Read Online The Leaving Of Liverpool by Maureen Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maureen Lee
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answered, rolling her eyes. ‘At least, I did when I last saw you, but then didn’t I go and miss the boat?’
‘Flippin’ heck,’ Agatha snorted. ‘I thought you left in plenty of time.’
‘So did I, but it appears I got the time wrong.’
Agatha looked even more stunned. ‘Where’s your sister?’ she enquired.
‘ She’s halfway across the Atlantic.’ Mollie managed to raise the glimmer of a smile.
‘Jaysus! Where’ve you been for the last few days?’
‘In hospital. I’ve only just been let out. It seems I had concussion.’
‘Didn’t I say you should go to hospital with that bump on your head?’ She looked faintly smug at having been proven right.
‘You did indeed,’ Mollie agreed. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you.’ She and Agatha had hardly spoken to each other for more than half an hour and it seemed a bit of a cheek to seek her out as if she were a long-lost friend.
‘Mind!’ Agatha snorted again. ‘Of course I don’t mind. If you’d let me know before, I’d have visited you in the hospital.’ She came to the front of the counter. ‘Sit down so I can see what the bump’s like now.’ Mollie sat down and Agatha gently parted her hair so she could have a good look. ‘It’s shrunk,’ she announced. ‘The bump that is, not your head.’ She sat on the other chair. Behind her wire-rimmed glasses, her brown eyes shone with sympathy. ‘I suppose you’re feeling pretty fed up about things.’
‘More than fed up,’ Mollie said fervently. ‘I’m devastated.’
‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Look for a cheap hotel where I can stay until I hear back from my aunt in New York.’
‘You can stay with us,’ Agatha said instantly, ‘as long as you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa in the parlour. It mightn’t be as comfortable as a hotel, but it won’t cost you a penny.’
The Brophys lived in Wavertree in a four-bedroom house with a big garden. Mrs Brophy could have moved somewhere cheaper when her husband had been killed in the Great War but, as Agatha explained, ‘she’s determined to hold on to the place, although it’s a struggle. According to her, it’s a matter of principle. She’d sooner we all went hungry than move. We get all our clothes from Paddy’s Market, though don’t mention that as she doesn’t want people to know. The way she looks at it, once all us girls are working, she can get a job herself and there’ll be plenty of money coming in and we can get rid of our creepy lodger.’
Agatha had four younger sisters: Blanche, Cathy, Dora and Ellen, who were all as thin as herself. ‘I often wonder if they’d have gone through the entire alphabet if Dad had still been alive,’ Agatha mused. ‘I was only six when he volunteered. He and Mam had terrible rows about it - our Ellen had only just been born - but he said it was his duty to fight for his country. Not long afterwards, he was killed in the Battle of the Somme. He’d had a really good job with a shipping company and worked in an office on the Dock Road, so Mam’s not used to being poor.’
Mrs Brophy was small and dainty, and welcomed Mollie into her home with a warm kiss. ‘Aggie told us about you the other day. She was so envious of you going off to New York. It’s such a shame what happened.’
Cathy, Dora and Ellen were still attending school. Blanche, who was fifteen and growing to be very tall, had wanted to become a mannequin and model clothes in one of the big London shops, but worked as a junior in an office down by the Pier Head.
‘I’m wasting me life,’ she grumbled on Mollie’s first night. ‘All I do is run round town with messages, do the filing, and make the tea. I’m nothing but a skivvy.’
‘You’re very lucky, having a nice clean job,’ Mrs Brophy told her. ‘If it hadn’t been for your father’s contacts, you could be a real skivvy. Then you’d have reason to complain.’
Apparently, Mr Brophy’s contacts reached from beyond
‘Flippin’ heck,’ Agatha snorted. ‘I thought you left in plenty of time.’
‘So did I, but it appears I got the time wrong.’
Agatha looked even more stunned. ‘Where’s your sister?’ she enquired.
‘ She’s halfway across the Atlantic.’ Mollie managed to raise the glimmer of a smile.
‘Jaysus! Where’ve you been for the last few days?’
‘In hospital. I’ve only just been let out. It seems I had concussion.’
‘Didn’t I say you should go to hospital with that bump on your head?’ She looked faintly smug at having been proven right.
‘You did indeed,’ Mollie agreed. ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming to see you.’ She and Agatha had hardly spoken to each other for more than half an hour and it seemed a bit of a cheek to seek her out as if she were a long-lost friend.
‘Mind!’ Agatha snorted again. ‘Of course I don’t mind. If you’d let me know before, I’d have visited you in the hospital.’ She came to the front of the counter. ‘Sit down so I can see what the bump’s like now.’ Mollie sat down and Agatha gently parted her hair so she could have a good look. ‘It’s shrunk,’ she announced. ‘The bump that is, not your head.’ She sat on the other chair. Behind her wire-rimmed glasses, her brown eyes shone with sympathy. ‘I suppose you’re feeling pretty fed up about things.’
‘More than fed up,’ Mollie said fervently. ‘I’m devastated.’
‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Look for a cheap hotel where I can stay until I hear back from my aunt in New York.’
‘You can stay with us,’ Agatha said instantly, ‘as long as you don’t mind sleeping on the sofa in the parlour. It mightn’t be as comfortable as a hotel, but it won’t cost you a penny.’
The Brophys lived in Wavertree in a four-bedroom house with a big garden. Mrs Brophy could have moved somewhere cheaper when her husband had been killed in the Great War but, as Agatha explained, ‘she’s determined to hold on to the place, although it’s a struggle. According to her, it’s a matter of principle. She’d sooner we all went hungry than move. We get all our clothes from Paddy’s Market, though don’t mention that as she doesn’t want people to know. The way she looks at it, once all us girls are working, she can get a job herself and there’ll be plenty of money coming in and we can get rid of our creepy lodger.’
Agatha had four younger sisters: Blanche, Cathy, Dora and Ellen, who were all as thin as herself. ‘I often wonder if they’d have gone through the entire alphabet if Dad had still been alive,’ Agatha mused. ‘I was only six when he volunteered. He and Mam had terrible rows about it - our Ellen had only just been born - but he said it was his duty to fight for his country. Not long afterwards, he was killed in the Battle of the Somme. He’d had a really good job with a shipping company and worked in an office on the Dock Road, so Mam’s not used to being poor.’
Mrs Brophy was small and dainty, and welcomed Mollie into her home with a warm kiss. ‘Aggie told us about you the other day. She was so envious of you going off to New York. It’s such a shame what happened.’
Cathy, Dora and Ellen were still attending school. Blanche, who was fifteen and growing to be very tall, had wanted to become a mannequin and model clothes in one of the big London shops, but worked as a junior in an office down by the Pier Head.
‘I’m wasting me life,’ she grumbled on Mollie’s first night. ‘All I do is run round town with messages, do the filing, and make the tea. I’m nothing but a skivvy.’
‘You’re very lucky, having a nice clean job,’ Mrs Brophy told her. ‘If it hadn’t been for your father’s contacts, you could be a real skivvy. Then you’d have reason to complain.’
Apparently, Mr Brophy’s contacts reached from beyond
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