect, but she could be over-enthusiastic about things at times and abetted by her mother they would try the patience of a saint. ‘Even so I doubt he’ll escape it entirely. I’ve already had her on at me wondering about our Rose being a bridesmaid and the nearer it gets the worse the fussing will become.’

Iris had to agree with her. Florence had broached the subject with her too, wondering if the Rhys-Pritchards might be persuaded to give Rose extra time off, which she thought was highly unlikely. In fact, in her opinion, it was downright fatuous of Florence to even think they would.

‘No, lad. You go and give the poor man a hand and leave Florence and her mam to our Iris and me,’ Kate said firmly.

‘That’s good of him but I have to say your Charlie seems to have an eye to the main chance, Iris,’ Tom remarked as he manhandled the last sack of potatoes into place. The shop wasn’t open yet, which had given Iris the time to inform him of Charlie’s latest plans. He was going to the football match that afternoon but had insisted on staying behind to help her in the shop after he’d delivered the produce.

‘Far too much so. I’m certain he’s determined to get his hands on her da’s business one way or another, so he’s sticking his oar in now,’ she confided, shaking the loose soil off a bunch of carrots.

Tom grinned at her. ‘By making himself indispensable?’

She nodded. ‘He did say though that he’ll be there to stop Florence from mithering her da too much and she’s already started. Honestly, Tom, she and her mam seem determined to make this wedding into some kind of “Society” do. She’s even mentioned the Imperial for the reception. I can’t see what’s wrong with a community hall myself. You can do them up to look really nice.’

He put his arms around her. ‘Do I detect the green-eyed monster raising its head?’

She laughed and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Not a bit of it! I’d hate all that fuss and palaver and it’s a shocking waste of money. When we’ve saved up enough to get married, a nice costume and hat, a quiet service and a cup of tea or a drink and a few sandwiches back here will suit me just fine. It’s hard enough to put money by as it is without wasting it on a big, fancy wedding. It will be bad enough having to wear some kind of frilly bridesmaid’s dress for Florence. Mam will have to be done up to the nines too.’ She frowned as an image of Kate holding her back in pain flashed into her mind.

‘Now what’s the matter?’ Tom asked looking anxious.

‘Mam’s not at all well, Tom. It’s her back but she is insisting it’s due to the cold and damp. I want her to go to see the
doctor – it’s gone on too long – but I’ll have the devil’s own job to persuade her. Will you help me?’

He nodded; he was fond of Kate. ‘Of course, luv,’ he promised. It was probably just rheumatism, aggravated by the weather. His own mam had had to give up her job because of it but he could see Iris was worried. It would at least set her mind at rest if Kate saw the doctor.

Iris took the opportunity to raise the subject when Kate came home at dinnertime, looking cold and obviously in pain. They both closed for lunch and the pawnbroker’s shop was only at the other end of the street. Iris had insisted that Tom stay and have some soup before setting off for Goodison Park. She’d made it with the vegetables she’d been unable to sell.

‘You look as though a bowl of this soup wouldn’t go amiss, Mrs M.,’ Tom greeted her affably. ‘Mam always says you can’t beat it this weather.’

Kate nodded slowly, sitting down at the table after taking off her coat. ‘She’s right, Tom.’

Iris placed a bowl down in front of her. ‘Mam, you don’t look a bit well and it isn’t just the cold.’

Kate was about to brush aside her daughter’s comments but Tom looked at her with concern.

‘She’s right, Mrs M. I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while now. Why don’t you go and see the doctor? You don’t have to suffer in silence. Mam doesn’t. Our doctor gives her some powders to take; they seem to ease the pain a bit and help with the swelling in her joints.’

‘You see, Mam, it’s not just me who is worried about you. Maybe Dr Mackenzie can give you some of those powders,’ Iris urged, flashing a grateful look at Tom.

‘No sense in doing nothing, is there? Not when it might help,’ Tom added.

Kate still wasn’t happy about the idea. ‘Do you think your mam would let me try one of those powders, Tom? Just to see if it works? There’s no sense in bothering the doctor or paying out good money if it doesn’t.’

Iris wasn’t going to let her off the hook like this. ‘Mam, you can’t do things like that! What is good for one person may not be good for another. Only a doctor can make that decision. You might be doing more harm than good. No, go and see Dr Mackenzie on Monday.’

Kate shook her head. ‘You know I can’t go on Monday, I’m too busy.’

Iris had forgotten that Monday was when everyone brought in their Sunday clothes to pledge until Friday. ‘Then you can go on Tuesday,’ she said firmly. ‘Honestly, Mam, sometimes I just don’t understand you at all! You never thought twice about either calling him in or taking us to the surgery when Charlie, Rose or I were poorly and you know how often that was with our Rose.’

Kate could see she wasn’t going to get any peace until she agreed. She sighed heavily. ‘All right. I’ll go and see him on Tuesday morning if it will keep you happy.’

Iris smiled at Tom, feeling relieved. ‘Good. Now, get that soup down you while it’s still hot.’

Tom winked at her as he got to his feet. ‘I’d best be off or I’ll not get a decent enough speck and end up with a stiff neck.’

Kate managed a smile. ‘It’s a good job Bill’s not here to see an Evertonian sitting at his kitchen table.’

Tom nodded and grinned at her. The rivalry between the fans of Liverpool’s two football teams ran deep.

Iris too smiled. ‘Mam, my da wasn’t that bad about football! It’s only a game, after all.’

Tom adopted an expression of mock horror. ‘Shame on you, Iris Mundy! Wash your mouth out! To some people it means more than their religion.’

Kate laughed. ‘Get out of here with your blasphemous views, Tom Morrissey!’ He was a good lad, she thought. She was sure he would make Iris an equally good husband.

Kate went to see Dr Mackenzie on Tuesday morning as she’d promised. She had to admit that she really wasn’t feeling well. She’d closed the shop a bit early on Saturday and had sat beside the range with the stone hot-water bottle wedged behind her. She’d not slept well that night either and had been very grateful when Iris had offered to cook on Sunday. There had just been the two of them as Charlie was at Florence’s house and Tom wasn’t calling until the afternoon when he and Iris were going to give the greengrocery a fresh coat of limewash.

She’d dozed in the armchair that afternoon, glad of the respite for Monday was always a busy day.

She’d informed the doctor of her symptoms and how long
she’d had them, he’d examined her and asked some questions, and then she’d mentioned the powders Mrs Morrissey took for her rheumatism.

‘I do indeed know of them, Mrs Mundy, and they can help, but I’m not at all sure that it is rheumatism,’ he replied, writing something down.

Kate felt a frisson of anxiety run through her. ‘Then what is it, doctor?’

‘I’m not totally sure but I’ve been reading a great deal lately, medical papers and the like, and I know there is a doctor who is similarly interested and so I want you to go to see him for some tests – at the hospital.’

‘Hospital!’
Kate cried in horror. She’d never been in hospital in her life. In fact the only time she had been inside one was when Bill had been knocked down and had died.

‘Now, Mrs Mundy, don’t be alarmed. There’s nothing sinister about these tests. They are a minor procedure, I assure you. They will help to diagnose what’s causing the pain and then once we know we can do something about it.’ He tried to sound reassuring for he knew many of his patients viewed hospitals in the same light as the workhouse. In fact the Royal, where he was sending her, had started out as just such an institution. ‘Modern medicine has moved on a great deal. Any association between a hospital and a workhouse is best forgotten. Now, I want you to rest as much as you can and take aspirin to help relieve the pain. They’ll send for you.’

Despite his words Kate was filled with a terrible foreboding.
In her experience hospitals were places which you usually left feet first – in a box.

‘They’re just tests, nothing to get excited about,’ she repeated firmly to herself as she walked home but she decided that she wouldn’t tell either Iris or Charlie about them. Although in her heart she was far from certain that there was nothing to worry about she wasn’t going to have them fretting about her. No, she’d say it was just rheumatism and that the doctor had said it would get better as the weather got warmer and she was to take aspirin tablets for the pain. At least that wasn’t a lie.

I
T WAS ONE OF THOSE
rare late February days when pale winter sunlight bathed the grounds of Plas Idris and Rose decided that she would spend her afternoon off sitting in the gardens reading. The air smelled moist and damp but it was much milder than it had been of late and the first spiky leaves of the daffodils were beginning to appear. Under the trees in the pasture there were snowdrops and beneath the yews that bordered the drive purple and yellow crocuses were just appearing. As she walked along the path towards the rose garden, which was protected by the wall of the kitchen garden, she smiled to herself. Spring was definitely on its way.

There was a rustic bench at the far end of the path, which was sheltered and in direct sunlight; she would be warm enough there, she thought, she was well wrapped up. She
settled herself on the bench, listening to the birdsong and thinking that next month the bare branches of both the trees and the rose bushes would begin to shows signs of new growth. In summer the roses would be glorious but even now it was a tranquil, pleasant spot.

She became so engrossed in her book that she didn’t see or hear David Rhys-Pritchard approaching. Glancing up she was surprised to see him.

‘Oh, you startled me, sir! I didn’t hear you,’ she cried, jumping to her feet.

‘I’m sorry, Rose, I didn’t mean to intrude. Do sit down. I was tempted out of doors by the mild weather. Is it your afternoon off?’ He manoeuvred the wheelchair around until he was sitting beside her.

‘It is, sir, and I decided that I’d stay here as it’s such a lovely day.’ Reluctantly she closed the book and laid it on the bench beside her.