Beyond a Misty Shore (13 page)

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.

‘I’d get your coats on if I were you, it’s freezing out there. Billy, stir yourself, lad, it’s time.’ Lizzie shook her small son who was on the point of dozing off while Maria and Sophie got their coats and scarves.

The street was full of people, some still holding glasses, a few looking as though they’d been celebrating a bit too much already, and Sophie caught sight of Ben and Matt Seddon
determinedly making their way towards Maria and Katie. Martha Ryan was winding a very long knitted scarf around the neck of a rather pale and tired-looking Robbie and instructing him that as soon as the singing was over he was to go straight to bed.

‘Bella didn’t last then, Sophie,’ she stated.

Sophie grinned. ‘No, I’m afraid not and she’ll be so cross that she missed it all in the morning. We’ll have a tantrum, I know it.’

Martha turned to Lizzie and jerked her head towards the nearest streetlamp. ‘Here comes our Frank but there will be no prizes for guessing where
that one
is.’

Lizzie nodded grimly. ‘In the pub with the rest of them and probably been there all afternoon, I don’t wonder.’

‘Thank God if she is. At least she’s not here tormenting us,’ Martha replied cuttingly.

Sophie had heard it all for she’d stayed close to both women as Katie and Maria and the two boys had gone to join a group of youngsters further down. She didn’t want Frank to think she was avoiding him but she didn’t trust her emotions. Before Frank had time to say anything to her, however, the men suddenly and loudly started to count down the seconds, joined by everyone else, and she found herself laughingly counting too and then the night erupted with noise. Above them fireworks exploded and the sky was filled with coloured stars and flashes. The bells of Liverpool’s hundreds of churches pealed out across the city, ringing in the first year for so many not blighted by the shadow of war. From the
river and the docks came a cacophony of noise, from the deep full-blasted steam whistles of the big Cunard and Canadian Pacific liners to the less deafening but still noisy blasts of the ferries and cargo ships, and the easily recognisable ‘whoop whoop’ of the naval vessels. And then everyone was kissing and hugging everyone else, wishing them ‘Happy New Year’, and Sophie found herself in Frank’s arms and he was kissing her. The madness of the night seemed to claim her and she clung to him, kissing him passionately while elation surged through her.

‘Happy New Year, Sophie!’ Frank said softly, gazing down at her, still holding her in his arms.

‘Happy New Year, Frank,’ she managed to stammer before she was dragged from his embrace by her Uncle Jim who hugged her and kissed her on the cheek and then everyone was forming a huge circle and she was separated from Frank by Jim and Lizzie and Martha Ryan, none of whom had failed to notice that passionate embrace.

She had begun to feel more in control of herself by the time the singing ended but she was still trembling a little. ‘I’d better just go and check on Bella,’ she said to Lizzie.

‘I’d do that, luv,’ Lizzie advised and watched her walk quickly back towards the house. Martha had been right, she thought. Her friend had said that she was sure Frank had fallen for Sophie and that didn’t bode well for either of them.

To Sophie’s relief Bella was still fast asleep. She bent over and tucked the quilt more tightly around her. ‘Happy New Year, my beautiful Bella. Mam promises that this year she’ll
work very hard so that it will be a very good year for you.’ When she reached the door she turned and looked at her sleeping daughter. What had happened tonight she must put out of her mind, for Bella’s sake and for her own sanity. She wouldn’t go out into the street again now, but how she was to avoid Frank in future without hurting him she didn’t know.

The front door was open so she went and stood on the step, glancing up and down before closing it over to keep out the cold night air. She could see her aunt and uncle with the Ryans and some other neighbours but thankfully there was no sign of Frank. Perhaps Lizzie or Martha had said something to him, she thought.

She was in the act of pulling the door shut when it was wrenched out of her hands and she was confronted by a drunk and obviously furious Nora. She’d obviously been crying for her mascara had run, her hair was straggling in untidy strands around her face, her bright red lipstick was smudged and Sophie almost reeled at the stench of beer and cheap scent that emanated from her.

‘I saw yer, yer bitch! I saw the way you was kissing him! You’re a bloody whore for all yer prim an’ proper ways! You leave my Frank alone, yer bitch!’ Nora was screaming at the top of her voice and Sophie visibly shrank back from her tirade.

Desperately trying to think of something to say that would calm the girl down, Sophie raised her hands. Nora mistook the gesture and lashed out, catching Sophie across the face, and then, still screaming abuse, she caught her by her hair,
pushed her down the hallway and began to try to batter her head against the wall. Sophie too had begun to scream but in pain and fear as she tried desperately to defend herself. Then suddenly Nora was dragged bodily away from her and back down the lobby towards the front door.

‘Get out of my house, you drunken little slut!’ Jim Quine roared as he hurled Nora into the street where she fell and remained half sitting, half lying on the paving stones.

‘I’ve a good mind to get the scuffers on to you, you little trollop! Attacking decent people in their own homes! Jail is all you’re fit for, like your flaming brother!’ Lizzie roared at the girl, who was now sobbing and trying to stagger to her feet.

‘He’s
my
husband an’ she’s trying to get him into ’er knickers! She’s the tart! She’s the bloody trollop, not me!’ Nora yelled.

Lizzie was livid with rage. ‘One more word out of you, you foul-mouthed little bitch, and I’ll belt you myself! If your mam had given you a damned good hiding years ago you’d have kept your filthy little hands off Frank Ryan. Everyone knows what you are, Nora
Richards
– I won’t insult Pat and Martha’s name! You’re a liar, a cheat, a dirty little tart and a drunk! You say one single word to Sophie in the future and you’ll feel the back of my hand, I swear to God!’

Jim and Martha both pulled Nora away, leading her towards her house, leaving the neighbours standing in shocked silence, staring as Nellie finally came out and dragged her daughter back across the road.

Lizzie was shaking with the force of her anger. ‘I’ll swing for that one yet! Someone should see the council about the lot of them! They’re not fit to live amongst decent folk, they should be evicted. God knows they’re behind with the rent often enough.’

‘I couldn’t agree more, Lizzie, but come on inside now,’ Martha urged, although she felt that Frank had had no small part in instigating this scene. His feelings for Sophie were now obvious to everyone, including Nora, which had provoked the girl’s drunken outburst, and she intended to tell him so. This had to stop now, before it got completely out of hand and created a terrible scandal, particularly for Sophie. Poor Sophie, she thought as she steered Lizzie towards the kitchen where Sophie had obviously taken refuge, before her thoughts turned again bitterly to what a terrible mess her eldest son had made of his life.

S
OPHIE HAD COLLAPSED INTO
the chair by the side of the range, badly shaken by Nora’s attack. She was shaking, her head was aching and the scratches on her face made by Nora’s nails were beginning to sting. She could hear the raised voices outside in the street, mainly Lizzie’s, but could not distinguish exactly what her aunt was shouting. Thankfully, Bella didn’t appear to have been disturbed by the commotion, she thought fleetingly.

‘Sophie! My dear girl, what has happened to you? Just what is going on out there? Mrs Quine is yelling like a fish-wife at someone and before that I heard Mr Quine apparently throwing someone bodily out of the house. Has there been some kind of . . . attack on you?’

Sophie looked up to see Arthur Chatsworth standing in the doorway, looking very perturbed. Slowly she nodded, fighting back tears of shock. ‘It was Nora Ryan. She was drunk and I was just standing in the doorway watching the celebrations and . . .’ Her words faltered as she realised that she had been about to tell him that Frank’s wife had become enraged by the sight of Frank and herself in what could only be described as a passionate embrace, one to which she had responded eagerly. She shook her head, shame and guilt compounding her emotions.

‘That’s absolutely appalling! Sophie, someone must go for the police at once, she can’t be allowed to get away with this! This is an assault.’ Even though he was fully aware of the type of neighbourhood he resided in, this unprovoked physical attack on a quiet, well-mannered girl like Sophie both upset and angered him.

‘No! No, there’s no need for that, really. I . . . I’m just shocked, not really hurt . . .’

Before he could protest further Martha pushed a still furious Lizzie in through the door.

‘Mrs Quine, I really do feel that the police should be sent for. Nora Ryan should be arrested,’ Lizzie’s lodger announced forcefully.

‘I couldn’t agree more that jail is where she belongs but there’s no need for the scuffers to get involved, is there, Lizzie? They’ll have enough to cope with tonight without what they’ll consider to be just a “domestic”,’ Martha replied, just as forcefully. It wasn’t the way they did things in this
street and besides, the police might well decide that Nora had been seriously provoked because either the girl herself or Nellie would be bound to blurt out what Frank and Sophie had been doing.

Lizzie had begun to calm down a little, particularly seeing Sophie’s tear-streaked face, scratched cheeks and untidy hair and the fear and guilt that now filled her niece’s eyes. She was thinking along the same lines as her friend. ‘No, there’s no need to call the police, Mr Chatsworth. Jim threw that vicious little bitch out on to the cobbles and I’ve given her a damned good tongue-lashing, so there’s an end to it. Now, Sophie, luv, let me see to those marks on your face and Martha will make us all a nice cup of hot sweet tea.’ She turned to her lodger. ‘You’re more than welcome to a cup; it’s all been very upsetting for everyone.’

He stood for a few seconds looking undecidedly at the three women and then shook his head. ‘No, thank you. If you are sure you don’t want to take this further, I’ll go back to my room.’

Lizzie nodded and he turned away, but he was an observant man and hadn’t failed to notice the guarded expressions of the older women and the suddenly fearful one that had come into young Sophie’s eyes. There was something going on here that he didn’t fully understand.

Lizzie sat down at the table and ran a hand across her forehead. ‘Isn’t this a great start to the New Year and with him getting on his high horse too, wanting to call the scuffers? Are you all right, Sophie, luv? She hasn’t hurt you?’

Sophie shook her head. ‘Not really. I’m just more . . . shocked . . . than anything.’

Martha handed her a cup of tea and then looked at Lizzie who mouthed the words, ‘Thank God for that.’

Martha nodded. ‘I lay all the blame for this on our Frank’s shoulders! If he hadn’t gone carrying on like . . . that . . . and in front of everyone . . .’

Sophie broke down. ‘It . . . it wasn’t entirely his fault, it . . . it was mine too!’ she sobbed. One moment of pure madness and look what it had led to – and just when she’d hoped that Frank and Martha were becoming reconciled.

‘Now stop that, Sophie! It’s New Year’s Eve and people do sometimes get carried away with the spirit of things. It will all be forgotten in a day or so. Calm down and drink your tea, luv,’ Lizzie urged. ‘And I hope that
that
one has the most almighty hangover in the morning,’ she finished venomously.

Martha said nothing but as she sipped her tea she thought that, unlike Lizzie, she wasn’t going to let the matter lie. Whatever Nora was, Frank was married to her and he had no right to carry on towards Sophie as though he was a single man. He had no right to ruin the girl’s reputation or, what was worse, break her heart. It had already been broken once and in her opinion Sophie didn’t deserve any more pain and grief.

After Lizzie had got Sophie to bed and Jim and Maria at last came in Lizzie quietly explained to Maria what had happened for the girl hadn’t seen the incident, having been further down the street.

‘So, don’t go upsetting her even further by asking her about it,’ Lizzie instructed firmly and Maria nodded.

‘This will all end badly if Frank Ryan doesn’t stay away from Sophie,’ Jim said heavily after Maria had left the room.

‘I know, and Martha is going to have it out with him, but I do feel sorry for the lad and for poor Sophie, Jim. I think she’s started to fall in love with him.’

Jim Quine shook his head slowly as he unlaced his boots, wondering if it would do any good to write to his sister Sarah. Perhaps suggesting – for Sophie’s own welfare and that of Bella – that they go home to Peel? It wouldn’t do that child any good at all to have Sophie upset and pining for someone she could never have, nor would any more confrontations with Nora or any of the Richards family.