Christmas at Tuppenny Corner Read online

  The woman nodded and beckoned Rosie to follow her to the other end of the stall. ‘Got plenty here that should fit you, and reasonably priced too, if I do say so meself.’

  It was an hour later when they finally emerged from Paddy’s Market, Rosie having finally decided on a pink gingham dress similar to the one she had first spotted, only without the bow and the puffy sleeves, and a pair of dungarees which reached down to her ankles, unlike her old ones.

  ‘Sorry it took so long, Tim,’ she apologised. ‘I suppose sometimes you can have too much choice.’

  Tim gave her a wink. ‘I’m just glad we got out of there before tea time,’ he said teasingly. ‘Now let’s go and eat those lovely sarnies you’ve made us; all that shoppin’s given me a real appetite.’

  He led them to a pleasant garden with well-kept flower beds and beautifully manicured lawns. A sweeping path separated the lawns from an impressive flight of elephant steps which led to an enormous building. As they passed between the two stone pillars to gain entrance to the gardens, she clutched Tim’s arm and drew him to a halt, asking rather apprehensively whether whoever lived in the big house might object to their presence.

  Tim laughed. ‘You really don’t know anything, do you?’ he said, though not unkindly. ‘That’s nobody’s house; it’s St George’s Hall and anyone can go into St John’s garden to eat their sandwiches, provided they behave themselves.’

  As they walked towards the building, Rosie admired the stone statues that were placed about the garden. ‘They’re beautiful, Tim; so grand. I can’t believe just anybody can walk in here.’

  Tim smiled. ‘Well they can, and when we’ve finished eating I’ll take you round the other side and you can pat the lions on their heads and tell them what good boys they are.’

  Rosie laughed. After a whole morning in his company she was quick to realise when he was teasing, so she retorted that she was glad that they were eating their sandwiches first as she did not wish to share them with a couple of lions.

  Tim chose a suitable bench to have their lunch on, and as they ate, Rosie realised that she had not stopped smiling since they had visited the Liver Birds. She could not think of a single time – apart from when she rode Daisy along the towpaths – when she had been this happy; she was even smiling as she ate. She glanced sideways at her companion to see whether he was just as happy as she, and saw to her embarrassment that he was staring at her, a broad grin etched across his face. Worrying that she might have a tomato seed on her chin, Rosie quickly wiped a hand across it. Glancing back at Tim she saw, thankfully, that he had averted his gaze to the beautiful beds of red and white roses.

  After they had finished their lunch, they placed their rubbish in the bins before visiting the lions. Tim then led Rosie to the Palais De Luxe, a cinema on Lime Street, and pointed at the large poster on the front of the building. ‘Robin Hood! That’s supposed to be a brilliant film; bit of everything for everyone. Fighting, good versus bad, swords, bows, arrows …’ he winked at Rosie, ‘and even a little bit of romance for the ladies.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Wanna see it?’

  Rosie nodded eagerly. ‘How much will it be, though, Tim? Will I have enough?’ she said hastily, fishing in her pocket and bringing out a handful of loose change.

  Tim frowned at her. ‘I don’t take a lady to the flicks and expect her to pay her own entrance fee,’ he said. ‘Put your money away, queen, it’ll be my treat.’

  Rosie could not hide her pleasure at Tim’s last remark; this day just seemed to get better and better. Not only was Tim treating her like an equal, he was referring to her as a lady, and that was how he made her feel. Like a woman, not some silly little girl who talked to horses and couldn’t be trusted to wander more than twenty yards away from her mother, but a real woman, capable of looking after herself and being treated as a grown-up.

  Tim bought two tickets, and when he handed them over to the usherette she guided them across the darkened auditorium, using her torch to light the way as she showed them to their seats. Sitting down in the dark Rosie could hear voices whispering around her as the other cinemagoers waited for the film to begin.

  They sat in the dark for what seemed to Rosie like quite a long time, and she was just about to ask Tim whether something had gone wrong when the beautiful velvet curtain ascended. Behind it the dull screen sprang into life as the bright lights flickered and danced. Rosie sat in awe; she had not realised that the figures on the screen would be so big, or their voices so clear. She watched in amazement as the various characters brought the story to life before her eyes and the heroic Robin Hood braved the wicked sheriff to save his belle, the beautiful Maid Marian.

  When the film had finished, and they had emerged from the darkened cinema into the brightness and bustle of Lime Street, Rosie shaded her eyes and assured Tim that she had enjoyed every moment, every one of the thrills, even the wicked sheriff’s attempts to slay poor Robin when his beloved Marian was not around.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m famished,’ Tim said as he stretched his arms and legs. ‘We’ve got time to go and get us a fish supper and eat it on the overhead railway, if you’d like? That way you can have a look at all the docks an’ that.’

  Rosie nodded her approval. After watching Robin Hood, it was easy to compare Tim to that heroic figure, for he had taken her away from the controlling clutches of her mother and shown her a life she had never known existed. Maggie had mentioned something about the Sally Anne’s being moored for the same length of time as the Wild Swan. After today, Rosie hoped fervently that she and Tim might be allowed to come on more trips into the city and that this was not just a one-off.

  As they queued for their fish supper, Tim spotted a few of his mates from the canals further up the line in front of them. ‘Hang on here a mo,’ he instructed Rosie, ‘I’ll go an’ give Lenny the money and he can get our fish and chips for us; that way we won’t have to wait as long.’

  Rosie nodded happily, but as Tim disappeared she heard a loud disapproving sniff from the woman in front of her. ‘That’s queue-jumpin’, that is,’ the woman muttered. ‘Not fair on us what’s waited a while, but that’s gypsies for you.’

  Rosie furrowed her brow indignantly. We’re not gypsies, she thought angrily; not that there was anything wrong with gypsies as far as Rosie knew, but the woman in front of her obviously thought there was.

  When Tim returned he wore a satisfied grin, but it soon faded when he saw Rosie’s glum expression. ‘What’s up, queen? Don’t say you’ve changed your mind?’

  Rosie shook her head. Pulling Tim by the arm, she turned towards the shop door, and as she left the queue the unpleasant woman muttered under her breath: ‘Good riddance, thievin’ little toerags.’

  Tim stopped so abruptly that Rosie lost her grip on his elbow. ‘Sorry, is there a problem?’ he said to the woman, his tone polite and calm. ‘Has someone in this queue stolen from you?’

  The woman pretended not to hear him, so Rosie whispered in his ear. ‘She thinks we’re gypsies,’ she said, trying to keep her voice low so that others in the queue would not hear her.

  Tim arched his brows in surprise and turned to face the woman. ‘Does she really? Well, I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. We aren’t gypsies, we’re bargees; I think you’ll find there’s a difference, though there’s nothing wrong with being either. And we’re certainly not thieves.’ He smiled fleetingly at the woman, who was still pretending that she could hear neither Tim nor Rosie. When no response was forthcoming they turned away, but just as they walked through the shop door Rosie heard the woman mutter, ‘Same difference.’

  Rosie looked uneasily at Tim, but although he had obviously heard the remark he continued to walk, a grin beginning to form. ‘There’s nowt as ignorant as folk,’ he called loudly over his shoulder, ‘and they don’t come more ignorant than that.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the woman.

  Rosie, however, was not smiling. ‘She spoke as if we were terrible people, Tim, as
if being bargees was something dirty, that we should be ashamed of …’

  Tim laid his hand on Rosie’s shoulder, then lifted her chin to face him. ‘That, my dear Rosie, is because she’s ignorant. She’s never been on a barge or worked the canal in her life, yet she’s happy to put coal on her fire, take sugar in her tea, and knit scarves in the winter.’

  Rosie frowned. ‘I don’t understand. What’s knittin’ a scarf or havin’ sugar in your tea got to do with bargees?’

  ‘What I’m trying to say, queen, is that she’s happy to take the goods that we deliver across the country to her door, yet she doesn’t appreciate that if it weren’t for us she wouldn’t have any of the things that she takes for granted.’

  ‘Ohh,’ Rosie was beginning, a small smile appearing on her lips, when they were interrupted by Lenny, who dutifully handed over their fish and chip supper. Thanking him, they made their way to the overhead railway.

  ‘You, er, you don’t have much to do with the rest of the bargee kids, do you?’ Tim said, his voice hesitant.

  Rosie shook her head. She hoped that Tim would not think it was because she thought herself better than the others, because nothing could have been further from the truth. As they settled on one of the seats in a carriage on the overhead railway, she voiced her thoughts. ‘It’s not because I don’t want to, Tim, because I do. It’s Maggie’s fault. She’s the one who doesn’t approve of me hanging around with them. I don’t know why, but every time I bring it up there’s a huge row, so rather than rock the boat I just keep shtum.’

  Tim unwrapped his supper, and as the aroma of salt and vinegar filled the carriage he nodded. ‘I guessed it must be something like that,’ he said. ‘But why do you call her Maggie instead of Mam? You don’t do it all the time, but you do seem to say Maggie a lot.’

  Rosie began to relax. This was an easy one. ‘I’m supposed to call her Maggie when we’re actually workin’ on the canal because she’s the Number One, and she says we have to keep our boundaries and know our place. I suppose over the years I’ve got used to callin’ her Maggie, and to be honest she is more like my boss than me mam.’ She broke off a large piece of battered fish and blew on it. ‘What do you call your parents when you’re workin’ the barge?’

  She half hoped for an answer similar to her own, but Tim shrugged. ‘They’re me mam and dad whether workin’, eatin’, sleepin’, whatever,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘But things are obviously changin’ aboard the Wild Swan. Ken’s a grand chap and he don’t like any unfair treatment. I bet a quid to a penny that it was his idea to let you off your tether for a wander round the city with me; am I right?’

  Rosie chuckled. ‘Yes, you are … Oh, Tim, look at the ships! Where are they from?’ Rosie was pointing at the ships docked below them.

  Tim shrugged. ‘Could be anywhere. Liverpool is a very busy port; ships come here from all over the world. But you know that – you’ve transported their cargoes up and down the canal all your life.’

  The train drew to a halt and they finished their supper before joining the queue of people descending to ground level. Rosie handed over her ticket rather regretfully; she would have liked it as a keepsake to remind her of her lovely day.

  ‘Your mam said you have no plans for tomorrow either,’ Tim said as they made their way towards the barges. ‘We always go to church on a Sunday when we moor up and I know you do too, so if you make some more of those delicious sandwiches how about I pop round about mid-morning and we can go along to Seaforth and have ourselves a little picnic and a paddle in the sea. Would you like that?’

  Rosie drew in an ecstatic breath; would she like it? She would like just being with Tim, but to share a day at the seaside with him would be heavenly, and he said her sandwiches were delicious! Smiling at her companion, she found it almost impossible to hide the bubble of happiness that his suggestion had caused. She opened her mouth to say something cool, calm and collected but instead her voice came out in an excited squeak. ‘Oh, Tim, I’ve never been to the seaside. I’ll see you straight after church is over.’

  Chuckling, Tim tucked Rosie’s hand in his arm and smiled down at her. ‘That’d be grand. Soon be home now. Have you enjoyed your first day of freedom?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Rosie breathed. ‘I’ve always wanted to explore the city. It’s everythin’ I dreamed of and more besides.’ She sighed happily. ‘I can’t wait for tomorrow.’

  Chapter Two

  Rosie woke early on Sunday morning, a knot of excitement in her stomach at the thought of her day ahead with Tim. Normally on a Sunday the crew of the Wild Swan had a lie-in and Rosie got the breakfast no earlier than eight o’clock, but today, to her surprise, both Maggie and Ken were awake, and instead of having to make the breakfast herself she found Maggie had pipped her to the post.

  As her mother handed her a bacon sandwich and a mug of tea Rosie concluded that the adults must be going on a trip of their own, though a quick glance at Ken’s face told her that he did not look as though he anticipated the day ahead with pleasure.

  As it was another sunny day, the three of them ate their breakfast on the towpath while Rosie described in great detail the wonderful time she had had the previous day.

  ‘That Tim’s a good lad.’ Ken nodded approvingly. ‘You’d best make the most of it, because …’

  Maggie cut across him impatiently. ‘No point in worrying before we’ve heard anythin’ worth worrying about.’ She shot a disapproving glance at Ken, then turned to Rosie. ‘Eat up, Roseanna, then we’ll go along to St Anthony’s.’

  Rosie glanced from Maggie to Ken and back again. Her mother only ever called her by her full name when she was feeling particularly stressed, but as no one appeared to be volunteering any further conversation Rosie had no choice but to continue with her breakfast.

  On the way to church, Rosie saw that Ken looked serious but Maggie was downright grim; so much so that Rosie spent the walk searching her conscience. She must have done something wrong, for every time Maggie’s eyes met her own their glance grew colder, or so she imagined. By the time they reached St Anthony’s she was in a fret of guilt, and hoped desperately that whatever she had done was not bad enough to spoil her plans with Tim.

  After the service, instead of going into the churchyard, everyone gathered round the wireless set in the vestry, where they stood chattering in hushed tones until the Reverend John Brown gained his congregation’s attention by rapping his knuckles on the table. As silence fell, he twiddled the knobs on the small box, then raised his voice so that they might all hear what he was about to say.

  ‘As most of you know, Mr Chamberlain had hoped to secure a promise from Germany that they would not invade Poland.’ His tone was solemn. ‘He is about to make an announcement …’ Several people hushed him as the wireless set began to emit the strange noises that usually preceded the start of a programme. Rosie’s heart plummeted. She had been so excited the previous day that she had completely forgotten that today they would hear whether there would be war with Germany or not. She looked at the faces around her. All grave, all knowing. Even the children stood silently waiting.

  The prime minister’s voice broke the silence.

  This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final note stating that, unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.

  Rosie heard gasps and groans from the people around her. Scouring the crowd, she spied Tim in the opposite corner of the room. A thought struck her and she clutched at Ken’s arm. ‘Will the boys all have to go off to war like they did in the last lot?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone even.

  Ken laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. ‘One thing at a time, queen. War’s only just been declared.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘Though you can be sure that this will affect a
ll our lives, no matter how old or young we are.’

  Mr Chamberlain was going on at some length, talking of the rationing of food and clothing which would have to come, and of the need for everyone to tighten their belts and put their country first, but Rosie scarcely heard a word for the disappointment that filled her. War was a terrible thing and though she had never seen any of the newsreels, she had heard of the horrors happening across the continent. Now, all around her, people were talking in hushed tones, and Rosie could hear the fear in their voices. They spoke of how the overhead railway would not be running and most of the buses and trams would not be taking passengers anywhere near the docks, so her anticipated outing with Tim would come to nothing. For the first time it occurred to Rosie that her newfound freedom might die before it had ever really lived.

  As the group began to break up, Rosie spotted Tim making his way towards the vestry door. Now was as good a time as any to go over and face the fact that their days of exploration had come to an end. Following, she soon caught him up and gently tapped his shoulder. ‘Bang goes our day at the seaside,’ she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice as he turned to face her. ‘I suppose you’ll want to talk over what Mr Chamberlain said with your pals. I’m afraid I don’t know much about war, except that it’s horrid, so I’ll say t.t.f.n.’

  She started to walk past him, lowering her head to hide the tears as she did so, but Tim grabbed her arm. Shaking his head reprovingly, he steered her out of the church and in the direction of the quayside. ‘I agree we can’t go to the beach, and somebody said all places of entertainment are being closed until further notice, but that doesn’t mean we can’t explore the streets of Liverpool. If I promise a lady a day out, then that’s what she’ll get, war or no war, so how about starting right now? It may be our last chance before all sorts of further restrictions come into play.’ He smiled at her. ‘I know it sounds dull compared with a visit to the seaside, but I’ll do my best to take you to the more interesting parts of the city. Or is there something else you’d rather do?’