Liverpool Sisters

by Lyn Andrews

Genres: Sagas

Synopsis

It is 1907. Liverpool is a bustling and busy city. Sisters Livvie and Amy Goodwin are just sixteen and thirteen years old when their adored mother dies in childbirth. They are still missing their mum every day when their father Thomas announces that he is going to marry again. His new bride is Mary Fitzgerald, a girl just a few years older than Livvie, and only time will tell whether Mary will be the kind of step-mother a motherless girl could love.

There's more trouble ahead, for Thomas believes that he should make all the important decisions in his daughters' lives, so whether it's joining the Suffragettes or marrying for love, he won't stand for it if they go against his will. But Livvie is determined to ensure that she and her sister will find a way to happiness...

(P)2016 Headline Digital

Release date: December 1, 2016

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 387

Sample

Chapter One



1907

‘It’s like closing the door on our old life, isn’t it, Mam?’ Olivia Goodwin remarked, smiling at her mother as they stood on the worn stone doorstep of their terraced house. There was a note of wistfulness in her voice, however, for it was no longer their house.

Edith smiled back ruefully at her eldest daughter, thinking how at sixteen Livvie – as she’d been called from babyhood – resembled herself at that age. The same thick, light chestnut hair which waved naturally, the clear grey eyes and fair complexion, the same slender build – although her height she’d inherited from her father. And Livvie was right; they were closing the door on their old life. Number 11 Minerva Street off Everton Brow had been her home for most of her married life. The houses were old, early-Victorian terraced villas with a yard at the back and were far from what could be termed spacious, having only a kitchen, scullery and a parlour downstairs and two bedrooms upstairs. They were not the easiest to keep clean either for they opened directly on to the street, but it had been ‘home’.

She reached up to the brass door knocker, highly polished as usual, and gave it a slight push to ensure the door was firmly shut, before turning away. A frisson of regret washed over her at this final moment of departure. When they’d first come to live here they hadn’t had much, just the very basic necessities really, but gradually over the years they’d acquired more and better quality furniture for her husband Thomas’s efforts to raise their standard of living had been nothing short of superhuman. Now he’d decreed that this house – and indeed this area – was no longer at all suitable for their status and income and she’d been given little choice but to agree, but she was sad to leave this house behind for another family to move into for she was leaving so many memories behind too.

Both Livvie and her younger sister Amy had been born here, and here too she’d suffered the loss of her baby boys, both stillborn. Two boys whose tragic loss Thomas had bitterly regretted and railed against, while she had mourned them silently and stoically, knowing these things all too often happened.

‘I suppose it is like leaving our old life, Livvie, but we should look on it as a new beginning – a blessing, in fact. Your pa’s worked so hard so that we can all enjoy a better, a more comfortable life.’ Her gaze took in the smartly tailored pale grey three-quarter-length coat edged with black braid that Livvie wore over a matching skirt that reached to her ankles, revealing black leather buttoned boots, and the large-brimmed, elegant hat that covered her daughter’s upswept hair. At sixteen Livvie was classed as ‘grown up’ and was now dressed accordingly, but she, Edith, had never had such clothes at her daughter’s age; she’d possessed a jacket for Sunday best but she’d had to make do with a shawl for everyday use. Yes, thanks to Tom’s efforts they’d definitely come up in the world.

Livvie took her mother’s arm as they stepped on to the pavement, slowly nodding her agreement. She knew she should be delighted, excited even – after all, they were moving to a much nicer area and a much bigger and grander house – but she wasn’t. She felt very apprehensive. She knew all their neighbours here and she’d grown up with all of the kids; would they fit in in the new neighbourhood? Would they be welcomed and accepted or would they be looked down on and shunned? Despite her mother’s optimistic cheerfulness she knew that Edith was feeling apprehensive too and was also suffering the wrench of having to leave friends and neighbours of many years standing.

She glanced down the street for the last time, seeing a couple of women standing on their doorsteps despite the raw cold of the October morning. Most of their farewells had taken place yesterday but those few stalwarts were watching the proceedings with avid curiosity for the Goodwins’ furniture and possessions had all been loaded into the removal van her father had hired at some expense. He’d said it wouldn’t be at all seemly or dignified for them to arrive in the new neighbourhood with everything piled haphazardly on to the back of a horse-drawn cart. These days her pa seemed to set great store on what he considered ‘dignified’, she thought. In the past when people had come into or left Minerva Street their possessions had been transported on a cart or, if they had virtually nothing, moved on a hand cart.

Her father was urging her mother and sister into the hired hackney which was to transport them to their new home.

‘Livvie, stop dawdling! We don’t have all day!’ Thomas Goodwin’s tone had a sharp note of irritability.

‘Coming, Pa,’ Livvie replied, casting a last glance over her former home and raising a hand to wave goodbye to the watching neighbours, before hurrying across to the hackney and climbing in, settling herself beside her sister, who appeared to be quite excited.

‘Well, that’s goodbye to Everton Brow and I can’t say I’m sorry to be leaving all those narrow, dirty old streets behind,’ Thomas stated with some satisfaction as the vehicle moved slowly off.

Edith managed a smile. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Tom. We had some happy times there.’

‘And some that were not so happy either, Edith. No, life for us all will be far better from now on.’ He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from the sleeve of his coat. ‘I’ve achieved what I set out to do, what I always intended to do. Make my way in the world – in society – have my own business and a home in a respectable, affluent area.’

Edith nodded slowly. Yes, that had always been his ambition in life; he’d grasped every opportunity that had presented itself and had worked long hours, never sparing himself in his efforts to achieve that goal. Middle-aged though he now undoubtedly was, he was still what she considered to be a handsome man. He’d not put on weight, his bearing was still upright and almost military and even the fact that his once dark hair was now turning grey suited him. It made him look distinguished, she thought. His suit was of a good quality woollen cloth and his dark overcoat well cut, his bowler hat brushed to sleekness. In all he was the picture of a successful man, she mused with some pride. Oh, he wasn’t the easiest of men to live with these days; she had to admit that. As he’d grown older he’d been spurred on by ambition and he’d become acutely aware of his shortcomings and strove to overcome them, developing a profound sense of ‘decorum’ which she thought sometimes bordered on the obsessional. At times he could be dictatorial and overbearing and he’d never been a very demonstrative man but she’d learned to accept all that. He was a good husband and father.

As the hackney made its way along the main thoroughfare out of Everton and towards the quieter, leafier suburbs of the city, Edith shifted her position slightly to try to ease the ache in her back. Thomas was now the successful businessman he’d striven so hard to be. He owned and operated a small factory situated on the Dock Road which made cakes of cattle food and next year he hoped to expand. A little smile hovered around the corners of her mouth. Well, cattle and what they consumed was something he had experience of for when she’d met him he was newly come to Liverpool from a small farm on the lower slopes of Pendle Hill in east Lancashire. His father had only been a tenant farmer and Tom had been one of six children, three of them boys. So, with no hope of ever owning any land of his own, he’d come seeking his fortune in Liverpool. Basically he’d just been a poor agricultural labourer, he’d told her, but he intended to change all that. He wasn’t going to remain poor all his life and by dint of sheer hard work, thrift, some instances of good luck, a few risks and an inborn shrewdness and determination he’d done what he set out to do. Oh, there had been times when she’d barely seen him for he’d worked such long hours; times when she’d had to keep the home going and bring up the children virtually by herself, but she hadn’t minded that for when the dilapidated building on the Dock Estate had become vacant he’d had enough money to rent it, do some renovations and start producing the oil-based cattle cake that his grandfather had first devised but never had the time or money to develop. In time he’d managed to buy the building at a nominal cost and to employ more workers. How could she demand that he spend more time with them when all his hard work was for their benefit? She shifted her position again, frowning a little at the discomfort.

‘Mam, are you all right?’ Livvie asked, having been watching her mother closely and thinking she looked a bit pale and tired. Both Amy and her father seemed more interested in watching the activities taking place on the city streets they were passing through.

‘Yes. Just a little . . . discomfort, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about. It’s only to be expected. ’

Livvie nodded although she wasn’t totally convinced. There were times lately when she worried about her mam. At thirty-nine Edith Goodwin was too old to be expecting another child, according to Mrs Agnew from next door in Minerva Street. Everyone knew it could cause all kinds of complications for a woman of her age, so their neighbour had said, and her daughter Peggy – being the same age as Livvie – had repeated her mother’s remarks. They had all been very surprised to learn of Mam’s condition but she hadn’t been worried until Mrs Agnew’s pronouncement. Of course Mam still had four more months to go and she’d been fine so far but Livvie intended to make sure that she didn’t over-exert herself with this move – and Amy could just do more to help as well, she vowed.

‘Well, you’ll have to rest and not go pulling and dragging things . . .’

‘Olivia, there will be absolutely no necessity for your mother to “pull and drag” anything. Haven’t I instructed two of my labourers to be on hand for such heavy tasks?’ her father stated sharply, annoyed by his daughter’s remark. Did Livvie have no sense of respect and decorum? She was only sixteen and should know better than to be issuing instructions to her mother. He frowned. He was determined that Edith should not exert herself during this pregnancy. He had been astounded, almost stunned when she’d told him the news, but as soon as he’d realised that there was still a chance that he could have a son to inherit the business he’d built up, he’d vowed that she would have the best care and attention he could afford.

He looked closely at his daughters; they were attractive girls, both with their mother’s looks, although Amy at thirteen would never be as tall or as slim as Livvie and was inclined to pettishness if she didn’t get her own way. Livvie he had to admit had inherited his stubborn determination, which he did not view as an asset in a girl, but he hoped to find suitable husbands for them both when the time came for he could never envisage either of them being capable of running a business. Indeed ‘commerce’ could not remotely be considered women’s work. However, with a son . . . that would be a very different matter. A sense of satisfaction crept over him the closer to their new home they drew. If Edith presented him with a healthy boy he would indeed be a contented man.

Livvie had said nothing in reply to her father’s rebuke but, like her sister, resorted to gazing out of the window and wondering just what the coming weeks and months held in store for them all. After Mam had had the baby Livvie knew she would be required to help more but she didn’t mind that. Amy would continue attending school, something Pa had insisted upon. Her sister could leave at fourteen but as it appeared Pa did not intend either of them to have to work for a living, Amy would stay on until she was fifteen. That suited Livvie, she thought, for her sister could be lazy and resorted to sulking if she didn’t get her own way. Mam said, regretfully, that she’d tended to spoil Amy, she having been born after the two poor little boys. Livvie smiled to herself. She was looking forward to having a new sister or brother and wondered what it would be like having a baby in the house after all this time?

Edith touched her husband’s arm. ‘How much further is it?’

He smiled at her and patted her hand. ‘About five minutes, that’s all.’

Edith smiled back; she would be relieved to get out of the vehicle for the cobbled roads did not make for a smooth journey. Of course she’d seen the house that was to be their new home, Tom had taken her on two occasions, but she wished she’d spent longer there for she couldn’t remember the exact layout. Of course it had been big, much bigger than their old home, and it had a garden both at the front and the rear and there were steps leading up to the front door, but she frowned as she tried to remember where the dining room and parlour were in relation to the kitchen, scullery and larder. Of course there would be plenty to do when they arrived, even though two of Tom’s men would be on hand to deal with the heavy furniture and carpets, but the girls would help her unpack and she hoped that by this evening the beds would at least be up and made and that there would be a hot meal of some description on the table.

As both the removal van and the hackney drew up outside the imposing house in the aptly named Poplar Avenue, a wide quiet road lined with trees, both girls got out and looked around while Thomas helped Edith to alight. They’d not been here before but their mother had described it to them.

‘It looks very big and . . . posh!’ Amy muttered to her sister as she stared at the house, beginning to feel rather out of her depth.

‘It’s certainly a lot bigger than our old house but while it seems a nice street, I wouldn’t really call it “posh”, Amy. I mean it’s not Rodney Street or Abercrombie Square or anywhere like that; they really are posh.’

‘Oh, you know what I mean, Livvie. I wonder are there any girls of our ages living nearby?’

‘I expect so but if not then at least you’re bound to make new friends at school.’

Amy didn’t look convinced. She wasn’t looking forward to starting a new school, not at her age. In fact she couldn’t see why she had to go to school at all after her next birthday; surely she’d be better off at home, helping Mam, like Livvie? It was something she had more than once mentioned to her father but it had been dismissed out of hand and even sulking about it for days had availed her nothing. Pa had stated firmly that she would finish her education like other well-brought-up girls did.

Thomas became businesslike. ‘Right, let’s go inside. There is no sense us all standing out here on the pavement,’ he urged. After paying the driver of the hackney, he shepherded them up the long path and towards the steps that led up to the ornate front door with the elaborate brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head.

The van driver and his mate began to prepare to unload their furniture as two of Thomas’s burly labourers emerged from the back of the house to help.

As they entered the wide hallway with the ornate – but empty – plate rack which ran around the walls a foot below the coved ceiling, Livvie shivered. ‘It’s so cold in here!’ she exclaimed, rubbing her hands together. A pervasive heavy chill seemed to hang over the room.

‘Of course it’s cold, it’s been empty for over a month!’ her father remarked brusquely.

‘It won’t take long to get the fires going and then it will soon warm up,’ Edith added firmly, although she realised that Livvie was right. It was cold and the air felt damp, something she hadn’t noticed on her previous visits, but then that had been at the end of summer and now it was well into autumn. Determined not to show any sign of dismay she purposefully crossed the hall and opened the door to the parlour. ‘Isn’t this a lovely big, light and airy room? Won’t it be just great for us all to be able to sit in here after supper and not feel as though we’re crowded on top of each other? Now, first things first. Tom, if you’d ask the men to bring in some wood and coal we’ll get the fires lit and then if they take the beds upstairs and assemble them we’ll start to bring in the smaller boxes and unpack them.’

Livvie glanced surreptitiously at Amy; there was an awful lot to do before any of them could hope to feel as comfortable in this house as they had in their old one and she wasn’t going to let her sister shirk her share of the work.

‘I’m not sure if I’m going to like it here, Livvie,’ Amy confided as they followed Edith back outside. Initially she had been excited but now she wasn’t so sure – and there did seem to be a lot of work involved in moving house.

‘Oh, don’t go saying things like that or you’ll upset Mam!’ Livvie hissed. ‘Besides, we’ve got no choice in the matter. This is our home now and we’ve got to give it a fair chance.’

‘It might be bigger and grander but it’s not as warm and welcoming. In fact that hall feels cold and . . . creepy!’ Amy persisted sulkily.

Livvie gripped her arm. ‘Stop that! There’s nothing creepy about it. It’s just cold. It’ll be fine once we’ve got it warmed up and have all our own things around us.’ They’d reached the pile of boxes being stacked on the front lawn. ‘Now, you take one of those and I’ll take another. Mam’s marked them “Kitchen”, so they’re probably pans and stuff. It’s going to be a long day, Amy, but we’ve got to help Mam as much as we can.’

Amy sniffed. ‘I wish Pa had accepted Mrs Agnew and their Peggy’s offer to help us out today.’

‘So do I but he didn’t so we’ll just have to get on with it ourselves,’ Livvie replied firmly.

Amy said nothing but she still felt there was something disturbing about this house and began to wish they’d stayed in number 11 Minerva Street.

Livvie shrugged, determined not to be dismayed by her sister’s pessimistic mood. After all, this was their new home, their new life and, only seven years into the new century, they were living in a modern era. Things couldn’t just stay the same for ever, could they?



Chapter Two



Those first few days had been chaotic despite all their efforts, Livvie thought at the end of the week as she sat on the edge of her bed staring aimlessly out of the window overlooking the garden at the back of the house. The lawn, the empty flower beds and the bare, skeletal branches of the trees and shrubs were shrouded by the deepening gloom of early evening but even in daylight she thought they looked dismal and forlorn. Still, no doubt in summer she would view the garden in a different light and it would be pleasant to sit out there in the evenings. They’d only had a small yard in their old house, enclosed by soot-blackened walls, definitely not conducive to sitting in.

To the delight and satisfaction of her father they had been invited for supper this evening to the Mayhews’ house next door but neither she nor Amy were really looking forward to it for they had not met their neighbours in person yet.

Her mother had been somewhat surprised when the handwritten invitation had arrived. ‘I wonder why Mrs Mayhew didn’t just call to invite us? It would have been easier – it would have broken the ice so to speak. This is all a bit . . . formal.’

Her father had peered over his newspaper. ‘Obviously that’s not the way things are done here, Edith. I doubt there will be all the running in and out of people’s houses by the minutes as there was in Everton. People here seem to respect each other’s privacy more. You’d better reply in writing too. Tell her we’ll be delighted,’ he’d instructed before returning to his reading. Her mother had nodded and replied, smiling a little ruefully and thinking that at least it would be a nice change to enjoy a meal in a comfortable and well-ordered house.

By their second day in number 7 Poplar Avenue they’d all realised that their furniture and possessions, which had seemed considerable in Minerva Street, looked rather sparse in this much larger house and her father had stated that they would have to remedy that in the very near future.

Of course both Livvie and Amy were delighted that they now had a bedroom of their own instead of having to share one, although like the rest of the house the rooms appeared only half furnished. There were in fact four bedrooms and it had been decided that the fourth and smallest one would become the nursery. In addition there were two decent-sized rooms in the attic. At least the place was now warmer than when they’d first arrived, although Livvie felt that the hall still maintained its cold and rather gloomy atmosphere. Her mam had professed that she was delighted with the large and well-equipped kitchen, the practical scullery and spacious pantry. There was even a separate wash house with a copper boiler so there would be no need to boil and carry water out to the yard to fill the dolly tub, although Mam would be sending many items to the laundry now on her father’s instructions. The house boasted both hot and cold water and that ultimate in luxury: a bathroom.

Livvie got to her feet. She’d better make an effort to get dressed; Pa would be furious if they were not punctual. She switched on the electric light, another of the house’s modern features – no more spluttering and smelly gas jets – and drew the heavy curtains, shutting out what little remained of the view of the garden. She hoped it would be a pleasant evening for her mam’s sake, because all the extra work had taken its toll on Edith; she was looking pale and exhausted but had refused all exhortations to rest more often. Livvie also sincerely hoped that in Mrs Mayhew her mother would find a friendly neighbour to chat with and introduce her to the other wives and mothers in Poplar Avenue. So far they’d only caught glimpses of the people who lived in the nearby houses. They’d all appeared to be well dressed and she’d seen them exchange greetings but none of them had stopped to gossip as they did in Minerva Street, nor had anyone called to welcome them or offer help as was always the case in the steep narrow streets of Everton Brow.

She carefully selected her newest dress from the wardrobe. It was of a cornflower-blue fine wool crêpe with the fashionable leg-o’-mutton sleeves, tight bodice and full skirt. The edges of the high collar, sleeve cuffs and seams of the bodice were decorated with rows of navy blue braid and she had a silver filigree fob watch – a sixteenth birthday gift from her parents – which she would wear pinned to the bodice. She was too young to wear a low-cut evening dress, even had she wanted to and had she possessed one, but was certain that the high neck and long sleeves would be more practical and suited to supper in what would probably be a large and maybe not very warm dining room. She would of course need help with the row of tiny buttons that fastened the back of the bodice and her boned corset would have to be laced a little more tightly. That was one thing she felt she would never really get used to about being grown up. She hated wearing the thing; it was so restrictive and she often felt she couldn’t really breathe properly.

Thankfully, before she had to seek out her sister, Amy put her head around the bedroom door.

‘Livvie, can you do something with my hair, please? Mam said it’s got to look tidy but I honestly don’t know what to do with it other than plait it and that looks so childish!’

Livvie smiled sympathetically. Amy was at an awkward age, too young to wear her hair up and her skirts longer but not wanting to appear still a child in pinafores and plaits either. ‘If you’ll help me with this awful corset and fasten up these buttons, I’ll see what I can do,’ she offered.

‘I don’t see why we have to go next door for supper as well,’ Amy grumbled as she pulled the laces of Livvie’s corset tighter. ‘Why couldn’t they just ask Mam and Pa? It will be a deadly dull evening with us having to be on our best behaviour and listen to their boring conversations.’

‘Oh, it might not be so bad.’

‘Maybe not for you, at least you’ll be allowed to talk. I won’t! You know what Pa’s like when we’re in what he calls “company”.’ She grimaced. ‘“Children should be seen and not heard”,’ she mimicked. ‘And he still considers me a child. I’d sooner stay here in the parlour and read.’

Livvie gasped. ‘That’s tight enough, Amy! You’ll have me passing out! You should thank your lucky stars you don’t have to suffer this torture yet.’

‘I suppose at least that’s one good thing about being my age,’ Amy replied, somewhat mollified, as she helped Livvie on with the dress and deftly began to fasten up the row of buttons.

‘I did ask Mam if they had children of our age but she didn’t know. Let’s hope they have.’

‘If they have let’s just hope they’re not boys! That would ruin the evening entirely!’ came the curt reply.

Livvie sighed. ‘You’ll change your mind about boys too before long, Amy. Now sit down and let’s see what we can do with your hair,’ she instructed and her sister sat down obediently at the dressing table.

She brushed Amy’s light chestnut hair until it shone and fell in waves over her shoulders and then took the sides back and secured them with two of her own silver slides embellished with tiny butterflies. ‘There, now you look very presentable and not at all childish,’ she announced.

Amy smiled and nodded, thinking her hair did look much better than usual and her rose-coloured dress with its trimming of brown velvet ribbon looked nice – even if it wasn’t long enough to cover her ankles. Thankfully, neither her mam nor Livvie had suggested she wear the much hated ribbons in her hair. She sighed heavily as she got to her feet. ‘Come on, we’d better go down and get this awful, boring visit over with. I hope we get something decent to eat, I’m starving!’

Livvie grinned at her. Amy was always starving.

The first thing that struck Livvie as they entered the house next door was the fact that the hall was warm and welcoming. It was carpeted and there were fine china plates adorning the rack and a polished table bearing a display of autumn leaves and flowers. The Mayhews were obviously not short of money for the door had been opened by a girl of Livvie’s age in the black dress and white apron and cap of a maid, who took their hats and jackets while Livvie exchanged a surprised glance with her sister.

Mrs Mayhew greeted them all, smiling and holding out her hand. ‘It’s so nice to meet you, Thomas and Edith. And you are very welcome, Olivia and Amy. Please do come on into the parlour,’ she urged.

Thomas thanked her formally and Edith smiled, thinking she seemed pleasant enough.

As the girls followed their parents and hostess Amy mouthed the word ‘posh’ to her sister. Livvie gave her a disapproving glance for like her mother she thought Mrs Mayhew didn’t appear at all stand-offish. She looked to be about the same age as her mam but. . .