Beyond a Misty Shore (15 page)

Sophie became flustered. ‘I wouldn’t know what to say . . .’

‘I’ll compose it for you, then when we’re both happy with it I’ll take it down to the offices in Old Hall Street. If I get there early enough it should make this evening’s edition.’

‘Then I’ll have to tell Aunty Lizzie about it. Someone is bound to see it and mention it to her.’

‘Why not just tell her that you are trying to start a business – tentatively – it’s what you had planned and you’ll just see how it goes before you give up your job?’ he suggested.

‘But if I do get any replies, where can I see people? You know how crowded we all are here and you have to admit it sometimes gets like a three-ring circus.’

‘Either in their own homes or you could use the front
room – my room. I’d go out for an hour or two; that way at least you would have a bit of privacy.’

‘I couldn’t put you to all that inconvenience,’ she protested.

‘I’m sure it won’t be for long, Sophie. Now, if we’re to get this advertisement in on time, we’d better make a start.’

It was far better than anything she could have put together, she thought after he’d left. It sounded so professional. He’d used words like ‘bespoke’ and ‘discreet, impeccable service at competitive prices’ and she felt infinitely better about things than she had first thing that morning. Now all she had to do was tell her aunt and Maria.

Lizzie listened in silence but with a slightly worried and cautious look on her face as Sophie outlined the plan and when her aunt voiced her doubts about how she would manage to cut out and sew in these cramped conditions and was it wise to think about giving up a steady job, Sophie explained that if it was successful – and she prayed it would be – she would move, reminding her aunt that it would be better for her to remove herself from the vicinity of Frank and Nora and also give Lizzie and her family more much-needed room. Put like that Lizzie had to agree, although she told her niece not to get her hopes up too high. Suitable lodgings were almost impossible to find and there were many well-patronised dressmaking establishments already in the city.

She broached the subject with Maria when her sister returned from work. Maria was close enough to Sophie to know that she was upset about what had happened last night and thought this the reason for the tête-à-tête. In fact she had
been upset that she had been with Ben and the others and hadn’t been at her sister’s side to help her fend off Nora Ryan.

‘Is it something to do with Frank and . . . Nora and last night?’ she asked as she brushed out her long, dark curls, which she wore confined tidily in a neat chignon for work.

Sophie sighed and nodded as she sat down on the end of the bed Maria shared with Katie. Their cousin had gone down to see her friend Ivy to borrow a pair of earrings as she was going out with Matt later. The room was chilly and Sophie tucked the quilt around her feet. ‘You know what happened last night. Well, it’s no use me telling you not to waste your life waiting for someone you love but can never have, if . . .’

Maria turned and sat down beside her. Thoughts of Hans had flooded her mind at Sophie’s words, but she determinedly pushed them away. ‘Sophie, I knew it was more than just affection . . .’

‘Oh, Maria, it started that way but . . . but now it’s more. I realised that last night. It’s hopeless, I know it – we all know it. I have to put him out of my mind and my heart and think of a future for Bella now. There is no future for Frank and me and I can’t stay here, not when there is the chance I will see him almost every day.’

Maria was startled. ‘You’re not thinking of going home, are you, Sophie?’

Sophie reached out and put her arm around her sister’s shoulder. ‘No. I’m going to start my business, with the help of Arthur Chatsworth. He’s offered to invest some of his savings in it. In fact there is an advertisement in the
Echo
tonight and if all goes well, I’ll try to find somewhere else to live and to work.’

Maria just stared at her blankly as Sophie relayed her conversation with Lizzie’s lodger. Of course she could understand just how Sophie felt. She couldn’t go on living here, bumping into Frank regularly as she was bound to do and having to confront Nora on occasions as well. Seeing Frank would only make it harder for her sister.

‘So, Aunty Lizzie does know that we’ll be moving – sooner or later?’

‘Yes, but you don’t have to come with me, Maria, if you don’t want to. You’ve settled well here and you’ve got Katie, Ivy and Daisy Caldwell, and of course Ben.’

Maria smiled wryly. ‘Don’t start on about Ben again, Sophie, and I’d sooner not be sharing a bed with Katie, even though I like her well enough. Of course I’ll come with you. You’re my sister, I don’t want to leave you or Bella. I’d like to have a bit more room and some privacy too; everyone always seems to be on top of each other here.’

Sophie did feel more relieved that Maria was happy to go to a new home with her – when they found one.

Maria stood up, pulling her sister up too. ‘Let’s go and have a look at your advertisement – if we can prise the paper off Uncle Jim. I wonder how soon you’ll get any replies?’

‘One would be a start,’ Sophie replied, smoothing down the quilt and following her sister out of the cramped and rather dismal room.

F
OR THE NEXT FEW
days Frank did try to avoid Sophie, although it took all his resolve to do so. He deliberately lingered at the end of the working day so he missed his usual tram, arriving later at his destination, knowing Sophie would then be safely home at Lizzie’s house. One evening, however, it had started to snow heavily and his foreman told him to ‘get a move on’ or else the trams would have stopped running and he’d have a long, cold walk home.

The tram was packed. He didn’t see her but then he had been shepherded up to the upper deck by the conductor, who was loudly informing everyone that there was no more room downstairs and that as soon as they reached the depot – if they did – that was it. He for one was going home; there would be no more trams tonight.

Crushed in beside a window on the lower deck Sophie gazed out at the silent and increasingly heavy white flakes that were transforming the city, obliterating the ugly scars left by the blitz with a mantle of pristine white. She had started to get used to the sight of Arthur Chatsworth waiting patiently in the cold a few feet away from the tram stop even though ever since she’d returned to work there had been no sign of Frank.

Tonight she thought that Arthur’s patient vigil was rather above the call of duty, given the weather, and she was deliberating whether or not to tell him not to come out tomorrow evening, that’s if there were any trams or buses running. If there weren’t she would be walking to and from work and she was determined not to drag the poor man all the way to Marsden’s to meet her. Everyone would be home late this evening and they’d all probably have to walk to work tomorrow for there was little sign of the snow stopping.

Frank had managed to get on to the platform of the tram before it reached the stop but there were a dozen or so people crowded behind him and he couldn’t see her. After he had alighted, he stood aside to let the other passengers pass. He’d decided to wait for her. It would be hard walking in this weather and she might easily slip. That was all it was, he assured himself, concern for her welfare. Concern that she reached Lizzie’s house safely. Surely no one could read more into that? Anyone with a smattering of manners would help a woman – young or old – in such conditions.

At last he caught sight of her as she stepped off and on to
the snow, which had already been compacted by the feet of other passengers, and his heart began to beat faster. He took a few steps forward but was suddenly confronted by Arthur Chatsworth, muffled up in a heavy overcoat and scarf and with a trilby hat pulled well down on his head.

‘Excuse me, Frank, I’ve come to meet Sophie and escort her home. I meet her regularly now. It’s a terrible night and you’d be wise to get off home yourself.’

Frank stared at him for a moment, and then nodded curtly. Sophie stepped in front of Arthur.

‘Frank, I’m sorry. I . . . I really don’t want to hurt you but I’ve made a decision. I’ll be moving away from Lizzie’s soon. I’m going to start my own business – dressmaking. Arthur is helping me . . . backing me and . . . and it was his idea to meet me off the tram. I . . . I really am sorry, Frank. You have to believe me. It’s for the best.’ She turned back to Arthur. She was tired, cold, hungry and now felt miserable but at least she had explained things to Frank. She had been almost certain he would have been on that tram, considering the weather, and if Arthur hadn’t been there, she would have had no option but to walk home with Frank and then . . .

‘I suspect that will be the last tram going this way tonight. You were lucky to catch it, Sophie.’

Sophie looked up at her companion. ‘I know and thank you for meeting me. I feel awful dragging you out in this weather. I just couldn’t ignore Frank. He looked so hurt.’

‘It’s no trouble to me and I’m just helping you to stick to your resolution. It’s for the best. Now, let’s not dwell on it
further. There are two letters waiting for you, your aunt said they came in the midday post, before the snow started.’

It took them almost twice as long to get home but when they arrived Lizzie had the table set and a big pan of oxtail soup simmering on the range. Both Maria and Katie were in, as were Bella and Billy, but of the men there was no sign yet.

‘I swear it’s getting worse out there. You both look frozen. Get those wet things off and have a bowl of soup. You too, Mr Chatsworth.’ Lizzie bustled about, ladling the soup into two bowls, and for once Arthur didn’t refuse or protest.

‘Open your letters first, Sophie. We’re dying to know who has written in reply to your advert,’ Maria urged and Katie nodded eagerly. Katie thought it all very exciting; she’d never known anyone as young as her cousin who had started their own business.

‘Will you give the girl a chance to get her coat and hat off ?’ Lizzie scolded.

Sophie sat down beside her sister and tore open a pale blue envelope, which Arthur noted was of good quality paper.

She scanned the lines of neat copperplate writing and then smiled. ‘It’s from a Miss Henrietta Foster. She would like me to call to see her with a view to having what she calls “some afternoon dresses” made.’

‘Sounds a bit old fashioned, where does she live, Sophie?’ Lizzie asked, placing a bowl of soup in front of her niece and trying to scan the contents of the letter over Sophie’s shoulder.

‘Number five Laurel Road,’ Sophie supplied, looking questioningly up at her aunt.

Lizzie frowned, trying to think.

‘If I remember correctly, it’s about twenty minutes or maybe half an hour away – walking, that is,’ Arthur informed them. ‘I’m not sure if it’s still classed as Stanley Road or if it’s off Hawthorne Road. It’s a quiet area. It used to be quite affluent at one time, I believe. I walk a great deal when the weather is fine,’ he added rather self-consciously.

‘That’s right, Mr Chatsworth. Quite big, rather posh houses they are, or used to be,’ Lizzie added.

‘That sounds very promising, Sophie,’ Maria enthused. ‘Does she say when she wants you to call?’

‘Saturday afternoon, if it’s convenient, at three.’ Sophie bit her lip, thinking that even if the snow was a couple of feet thick she would have to get there somehow, she couldn’t let down this, her first prospective customer. She opened the second letter and scanned the lines. ‘This is from a Mrs Henderson of fourteen Walton Park; she would like me to call on Saturday too. I can’t see me making it to see both of them – and where
is
Walton Park anyway?’

Everyone looked mystified, including Arthur Chatsworth.

‘Maybe Jim will know. They shouldn’t be long now, they’re nearly an hour later than usual,’ Lizzie stated, looking anxiously at the clock on the mantel.

Neither Jim nor John Quine could enlighten Sophie when they finally arrived home, cold, wet and tired, having had to walk most of the way.

‘Don’t worry about it, Uncle Jim, Arthur said if you didn’t know he would look it up in a copy of Kelly’s Street Directory, they have one at the library,’ Sophie said.

Jim nodded wearily, wondering how she was going to get to either address if the weather didn’t let up.

When Frank arrived home it was to find both Nellie and Nora in the kitchen, which was decidedly unusual, and the sight of them gave him no pleasure at all. Despite the fact that he was cold and hungry, the stuffy, dirty and malodorous room was far from welcoming. Nellie was stirring something in a pan and Nora was sitting at the table amidst a variety of dirty dishes, flicking through an old magazine. Of Bertie there was no sign and Frank realised he was probably propping up the bar of some pub – as usual, snow or no snow. He turned away, intending to try to find some peace and quiet in which to nurse his feelings in the room he shared with Nora when her derisive laughter stopped him.

‘I heard they send that old feller down ter the tram stop ter meet her now. So that’s put a stop to your little game, hasn’t it?’