The Castlefield Collector

by The Castlefield Collector (Watch for the Talleyman) (retail) (epub)

  ‘Then I just clicked with this other chap. He were good to me and we had a bit of a fling like. It all started off very innocent, but things weren’t going quite right for him and he was lonely. I felt the same, so, well, you know how it is.’

  ‘No, I don’t. Who was he?’

  ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘I do. I want to know everything. This man was my father. Who is he?’

  ‘No one you know.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. For God’s sake, Mam, tell me! Surely I deserve that, at least.’

  Maisie could feel her heart pounding. She’d sworn to keep his name secret, yet she must say something. Hadn’t her lass suffered enough? ‘It were a chap from t’chapel but, like I say, no one you know. That’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘Who from the chapel? Not the superintendent?’

  ‘Goodness me, not Mr Baxton? Not flippin’ likely.’

  ‘Who then?’

  Maisie avoided her daughter’s fiercely probing gaze, desperately searching for some way to put her off the scent, but Dolly was tenacious, as always.

  ‘Let’s see, what were you involved with at the time? The Mother’s Bright Hour. Playing the piano for the Sunday School. The choir. You once told me you were in the choir. Good lord, not Cyril Duckett?’

  Maisie was stunned by her daughter’s perspicuity. It brought a shiver to her spine, considering the circumstances. ‘What made you think of Cyril?’

  ‘I remember you once saying that he’d been sweet on you when you were a girl, before you married Dad.’

  ‘Oh aye, that’s true, he was.’

  ‘But he’s… old.’

  ‘Cyril is a nice man. He’s eleven years older than me. A safe, solid sort and we have a lot in common.’

  ‘What, singing the ‘Messiah’ together at the chapel?’ Dolly might have giggled, had it not all been so dreadfully serious and her mother’s face a picture of misery.

  Maisie’s response was sharp. ‘Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I wasn’t always like this, this lank, mousy woman with no shine to her. Once I had something special. Chaps very often took a fancy to me, as they will to you, all in good time. And it felt good to be noticed again. Anyroad, what if it were Cyril? I’m not saying it is, mind, but he wasn’t always old. He was quite good-looking in his day, and very much the man-about-town. I should happen have accepted his proposal. Anyroad, if we made each other happy for a while, what would be so wrong in that?’ My goodness, Maisie thought, I’ve dropped meself in it good and proper now. And Cyril too!

  ‘You were already married, Mam, that’s what’s wrong with it. Oh, I’m not meaning to accuse you or anything, but it’s all come as a bit of a shock.’

  ‘Course it has. Well, it’s all water under the bridge now, so best to forget about it.’ Maisie knew that she should have denied it was Cyril. Why hadn’t she? He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into this mess. She’d need to have a quiet word with him, ask him to stand by her. She was quite certain that he would, as he had done in the past, so what harm could it do as long as Dolly was happy and never discovered the truth? Cyril would understand, and Maisie had no intention of breaking her silence, her promise. Far too dangerous for everyone concerned! ‘I don’t want no gossip, my private business is my own, not to be talked about the length of Castlefield.’

  Dolly looked shocked. ‘What do you think I am?’

  Maisie got to her feet, and collecting both mugs went to wash them in the sink. ‘Well I hope you’re satisfied, though what good knowing all this will do, I can’t think. Best to put it out of your mind and forget all about it. No matter what our Aggie claims, Calvin fetched you up as his own without too much complaint over the years.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Dolly’s blue eyes stretched wide in disbelief. ‘He ignored me all my life, probably from the day I was born. Are you saying he didn’t object to your sleeping with another man?’

  Maisie flushed bright pink and began fussing over refilling the kettle, lighting the gas, even though she was sick of tea and had no wish to drink another. This discussion was the last thing she’d wanted on this night of all nights, and it had gone far enough, too far in her opinion. She’d very much like to put a stop to it right now, take back every word. But it was as if she was on a roller coaster that she couldn’t get off till she’d hit the bumpers at the end of the ride. ‘No, I couldn’t rightly say that.’

  ‘What did he do to you then?’

  ‘No more’n you’d expect.’

  ‘Tell me, Mam. He belted you, didn’t he? How did he find out? Did he hurt you badly? What did he do?’

  Maisie turned off the gas under the kettle and let out a great shuddering sigh, as if remembering this painful time was all too much for her. Dolly went and put an arm about her shaking shoulders, drew her back to the table and sat stroking her arm. ‘Come on, Mam, tell me everything, and I won’t interrupt.’

  * * *

  Hard as it was to relate this part of the story, Maisie felt calmer now, her panic subsiding a little, for with this bit, there need be no lies. ‘I told him myself. Not that he needed no telling. He knew, soon as he found out I were pregnant. We hadn’t – you know – slept together for a long while. Not in that way, as a married couple. Just sharing the same bed like, so I told him I’d had an affair, and that I were leaving him. And yes, he thumped me, broke two of my ribs as a matter of fact, even though I was carrying you. I left him and moved in with Cyril Duckett. Eeh, it was a revelation. We were happy as a pair of larks.’

  Maisie’s face lit up at the memory, and for an instant Dolly caught a glimpse of the pretty young woman she’d once been. ‘He was so good to me were Cyril, a grand chap. Made me laugh and fussed over me, fetched me a cup of tea in bed every morning. I thought I’d landed in heaven.’ Then her face darkened, as if a cloud had blotted out the sun. ‘But it couldn’t last. I knew, deep in me heart that it never could’ve lasted.’

  ‘Why, what happened?’ Enthralled by this apparently tender love story, Dolly had tears in her eyes at the thought of these two lovers being parted, of her mam, always so downtrodden and browbeaten, finally finding happiness and then losing it.

  ‘I had my baby. You. And you were all right, not hurt in any way by him belting me, though I’d feared you might be. But I had to go back because of the other childer. They needed me, I was missing them badly, and Calvin wouldn’t let me see them otherwise. Our Aggie was only two when you were born, our Willy nine and badly with his chest even then. The youngest of the other lads was our Eli at thirteen, about to start work and needing his mam. But all the others were still at home too, even our Abel who was sixteen at the time. I had to go back. They weren’t coping without me.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘You couldn’t see your dad – Calvin – doing the washing and mending and cooking, could you? So I decided to call it a day and go back home.’

  ‘You mean you and Cyril agreed to part?’

  Maisie flushed. ‘Aye, you could say that. I didn’t want to go, not after all those months of peace and quiet. And he’d become very special to me, had Cyril.’ If not in the way you might imagine, Maisie thought, but as a friend she’d turned to in her hour of need. Every fibre of her being still ached for the man she really loved, whose name she never would mention till her dying day. That way there would be no more hurt, to his family or her own. ‘I’ve no regrets. If I couldn’t have the man I loved, then at least I could have me kids about me. You’re the ones who matter most.’

  Following this heartbreaking confession there followed a long silence as two tears ran unchecked down Maisie’s cheeks. Dolly leaned over and wrapped her arms about her, understanding, perhaps for the first time, the true nature of a mother’s unselfish love.

  ‘You’ll always have me, Mam. Always!’

  Maisie patted her arm. ‘Aye, I know that love, and I wouldn’t be without you, for all the bother you caused by just getting born. But if I’d accepted Cyril’s offer of marriage al
l those years ago, when I were nobbut a daft young lass, it might all have been so different. I might never have strayed from the paths of righteousness, eh? But there we are, we make our bed and have to lie in it.’ She smiled over-brightly at Dolly, and unable to think of any words of comfort to offer, since the day of Calvin’s funeral didn’t seem quite the moment to say she was almost glad that he was dead, Dolly smiled bleakly back.

  * * *

  Evie continued to rail about the loss to her wedding plans but in spite of enlisting her mother’s support in an effort to change her father’s mind, Nathan remained adamant. His decision, he said, was final. She could have a smaller wedding, or postpone it for a while.

  ‘Feel free to discuss the matter with Freddie and his parents. I’m sure they will understand and see that a decent period of mourning should be acknowledged.’

  In the end, against all her better judgement, Evie had no alternative but to explain the delicate situation to her future in-laws since plans were at an advanced stage and must be brought to a halt. But Freddie’s people, Mr and Mrs Fitzgerald, were not in the least little bit understanding. They sat in their crimson and gold Edwardian parlour and declared themselves appalled by the idea of both postponement and a scaling down. Mrs Fitzgerald wailed on and on about how the outfit she had bought, particularly the hat, would be quite out of fashion a year from now.

  Mr Fitzgerald grumbled over the cost of buying a new morning suit while pointing out how you couldn’t hope to get decent champagne if you went in for unnatural penny-pinching. ‘That’s the problem with the sons of self-made men. Taught to watch the pennies too closely and far too left wing, don’t you know. That dratted father of yours will have us all eating pie and peas and drinking stout at some common hostelry, if we don’t watch out.’

  Whereupon, his wife nearly fainted on the spot and was forced to resort to a hefty dose of Sal Volatile to help her to recover.

  And then there was the matter of their friends and social standing. ‘They’ll think we’re destitute or about to go bankrupt,’ Mrs Fitzgerald complained. ‘As if we can’t afford to see our son properly launched into the world.’

  ‘Dash it, Mama, you make me sound like some sort of cruise liner.’

  ‘Don’t be facetious, Freddie.’

  No matter how much Evie attempted to explain, they failed to see the problem. But then neither could she. The whole problem had grown quite out of all proportion. After a half hour’s discussion, which grew increasingly heated and desperate, even Freddie turned on her, condemning her for recklessly endangering her life by driving about Salford and Castlefield without even a chaperone. ‘Not at all the kind of behaviour one expects from a future wife. Not the done thing, old fruit.’

  Evie looked quite taken aback by these censorious remarks from such an unexpected quarter. Surely he wasn’t going to take his mother’s side against her? ‘How dare you call me that? I’m not an old fruit! And what sort of wife do you expect me to be? One who does only what her lord and master tells her to?’

  ‘That is the usual way, dear,’ put in his over-helpful mother.

  ‘Why cannot anyone see that I was only trying to help?’ Evie cried, driven to beating her fists on the arms of her chair in frustration.

  ‘Of course you were, dear, but Freddie is absolutely correct,’ Mrs Fitzgerald interjected, smiling fondly at her son as she attempted to placate his overwrought fiancée. ‘There are standards to be kept, a right and proper way of going about things from someone who hopes to be our future daughter-in-law. I freely confess that I have, on occasions, entertained grave doubts about the appropriateness of your behaviour, your equilibrium shall we say? But then I blame your upbringing. With a bohemian mother, and that father of yours being far too democratic for words, is it any wonder? Marriage with my darling Freddie will calm you down considerably, I should think.’

  ‘I have no wish to calm down,’ screamed Evie, but then, to her credit, did just that, drawing in a deep, cooling breath. In truth, she felt this to be one snide remark too many. However irritating her father might be at times, keeping her on a tight reign and constantly picking at her over the slightest thing, she couldn’t bear to hear someone else being rude about him. As his daughter, she had the right to quarrel with him and make his life as difficult as possible, but what right did they have? And Mumsie may well spend every waking moment writing romantic poetry or painting dreadful arty pictures; admire the works of Elinor Glyn and think that Mrs Baldwin wears dreadful hats, but she was an absolute darling. In Evie’s view, no one had the right to criticise her family but herself. As for her own behaviour, she would tolerate disapproval from no one, certainly not from this silly woman and her sycophantic son.

  The silly woman in question was still ranting on. ‘May I remind you, young lady, that the Fitzgeralds have enjoyed a position in society and considerable status for generations, not a mere decade or two, as your own have.’

  Evie was incensed by this criticism. ‘I’ll have you know my grandfather made the family fortune a good fifty years ago, and my father has added to it. Ah, but you’re no longer wealthy, are you?’ The look she gave her future mother-in-law could only be described as imperious. ‘I’ve always been of the opinion that you’d happily give your right arm to be linked in marriage with the Barker family, mad though you may claim us to be. The moment you saw Freddie and I were hitting it off, you were like a cat who’d swallowed the cream. Isn’t that the truth of it?’

  ‘Well, upon my word! Freddie, are you going to stand there and allow her to speak to me like this?’

  Freddie half-heartedly attempted to interject. ‘I say old sport, you’re cutting it a bit sharp, don’t you think?’

  Evie was on her feet, standing full-square before them on their faded Aubusson rug, screaming like a fishwife. ‘Oh, shut up, you stupid nincompoop! Who do you think you are? I’ll do as I damned well please, drat it.’

  Mrs Fitzgerald gasped. ‘I know you are upset but please do not take your ill temper out on my dear boy. He’s a perfect darling, and really doesn’t deserve to be treated so ill.’

  ‘I’ll take it out on whosoever I please, and behave as I think fit. I’ve certainly no intention of ever kowtowing to a man, particularly not a husband, and certainly not your perfect, darling son. The real reason why you want a big wedding is so that you can show off to all your silly, snobby friends. Maybe Pops is right and my efforts to help in the strike were misguided, but I’ll not stand here and be taken to task by you, nor have my family maligned.’

  Whereupon, before she’d had time to consider the consequences of her action, Evie ripped the sparkling diamond from the third finger of her left hand and flung it at Freddie.

  A third alternative had apparently been found to the dilemma of what was or was not appropriate behaviour following Calvin Tomkins’s demise. The wedding had been called off.

  Chapter Seven

  In the days following, Dolly suffered a strange reaction. She saw Calvin now in an entirely different light. She realised that all her life she’d been struggling to love him as a good daughter should. Now she didn’t have to pretend any more. He hadn’t been her father, was no relation at all, and it suddenly felt such a huge relief. Her feelings towards her mother were mixed. A part of her understood and sympathised for no one in their right minds could call him an easy husband to please. On the other hand, Dolly resented the fact that she’d been kept in the dark all these long years. Why had Mam never told her? Why keep it such a secret? It seemed so cruel, particularly when it was obvious that Calvin hadn’t treated her right. Dolly spent many sleepless nights worrying about that.

  The result was that she thought of yet more questions, which needed answering.

  She wanted to know everything about Cyril Duckett, whom she’d deduced to be her true father. She’d seen him often enough at the chapel, of course, but not to speak to. He was the choirmaster, a distant, exalted figure. Now she wanted to talk to him face to face. She wanted to understa
nd what sort of person he was, what his reaction had been when he’d learned that Maisie was pregnant; why he’d never shown any interest in herself, his own child.

  Dolly asked her mother these questions, and any number of others, including how she’d managed to see him constantly at the chapel, week after week, and not be tempted to go to him again, particularly once the lads had left home. Maisie refused to answer any of them, or discuss the matter any further.

  ‘It’s private. I’ve said all I’ve got to say on the subject. Leave well alone, lass.’

  But Dolly wanted to know if he liked walking over the moors, as she did. Was he fond of cheese and hated fish, and impulsive with a quick temper? Did she get this passionate sense of independence from him, since she’d seen little evidence of it in her mother? And did she look anything like him? Had his hair once been black before it went grey? Did he have eyebrows that winged upwards; a mouth that was always saying the wrong thing and earning rebukes for impertinence? Did he talk to himself as she did all the time? On a more practical level she needed to ask if he’d ever remarried; whether he had any more children who would be half brothers and sisters to her.

  Oh, there was so much to learn about him; her father, her real dad.

  The tragic accident had come about because of a terrible chain of events and Dolly began to worry that it might make things worse between herself and Aggie. Never particularly close, yet Dolly had always been fond of her pretty sister, admiring her tall elegance and easy confidence, and although Aggie could be unkind, she’d always been there for her when needed. Even in the middle of that fracas at the mill, her sister had come to her aid, speaking up for her to the overlooker.