The Leaving of Liverpool (9 page)

There was a communal sigh of approval from everyone.

Olivia clapped her hands. ‘Oh, it feels so . . . so light! I feel light-headed! It’s . . . it’s gorgeous! Everyone will come rushing to follow my lead, I know they will!’

Phoebe-Ann had to admit that it did suit Olivia’s pert features and she herself had always been a devotee of fashion, in such minor ways as she could afford. For a second she envied Olivia her wealth and the freedom it brought. ‘It does suit you, miss. It really does!’

Olivia’s eyes sparkled as she jumped up. She smiled archly at the small, wiry hairdresser and winked. ‘Now it’s your turn.’

‘Me!’ Phoebe-Ann gasped.

‘Yes! Today I’m going to transform you! It’s my . . . my project for today! You’re to have a completely new image and I will supervise it and pay for it! You should be delighted and very grateful that I take such an interest in you! Don’t sit there with your mouth hanging open like a codfish! Monsieur is waiting!’

Phoebe-Ann’s hands went instinctively to her long hair, neatly pinned up beneath her hat, her eyes wide with horror. Miss Olivia must be joking! She must be! ‘My mam would kill me, miss! She really would! I mean it’s . . . it’s fine er . . . right that someone like you should . . . but me . . . ! She’ll kill me!’ she stammered.

Olivia was annoyed and impatient. ‘Phoebe-Ann Parkinson you are the most ungrateful . . . stubborn . . . unimaginative person I’ve ever met! Do you want to look drab and dull all your life? You always used to say you’d give anything to look like me and now you’re refusing the chance! How insulting! I know you would look wonderful with the right clothes and the right hairstyle! You could even find yourself a young man to sweep you off your feet and take you away from all that!’ Olivia threw out a hand to indicate Phoebe-Ann’s plain clothes and demure hat. ‘You could you know and don’t tell me you would pass that up!’ Olivia didn’t really believe her own statement but she was annoyed that Phoebe-Ann would ruin her plans and besides, maybe Papa wouldn’t be quite so difficult to handle if Phoebe-Ann’s hair had been cut too.

Phoebe-Ann was finding that her alarm and trepidation were fading as she caught some of Olivia’s excitement. She couldn’t refuse such generosity. She’d be mad to pass up this opportunity and maybe she really could find a nice young man who wasn’t short of money. Not dressed like this she couldn’t, but in an outfit like Miss Olivia’s . . . ‘Well, if you really do think . . .’

Before she had time to protest further she was steered towards the chair. A fluffy white towel was draped around her shoulders, her hat removed, the hair pins withdrawn and her hair brushed out.

When the first blond tress fell to the floor, her heart sank and she tried not to think about what her mam would say, but as Olivia darted from side to side exclaiming with little cries of delight, she forgot all about Lily.

When Monsieur had finished she couldn’t believe it was really herself staring back at her from the mirror, for a shining cap of bouncy blond hair framed her face. ‘It doesn’t look like me! I feel . . . new!’

‘You will be “new” when I’ve finished with you! Next stop Cripps and then De Jong et Cie!’ Olivia was in her element. She was wondering if she could pass Phoebe-Ann off as a new friend? Wouldn’t that be fun! Maybe to Abbie; she was a bit dense.

Phoebe-Ann followed Olivia out into the street as the entire staff of the salon waved them goodbye. Her head felt curiously light and she looked around to see if anyone was looking at her. Quite a few heads turned in their direction.

Olivia sank down in the velvet covered chair the deferential assistant in Cripps set out for her. ‘We want to try everything, please! And hats and shoes and gloves as well!’ she demanded imperiously.

Two hours later they emerged carrying numerous parcels and Phoebe-Ann felt as though she was walking on air. A pert straw cloche hat with a large satin bow on the side covered her hair and matched the coral-coloured dress with the dropped waist which made her look taller and even more slender. It had a handkerchief hemline that was shorter than she’d ever worn before. Her legs were encased in silk stockings and she wore cream kid shoes with an hour-glass heel and a strap over the instep. Her uniform had been packed in a box.

When the doorman held open the door and murmured ‘Good afternoon, madam’ she nearly giggled. He hadn’t even given her a second look when they’d gone in. ‘Do I really look . . . like a lady?’ she whispered.

‘Oh, every inch! Now, let’s have some tea. I’m quite worn out.’ Olivia feigned exhaustion.

As she followed Olivia into the tea rooms, Phoebe-Ann began to feel apprehensive. What if she did something wrong and made a terrible gaffe and embarrassed Miss Olivia and made a complete show of herself? ‘Can I just sit here and not have any tea?’ she whispered as Olivia smiled up at the waitress who was enquiring what ‘modom’ would like.

‘Don’t be silly! A pot of tea for two and . . . I think some scones?’

‘Cream and jam, madam?’

Olivia nodded. The waitress scribbled on her pad and walked away. Olivia glanced around to see if there was anyone she knew to whom she could show off her handiwork. There wasn’t. She sighed irritably. How disappointing.

Phoebe-Ann ate very slowly, praying the cream wouldn’t ooze out nor the jam slide off and on to her dress. Olivia drank her tea quickly and then started to tap her fingers on the table impatiently. ‘What shall we do now? It’s far too early to go back.’

‘We could go down to the Pierhead and perhaps go for a sail on the ferry?’ Phoebe-Ann suggested. She, too, was loath to return to Upper Huskisson Street. She wanted to be admired and stared at.

Olivia looked disdainful. ‘With all those common people! It’s such a crush!’ Then she smiled. ‘Yes, we will go to the Pierhead! There’s bound to be one of Papa’s ships in. We could ask someone to take us on a tour.’

‘The
Mauretania
’s in. I do know that,’ Phoebe-Ann supplied, thinking of the Malones.

‘She’ll do. Finish your tea and collect your things! We’ll take a taxi.’

Phoebe-Ann did as she was told for she’d never been in a taxi before. Olivia was offering another treat.

 

The Pierhead was crowded but, as she followed Olivia to the Princes Landing Stage and craned her neck to see the towering black hull and four red and black funnels of the
Mauretania
, she felt her spirits soar. ‘Oh, miss, wouldn’t it be wonderful to be sailing on her?’

‘That’s what we’ll do! We’ll pretend we’re just starting off on a cruise. It could be fun! I don’t know why I never thought of that before. A cruise! Yes, I think I’d like to go on a cruise.’

‘She doesn’t do that, miss. She only goes to America.’

Olivia cast her a withering look. ‘I know that! I was just pretending! Use your imagination!’ She looked thoughtful. ‘I could go on another ship. One that does cruise. I might even take you with me.’

When they reached the bottom of the gangway, Olivia tapped the arm of the young officer. ‘My name is Olivia Mercer.’ She paused waiting for his reaction.

Instead he scanned the long list of names he was holding. ‘Sorry, miss. I can’t find you on here.’

‘Don’t be impertinent! I’m not a passenger! My father is Richard Mercer, he owns this ship!’

He stared at her hard.

‘Well, he is a director of the Company! I . . . we would like to “look around”. Do a tour of inspection, so to speak.’

He was sceptical and became flustered for other passengers were milling around and starting to complain. ‘I’d better get the Chief, miss.’

Olivia was annoyed. ‘Get whoever you wish but don’t take all day about it!’

The confusion at the bottom of the gangway had been spotted and another officer appeared. ‘What’s the hold up?’

‘Er, this lady says she is Mr Richard Mercer’s daughter and she and her friend would like to look around before we sail.’

George Moore, the Chief Electrical Officer, gritted his teeth and was sorry he’d intervened. God Almighty! Wasn’t there enough confusion and enough work to do before they sailed without having to escort two spoiled brats around a ship already crowded with passengers and their families and friends who had come to see them off! But if she complained to her father, and by the look on her face she would do just that, he shrugged. ‘Would you follow me, ladies?’ He even managed a smile. Spoiled bitch!

Phoebe-Ann was more excited than she’d ever been in her entire life. He had called her a ‘lady’! She just wished the brothers Malone could see her now. Their eyes would be like doorstops but they’d be down in the engine room.

Along the miles of crowded corridors they went. Through the second and third class smoking rooms and dining rooms. Up the magnificent sweeping staircase and on through the first class lounge with its ornate glass ceiling, wood panelled walls, brocade covered chairs and sofas. Its long windows were draped with velvet hangings while rich carpet covered the entire floor. She’d never seen such magnificence and splendour and glancing at Olivia she could see even she was impressed.

Each room was more sumptuous than the last, she thought, and it was so big. In fact it wasn’t like being on a ship at all. She was mesmerized by the beauty and the activity as stewards and stewardesses and bellboys and passengers rushed past them.

When they reached the promenade deck and she looked down over the side she felt dizzy. They were so high up!

With the end of the tour now in sight, George Moore hastily pointed out the landmarks of the Liverpool waterfront and those on the opposite bank of the Mersey. Olivia didn’t seem interested but Phoebe-Ann hung on his every word.

They both jumped as the ship’s whistle blasted out. A great bellow of sound that obliterated all other noises. They’d seen the bellboys beating their gongs and shouting ‘All ashore that’s going ashore!’ but like everyone else they’d ignored them.

‘Time to leave,’ the chief ‘sparks’ announced. ‘We sail in a few minutes. Better get ashore or you might find yourselves passengers,’ he joked.

Phoebe-Ann thought how wonderful that would be but already he was walking briskly ahead of them and they joined the crowd of people assembling at the top of the gangway.

She would have liked to have watched the ship leave but Olivia hustled her towards the taxi rank as it was dusk. She’d been so engrossed that she’d lost track of the time. As she leaned back against the seat in the taxi she felt as though the whole day had been a wonderful dream. It had been glorious. ‘I can never thank you enough, miss, for today. It’s been . . . Oh, I wish I could find the right words!’

Olivia smiled. Phoebe-Ann’s naive enthusiasm was becoming tiresome and she was now absorbed in a new plan. She would see Papa about it this very evening. A trip to America, that’s what she wanted him to sanction. To New York, Boston. Why had she never thought of it before? She had been very impressed with the
Mauretania
. Of course she knew the Cunard ships were the best, the fastest, the safest, but she’d never really realized just how luxurious they were. She had also been attracted by the number of young men she’d seen in the palatial public rooms; men who had looked at her with open admiration. She’d been under the impression that only old men and wealthy spinsters or dowagers went cruising. There were, of course, all those second and third class passengers, but she would never even contemplate having anything to do with them. She fell silent, engrossed in her thoughts and schemes.

 

As they reached the bottom of Brownlow Hill the cab stopped.

Olivia leaned forward. ‘Why have we stopped?’

‘Don’t like the look of this crowd, miss.’

‘Don’t be stupid! Drive on!’ she demanded.

The cabby ignored her.

Phoebe-Ann looked out of the window and gasped. Ahead of them there was a mob of about a hundred people, shouting and jeering. She could hear the sound of breaking glass and then she remembered the newspaper. ‘Oh, miss! The police are on strike! Don’t you remember the newspaper?’

‘What has that to do with us for heaven’s sake!’ Olivia snapped.

‘Sorry, ladies! I ain’t goin’ any further and if you take my advice you’ll get out and run back to Church Street.’

‘I am not running anywhere and neither are you! Drive on!’ Olivia shouted.

To their consternation he got out and opened the passenger door.

Olivia lost her temper. ‘Oh, go away! Run away if you want to! I’m not frightened of those . . . those common people!’

‘You should be! They’re drunk and capable of anything! Give me your parcels and we’ll all scarper! Hurry up!’

‘I’ll do no such thing! You get back in the driving seat and do what you’re paid to do – drive!’

‘Don’t be bloody stupid! This cab is my living but if I try to drive through them I’ll have no bloody cab and no bloody life either! Now get a move on! I’m not waiting for much longer!’

Phoebe-Ann was afraid and she tugged at Olivia’s arm. ‘He’s right! I mean if he’s willing to leave his taxi he must be right!’

‘He’s a fool, that’s what he is! And a coward to boot! I’ll drive the damned thing myself!’

‘Well, I’m off! You’ve had your chance!’ The driver turned and began to run.

Panic began to grip Phoebe-Ann. ‘If we hurry we can catch him up!’

‘Oh, let him go! We’ll manage!’

‘Do you know how to drive, miss?’ Phoebe-Ann was near to tears.

‘Of course I do! James used to let me drive his car, it’s easy!’

Olivia climbed into the front seat and started to push and pull the gear lever. At least the engine was still running, she didn’t have to crank it with the heavy handle. Not that there would have been time for that. They jerked forward, stopped and jerked forward again and Phoebe-Ann uttered a scream.

‘Shut up, Phoebe-Ann! I’m doing my best!’ Olivia’s frown disappeared as they moved forward again, slowly but evenly this time and she became more confident as they picked up speed.