A Woman Undefeated (43 page)

“I don’t know, Betty. I don’t know how much yer’ve got to spend, do I?” she replied, getting caught up in the moment and feeling very important. “It can’t be from what we’re getting’ in from the loan company and the bounty vouchers haven’t started yet. You spent such a lot on the furniture fer Selwyn Lodge, how can yer afford to buy more property?”

“Money makes money, Maggie, and I’ve plenty sitting in the bank where it won’t make very much interest. I think we’ll go for six of these shops along here. The one next door will come in handy if we want to expand the dressmaker and, until the lease is up, we’ll still have the rent coming in.”

So it was decided that Betty would go ahead and bid for the properties she wanted. There was an auction at the Assembly Rooms the following week and Mr Arlington was to be her representative. When the paperwork was finished, six new acquisitions sat on the books of the Sheldon Loan and Property Company.

When Maggie got home later from her very exciting day, she found that her possessions had been put into the small back bedroom. There was no sign of Mikey’s cradle, until she looked into Alice and Michael’s room.

“What’s this yer doin’, Alice?” she shouted, as she ran down
the stairs into the kitchen, where Alice was preparing the food for the evening meal.

“What do yer mean, what am I doin’? Miss Rosemary moved this mornin’, so I thought you’d be on yer way.”

“And do I not get a say in when I’m leavin’, or is this just another excuse fer givin’ Dickinson back his old room?”

“You said it. I’ve not had a penny piece off you for accommodation since our Jack went away in February. Yes, I agree yer’ve paid fer yer food and I don’t begrudge our Mikey anything, but Mr Dickinson is a paying boarder and, as far as I’m concerned, yer can stay in the back bedroom, or yer can collect yer things and go.”

“This wasn’t what Jack said ter me before he sailed fer the America’s. He said the house might be in your name, but I could stay here fer as long as I wanted to.”

“But he didn’t say yer could have the front bedroom, did he? Like yer said to me the other week, “Find a pen and yer can write ter him.”

There wasn’t much to be carried out of Seagull Cottage the following day. Not many possessions to show for the eighteen months she had laboured, since she’d arrived from Killala. A large wicker basket, borrowed from Alice, held her dresses, nighties, cloak, underwear and birthday gifts. The irony was not lost on her, as she walked off to her new home. She had been allowed to take the clothes she had made, but not her little son.

The weeks passed by pleasantly enough, it was hard not to feel happy in the beautiful house she now called home. It felt good to be waited on by Mary and the food that Joan Kellett prepared was simple, but varied. Betty and Maggie would walk home together after they had closed the premises, have a glass of sherry in the drawing room, then talk over the day’s events before sitting down to their meal. Sometimes Ezra would call and they would play a game of cards; sometimes they would sit in the conservatory and watch the sunset over the hills.

Her favourite time was sitting quietly, reading a book from Betty’s extensive library. Uncle Tom’s Cabin and Pilgrim’s Progress, being two titles that fascinated her. Then there were the breeches and little shirt that she was making in her spare time, for Mikey. There was always something to do and she never felt bored.

The best thing of all was the bathroom. There was a bath, toilet and washbasin in white cast iron, the boiler chuntering menacingly on the outside wall. She could while an hour away in that bathroom, wallowing in her newfound luxury, massaging her body with scented soap and using proper shampoo on her hair. Her bedroom, which looked out over the garden and the estuary, held a single bed, a chest of drawers, a small wardrobe, a cheval mirror and a camphor blanket box. The room was large and airy, with plenty of space for Mikey’s bed, but at the moment it was stored away.

There was an air of resignation on Maggie’s part when she visited her child each morning. She remembered what Betty had said, when it was first spoken of, that she wanted her and Mikey to move in.

“If the child’s welfare is tantamount in the arrangements for him, then legally you could be allowed take him away.”

It seemed that his welfare had not been tantamount, Betty had never even interviewed a prospective nursemaid. It was as if Betty didn’t want a child in her house.

One morning in September, Maggie was walking along the promenade after her usual daily visit to Mikey. Ahead of her was a young woman pushing a pram’. She was easily recognizable as Miss Madeline.

“Wait fer me, Madeline,” she cried and hurried to catch her. It would be pleasant to walk up the hill together and see the new baby girl or boy.

“You’ve had your babby then, I see. Let me look, oh, he’s a lovely little baby.”

Indeed he was, all pink cheeked and handsome, not much hair, but what he had was going to be a chestnut brown, not a titian red
like his mother, which made her think that Madeline might put a little something on her hair.

“So, what did yer call him? How old is he? A couple of weeks by the look of him.”

“This is Edward Cornelius, so he’ll either get Eddie or Con’. He’s two weeks old today,” Madeline replied proudly, fussing with a frilly blanket that had been laid across the child.

“And how are yer? You must have bin up out of bed fairly quickly. Have yer had yer churchin’ yet? Though I have to admit it’s a long time since I’ve bin to St. Winefred’s. So, yer’ve named the babby after yer uncle? It’s good to keep to the family names. Mikey is named after his grandfather, Michael, and we also named him Patrick, after me dad.”

She wondered why Madeline was looking at her in a puzzled way, after she had finished her sentence.

“Have I offended yer in some way, Madeline? Have I said somethin’ I shouldn’t have done?”

“No. Just then you asked if I had named my baby after my uncle. I’ve named my baby after his dad.”

“His dad? But surely yer married ter Johnny, aren’t yer? I saw yer both on yer weddin’ day. Miss Rosemary and I were watchin’, as you walked together into the church.”

“How do you know Johnny? Are you the Maggie he was asking me about, because he said he knew a Maggie who had settled here?”

“I’m all confused now,” Maggie said, and she was, totally. “So, yer not married ter Johnny? That is, Johnny Dockerty from Killala. A sea captain who used to run the cattle boats from Sligo to here.”

Was it her imagination, or had her spirits begun to soar at her discovery?

“Maggie, shall we sit down for a few minutes?” Madeline asked, pausing by a low wall that they were passing. “Have you time to sit with me for a few minutes while we talk? I know you probably have to get to the dressmaker’s, but I can’t remember when I last sat and talked to someone. It’s ridiculous really, because
I live above a tavern where there’s plenty going on, but Ted doesn’t like me to mix with the customers and it can get very lonely, you know.”

Madeline began to tell Maggie her story. How she was the eldest child of an estate manager on a large country manor, near Formby in Lancashire. She was walking the dogs along the windswept beach one morning when Ted Dockerty came along, out for his daily run. He liked to keep himself fit, because of the smoky atmosphere in the public house at Southport, where he was the landlord. He had confessed to her later that it was her glorious hair that had attracted him and, taken by her good looks, he started going to the beach every day. At first Madeline had ignored him, but then he made a point of shouting “good morning” as he went running by. Of course, it was only manners to return his greeting, and suddenly one morning she found herself in conversation with him. She was bored at home. She had gone to a private school in nearby Churchtown, run by two gentlewomen who loved literature, needle-craft and the arts. Madeline had excelled herself under the careful guidance of her teachers and they recommended that she went to a finishing school in Paris, where she could concentrate on fashion design. Her father had been adamantly against it, saying that enough was enough and she could learn from her mother how to run a household. That was until a suitable marriage could be found.

Ted was a lot older than Madeline. She hadn’t known by how much until he had arrived on her father’s doorstep one day, asking for his daughter’s hand. There was a massive row. How dare a lowly publican come sniffing round? And eleven years older than their daughter at that? He’d set the dogs on him, have him horsewhipped, sent to jail, but Ted was to leave Madeline alone. By that time, Cupid’s arrow had pierced Madeline’s heart and one morning, before the family had stirred from their bedrooms, she had run away. Ted applied for the tenancy of the Brown Horse in Neston, far enough for her father to never find her. Ted was aged thirty-one and Madeline was twenty. They had to make up
the story that Ted was her uncle, so that they could be together until Madeline was twenty-one. That was why she had to be careful who she spoke to. If her father had found out where she was, the chances were he would have dragged her back home again.

“So, then yer met Johnny, Ted’s brother? How did that come about?”

“Well, Ted left home many years ago. His father and mother had a tavern in Galway, so Ted had been brought up in a public house and knew what the brewery trade was all about. Ted isn’t a letter writer, so he never wrote to his mother, and it has to be said he was rather jealous of Johnny, because he was the blue eyed boy. As you said, Johnny used to come with the cattle to Parkgate and came to the Brown Horse with his crew. He was talking to the previous landlord on one of his trips and the man had told him he was leaving. He said that the brewery was appointing a man from Southport, he couldn’t remember the name, but thought it might be Dockerty. Johnny thought it strange that the next landlord should share his name and vowed that next time he was over, he would make a point of calling in. Then the cattle orders dried up, so in the meantime Johnny had to sign on with another shipping company. It was another six months before he came back again, and he was delighted that he had found his brother, Ted. That was why you saw him at the wedding. Ted had asked him to walk me in, because we hadn’t asked my father.”

“And what of his mother, have yer ever met her? Have yer ever bin’ across to Ireland to see her?” Maggie asked eagerly.

“Well, no. Ted would have to get a stand in if he wanted a holiday and me expectin’ hasn’t helped. I suppose Johnny will have told her where Ted is now, so she could get in touch if she wants.”

“I should write to her. It was Mrs Dockerty who taught me my letters and I’ve bin ever so grateful ever since, but I suppose I never thought to let her know where I am. It still hurts to think of Killala and those of me loved ones I left behind.”

Madeline’s baby began to stir from his sleep and started making little sucking noises.

“He’s hungry now. If I don’t go he’ll set up a wail. Shall we walk up the hill together? I’ll tell Johnny I saw you, next time he’s here on leave.”

“Before yer go, can I just ask yer somethin’. Has Johnny ever bin married or got a girl?”

“I’ve never heard of him ever being married, nor even having had a lady friend. I think it’s because he prefers the company of men. Being with his crew all the time on his voyages, that is.”

“Strange that. I prefer the company of women meself. Men are dirty and smelly and are usually only out fer themselves. Not that I don’t love Mikey, and my father was good to me, but I’ve never met one that I thought I could trust.”

“Oh Ted is alright, he’ll do anything for me and he loves little Eddie. But I hear you are a widow. Surely you loved your husband too?”

“That’s another story fer another day, Madeline. I’ll ask Miss Rosemary if yer can come and visit at me new address. Now, I must get off or she’ll be dockin’ me wages. Look after yerself and the little one.”

Later that week there were celebrations. The first bounty voucher customer came into Mr Arlington’s office. A new suit had been ordered at the tailor’s in the High Street, and had cost the man five pounds and ten shillings. The sherry came out, the toasts were made, even Annie was allowed to join in. In his usual boastful manner, “His Nibs” promised that this was the first customer of many and assured them of the continuous success of the venture, under his very capable wing.

He went on to say that he had signed up Frogerty’s Furnishings and Oakham’s Department Store in Chester, Smallwoods, a household goods store in Liverpool, and he was yet to visit Birkenhead.

“He’s a very determined man, Maggie,” Betty said later as they relaxed at Selwyn Lodge. “He’s happy to visit these places in his
own free time, although I do pay him his expenses. And he is such a mine of information. Yesterday he was telling me that a man named Mr Singer has taken out a patent on something called a sewing machine. Instead of you and Annie hand sewing all the seams, this machine whips up and down them in minutes! He saw the article in his broadsheet. We’ll have one of them as soon as I can find out where to order.”

One morning in early October, when the harvests had been gathered in and an autumnal nip was in the air, Alice stood in her doorway waiting for Maggie to visit. In her hand was a letter from Jack and she couldn’t wait to find out what was in it!