Gypsy Page 11

  ‘We do understand that Mrs Langworthy wishes the very best for Molly,’ Sam agreed, looking straight at Mr Edward. ‘But what we need to establish today is whether you are both of the same mind.’

  Beth was surprised Sam could be so bold and forthright. She had been a little afraid he would just allow himself to be railroaded into agreeing with everything the Langworthys said.

  ‘Indeed we are,’ Mr Edward said firmly. ‘I can assure you both I share my wife’s wish to cherish her, protect her and give her everything we would have given our own child had we been blessed with one. I have very little previous experience with small children, I admit, but I find Molly utterly delightful.’

  Beth could only stare at Mr Edward, for she hadn’t expected him to show that degree of warmth or commitment.

  ‘Beth!’ Sam looked sharply at his sister. ‘Have you anything to add?’

  ‘If we let her stay with you, will you promise that you will write and let us know how she is, until she’s old enough to write herself?’ she asked, her voice shaking with emotion.

  ‘You have our word on that,’ Mr Edward said gravely. ‘If you should come back, you will be welcome to come and see her too. All that I ask is that you allow us to become her legal guardians, to take our name. We need that security.’

  Beth and Sam exchanged glances, realizing that in the eyes of the law this would mean they were relinquishing their rights to their sister.

  ‘No child could be more wanted,’ Mrs Langworthy pleaded. ‘She will have us, Mrs Bruce, Kathleen, and Cook too. It will be a stable, happy home full of love. We know what a wrench this will be for you both, but by putting her in our care you will be safeguarding her future.’

  Sam looked to Beth and she nodded. ‘When she’s older you must tell her that we didn’t do this easily, only because we believed it to be the best for her,’ Sam said tremulously.

  ‘We certainly will, my dears.’ Mrs Langworthy got up and took Beth’s hands, drawing her up from her chair to embrace her. ‘We won’t let her forget you. And we promise we will never give you cause to regret today’s decision.’

  Mr Edward moved closer and cleared his throat before speaking. ‘Can I just say how much we will miss you, Beth? You have brought light and colour into this house.’ He paused for a moment, looking at Sam, then back at Beth. ‘I believe you will both do well in America, but if it isn’t to your liking, return and come back to us. We will always have room in our hearts and home for you.’

  Beth heard the sincerity in his voice and she felt deeply touched.

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ she whispered, tears springing into her eyes. ‘I think it best that we leave as soon as possible. It will be easier for everyone that way.’

  Chapter Ten

  A stiff north-easterly wind forced the passengers on the decks of the Majestic to clutch at their hats as they waved goodbye to their friends and relatives. The choppy sea and the sky were a sullen dark grey, but the red-jacketed bandsmen playing spiritedly on the quay and the streamers being hurled at the ship created a carnival atmosphere despite the bleak March day.

  Mrs Bruce, Kathleen and Mr Edward had moved back from the pressing crowd to the shelter of a shed but they were still waving frantically, the green feather in Kathleen’s hat bobbing in the wind.

  ‘They should go now. They’ll catch their death of cold,’ Beth shouted to Sam. What with the wind, the band and people shouting all around her, she could barely hear herself think.

  What she really meant was that she couldn’t bear to look at them for another moment, for they represented all she was unwilling to give up. She was of course forcing a gay smile, but now she was chilled to the bone she was finding it increasingly hard to pretend joy and excitement. She wanted to be back in the warm kitchen of Falkner Square with Molly on her lap. She didn’t want to leave Liverpool.

  But she couldn’t say any of that to Sam for he was genuinely excited enough for both of them. His cheeks and nose had turned red with the cold, but his wide smile said that his long-awaited dream had at last begun.

  ‘There’s Sally!’ he exclaimed jubilantly, pointing down into the waving crowd. ‘She’s there by the crane! The one in a red cloak. I didn’t think she cared enough to come and see me off.’

  Seeing the girl her brother had mentioned so many times in the last couple of weeks was a distraction from Beth’s misery. Sam had been introduced to the burlesque dancer by one of his friends at the Adelphi. Even from a distance of some two hundred feet, Beth could see she was everything she’d expected — a raven-haired, curvy floozy with paint on her face.

  Since he’d met her, Sam had been coming home at three in the morning stinking of her cheap scent and his lips swollen from kissing. Beth had sometimes secretly hoped he’d find Sally’s attractions greater than those of America and give up his plans.

  ‘Do you love her?’ Beth asked, forced to shout again.

  He turned to her and smiled wickedly. ‘I did while I was with her, but there’ll be scores of girls like her in New York.’

  Beth realized by the sparkle in his eyes he’d done far more than just kiss the girl, and she hoped he hadn’t left her carrying his child. She thought she ought to reprove him, but as she was a little envious that he’d experienced that mysterious thing their mother had called passion, she didn’t know what to say.

  Clanging bells and a booming order that anyone not sailing was to leave the ship immediately prevented any comment, but as Beth watched her brother waving and blowing kisses she noted that a couple of elegantly dressed young ladies further along the ship’s rail were also studying him. It occurred to her that her handsome brother was very likely to become the object of attention for many women on this voyage.

  The whole ship was draped in paper streamers now and the excitement was mounting palpably as the crew began to haul in the gangways and prepare to cast off. There were just as many people crying on deck as there were on the quay. In the past Beth had watched this scene dozens of times, but she’d only ever been aware of the sorrow among those left behind. It had never occurred to her that anyone on the ships could be anything but happy to go. She knew better now, for her heart felt as if it was being torn out at leaving Molly behind, and she realized that many of her fellow passengers must be leaving whole families, not just one little girl, and perhaps, like her, they feared they’d never see them again.

  She had got up extra early this morning and crept into the house to watch Molly sleeping. Mrs Langworthy had had her father-in-law’s bedroom stripped and redecorated just as soon as Beth had agreed Molly could stay with her. The room was finished a week ago and it was fit for a princess, with pink roses on the wallpaper, a proper cot and a new apple-green rug with white fringes. Mrs Langworthy had suggested Molly slept in it as soon as it was ready, thinking it would be less of a shock to her after Beth had left. But Molly hadn’t seemed the slightest bit daunted by her new surroundings, and slept like a top from the first night.

  Since then Mr Edward had been out and bought her many toys, including building bricks, a furry dog on wheels to push around and a rocking horse. Beth knew she ought to be glad he was showing his delight at becoming her sister’s guardian, yet somehow each new acquisition made her feel more dejected and inadequate.

  That morning Beth had sat in the room with just the palest of early-morning light to see her sister by. She had silently worshipped her, drinking in her long eyelashes on her plump, rosy cheeks, her dark curls, and the way her first finger curled around her nose as she sucked her thumb. Her head told her she was doing the right thing for Molly, that her future would be immeasurably better with her Uncle Edward and Aunt Ruth, but she still felt like a condemned woman waiting for her life to expire.

  Even worse was the final leave-taking. Mrs Langworthy held Molly in her arms at the front door as they got into the carriage with Mr Edward, Mrs Bruce and Kathleen. As the carriage rumbled away down the street, Beth had to steel herself from jumping out to snatch Molly back.

/>   Down on the quay a woman was wailing loudly. She was old, perhaps a grandmother, too old to go with her family. She held her arms outstretched, tears streaming down her wrinkled face, as if begging them not to leave her, and Beth had to turn her face away as the sight was too tragic to bear.

  The gangways were stowed away, sailors cast off, then coiled the ropes away, and suddenly the gap between ship and shore widened. The band struck up a jolly sea shanty, the last of the paper streamers were thrown, and in a last-ditch attempt to show Mr Edward she was happy to be going, Beth took off her new straw hat and waved it, even though tears were rolling down her cheeks.

  ‘You’ll feel better soon,’ Sam said, putting his arm around her waist. ‘Molly will be happy with the Langworthys. You’ve still got me, and so much adventure to come. It’s time too that you had some fun.’

  Beth’s only reply was to lean her head against his shoulder. It helped to know he hadn’t been fooled by her pretended delight, and understood her pain. But it was so long since she’d had any fun, she wasn’t sure she’d even recognize it when it came again.

  Just this morning Mrs Bruce had said that she believed true happiness came to those who actively sought to bring it to others through kindness and thoughtfulness. She said Beth must look upon everyone on the ship as potential friends, not strangers, and to remember that they were all as apprehensive about what lay in wait for them in America as she and Sam were.

  The ship was gaining speed, the faces of those on the dockside a pale blur. There was no turning back now, so she had to be brave and think of how lucky they were to be getting this chance to shake off all the sadness of the past and build a new future. As Sam had so rightly said, there was so much adventure to come.

  ‘Let’s go below decks and meet the people we’re going to be sailing with,’ she suggested more brightly than she felt. ‘And don’t you go off with another Sally, leaving me on my own!’

  Sam chuckled and gave her a hug. ‘That’s better, sis,’ he said. ‘And don’t you worry, I’m not going to leave you. There’s too many men casting sly looks at you. I won’t let you out of my sight.’

  The steerage passengers were housed right down in the bowels of the ship, and as if that didn’t make their humble position clear enough, there were metal grids preventing them from slipping into the first- and second-class areas.

  As Beth and Sam made their way down the companionways, they caught glimpses of the rarefied world beyond the grids. Soft carpets and polished wood cabin doors with brass fittings; white-jacketed stewards carrying trays of drinks to the fortunate occupants, and well-scrubbed and beautifully attired children trying to escape from the clutches of their nursemaids.

  As they reached the lower levels, the doors and floors became metal, the paintwork scuffed and grimy. Here there were people elbowing their way through the narrow corridors, their anxious and sometimes angry faces relaying the message that no steward was going to arrive down here with a cup of tea, a blanket for a child or even words of reassurance. The noise of the engines almost drowned out the sounds of babies crying and frantic mothers trying to round up their children, and Beth’s heart sank even further.

  The single men were housed forward, single women in the stern, with families in the middle section. Sam had been making jokes for days about what steerage actually meant. Some said it was so called because it was where the steering mechanism was housed, but Sam was of the opinion it referred to steers, or cattle, for that was how they’d travel. But Beth, who had seen illustrations of how steerage passengers fared in the days of sailing ships, with four or five people to one bunk and the only sanitation a bucket, was relieved to see that the bunks were canvas, designed to be stowed away during the day to make more room, and that there were lavatories and washrooms in each section.

  It was claustrophobic though, and very gloomy, and looking around her at her fellow passengers’ pinched faces and shabby attire, she was glad she’d acted on Mrs Bruce’s advice and sewn their money into their clothes, for instinct told her it wouldn’t be wise to trust anyone.

  Yesterday Mr Edward had given them thirty pounds; he said they were to look on it as an emergency fund for use if they couldn’t get work immediately. This was on top of all the other things he and his wife had given them — luggage, two warm quilts, towels and items of clothing — and they thanked him with moist eyes.

  As Sam put Beth’s valise down in the women’s section a stern-faced older woman in a grey dress advanced on them. ‘Out of here, young man,’ she said sharply.

  ‘I was just getting my sister settled in,’ he retorted.

  ‘She’ll be fine in my care,’ the woman replied. ‘I am Miss Giles, the matron. I do not allow single women to fraternize with the opposite sex. If you wish to see your sister during the voyage you must arrange to meet on deck.’

  Sam looked incredulous and a couple of pretty young Irish girls began giggling.

  ‘I’ll meet you again in an hour,’ Beth said, anxious not to get on the wrong side of Miss Giles. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’

  The realization that almost everyone was as apprehensive and scared as she was made Beth feel a little better. There were around twenty-six other girls in her section and the vast majority were under twenty, like her. Most were travelling with their parents and younger siblings and hated being separated from them, though there were four like Beth with older brothers. The remainder were either with a sister or a friend, and only one woman, one of the oldest, was entirely alone; she said she was joining her fiance´ in New York.

  One of the many gifts Mrs Langworthy had given Beth was a new brown coat with a fur collar. She had almost new shiny buttoned boots and a brown wool travelling dress, and in comparison to the other women she looked rich. They clutched worn-looking shawls around thin shoulders, they had holes in their boots and patched dresses. Most were Irish, pale and poorly nourished, yet for all that they had a look of eager expectancy in their eyes, and spoke of their destination with such hope and fervour that Beth felt ashamed for being so reluctant.

  Bridie and Maria, the two Irish girls who had been so amused by Sam, suggested she claimed the bed next to theirs. Their lilting voices full of warmth and friendliness reminded Beth of Kathleen and acted as a salve to her bruised heart.

  ‘We can meet with the single men in the family quarters,’ Maria said with a hint of mischief in her eyes. ‘My uncle emigrated last year and he wrote home to say there was dancing and singing in the evenings. Miss Giles is only here to make sure no men come into this room, so she is, but she can’t stop us having fun outside it.’

  ‘Have you left your sweetheart behind?’ Bridie asked. ‘You have the red-eyed look of a girl who’s been crying for days.’

  All at once Beth found herself confiding in them about Molly, crying again as she described how hard it was to leave her. Maria put her arms around her and drew her head down on to her skinny shoulder. ‘Sure, and don’t we know how hard that is! When I said goodbye to Mammy and the little ones I thought my heart would break. But we’re on our way to somewhere better, Beth. We’ll do well there and before long we’ll get them to join us. You can do the same for Molly.’

  By the following morning they were out in the Atlantic and as the sea became rougher many people began to suffer from seasickness. Beth felt well, but knowing the sound of retching and the smell of vomit in the stuffy quarters were likely to make her ill too, she went up on deck.

  It was very cold and windy, but after the constant noise of the ship’s engines and people shouting to one another over it below decks, it was good to have quiet and solitude. Beyond the railings which separated the steerage passengers’ small part of the deck from the remainder, a couple of stewards were exercising dogs, and one lone man in a heavy overcoat and a fur hat with ear-flaps was walking briskly up and down the deck.

  Beth stood at the ship’s rail staring out at the huge expanse of empty grey sea before her stretching to infinity and smiled at the memory of the
previous evening.

  She had gone with Bridie and Maria into the family area to be introduced to some of the people they had come over from Ireland with. At first she had been repulsed because almost everyone was very shabby and rather dirty, and they all seemed to have so many children. They made her think of the Irish back in Liverpool who lived in such terrible squalor in the slum courts. Her parents had brought her up to think that the men were good-for-nothings, always drunk and fighting, and that their women bred like rabbits and neglected their offspring.

  But she was soon to see that however poor these people were, and whatever conditions they’d lived in back in Ireland and Liverpool, they loved their children and wanted a better life for them. She found it impossible to remain aloof when she was greeted with such warmth and interest, and when all about her were such gaiety and optimism. One man with a beautiful tenor voice began to sing, and before long everyone was joining in. An old man got out his fiddle and two little girls were encouraged to show off their Irish dancing talents.

  It turned into a real party when Sam and some of the other single men came in to join them. Drink was being passed around, but most were just drunk on sheer delight to be on their way to America. The fiddler broke into a jig and to Beth’s surprise Sam began the dancing by catching hold of Maria’s hands and urging her up on to her feet. Beth would have been content to sit and watch, but as others began to get up and dance, the jig became faster and soon her feet were tapping. When a young man with red hair and an even redder face held out his hand to her, she was only too happy to be his partner.

  It was not the kind of sedate dancing she’d learned at school but an outpouring of excess energy and exuberance. As one tune ended, another man would claim her. It felt good to be twirled about with so much energy. Her partners had rough, callused hands, their hobnailed boots beat a tattoo on the wooden floor and sweat poured down their faces, but even if they were not the sort of men she’d always imagined would lead her at her first dance, she felt happy.