Beyond a Misty Shore (34 page)

Maria nodded, her eyes shining. ‘I got a really lovely dress, Sophie, it’s—’

‘No! Don’t tell me, I want it to be a surprise, but you’d look lovely in a sack, Maria.’

‘And I wouldn’t even have minded that, Sophie. Just as long as Hans and I could be married. I’ll never ever forget how much we owe to Hetty and we’ve agreed that when we have our first baby it will be called either Henry or Henrietta,’ Maria said firmly.

Sophie put her arm around her. ‘She’d have liked that, Maria. I know she would.’

The morning of the wedding dawned sunny and warm. The thin mist that had covered the tops of the hills had been burned off by the sun; the sky was a cloudless azure blue and the sea a shade of deep aquamarine and rays of sunlight danced on the ripples and wavelets, making them sparkle.

‘Oh, it’s just perfect, Mam,’ Sophie said thankfully.

Sarah smiled and nodded. ‘This is one day when we can do without Manannán’s cloak but we’ll have to get a move on, we have to be in the chapel in just over an hour.’

‘I hope Aunty Lizzie is a bit more organised than she usually is,’ Sophie remarked as she took the long pale blue organdie dress with the wide white sash from its hanger and
called Bella to come down quickly. Sophie’s own dress was of hyacinth-blue crêpe de Chine with cape sleeves and a full skirt and she had attached a short veil to a blue headband which she thought more appropriate than artificial flowers.

‘It suits you, Sophie,’ Sarah commented as she adjusted the coffee-coloured hat that matched her coffee and cream crêpe de Chine dress and jacket. Sophie had bought it in Val Smith’s, which she said was one of Liverpool’s best millinery shops. Sarah felt very smart and, for once in her life, truly elegant. Sophie had wonderful taste and a way with fabric and colours.

Both Bella and Sarah were ready when Jim, Lizzie and Billy arrived, followed a few minutes later by Arthur, who looked very smart indeed in his new suit and new bowler hat.

‘Is she ready?’ Lizzie asked, thinking that she, Sarah and Sophie looked like society ladies instead of the working-class women they were and it was all thanks to Sophie’s talents.

‘She was just fixing her veil when I came down,’ Sophie informed them. ‘She looks absolutely
gorgeous
, doesn’t she, Mam?’

Sarah nodded, a lump in her throat. Oh, Maria had always been considered one of the prettiest girls in Peel but today, well, she did indeed look gorgeous.

Lizzie exclaimed out loud as Maria came down the stairs, thinking that never in a million years could her poor Katie look as beautiful. Maria was slim and petite and the dress was perfect. It was very plain, made of white duchesse satin that seemed to have a sheen to it. As tradition demanded it had a
high neck with a little stand-up collar edged with lace and the same lace bordered the cuffs of the long tight sleeves. At the back it spread into a fishtail-shaped train attached to the dress with a large bow. Maria’s long dark hair fell in loose curls and her face was framed by clouds of tulle held in place with a band of white satin embroidered with silver bugle beads.

Sophie passed her the small bouquet of summer flowers and trailing green smilax. ‘You’ll be the loveliest bride Peel has ever seen.’

‘Just as long as Hans thinks so,’ Maria said, smiling a little shyly.

It wasn’t far to the little chapel where both Sophie and Sarah had been married and so the wedding party walked, to be admired and even clapped by everyone they passed, locals and holidaymakers alike. Lizzie thought it was all so much better, more “personal” than going in carriages or cars, so she remarked to Sarah.

‘You’d have a bit of a job to get a carriage or a car down some of these lanes,’ Sarah replied, feeling very proud and pleased that Maria was marrying the man she loved, that they were both starting out in business and had the security of a few hundred pounds in the bank.

When Maria entered the chapel and Hans turned towards her there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that this was the happiest day of both their lives. Both their smiles were radiant as Maria handed her bouquet to Sophie and Hans took her hand in his and murmured, ‘I love you, my beautiful Maria.’

He was a good-looking lad, Lizzie thought. You had to
admit that. Tall and slim, his blond hair lightened by the sun and his skin tanned by both sun and wind. He looked much better than the last time she’d seen him at Hetty Foster’s birthday tea. Today he was wearing a smart charcoal-grey suit, a sprig of heather from the hillside in his buttonhole. They looked so much in love and had conquered so many obstacles to be together that it was like a fairy tale; it brought tears to your eyes. She fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief as the service began.

‘Mam, will it take long? Bella said there’s going to be great things to eat afterwards. That Mrs Sayle sent down a huge piece of ham and I’m starving already,’ Billy whispered loudly, tugging at Lizzie’s skirt. He’d be glad when the ‘serious’ bit was over and the holiday could really begin. He could take off this soppy shirt and the much-hated tie. The beach looked great and there were so many things to explore.

‘Shut up and stop making a show of me!’ Lizzie hissed, raising her eyes to the chapel roof and hoping that no one had heard.

Bella looked up at her mother who was trying hard to suppress a grin.

‘Boys!’ Sophie whispered and Bella smiled too. Everyone would certainly enjoy themselves today.

N
ORA HAD HEARD THAT
Lizzie and her family had gone off to a wedding. That niece of hers – the one who looked like Vivien Leigh – was marrying some foreigner over on the Isle of Man. She presumed that that Sophie had gone too. Hadn’t she done well for herself, she thought spitefully. Conning some daft old woman into leaving her that big house and a small fortune, or so she’d heard. Well, she certainly wouldn’t want to know Frank Ryan now. Not now that she’d come up in the world and had money. It would serve him right.

She applied another coat of scarlet lipstick and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was bleached by a professional hairdresser now and she’d let it grow and wore it in the long pageboy style which half covered the left side of
her face like Veronica Lake, the film star. She had ‘come up in the world’ herself – a bit. She had more clothes and jewellery and perfume now than she could afford to buy with the pittance of an allotment Frank left her, thanks to Jake Harvey.

She frowned, pursing her lips. She was still young and attractive and all she wanted out of life was a good time and a bit of excitement. Jake gave her that, certainly, but he didn’t
own
her, she thought. Oh, no, she was far too wise to get caught like that now. That Maria Kinnin must be mad, tying herself down to one man for life and working her fingers to the bone to keep him happy, she’d soon lose her looks that way. Nora Ryan wasn’t going down that road, thank you very much. What had she ever got out of marriage? Nothing that she could see. She’d had some bloody stupid ideas when she’d been young and had been desperate to marry Frank Ryan; she’d even lied through her teeth to get him. She’d thought she was in love then, she never looked at anyone else; she’d been sure that the future held only happiness. She’d very soon learned it didn’t and now she was glad Frank spent so much time at sea. And what was ‘love’ anyway? Most men were only interested in one thing and it wasn’t ‘love and romance’. She knew Frank wouldn’t divorce her and she didn’t particularly care, things were going along quite nicely as they were. Anyway, while he was still married to her he couldn’t marry Sophie Teare. Not that
she’d
want him now she had money.

She wasn’t seeing Jake tonight, he was going somewhere
‘important’, which meant that he and his ‘associates’, as he called his mates, were up to no good again, but she didn’t ask questions. She knew better than to do that. If he’d wanted her to know, he’d have told her, but she hoped that there might be something at the end of tonight’s escapade for her. Both her mam and da were out – in the pub as usual – and so Harry Thomas was calling here. She’d met him a couple of weeks ago at a dance ( Jake had been doing something ‘important’ that night, too) and he was
gorgeous
, there was no other word for it. The image of Clark Gable in
Gone With the Wind
and such nice manners and ways too. Of course she wasn’t stupid enough to believe everything he said; he was a born flatterer – with looks like that he was bound to be. But it still felt good to be told she was the equal of any Hollywood star.

She’d tidied the room up a bit and was wearing her newest peach satin camiknickers, slip and matching bra under her cerise cotton dress. Harry had said he’d bring a bottle of gin and she had a small bottle of Rose’s Lime Juice. Gin and lime was so much more ‘sophisticated’ than beer, Harry had told her. She was looking forward to an evening in with him; he was bound to have had a great deal of experience with women.

They had a couple of drinks and chatted amiably about the latest films and she was looking forward to the minute when he would take her in his arms. She smiled archly at him.

‘Harry, are we going ter spend all night talking about what films we’d like ter see . . . ?’ She began to undo the buttons that ran down the front of her dress.

He smiled back and put down his glass. She was quite attractive and very seductive although she seemed oblivious to the untidy, dirty room and its smell, which wasn’t masked by the overpowering perfume she wore. Still, he could put up with that for a couple of hours.

‘Of course not, Nora. I was just being polite.’ He stood up and drew her to her feet.

‘Yer don’t have to be “polite” with me, Harry,’ she said as he took her in his arms and began to kiss her passionately. This was
much
better, she thought, feeling a little light-headed but excited.

They had moved to the bed and things had progressed. Nora’s dress lay in a crumpled heap on the floor along with her slip and bra and Harry was pouring them another drink when there came the sound of the back door being thrown open.

‘Oh, bloody hell! Da must have been thrown out again,’ Nora cursed, pulling the old blanket up to cover her naked breasts and hoping he wouldn’t come barging in here. Of all the times for him to have been chucked out of the blasted pub.

Harry had grabbed his shirt and jacket and was hastily shoving his feet back into his shoes, cursing under his breath as the door was flung open.

Nora’s eyes widened as she caught sight of Jake standing in the doorway. His face was red and he was panting heavily – he’d obviously been running – but his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Harry Thomas.

‘Who the ’ell is ’e?’ he shouted at her.

Nora decided the best form of defence was attack. ‘What the bloody hell are you doing here, Jake, and can’t yer knock before barging in?’ she yelled back.

Harry didn’t like the look of this bloke at all. He was obviously a thug of the first order. He edged his way slowly towards the door as Jake advanced into the room.

‘I said who the ’ell is he? As soon as me back’s turned you’re whoring with this feller!’ Jake yelled, his face turning almost puce and the veins in his neck standing out as anger consumed him.

Nora held her ground although she was beginning to feel apprehensive; she’d never seen him this angry before. ‘And I asked yer what the bloody hell you was doing here? You said you had something important to do – obviously more flaming “important” than me, so why should I sit at home on me own?’

Harry left as quickly and as quietly as he could, feeling he’d had a lucky escape for he’d finally realised who this was. He’d heard of Jake Harvey and his reputation.

‘It went wrong, didn’t it? That thicko Mick Gates got things mixed up, that’s why I came ’ere, Nora. So youse could say I was with yer all night and I find yer effing well in bed with
that
feller!’

Nora was dragging on her dress. ‘You don’t own me, Jake Harvey. I do what I like, now clear off !’

He came towards her, fury filling him. ‘But everything you’ve got I bloody well gave yer, Nora. You were ’appy enough to take all that stuff.’

She still held her ground and laughed cuttingly. ‘Stuff you’d
nicked
! You never paid for any of it and you expect me to be grateful. Oh, thanks a lot, Jake! It’s
so
generous of yer! And then you come barging in here, calling me a whore, and now you want me to lie for yer ter keep yer out of jail. Well, you can go ter hell, I’m saying nothing of the kind an’ Harry will back me up. It will be
our
word against yours. You’re going down – again, Jake!’

A red mist of rage danced before his eyes. She was an ungrateful, two-timing whore and now she was refusing to give him an alibi and he knew this time he’d serve five years with hard labour. The bitch! The bloody whoring
bitch
!

Nora screamed as he grabbed her by the throat but the sound was choked off. She began to fight with every ounce of strength she possessed but it wasn’t long before that strength ebbed away and her arms fell to her side. Her knees buckled and at last she fell to the ground, her eyes filled with pure terror before her head rolled to one side and she lay still.