Winnie of the Waterfront (20 page)

‘I’ve been at work.’

‘Don’t you dare lie to me, Winnie Malloy!’

‘I’m not lying!’ Winnie exclaimed in surprise.

‘Really!’ The scorn in Miss Henshaw’s voice startled Winnie.

‘Can I come in, Miss Henshaw? It’s freezing cold out here!’

‘Not until you tell me the truth about where you’ve been. You’ve certainly not been at Johnson’s Mantles, so don’t try telling me that you have!’

‘Well, no,’ Winnie bit down on her lower lip. ‘I left there some time ago.’

‘Left! You mean you were sacked, don’t you?’

Winnie nodded in agreement. ‘I … I didn’t fit in.’

‘No, I can believe that! You’re a troublemaker, Winnie Malloy! You never said a word to me about it, did you?’

‘I didn’t think you would want to know. I found another job, I’ve paid my rent every week …’

‘That’s enough!’ Matilda Henshaw cut her short. ‘You are a lying, deceitful girl! You were sacked from the perfectly good job that Sister Tabitha found for you and you told no one. How do you think I felt when Sister Tabitha turned up here today and demanded to know why I hadn’t told her about this and informed her where you were working now?’

‘I’m sorry, Miss Henshaw, I really didn’t think anyone would be interested.’

‘Furthermore, you haven’t been attending Mass, and I don’t suppose you have been to confession either since you left the orphanage!’

‘I can explain, Miss Henshaw. You see …’

Matilda Henshaw clamped her hands over her ears. ‘I don’t wish to hear your lies, Winnie Malloy. You’re a sly, cheating, ungrateful young woman. I don’t intend to have someone of your sort living in this hostel. Do you understand?’

Winnie stared at her, dumbfounded. ‘Where am I to go then?’

‘That’s entirely up you! You managed to find yourself another job so now you can find yourself somewhere else to live.’

Winnie looked bewildered. ‘Very well, Miss Henshaw,’ she said contritely. ‘I understand. I’ll start looking for somewhere else.’

‘Good! Well you can start doing it right away.’

‘You don’t mean tonight, do you?’ Winnie gasped as Miss Henshaw barred her entry. ‘It’s Christmas and it’s dark and freezing cold. All my belongings are in my room,’ she added.

‘Yes, you’re right about all those things, except about your belongings, Winnie Malloy,’ Miss Henshaw agreed with satisfaction. She pointed to a large bundle on the top of the step. ‘There are your things, all of them. Now take them and go!’

Before Winnie could say a word, Matilda Henshaw retreated back into the hallway and slammed the door.

Winnie couldn’t believe what was happening. She had been too scared to tell Miss Henshaw that she had left Johnson’s Mantles. As long as she paid her rent regularly and didn’t break the curfew hours then what had she done wrong, she asked herself.

How on earth had Sister Tabitha found out?

Winnie wondered whether it would do any good if she knocked on the door and apologised. If she didn’t, or if Miss Henshaw wouldn’t listen to her, then what on earth was she going to do? It was already freezing and she was sure it was going to snow before morning.

Picking up her sticks she hobbled up to the front door and knocked. The door remained firmly closed. She banged on it again, this time more loudly, and watched as one by one the lights inside Craven House went out.

Shivering and scared, Winnie turned to get back into her chair. As she did so she stumbled against an unwieldy bundle on the doorstep. Her belongings!

Tears streaking down her face she dragged the bundle down to the pavement and hoisted it onto her chair, balancing it precariously between the seat and the footrest. It was a struggle for her to get back into the chair because it was already full of her Christmas presents from the market. She finally managed it by perching on top of the bundle with her legs sticking straight out in front of her.

She wedged her sticks in beside her and wrapped herself up warmly in her new red cloak, pulling the hood of it up over her head to protect her ears from the biting cold. Then, with great difficulty, she began to slowly propel her wheelchair along the road.

The load was so heavy that it made the chair top-heavy, and Winnie felt terrified each time it wobbled in case it overturned. She had no idea
what
to do or where she could find shelter. Tears misting her eyes, she continued along Islington, following the familiar route towards Great Homer Street that she took every morning.

When he left Winnie at the corner of Carver Street, Sandy Coulson felt at a loss. The Christmas holiday would last all over the weekend and he had nothing at all planned. The lads he sometimes went for a bevvy with would all be enjoying the festivities in the hearts of their respective families. Most of the men he worked with at the market also had families and were looking forward to Christmas with them. They’d be playing Father Christmas and watching the joy on the faces of their children as they unwrapped their Christmas stockings and any other presents they could afford to buy them.

Since his own parents had died and his brother had gone to live in Canada, Sandy had been living in digs. He had no one to buy Christmas presents for, except Winnie of course, and he’d already given her his gift. He felt a surge of pleasure as he remembered the look of delight on her face when he had slipped the red cloak around her shoulders.

Winnie coming back into his life had disturbed him more than he had ever imagined it would. He’d thought about her often enough after they’d taken her off to the orphanage. He’d even written to her at the orphanage, and he couldn’t believe that they’d kept his letter from her.

He enjoyed working alongside her at the market,
but
that wasn’t really enough. She was never out of his thoughts, and he would have liked nothing better than to be able to take care of her and make sure she was properly looked after.

He’d finished paying for the wheelchair he’d bought for her and so once again he’d started saving towards getting a stall of his own. As soon as he could do that he’d be able to earn enough money to get a decent place to live. Then, if Winnie was willing, if she cared for him in the same way as he cared for her, well, perhaps his dreams would come true.

Realising that he had been leaning against the lamppost for so long that he was almost numb with cold, Sandy pulled himself together. He’d take one last look at the hostel. He often hung around there at night because he knew which room was hers, and he liked to wait until he saw her light go out and know that she was safely tucked up in bed.

He walked to the corner and stopped in surprise. Was he imagining things or was that Winnie at the junction of Carver Street and Islington, her chair piled up so high that it was unsafe.

As she heard his steps pounding on the pavement behind her, Winnie half-turned, looking over her shoulder fearfully. As she did so her wheelchair tilted precariously and she let out a scream.

Sandy broke into a run. ‘Winnie! Winnie, it’s all right! Don’t worry, it’s me,’ he shouted as he grabbed at her chair before it could crash to the ground.

* * *

Bob Flowers shivered as he came off watch. The Patricia had been tossed and battered by heavy seas all night as it made its way through the Bay of Biscay after calling at Bilbao. They were on their way to South Africa, and tomorrow they would be moving into the calmer waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

It would be a long trip, and for the first time since he’d made the sea his life Bob wished he hadn’t signed on.

He had been looking forward to his leave in Liverpool, to meeting up with Winnie Malloy as he’d arranged. True, they’d been over three weeks late getting into port, but he’d still been optimistic that she’d turn up at their agreed rendezvous. He’d been there every evening and he’d waited for a couple of hours each time, but she hadn’t turned up. He’d had no idea where to look for her. In desperation he’d even gone along to the Holy Cross Orphanage to see if they could help him.

Sister Tabitha had remembered him, and, although she was reluctant to do so, had eventually told him that Winnie had gone to work at Johnson’s Mantles. She’d given him the address of the factory, but she wouldn’t tell him where Winnie was living.

‘No, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do that,’ Sister Tabitha told him. ‘I am only confirming where she is working since she has already told you that much.’

Winnie hadn’t been at the factory, though. The foreman told him that she’d left at the beginning of her second week and he’d had no idea at all
where
she’d gone after that. He’d hung around until they closed for the night and had questioned some of the girls, but none of them had even heard of her, so in the end he had given up looking.

Chapter Twenty-one

‘SO WHAT AM
I going to do now? Where can I go? Where am I going to find a place to stay overnight?’

Winnie’s voice rose higher and higher with each question and Sandy had no idea what the answers were. He wanted so very much to take her in his arms, smooth her black curls back from her worried brow and banish all her fears. He wanted to offer her a happy ending to her problem and see relief soften those expressive blue eyes, feel the touch of her lips on his cheek as she gave him a kiss of gratitude.

Above all, he wanted to tell her to stop worrying, because whatever happened he would always be there to protect her. But he couldn’t do any of these things because the words died in his throat before he could utter them. He couldn’t lie to her. He couldn’t let her build up false hopes only to find them dashed again when he couldn’t fulfil his promises.

If only he could invite her back to his room so that she was sheltered from the bitterly cold night. He would happily have slept on the floor so that she could have his bed, but even that was impossible because he was sharing the room with two other chaps.

His own background was almost as fraught as
Winnie’s
and he never spoke about it, not even to her. When he left the market at night, whistling happily, people probably thought he was going back to a warm home and a loving family. None of them knew that home was a squalid room that he shared with two other blokes in a crummy court!

He didn’t want anyone to know the truth in case they felt sorry for him, and pity was something he couldn’t abide. He’d tell everyone about his personal life when he had managed to save up enough to have his own stall, made a success of trading and was able to afford the sort of home he dreamed of one day owning.

That was all in the distant future. His problem at the moment was to try and help Winnie out of her present predicament, and that was much more urgent.

‘Why did they kick you out of the hostel? Couldn’t you have stayed until morning, or until after the Christmas holiday if it came to that?’

Winnie shook her head. ‘Miss Henshaw got a ticking off from Sister Tabitha from the orphanage because I’d left Johnson’s Mantles and they’d never been told.’

Sandy felt perplexed. ‘Were you expected to report that to them then?’

‘I suppose so, but I didn’t tell her I’d left the factory because I managed to get another job right away. I didn’t think it mattered as long as I could afford to pay for my room every week.’ She reached up and put her hand over his as he pushed her chair. ‘And that was all thanks to you!’

Sandy felt his pulse quicken at her touch. ‘I met
that
Miss Henshaw the day I brought your wheelchair round to Craven House, a right sour puss she seemed to be.’

Winnie giggled. ‘She was almost as strict as Sister Hortense and Sister Tabitha rolled into one,’ she agreed.

‘So is that who came round and told her off?’

‘Sister Tabitha did! I think that was why Miss Henshaw was so furious.’

‘So she chucked you out?’

‘She gathered up all my belongings and piled them up on the doorstep. When I got back tonight she told me to clear off and take my stuff with me.’

‘Miserable old cow!’

‘Maybe she had no choice,’ Winnie said reflectively. ‘The orphanage must have connections with the hostel and that was why I was given a room there in the first place.’

Sandy shrugged. ‘Perhaps you’re right. So what are we going to do now? We could try a bed and breakfast place, or even a hotel?’

‘They’re hardly likely to take me in at this time of night!’

‘No, you’re probably right. Haven’t you any friends who could put you up for the night?’

Winnie shook her head. ‘I’ve lost touch with the few people I used to know in Elias Street and Carswell Court.’

‘You’re quite sure you don’t want to go back to Holy Cross and see if they will put you up for the night?’

Winnie gave a sharp, bitter laugh. ‘After what
I’ve
just told you! It’s their fault that this has happened. If Sister Tabitha hadn’t gone to Craven House and told Miss Henshaw off then none of this would have happened.’

‘Then it will have to be a bed-and-breakfast place, you’ve no choice.’

After their fourth attempt, Winnie insisted that they were wasting their time. On each occasion they had been turned down flat, even though there was a sign in the window that said ‘Vacancies’.

Sandy ran a hand through his shock of red hair. It was getting colder by the minute and he could see that in spite of the warm red cloak he’d bought her, Winnie was shivering.

‘So what are you going to do?’ He did some quick calculations in his head. ‘You could go to one of the big hotels for the night.’

‘Think what that would cost!’

He shrugged. ‘It would only be for one night and I’d pay the bill for you.’

Winnie shook her head. ‘No, I couldn’t let you do that. Anyway, the night porter probably wouldn’t let me past the door in a wheelchair piled high with all sorts of bundles! What I could do,’ she went on before he could argue with her, ‘is spend the night in the ladies’ room on Lime Street Station. It would be warm enough in there.’

Sandy looked doubtful. ‘I think they’ll turf you out when they find you don’t have a ticket.’

‘I can say that I’m meeting someone who will be arriving on the first train tomorrow morning.’