Spy limit

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

It is one of the curiosities of London's topography that, while the walk or carriage ride from Chalk Farm at the foot of Hampstead Hill to Euston seems more or less flat, the train journey over the same terrain is a fairly precipitous downhill run. 

The Liverpool train came into the terminus preceded by the usual screeching of brakes and showering of sparks. Kathleen, who had met Lawrence at the post office - and refused to yield to him the sole right to greet Emma off this train - pressed her hands tight over her ears and watched the t*****e machine intently for the slightest sign of an abatement.

She was therefore the first to see her father poke his head out of the window and look up and down for a porter. Fortunately, the seeking of a porter is a task so fraught with doubt that a man so engaged is quite likely to miss such lesser sights as the unexpected presence of his own son and daughter, also upon platform. the

Kathleen spun around, turning her back to him, and edged away until she was standing behind a trolley piled high with luggage. "It's Papa!" she exclaimed tersely to her brother.

"Where?" he asked; then, "Damnation! He's gone and spotted me."

"I'll keep behind this thing," she told him. "Don't look at me, you fool! Pretend you came to meet him congratters on the Blue Riband and all that. I'll head

Emma off and take her to the apartment after you've gone. We'll wait for you there."

"Aaargh!" Lawrence cried under his breath, even as his face split in the broadest smile of welcome for their father. "Papa!" He stepped forward to greet him as if that had always been his intention. "Congratula tions! You must be cockahoop!"

"You might have nabbed a porter while you were waiting," Frank grumbled. "You know how they vanish as soon as a train arrives."

Kathleen, standing not five yards from them, but well concealed by the luggage trolley, saw Emma walking down the platform toward them. She waved to catch her attention and succeeded in the same instant that the girl caught sight of the two men. She turned around and walked back down the platform, apparently seeking a dropped ticket. Not until the men had found a porter and gone did she resume her progress toward the barrier.

"That was a narrow squeak," she exclaimed as she drew near Kathleen.

"Let's give them a minute or two," the girl replied. "Just to be sure they got a cab. Well! Let's have a look at you. That's a pretty bonnet. American?"

She was intrigued to see that Emma blushed at the mention of it. "Got your sea legs?" she added.

That, seemingly, was an easier one to answer. She said it was now the land that couldn't seem to stay still.

When they were sure the men had gone, they took a tram up to the Angel, then another through Islington to Upper Street. It being a hot August day, they rode on the top deck, in the open; all the way Emma gushed about the splendours of the Pride of Liverpool, the joys of life as a stewardess, the fabulous time she'd had in New York ... though on this last marvel she faltered and when they were finally in the apartment - told the truth.

"It was awful, Kathy. There's this stewardess called Joan Bolton. When she's on duty, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, but as soon as she's off... well!"

"What d'you mean - well?" It interested Kathleen to see how much of her London accent Emma had lost.

"You know - taking up with men. Macquereaus she calls them. Anyway, she promised to arrange one for me. So I slid out of it - I thought - by vanishing into the railway station to go to the ladies. Incidentally, I saw your dad there. The Cap'n! He was asking for the train to ..."

"Did he recognize you?" Kathleen asked eagerly. "On the ship, I mean." "Half and half. I told him I was with the pork butcher in Goldsmith's Place, so he thinks he must have seen me around and about these parts.".

"That's funny. Because Larry went and ..." Anyway," Emma insisted, "Joan and the other girls came over to the station, too because I'd started them off by saying I needed to go. So then I couldn't get away from her. And he was awful, this macquereau she got me as companion for the evening."

"Ugly?"

"Oh no- quite a good-looker. But he couldn't keep his hands off me. I was fighting him all evening. He said he likes a challenge so he'll meet me next time I'm there."

Kathleen writhed with pleasure to hear at safe second hand these steamy details Emma's exciting and dangerous life. "And will you?"

"I will not! Bella Mooney says she takes the train to a place called Newburg up the Hudson River and goes for walks in the woods, which are really what we'd call forests here. She says it'll be the fall soon and it's breathtaking then. So that's what I'm going to do do next time."

Kathleen took a leap in the dark. "No nice bonnets from her, I'll bet."

Emma stared at her in surprise and then laughed. "You'll do," she said. "Oh Kathy! I wish I'd dug my heels in and insisted you'd come with us. It'd be so much fun with you!" And to her surprise Kathleen did not immediately pour scorn on the idea and tell her how impossible it was.

"Actually," Kathleen said. "I may be going to America anyway. There's a choir from some tabernacle or something in Chicago who are over here in London at the moment. Mr Fiorelli, you know - the tenor with the Operatic Society - he arranged it all. 

They're giving their farewell concert this Saturday, here in Highbury, and they've invited us to visit them in December, to sing the Messiah with them, which they always do at Christmas.