Chapter Five
'Liverpool lodgings'
It was far from easy starting afresh in a foreign land for a woman on her own with a child who was barely two years old. While the Irish accent wasn’t an uncommon one to find on Liverpool streets in 1956 as thousands of other Irish migrants had also landed there, it was nevertheless an accent that wasn’t greeted too favourably in certain parts of the city. Too many Liverpuddlians objected strongly to the Irish who were prepared to work on the docks and elsewhere for less weekly wages than the locals were. The Irish and the West Indian immigrants were coming in larger numbers year-upon-year and so these two categories of strangers became the new scapegoats upon whom to blame every woe that beset the working classes.
Most landladies who answered the door simply looked at Margaret and her daughter before slamming it shut without providing her with the opportunity to ask if any digs were available. Even the few who deigned to engage in conversation with the newcomer asked impertinent questions or even doubted her claim of being a married woman.
“I run a respectable place here,” one landlady replied distastefully as Margaret and Joe stood there on her front step, adding, "I don't take in unmarried mothers and women of the street!"
“But, I’m not one of those unmarried mothers!” Margaret protested as she proceeded to show the ring on her marriage finger. “I’m a married woman. I was married over five years ago in Galway.”
“And if you’re married, what are you doing hawking yourself around Liverpool on your own, and where’s your man? Get away with you, this is a decent establishment. We don’t need thee or thee brat here. Married! That’s a laugh. Why, anyone with sixpence can purchase a ring from Woolworths and try to buy respectability. Be gone you Irish tinker before I let the dogs loose on you. Be gone. You give the neighbourhood a bad name!”
The landlord who eventually offered a room to Margaret demanded the security of a week’s rent as a bond plus another week’s rent paid in advance. He was an oversized Greek with bad breath. He answered the front door holding in his huge stomach and looked as though he'd been in the process of finishing off a large greasy meal before Margaret had disturbed him part-way through it. He wore a dirty blue and white striped shirt and couldn’t take his greasy eyes off Margaret all the time she stood there and spoke to him.
Being as it was getting late in the day and she wanted her tired daughter to get some sleep, Margaret reluctantly agreed to the landlord’s terms with a view of seeking a better place in the immediate weeks ahead.
Being as it was getting late in the day and she wanted her tired daughter to get some sleep, Margaret reluctantly agreed to the landlord’s terms with a view of seeking a better place in the immediate weeks ahead.
Even finding a landlord who was prepared to rent out a rat-infested room for no less than a King’s ransom to a woman on her own with a young child took Margaret over three hours and twenty two attempts before she struck lucky. It being March and the weather so cold, Margaret's concern for her daughter led to her accepting the first place on offer. The bedroom was damp and the paper was hanging off the wall. Margaret made the mistake of pulling away the wet paper from the plaster at the side of the staircase, only to see large chunks of plaster fall away as she did so.
As Joe slept soundly that night, Margaret looked out the second-floor window of her small apartment and had a cigarette. She never used to smoke and had only taken up the habit after her first year of marriage, when her husband had started being cruel and abusive towards her.
In the distance, Margaret could see the dock area and the cobbled streets that surrounded all the dockland. She found herself crying as she thought about the nice property in Portlaw which she had once called home. She’d no idea where her husband Thomas was, what he’d be doing or who with, but of one thing she felt sure; wherever he was, as far as she was concerned, it was 'good riddance to bad rubbish'.
In the distance, Margaret could see the dock area and the cobbled streets that surrounded all the dockland. She found herself crying as she thought about the nice property in Portlaw which she had once called home. She’d no idea where her husband Thomas was, what he’d be doing or who with, but of one thing she felt sure; wherever he was, as far as she was concerned, it was 'good riddance to bad rubbish'.
Margaret and Joe stayed in their first place of accommodation for two weeks only. Apart from being sure that she’d be able to find a better place for herself and daughter, she also feared that it wouldn’t be too long before her landlord made a move on her, and if not him, his 22-year-old son who was too 'touchy feely' for her liking. Too frequently she had caught the lustful gaze he gave her and despite doing everything to discourage such advances, his propensity to either place his hand on her shoulder whenever he passed her or finish off his conversations with her by a slap on the backside effectively told Margaret to ensure that she never found herself alone with him or his father.
When Margaret secured alternate accommodation and requested her bond back from the landlord, he quickly made an excuse for not returning it. He claimed that the toilet in her room needed repairing and that she or her daughter had pulled off large chunks of plaster from the wall at the side of the staircase. Margaret decided to cut her losses and view the experience as a lesson learnt. She quickly packed her cases and left without pursuing the issue any further. To tell the truth, she couldn’t get herself and little Joe out of that dump quickly enough!
The next accommodation that Margaret secured was in a better part of Liverpool and although it cost £1.10 shillings more weekly, it was cleaner, larger and infinitely safer. The Street was known as 'Dale Street' and although its road surface was still cobbled it was kept much cleaner.
Margaret’s new landlord was a nice young couple called Mr and Mrs Dransfield, or Tom and Molly as they preferred to be called. Tom was in his early thirties and his wife Molly was thirty. Tom had started life working at the docks, but after incurring an industrial accident when a large bale that was being winched aboard ship slipped its grippers and fell over one hundred feet to the ground before landing on his leg, his life on the docks was brought to a speedy end.
“With a pay out of £6,000 compensation that the union got me,” Tom told Margaret, “me and Molly was able to buy this six-roomed property and join the landlord brigade. We haven’t looked back since. And while we’ll probably die and leave this earth with little more than we entered it, we’ll get by nicely on the steady and regular income that we have meanwhile.”
Margaret’s new landlord was a nice young couple called Mr and Mrs Dransfield, or Tom and Molly as they preferred to be called. Tom was in his early thirties and his wife Molly was thirty. Tom had started life working at the docks, but after incurring an industrial accident when a large bale that was being winched aboard ship slipped its grippers and fell over one hundred feet to the ground before landing on his leg, his life on the docks was brought to a speedy end.
“With a pay out of £6,000 compensation that the union got me,” Tom told Margaret, “me and Molly was able to buy this six-roomed property and join the landlord brigade. We haven’t looked back since. And while we’ll probably die and leave this earth with little more than we entered it, we’ll get by nicely on the steady and regular income that we have meanwhile.”
xxxx
Tom and Molly were to prove the best of contacts that Margaret and Joe could have made in a strange country. The boarding house had five rooms to rent with the sixth and biggest room used by the owners as their living quarters. While Tom now wore a false leg since his accident on the docks, apart from the climbing of stepladders, which he left to Molly, he wasn’t restricted in any of his other duties as a landlord.
A large framed photograph of Tom and Molly in their early marriage graced the place above the fire in their lounge. It was evident to anyone who ever saw Tom and Molly together that they adored each other. They had no children; a condition that had more to do with his low fertility count as opposed to any wish to remain childless. In fact, they loved children and had they been able to, Tom and Molly would no doubt have had a good half dozen. Whenever they saw little Joe, their eyes lit up; very much as one might expect proud parents or close relatives to do. It was obvious to see that the couple lived for each other. They approached their task as landlord and landlady with great diligence and were determined to keep all their guests under their roof as happy as they could.
A large framed photograph of Tom and Molly in their early marriage graced the place above the fire in their lounge. It was evident to anyone who ever saw Tom and Molly together that they adored each other. They had no children; a condition that had more to do with his low fertility count as opposed to any wish to remain childless. In fact, they loved children and had they been able to, Tom and Molly would no doubt have had a good half dozen. Whenever they saw little Joe, their eyes lit up; very much as one might expect proud parents or close relatives to do. It was obvious to see that the couple lived for each other. They approached their task as landlord and landlady with great diligence and were determined to keep all their guests under their roof as happy as they could.
It took Margaret four weeks and a number of job interviews before she managed to get herself employment that paid her enough to maintain herself and Joe as well as pay their weekly rent. Molly and Tom allowed her to fall behind in her rent payments during her first two months with them. Margaret reckoned that she’d have to watch all her pennies, but could scrape by if she gave up the cigarettes and walked to work twice a week instead of taking the bus.
Tom and Molly insisted that they'd look after Joe during Margaret's absence at work. They insisted they required no payment for such a pleasurable task. Little Joe quickly took to them as parental substitutes and was always at ease in both their company, particularly Tom's.
Margaret's first job was in a shoe shop and although the wages weren’t very good, at least they helped to keep the wolf from the door. While Margaret found the job pleasant enough, after a few weeks trying shoes on for hundreds of customers, some of whom she knew had neither the money nor the intention of ever buying the footwear, she felt energetically tired at the end of her shift and mentally lacking in stimulation.
She thought about her university degree and started trying to get other jobs that would tax her brain more. Three months was then spent in a chemist shop serving on and operating the till, followed by two months as a bookkeeper’s assistant before she left that post also.
Six months later however, Margaret got a job that was simply up her street as an assistant librarian. At first, she wrongly imagined that such a job around books all day would provide her with ample opportunity of reading them whenever she wanted to. She soon discovered however, that it would be the cataloguing and not the reading of books, which would now occupy the bulk of her day!
Nevertheless, Margaret loved this position. She was around books and their foisty smell; constantly surrounded by thousands of years of learning and knowledge contained within their pages. She loved the idea of being immersed within a sea of writer’s imagination and allowed to touch the binding of book covers that had been turned by so many seeking entertainment, escapism and enlightenment over the years. Being around books both pleased and frustrated Margaret as she not only wished to catalogue them, she also wanted time to read them and soon developed a growing urge once more to write them!
Nevertheless, Margaret loved this position. She was around books and their foisty smell; constantly surrounded by thousands of years of learning and knowledge contained within their pages. She loved the idea of being immersed within a sea of writer’s imagination and allowed to touch the binding of book covers that had been turned by so many seeking entertainment, escapism and enlightenment over the years. Being around books both pleased and frustrated Margaret as she not only wished to catalogue them, she also wanted time to read them and soon developed a growing urge once more to write them!
One evening after Margaret had come home from her job tired, Molly could tell that Margaret’s occupation in the library, however satisfying, was nevertheless not enough for her.
“What would you like to do, Margaret?” Molly asked. “What would you choose to do if it was at all possible to do?”
After a few minutes reflective thought Margaret replied, “There was a time..........I......I always wanted to try my hand at writing after I got my degree,” Margaret replied.
“Then, why didn’t you?" Tom asked.
“What would you like to do, Margaret?” Molly asked. “What would you choose to do if it was at all possible to do?”
After a few minutes reflective thought Margaret replied, “There was a time..........I......I always wanted to try my hand at writing after I got my degree,” Margaret replied.
“Then, why didn’t you?" Tom asked.
“He wouldn’t let me..........my husband Thomas. He always saw a wife writing to be beneath his station in life as a Headmaster. Then, Joe came along and everything changed. Since Thomas walked out on us, leaving us both without a penny or any means of support, it’s taken all my body energy to keep my day-time job, let alone think about writing.”
“But there’s nothing stopping you writing in the evening hours if you really wanted to,” Molly added. ”Me and Tom would be only too pleased to look after little Joe. Besides, it would seem to us that you'd be doing us a favour and not the other way round. Me and Tom love having Joe about us as she makes up for the one we were unable to have. While I'd dearly love to have had a child with Tom, Margaret, I know that he feels not being a parent much worse than I could ever do. While I would have liked to have been a mum, he was born to be a dad. He's a natural.”
“But there’s nothing stopping you writing in the evening hours if you really wanted to,” Molly added. ”Me and Tom would be only too pleased to look after little Joe. Besides, it would seem to us that you'd be doing us a favour and not the other way round. Me and Tom love having Joe about us as she makes up for the one we were unable to have. While I'd dearly love to have had a child with Tom, Margaret, I know that he feels not being a parent much worse than I could ever do. While I would have liked to have been a mum, he was born to be a dad. He's a natural.”
As Molly spoke, Margaret could hear the silent sob beneath her friend’s words. The week after, Margaret started writing on an evening after work. She took it slowly at first and binned as many pages as she finished up with at the end of each session, but gradually she got into it more and more. After she’d put Joe to bed and her daughter had settled down, Margaret would often commence her vwriting again and write into the early morning hours. Tom and Molly could soon tell how cathartic Margaret was finding the process of her writing. She seemed to possess more energy these recent days and appeared to be enjoying her life much better.
Over the next two years, Margaret took some librarian examinations, which along with her honours degree enabled her to be better qualified in her library position and to receive an increase in her pay.
Over the next two years, Margaret took some librarian examinations, which along with her honours degree enabled her to be better qualified in her library position and to receive an increase in her pay.
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Just before her fifth birthday, Joe had started attending a nearby Catholic school and thanks to Tom and Molly, Margaret was able to hold down a full-time job at the library. Tom agreed to pick Joe up at the end of every school day and allow her to stay in his and Molly’s apartment until her mother came back home from work. Often, Joe would persuade Tom to take her to see the ferry boats that took passengers across the Mersey.
Margaret would invariably arrive home from work to discover that Molly and Tom had already provided little Joe with her evening meal. Joe was getting closer to both Molly and Tom daily, but was definitely the closest to Tom whom she essentially regarded as a father figure. Indeed, every now and then, Margaret would hear Joe refer to Tom's wife as 'Molly' and invariably call Tom, 'Daddy.' Molly would frequently allow little Joe to help her bake in the kitchen. Joe used to love getting her little hands sticky with flour, but her favourite treat was being able to lick out the bowl.
As Margaret never wanted Thomas Walsh to be known as a father by her daughter, she found it very easy never to mention his name to Joe. She also found it easy not to discourage Joe from calling Tom Dransfield 'daddy' whenever her daughter felt inclined to do so.
As Margaret never wanted Thomas Walsh to be known as a father by her daughter, she found it very easy never to mention his name to Joe. She also found it easy not to discourage Joe from calling Tom Dransfield 'daddy' whenever her daughter felt inclined to do so.
All of Margaret's spare time at weekends was spent in the company of her daughter Joe and Tom and Molly whom she had grown so close to. The four of them would frequently walk down Lord Street where they did most of their shopping and to see them out and about together, it would have been hard for any onlooker not to tell that they didn't come from the same family because of the closeness of bond that obviously existed between them.
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