Gabrielle got off the train in Liverpool station and saw Peter Harrison smoking and waiting for her at the end of the platform. He looked up and saw her, smiling sadly before coming to collect her things. It’s amazing how much Peter didn’t look like George. But they did have that same quiet politeness and stubbornness as well.
He tossed his fag aside and gave her a hug “Ready to go home?”
She nodded and followed him to the taxi queue.
The days, weeks, and months that passed were quite boring after that. Gabrielle found she was being left alone mostly. Her father was inconsolable and grieving for a long time. He got better after a while but things were much different. An unusual quiet settled over the Gallagher house. Louise Harrison would come over every now and then for tea or to just talk. Which was nice.
Mostly Gabby just stayed inside and slept.
It wasn’t depression really, but it did feel like it. What with Liverpool’s dark gray clouds constantly hovering. Things fell into a routine, so Gabrielle took a few classes at the Liverpool art institute.
That gave her something to concentrate on at least. There was one assignment where she was supposed to photograph something that represented man kind. Cynthia, one of the two people Gabrielle found herself associating with at all (the other being Shaz, who was no help at all, she was in love with some Freddy Hall) would hang around and they would talk about art and things like that. Gabrielle got the impression that Cynthia was into arty things, more because she didn’t know what to do with herself then anything else. She reckoned having a nice family in the suburbs with John would please her. That wouldn’t happen if John had anything to say about it though.
One day while walking home and discussing the man kind project, they came across old man Traubbers, the bloke who ate out of Gabrielle’s rubbish bins.
“Oh I’m fucking brilliant” she gasped
Cynthia looked at the mad old man dressed in rags and then looked at Gabby “You are joking”
“No” she shook her head “It’s perfect, it’s all about pain and suffering and all that. The professor will love it.”
Cyn lifted her nose “You’re right about the teacher loving it, he’s very dramatic.” she swore “wish I had thought of it”
“Hang on” Gabrielle ran into her house and found a couple shillings and a packet of digestive cookies and a tea cup. Then sprinting back with her arms full she stopped. He looked up at her
“What be you wanting Miss Gabrielle?” he smiled broadly, showing the lack of teeth
“Hi Mr. Traubbers” she lifted her camera “I hate to be bothering you sir, but could I take your picture?”
He puffed his dirty chest out with pride at being called sir and nodded his wrinkly old head. “You can, my girl. You know, when I was in the war, *all* the pretty lasses used to come ask if they could take my picture”
Gabrielle nodded politely and set the tea up on the pavement next to him. She spared the rubbish out around him, wrinkling her nose at the smell of it. He continued with his rant “S’pose they though I were one of them cinema stars. You know what I mean Miss. Gabrielle?”
“Sure, Mr Traubbers, can you hold this?” she handed him the packet of cookies and he continued on ranting about the war like he always would to anyone willing to listen. Mr. Traubbers took out a digestive cookie and crunched on it thoughtfully as he ranted.
Gabrielle squatted down on the pavement in front of him and shot nearly half a role of film from different angles. He looked at her and smiled a tooth-less grin for the last one.
“You all finished Miss Gabrielle? Don’t reckon yer could be makin it worth me wile?”
“Of course Mr. Traubbers “ she handed him the shillings “Go by yerself something pretty, and thank you.”
“Thank you Miss. Gabrielle!” he yelled after her as she and Cyn ran into her house.
“My god” Cyn laughed as the collapsed giggling in the foyer “You certainly lay the bull shit on thick, don’t you”
**
Gabrielle got in touch with her Auntie Irene. She had to, didn’t she, the woman was writing and calling persistently. Most of it was about how she should hop the next train to Windsor and come stay with her until she figured out what it was she wanted to do with her life. In one of their five-second phone conversations that usually ended with “I don’t want your money! Good bye and stop calling!” before Gab slammed the phone down, Gabrielle managed to get in something about how she was going into the Fine Arts. The next week the post was filled with brochures about Art colleges, sculpture colleges, photography colleges, painting colleges, and anything else. Gabrielle groaned as she shifted through it. She had no choice. She was going to have to let Irene pay for it or else she wasn’t going to be able to go to any school at all.
She dialed the number slowly, dreading it.
“Hello. This is the estate of Miss. Irene Fraser.” said a small squeaky voice that was decidedly a cockney trying to pass for upper class.
“Hi, yes, this is Miss Irene Fraser’s niece, Gabrielle Gallagher” she wanted to laugh at the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “I assume I’m speaking with a maid?”
“Yes, mum, I am Miss Fraser’s maid, mum.” there was a pause “Just a minute mum, I’ll fetch the lady”
“Go on then” she sighed, she was imagining her Aunt’s house. An estate. She’d never been there, but she could only imagine what it was like. Loaded. God. How much money could she possibly have. If Gabrielle ever got that much money she would do something nice for all the people in the world who didn’t have money. Like people like Old Ben Traubbers, imagine, giving him a hundred quid, it would mean the world too him, and wouldn’t put a dent in her pocket. And-
“Hello? Gabrielle? Oh sweetie, darling, it is absolutely *wonderful* to hear your voice”
She sighed “Hello Auntie Rene, I’m sorry I’ve been such a knobhead lately”
“Oh dear, my gracious girl, a knob head, you say? What on earth is that”
“Nothing, never mind. I’m just sorry. I know you want to help. I’m ready to be helped now”
“Oh, Sweetie Darling, you have no idea how it does my old heart good to hear that” she gushed
Bah. Queen’s English made you want to cringe.
“Now” she continued “I understand you would like to further your studies in the fine arts”
“yes” Gabrielle paused “I’ve been taking some classes at the Art Institute here-”
“Oh gracious, that can not be the best way to go about it.” she was cut off “I’ll have words with a few friends of mine. Perhaps we can see about getting you into the Royal Art College, doesn’t that sound nice, my dear”
Her head was buzzing. Royal Art College, oh fuck, she was never getting in there “Auntie, I don’t think-”
“Oh, don’t you think anything my dear girl. Only the best for my one and only heir”
She blinked.
HEIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She was her fucking HEIR!
“I-” she started to say, but was cut off yet again
“Oh, dear, I’m sorry. My faithful partner Henry here is shaking his head. What’s that? What do you mean she has to have credits before she can go there?”
“I-”
“Hello, Miss. Gallagher. My name is Henry, I work for you’re Aunt” his voice was posh too, but not put on like the maid’s. He was younger, like maybe in his thirties.
“I-” she started to say again
“Now, what kind of art do you do exactly, miss?”
“I, well… Photography”
“Photography, Miss Fraser, she does Photography!”
“Splendid!” her aunt cried in the background
“I-”
“Miss Gallagher, how would you like to go to America, hmm?”
“America, but wait-”
“Yes, now, I’ve got some people on it. Right now in fact, oh here comes Giles. Yes Giles?”
There was murmuring in the back ground. Gabrielle was contemplating never using the telephone again. She calls home, her mother is dead. She calls her Aunt, she’s her aunt’s heir. Maybe she should just lock herself in a cupboard and never emerge.
“Right, now, Miss Gallagher, are you with me?”
“Yes, but I-”
“Now now,” he chuckled “Have you ever been to America?”
“No…”
“Do you know where New York is?”
Was he daft? Did he think she spent five years in a prestigious all girls boarding school and learn nothing? Of course she knew where fucking New York was.
“Of course I do!” she snapped
“Of course” he coddled “I forgot how smart you were”
She started to tell him to fuck off but he continued
“And does that mean you know where San Francisco or Seattle are?”
“Yes!” all major cities. What was he getting at.
“Miss Gallagher, are you aware of the bohemian movement?”
“What?”
“Bohemian, arty people”
“Oh, yes, in New York…” she could have slapped herself. Suddenly it made sense. They were getting her out of the way like they were last time. Except for now they were buttering her up for something as well. But what could it be.
“Wait a second” she said suddenly
“Just a minute, I’ve one more thing to say”
“Oh--- what?”
He took a deep breath “Would you like to go to school at New York University, they have an excellent art school there. You would major in the fine arts after four years and then you would come back and go to the Royal Art College and finish off your education. With credits like that behind you, I dare say, you’ll be taking professional pictures of the queen.”
Her mind started reeling. Like really reeling. She sat down. The plan was simple enough. She had no doubts in her mind that she could follow through with it all and plus, that was four years more she was stuck in something and didn’t have to worry about her future.
“Of course, there is Berkley, a fine young scene out in San Francisco as well, or the University of Washington in Seattle”
“I uh.” it was like she was in a store and was being told to choose which dress she wanted. “New York” she said suddenly
“She says New York”
“Splendid!” her aunt cried
“Yes, it is. Of course. Now. Miss Gallagher, I would suggest to you, that you continue with your art classes”
“Wait-”
“We will of course pay for them- work on you… your craft, my lady. Yes?”
“Wait!”
“Nonsense!” Her aunt took the phone back “You’ll come stay with me now, won’t you my darling.”
“I-… no.”
“Oh, but surly you will dear, I do love you, really I do. I see myself in you.” It was true. Both Irene Fraser and her sister Eleanor Fraser were very good looking dark haired woman who were not only short but waif like- like Gabrielle. She certainly did inherit that. Sometimes she though that the she, her mother and her Aunt, were to much a like, part of the reason they could never stay in the same room together.
Her mother was gone so she didn’t have to worry about that.
Gabriele snapped her self out of those thoughts. Back to her aunt’s rambling
“Darling, we’re getting a long so well, now! Surely Sweetie Darling, it would be for the best. I could introduce you to some of my friends! Lady Heather Frost has the most *gorgeous* son, you know, I do believe he is only two years older then you. *he* went to the very same secondary school as Prince Charles. It’s not as if you *need* money my dear, but he is a very good catch indeed.”
Ohgodohodohgodohgod. Arranged marriage.
“No- I mean, what d’you mean by I’m your heir” There she faintly got it out.
“Why Sweetie Darling, it simply means all of my money will go to you when I pass from this world” she could almost hear her smiling sweetly on the other end of the line “I just want to take care of you while I can.”
Gabrielle sighed. Well, maybe she meant well. But that Henry bloke, she didn’t like.
“So what d’you say darling, will you let me take care of you. I want to make amends, I was horrible to your poor family” Gabrielle resisted the urge to stare at the phone in bewilderment. What was she on about? “I feel awful for the things I’ve said about your father. But my darling. You are your mother’s daughter. And, well, I do love you. Even if you make things difficult, we’re still family. Will you come down to stay with me?”
“No”
“Oh poo. Fine, sweetie, be stubborn, you always were” she laughed gaily “If you change your mind you know where to find me. Now are you going to let me pay for you schooling, will you let me take care of all that”
She was hesitant “……Yes” Damn it…
“Oh, Smashing! Darling you’ve made me the happiest woman this side of the Themes. I must ring off now, people to talk to, deals to make. Money to spend!”
“Wait a minute” she thought fast, an idea suddenly came to her “What is the name of your solicitor?”
“My ….what?”
“Your lawyer”
“Oh, my… Mr. William Mason. Fine man that, works for Mason and Mason. His grandfather started the company, they take good care of me and my money they do”
“I’m sure. Thank you Auntie”
“You’re very welcome! Are you sure you won’t come down to stay?”
“No”
“All right, I will talk to you soon Sweetie, I love you Darling”
“I… er… I love you too” she winced
“Good bye”
“Bye”
Gabrielle hung the phone up with a sigh. She was going to New York for school. The idea suddenly hit her and the fact that her mad old Aunt was the reason why fled her mind and for a minute she jumped up an down on the sofa screaming and cheering because she was going to New York! It was a dream come true! Out of Liverpool, and into a place where people would understand her and be young and like Rock ‘n’ roll and art. Oh it was wonderful. Greenwich! She was going to Greenwich. She was practically giddy when her father came down stairs.
He looked at her and frowned “What’re you grinning about you siully girl”
“I’m…” she trailed off. Oh fuck. “I was talking to a mate of mine about… school.”
“University?” he asked sitting down next to her. She nodded, he patted her on the leg. “That’s my girl, where abouts?”
“Uh..” she looked around nervously “New York”
“New York!”
“Yeah”
He laughed delightedly “I would *LOVE* for you to go to New York. Oh, Darling, that is wonderful,, how on earth are we going to pay for it?”
Gabrielle didn’t answer, instead she muttered something about going to put the kettle on. Better to let him know about ht explain a bit at a time. And if he went into a rage over that ‘bloody home wrecking witch’ she would seek refuge at the Harrison’s.
However once in the kitchen she began to root through the drawer where her mother used to put all of the letters and bits of paper and phone numbers and other things that you don’t have any other place for. She found the old envelope on which Lori, her old school mate, had written her phone number in Farnborough on.
Lori’s dad was a top London Barrister. Gabrielle wasn’t sure exactly what she was doing, but then again calling on a lawyer might not be a bad idea.
“Hello?”
“Erm… hello Mrs. Potter. This is Gabrielle Gallagher, I went to school with Lori”
“Oh! Gabrielle! I remember you from the celebration last year. How are you my dear?”
“I’m fine. How are you”
“I’m well. Now, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I have a bit of a legal situation, sort of dealing with inheritance, I was wondering if I could speak with Mr. Potter”
“Yes, of course, Jim! Telephone!”
That went over well. She was told that he would look into the mater with the Mr. Mason, and see what was really going on. After that. Gabrielle found herself sitting on the settee with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.
That’s how it went for a while after that. Gradually, she broke the news to her father about Auntie Irene and the New York School. That whole thing. Then she told Cynthia who practically screamed and flailed about for an hour. Then Gabrielle was reminded of George and the Beatles. They were coming home in January. That was exciting, but then, Gabrielle was leaving in June to go set up a flat in New York. Irene was sending Shaz and her personal assistant Anna to go with her. Of course, Anna and Shaz would fly back about a month into it.
But still. There was something very frightening and exiting about it all.
New York.
Well, that’s fucking it, innit.