Lovers and Liars (17 page)

Harriet had listened intently, and now she had a question. ‘When you saw her there, did you think she seemed happy?’

John thought of Emily, of how she was laughing. He saw the light in her eyes and recalled how she and the man seemed to share such joy in the child, and each other. ‘Yes,’ he answered quietly. ‘She seemed happy enough.’

Harriet could see his pain, and now as she spoke, it was with a tenderness that belied her clumsy frame and hitherto brusque manner. ‘For what it’s worth,’ she told him, ‘I think you must put her behind you and start again. It seems that someone else came along with the means of giving her the contentment she needed. Be glad for her. That’s all you can do.’

John knew she was right and thanked her. ‘I can try,’ he said. ‘But I’ll never forget her.’

She gave a knowing smile. ‘Of course you won’t,’ she said. ‘That first love is the one you remember for the rest of your life.’

John was surprised at the softness in her voice, and when he looked at her as he did now, he was taken aback to see a lone tear run down her homely face. Realising he had seen it, she quickly brushed it away and was her usual brisk self again. ‘Right! Must get on.’ In a minute she was out of her chair and heading for the kitchen.

A moment later John followed her. She was standing at the pot-sink with her back to him. ‘I wanted to ask you something …’ he began.

When in that moment she turned round, he saw her puffy eyes and the hurried way in which she thrust the handkerchief into her pinny pocket, and he was sorry to have intruded. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he apologised. ‘It can wait.’

As he turned to leave, she called him back. ‘If it could wait, you wouldn’t have come to the kitchen after me,’ she chided. ‘What is it you want to ask?’

John told her about Archie. ‘He’s been a good friend,’ he explained. ‘His seafaring life is over, and now he has nothing to fall back on. The last time we parted, he told me he was looking for digs. He didn’t have much money, and he wouldn’t let me help. I’ve a feeling he has need of me, and the trouble is, I don’t know where to look for him.’

Harriet considered the matter for a moment before telling John, ‘If he did find a place to stay, you’ll have to try every lodging-house in Liverpool until you find him. On the other hand, if he didn’t find one to suit his purse or person, you might try the inns hereabouts; it’s likely you’ll find him drowning his sorrows. If that fails, you’ll need to look under the railway arches. That’s where some unfortunate folks lay their heads when they don’t find a home for whatever reason.’

John had an inkling of hope. ‘When I find him, and if he isn’t yet fixed up, is it possible you could arrange a bed for him here? I’ve got the money to pay, and it would only be for a few nights, until we get him a regular place. Is the back room still unoccupied?’

Reluctantly, Harriet had to refuse. ‘I only have the three bedrooms, and Miss Hamilton came yesterday and took the last, so no, I’m sorry, I can’t do it.’

As John thanked her and made to leave, she had an idea. ‘If it was only for two or three nights at the most, I dare say I could put a camp-bed in with you. It would be a squash and I couldn’t allow it for more than three nights.’ She paused. ‘I don’t mind telling you, I’m not happy about the idea. It’s not a big room at the best of times, and it would be a terrible nuisance cleaning around all that clutter …’

Sensing she was about to change her mind, John gave her a hug. ‘Archie may have already found himself a bed,’ he pointed out, ‘but if he needs to share my room, I promise it won’t be for longer than three nights, and with me alongside, we can double the efforts to find him a place of his own.’

Swayed and delighted by John’s impulsive hug, Harriet relented. But she had terms, and she stated them now. ‘I’ll want an extra shilling a day for use of the cot, and cleaning and such, and that will cover his breakfast as well. I’ll also need to give him the once-over before I agree altogether,’ she warned. ‘As you know, I’m particular as to who stays in my house.’

John thanked her again. ‘I hope I find him, and that if I do, he’s in good spirits,’ he told her. ‘He’s not a young man any more.’

For the next four hours, John tramped the streets and back alleys of Liverpool. He searched every inn along the dockside, his first call being at the Sailor’s Rest, where he had last seen Archie.

‘I’ve not seen him since the two of you sat at that there table.’ The same big, hairy landlord pointed to the table where John and Archie had sat talking. ‘Hey! If you’re in need of another bath, I’ll soon have one at the ready …’

Disappointed, John thanked him and left to continue his search.

The answer was the same at every inn, and now, two sore feet and a heavy heart later, this was the last. ‘Sorry, matey.’ The landlord shook his head. ‘Can’t recall nobody of that description.’

Before he left, John asked the same of this landlord that he’d asked of all the others. ‘If he does come in, tell him John Hanley’s looking for him, and say I’ll keep looking till I find him.’ He didn’t give his address; revealing too much about yourself was never a wise thing. He had learned that along the way.

Next stop was the railway arches.

Going from the docklands, he crossed a network of narrow streets and, following the run of the railway-track, headed off towards the arches. What he saw there was a sobering reminder to John of the desperation that dogged the lives of so many in this big city. There were vagabonds huddled under sacks, ragged boys raiding middens for food, scowling, devious characters lurking at every corner, and stray dogs roaming. The stench of urine and booze hung over every back alley.

Hoping against hope that his friend Archie would be found safe and well, John intensified his search.

When he had checked every nook and cranny, he sat dejected on the doorstep of a narrow house. He couldn’t think where he should look next, for he had already looked everywhere in the vicinity. Besides, he suspected Archie would never wander far away from the docks. Man and boy, he had always lived hereabouts.

Suddenly, from somewhere close by, he heard a woman screeching abuse: ‘And don’t come back, you filthy, lying old git! Not unless you want the dogs tearing at your arse. Go on! Bugger off with you!’

The tirade was followed by the slam of a door, then the sound of a man in desperate voice. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Sadie! I really have got property abroad. Anybody will tell you the same. When you and me get wed, I’ll take you there. SADIE! Let me in.’ There came the sound of a boot against wood. ‘Oh, sod you then! You’re not the only woman to be had, not by a long chalk. You’ll be the sorry one. You see if I’m not right, you miserable old cow!’

Now, as the little man turned, it was to see John standing there, legs akimbo and a smile across his face. ‘Shame on you, Archie,’ he tutted with a shake of his head. ‘I knew you had a reputation with women, but I’d have thought you were past all that by now?’

It took a moment for the little man to realise who it was, and when it dawned on him, he gave a loud whoop and a holler and threw his cap in the air. ‘JOHN! Well, I never!’ With his wispy hair stood on end, and a broad grin from ear to ear, he more than ever resembled a leprechaun. ‘I’m blowed if it’s not my old shipmate. Oh, but am I glad to see a familiar face!’

Eagerly flinging his arms round John he almost had the two of them unbalanced. ‘What’s brought you back, son? Oh, look now, this calls for a drink, only I’m spent out. That bloody Sadie – took me for every penny, she did, then threw me out on the streets like some old baggage. What d’you think to that, eh?’

John thought it served him right and said so. Soon, though, he had a comforting arm round his old mate, and was marching him off to the nearest public-house. ‘I knew you’d be up to no good,’ he chided. ‘Chasing women, causing trouble and dossing anywhere you could lay your head.’

Having now reached the pub on the corner, he threw open the door and propelled Archie inside. ‘I’ve found you a bed for a night or two. Just until we get you settled elsewhere.’

Archie was intrigued. ‘But what’s brought you back all of a sudden? What’s happened to your wedding plans and the little woman, eh? Tell me that.’ The old sailor had a feeling that John’s homecoming had not gone well, and his heart sank. ‘Has it all gone wrong, son?’ he asked sorrowfully. ‘Did it not turn out the way you planned, is that it?’

‘You might say that,’ John conceded. ‘But look, I’ll tell you all about it in a minute.’

Once they were seated, each with a jug of ale, John explained what had happened between himself and Emily. ‘So there you have it, Archie,’ he finished quietly. ‘Everything we planned – marriage, a family of our own … it’s all gone.’ Even now he found it so hard to comprehend.

Archie knew how badly his young friend had taken it, and he gave his best advice. ‘The way I see it, son, is this,’ he said. ‘Your woman has found what she wants and it doesn’t appear to be you. Now there’s one or two things you can do. You can go back to her now and plead with her to leave the husband she’s taken in your place. If she agrees to that, you have to ask yourself if you could ever trust her again. Moreover, you’ll be taking on another man’s child, and all the aggravation that goes with it, because I dare say he won’t take it lying down.’

John had already considered all that. ‘If I thought Emily could still love me, I’d take on the world if she asked,’ he confessed. ‘Only I saw her there, with him and the child.’ It was like a moving picture in his mind; the mature Emily, so beautiful, so happy with her family. ‘She was like someone I never knew before.’

‘Ah, that’s it, y’see, son.’ Archie had known many women in his time. ‘Women are changeable creatures. It’s in their nature – they can’t help it. And it’s not surprising how, in the space of time you’ve been away, your Emily has grown from a girl to a woman.’

‘You’re right.’ John had been astonished at the change in Emily. ‘She’s more beautiful than I remembered, especially when she took the child into her arms. It was a lovely thing to see.’

Cutting through John’s bitter-sweet smile when he spoke of her, Archie reminded him, ‘The truth is, she’s chosen another man over you, and that’s hard to accept. It’s your pride, son. A man’s pride is easily dented.’

John gave a wistful smile. ‘Pride has nothing to do with it,’ he murmured. ‘You can’t know how it was between us; nobody can. Emily may have turned from me to another, but I still love and want her. I always will.’

‘Then I pity you.’ Archie had never seen a man so devoted.

Taking a gulp of his ale, John asked, ‘Go on then, Archie. What was the other thing?’

After half a jug of ale, Archie’s memory was not what it used to be. ‘What other thing?’

‘You said there were two things I could do.’

Archie’s brain limped into action. ‘Oh yes. Well, it’s simple enough, I should have thought.’

Urging him on, John asked, ‘In what way?’

‘Your woman chose another man over you; they got wed and now she has a family she loves, and from what you told me, she seemed more than happy enough with her lot. Is that correct?’

John confirmed it was so.

‘So now, you’re within your rights to do the same.’

‘And what exactly would you have me do then, Archie?’

‘Cut loose, man! Why! You could choose any woman that took your fancy. Lord knows, you’re a good catch for any of ’em. You’re a fine figure of a man – fit and strong – and you’ve money in your pocket.’

John laughed, but it was a sound without mirth. ‘I’ve no mind to do any such thing.’

‘Then you’re a fool!’

‘Aye, and I’ll stay a fool.’ The idea of any other woman taking Emily’s place was unthinkable.

‘Then listen to me and listen good, son.’ Leaning forward, Archie spoke in a stern voice and with the merest scowl on his face. ‘No man should martyr himself for a woman who turns her back on him. If she has a husband and child, then there’s no going back that I can see. She’s made her bed and you’ll do well to let her get on with it. You’ve a life to live, and every minute spent brooding over her is a minute wasted. If you can’t see that now, you soon will.’

Something about the old sailor’s manner, a kind of rage, made John think he must have suffered a similar experience. ‘Is that what you did, Archie?’ he asked curiously. ‘Did the same thing happen to you that happened to me?’

For a long moment Archie stared into his ale. ‘It might have,’ he admitted. But he would not be drawn further on the subject. ‘All I’m saying is, if you brood after one woman for the rest of your life, you might as well not
have
a life.’

The two of them drank in silence, their thoughts going back to their own lives and recalling how it was before, and each of them knowing it would never be like that again. It was a sobering thought, and the more they thought the more they drank.

Yet they had their wits about them, and even now, though he wished it was any other way, John was musing over a plan that would take them forward. ‘What was your real trade?’ he asked of Archie. ‘Before you went as a cook on the ships?’

With a mischievous little smile, Archie held high his jug of ale. ‘Delivering
this
on a horse and cart,’ he revealed. ‘Thirty years and more, I drove for Thwaites’s Brewery … delivered all over the North, from when I was little more than a lad, right up to the day before I signed my name to be a sailor.’

Quietly pleased with Archie’s answer, John had more questions. ‘So you know how to handle a horse and cart?’

Archie stuck out his little chest. ‘I was the lead driver – that should tell you how good I was.’ He chuckled. ‘All done up in my breeches and red jacket, there wasn’t a finer sight to be seen.’ Giving a wink, he revealed, ‘I had my fair share of women then, I can tell you.’

John could well believe it. ‘So, you know the North well, do you?’

‘I do, son, yes – better than any man.’

‘And who made the wagons?’

Archie had to think hard on that one, but by and by he had the answer. ‘A family firm by the name of Armitage,’ he said. ‘The father owned a sawmill and the two sons made the wagons in a yard alongside. As I recall, each was run as a separate business.’ He cocked his head as he told John, ‘I were told the father passed on some years back, and the sons took over the timber business. But they can’t still be going, ’cause they’d be as old as I am now. Unless o’ course they too had sons and the tradition got carried on.’