Mothering Sunday

by Rosie Goodwin

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The March winds gave way to April showers and suddenly the world began to come back to life after the long, cold winter. Things were slowly returning to some sort of normality in the Spooner household. Tommy was still morose and withdrawn and they all missed Daisy dreadfully, but as Annie had told them, ‘Life goes on.’

  Whenever they had any spare time, Sunday would take Nell on rambles through the woods in Hartshill on their way to visit Cissie and Lady Huntley. Beneath the canopy of trees, the floor was a never-ending carpet of bluebells, and above them the soft green buds were unfurling in the spring sunshine. The blossom on the hawthorns was in full, scented bloom, and primroses and daffodils peeped from beneath the hedges. Often, the girls would pick a bunch to lay on Daisy’s grave.

  Lady Huntley’s baby was holding his own although he could hardly have been described as thriving, but then as Zillah pointed out, he had a lot of catching up to do and they were all just grateful that he was still with them. They dreaded to think how it would affect his mother, who totally doted on him, if she should lose him now. Lady Huntley’s arm was healing nicely and her many bruises had faded to a dull yellow but she was still not back to full health and Zillah fussed over her non-stop. Molly had proved to be a godsend, and between feeds she ensured that the baby spent as much time as he could with his mother. Little had been seen of Ashley since his son’s birth. Mr Wilde had bestowed his first advance on him and ever since then Ashley had been out, squandering his new wealth.

  ‘So where’s his lordship now?’ Zillah asked one day as she put away the clean laundry in Lavinia’s tallboy.

  ‘As far as I know he’s visiting friends in London,’ Lavinia answered carelessly.

  ‘Huh! After waitin’ so long fer a son I’d have thought he’d want to spend a bit o’ time wi’ him,’ Zillah huffed.

  Lavinia smiled. She was well enough to get up and sit by the window for a breath of fresh air each day now. ‘I think we both know that for Ashley, having Stephen was only a means to an end,’ she said. ‘Now that his uncle’s money is being disbursed, I doubt we’ll see much of him at all – and to be honest, Zillah, that suits me just fine.’

  It struck Zillah just how much things had changed. There had been a time when Lavinia had worshipped the very ground her husband walked on, but the scales had long since fallen from her eyes. Today, she saw him for exactly what he was. A selfish, narcissistic man who cared for no one but himself.

  Lavinia took a sip of the coffee that the maid had just fetched for her and added, ‘I’m hoping that when he does come back he’ll stay in his own room. He has a son now so there’s no need for him to bother me at all any more, is there?’

  Zillah agreed but she still thought it was a crying shame that her lovely mistress, who was still so young and pretty, should be trapped in a loveless marriage. But then saying that, now that Lavinia had her longed-for baby, she seemed happier than she had for some long time. Only the night before, she had chattered on to Zillah about the future and the things she planned to do with her son when he was older. ‘I shall buy him a little pony and get George to teach him to ride,’ she had said, excitement shining in her eyes. ‘And I’ll get him a home tutor so that he doesn’t have to go away to school. I don’t think I could bear to see him only during school holidays. We shall go to church together every Sunday and in the summer we’ll go for picnics.’

  It had pleased Zillah to hear her making plans although she was still fearful of the baby’s health. Over the last couple of weeks, he had lost his wrinkled appearance and had gained a tiny bit of weight thanks to Molly’s constant care, but he was still very fragile.

  ‘I suppose I really ought to think about trying to find a nanny again,’ Lavinia mused as she stared out at the gardens. ‘Molly won’t be here for ever; she has her own life to go back to when Stephen is older but I haven’t felt that any of the women who applied for the post were right.’

  ‘Ah, now me and Mrs Roundtree have had our heads together about that,’ Zillah interrupted then, ‘an’ I reckon we might just ’ave come up with the perfect solution.’

  ‘Really?’ Lavinia stared at her.

  ‘Really.’ Zillah’s head bobbed. ‘Yer see, the thing is, young Cissie has taken a rare shine to little Stephen. She pops up to see him an’ Molly to collect the dirty laundry, an’ Mrs Roundtree noticed how good she is with him. Now I know she’s employed to work in the laundry, but to my way o’ thinkin’ it will be a lot easier to find another laundry maid than it will to find a nanny you can trust. Mrs Roundtree agrees – but what do you think of the idea?’

  Lavinia blinked with surprise. This suggestion had come completely out of the blue and she needed time to think about it. ‘We . . . ell, I suppose I could consider it. But how do you know that Cissie would want to take on the responsibility?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Zillah admitted. ‘It’s just an idea at present but I reckon she’d be perfect. We know she’s trustworthy an’ kind, an’ after havin’ her own baby snatched away from her, I’ve no doubt she’d adore lookin’ after the little master. But come on now, Mrs Lockett is due to call in today so let’s get you dressed an’ lookin’ presentable, shall we?’

  Lavinia submitted to Zillah’s fussing but her mind was busy. What had been suggested actually made a lot of sense. She would far sooner let someone she knew and trusted help care for her baby than a stranger. Perhaps she would talk it over with Verity when she arrived?

  The vicar’s wife was all in favour of the idea when it was put to her.

  ‘I’ve known Cissie for years,’ she told Lavinia, ‘and I would certainly trust her with my Phoebe.’ They went on to speak of other things then and during the course of the conversation, Sunday’s name cropped up.

  ‘Between you and me, I think she’s feeling a bit scared,’ Verity Lockett confided. ‘It seems that Mr Pinnegar has been seen in the vicinity of Mrs Spooner’s house quite often lately. Also, she has reason to believe that he has been spreading malicious rumours about her virtue. Certain men have propositioned her and been disrespectful when she goes out as a result. And every time that Pinnegar shows his face anywhere near the house, it also unnerves young Nell no end. As you may know, Nell is . . . “a little slow”, but she’s a lovely girl. Sunday thinks the world of her and wants to protect her. After all, what reason does he have to be hanging about in their neck of the woods unless he’s up to no good?’

  ‘Perhaps he’s debt collecting in that area?’ Lavinia suggested as she planted a gentle kiss on Stephen’s still bald little head.

  ‘Oh no.’ Verity’s head wagged from side-to-side. ‘He has men to do the dirty work for him by all accounts and it’s God help anyone who doesn’t pay up on time.’

  ‘So why aren’t the constables involved? And couldn’t Sunday report him for spreading lies about her?’

  ‘Apparently there’s no law against loaning money out and I dare say if anyone is injured they can’t trace it back to him. As for Sunday telling them about the lies, she has no proof of that, has she?’

  ‘He’ll trip himself up eventually,’ Lavinia said with certainty. ‘His sort always does. Look what happened to him once it became known what he was doing to young girls at the workhouse.’

  ‘I suppose you’re right, and the sooner the better as far as I’m concerned. But how are Sunday and Tommy doing now? It was such a blow for them to lose young Daisy like that.’

  ‘Sunday seems to be coping but Tommy is not faring so well,’ Verity told her as she took Stephen from his adoring mother for a cuddle. Zillah had whisked her great-niece off to the kitchen to show her off to the rest of the staff.

  ‘The poor lad, it must be hard for him to come to terms with it, especially after losing his parents. He’s all alone in the world now,’ Lavinia answered sadly. ‘And, of course, Jacob is down in the dumps too from what I hear from Cissie. He no longer walks out with that young lady called Rebecca, and she’s been causing trouble, so I hear.’ />
  ‘I tend to think it’s fortunate that they are no longer together,’ Verity commented. ‘Miss Rebecca Moreton is not a pleasant young lady and I disliked the way she spoke to Sunday. But at least things are looking up for the people in the workhouse now. The meals have improved and the atmosphere there seems so much better now. The shadow of fear and the bullying have gone. I heard tell that the new matron snapped Miss Frost’s split cane right in two and threw it out with the rubbish, thank goodness. And once you’re recovered from Stephen’s birth, my dear Lavinia, we can continue to try and improve things still further there. I was going to suggest some new bedding for everyone; do you agree? The blankets they use now are completely inadequate and, frankly, could do with burning.’

  Stephen began to mew like a little kitten then, ending the conversation before it could go any further and, seconds later, as if by magic, Molly appeared.

  ‘Ah, I thought he might be gettin’ ready for a feed,’ she said good-naturedly. ‘Shall I take him, ma’am?’

  ‘Please, Molly, but would you bring him back when he’s been fed?’ It still hurt Lavinia that she hadn’t been able to feed him herself although she was very grateful to Molly for stepping in. Goodness knows what her little man would have done without her.

  ‘Of course,’ Molly answered cheerily. ‘Though I may be some time. He’s still being drip fed although I’m hoping in a couple of weeks’ time he may be able to take to the breast.’

  Verity handed the baby over reluctantly and once Molly had left the room she lowered her voice and told Lavinia, ‘I haven’t said anything to Edgar yet until I’m absolutely sure, but I think we may be expecting another happy event in the not too distant future.’

  ‘Why, that’s wonderful!’ Lavinia was genuinely pleased for her. ‘I suppose you’d like a boy this time?’

  ‘A boy would be nice,’ Verity admitted. ‘Phoebe would have a little brother then and Stephen would have a little friend, but I don’t really mind what it is so long as the baby is healthy. I don’t think Edgar would mind either.’

  Now that she had told her, Lavinia noticed that her friend did seem to have a certain glow about her and she felt envious. Edgar clearly adored his wife and little daughter and they were everything Lavinia felt a close-knit family should be. But then she scolded herself; after all, she did have her own little son now and although it was highly unlikely she would ever have any more children she would always thank God for him.

  Zillah returned soon afterwards, nestling Phoebe to her and smiling like a Cheshire cat. ‘They all think she’s adorable an’ o’ course they’re right,’ she said proudly.

  ‘Yes, well, you won’t think that in a minute if I don’t get her home in time for her feed,’ Verity smiled. ‘I’m telling you now, this little madam has a cry that could frighten the devil himself.’

  When she had taken her leave, Lavinia told Zillah, ‘I mentioned your idea about Cissie taking on the role of nanny to Verity and she thought it was an excellent notion – so perhaps you could ask Cissie to come and see me this evening when she’s finished in the laundry?’

  ‘Very well, I will – but now it’s time you put your feet up for an hour,’ Zillah said bossily. ‘You might be on the mend but you’ve still got a long way to go so we don’t want you overdoin’ it, now do we?’

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Lavinia agreed peevishly as Zillah helped her off with her dress and loosened her stays. She was tired of being an invalid now and just wanted to get better so that she could take her new little son out and about with her and start showing him off, as Verity did with her Phoebe.

  As Sunday was strolling between the market stalls that afternoon she spotted a figure ahead of her that looked vaguely familiar. The woman stopped to examine some bruised fruit that was for sale on the end of one stall and Sunday’s breath caught in her throat. It was Miss Frost, but she looked nothing like the former martinet who had once been able to strike terror into the hearts of every child in the workhouse. She appeared to have shrunk in size and had aged at least ten years since the last time Sunday had seen her. Her dress was creased and stained and a grubby shawl was wrapped about her thin shoulders. But her eyes when they turned and saw Sunday were exactly the same – cold, and unforgiving.

  As Sunday approached her she drew herself up to her full height and stuck her chin in the air. ‘Well? How are you faring, Small?’

  Sunday would have liked to ask her the very same question but instead she answered politely, ‘Very well, thank you – and yourself?’

  She no longer had to bow and scrape to the woman and spoke to her on a level.

  ‘Oh, not so badly. I left the workhouse as you might have heard. I have a room that I rent now and I’m enjoying my retirement.’

  Miss Frost deliberately didn’t inform Sunday that the room she rented was in one of the crowded courtyards off Abbey Street, which she shared with rats and cockroaches, or that she was now reduced to searching the stalls for the cheapest items that no one else wanted. She still had her pride if nothing else.

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it. But now I should be getting along. Good day, Miss Frost.’

  As the woman turned away, Sunday moved on. How the mighty are fallen, she found herself thinking. Had Miss Frost been anyone else she might have felt sorry for her, but as things were she could only remember the times the woman had shut her away in the darkness in the punishment room and the way she had always delighted in finding the worst jobs for her to do, and her heart hardened.

  Two hours passed before she was ready to set off for home with her basket laden. Unknown to her she was being spied on from the shadows of a shop doorway by Albert Pinnegar. He had two of his men watching her comings and goings too, and was well acquainted with her routine now. Each Wednesday he would wait for a sight of her, his feelings flitting, as ever, from lust to hatred. She was like a magnet to him and each week his need to possess her and punish her grew greater. But she was still little more than a child, and in order to avoid any more trouble, the man knew he would have to bide his time. Meanwhile, he took pleasure in spreading salacious rumours.

  Blissfully unaware of any danger, Sunday went on her way. Before she was halfway home she was sweating profusely. After crossing the Cock and Bear Bridge she paused at the side of the canal that ran beneath it to roll up her sleeves and undo the top two buttons on her dress before resuming her journey. She arrived home to find Annie in a tizzy and Mrs Spooner pacing agitatedly up and down the hall.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ She dropped the heavy basket onto the table and flexed her aching arms as she looked from one to the other of them.

  Annie shoved a piece of paper towards her and ordered, ‘Read that!’

  Sunday sank down onto the nearest chair to do as she was told as Annie wrung her hands.

  Dear all,

  I’m so sorry to let you all down but I’ve decided to go away for a while. It’s not been easy for me here since Daisy died. I seem to see her everywhere and now that she’s gone there’s really nothing to keep me at the Lodge. At this point Sunday’s hand flew to her mouth and she gasped with dismay and hurt. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet. Perhaps I’ll train to be a carpenter or go to sea for a while, but whatever I decide, don’t worry about me. I have enough money saved to see me all right for some time and I promise I will come back to visit you all one day. I know that you’ll be able to replace me with someone from the workhouse, so it will give another youngster a chance. Sunday, make sure that the animals are fed, please, and Mrs Spooner, thank you for all you did for me and my sister. I will never forget it. I hope you’ll understand.

  Yours affectionately,

  Tommy

  As the note fluttered from her hand, Sunday stared ahead in shock.

  ‘I’m so sorry, lass,’ Annie muttered. ‘We’ll all miss him but you more than anyone.’

  ‘I’ll survive,’ Sunday said past the lump in her throat and rising, she went out to check on the animals. She was feel
ing utterly bereft but she had become adept at hiding her feelings. She remembered how, as a child, she had been able to convince herself that one day the mother who had abandoned her would return and they would have a joyful reunion, but now she knew that this was never going to happen. She’d found solace in her friendship with Daisy and Tommy. And now they’d both left her. She had begun to wonder if she would ever have anyone to call her own; perhaps a happy-ever-after ending wasn’t for the likes of her? Only time would tell. For now, she had to reconcile herself to losing yet another person for whom she had cared.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  For the first few weeks after Tommy had left, Sunday waited for the postman each day, hoping for some word from him, but as the weeks passed she had to accept that he wasn’t going to get in touch, not yet at least, and she could only pray that wherever he was, he was safe. Eventually, Michael Lomax, or Mickey as he was known, joined the Spooner household to take Tommy’s place. He had lived in the workhouse since the age of two when his grandmother had died and like Tommy, Daisy and Sunday before him he thought he had died and gone to heaven to land in such a happy house. Mickey was almost the same age as Sunday, and as Mrs Lockett had warned them before she introduced him to them, he was painfully shy. On the day she fetched him home it became apparent why. Mickey’s skin was the colour of warm molasses, his eyes were so dark they were almost black, and his hair was a mass of tight ebony ringlets.

  Micky was clearly self-conscious about his colour and they all noticed that when he spoke to them or answered them, he tended to keep his head down and not meet their eyes. Sunday and Mrs Spooner wondered if this was because of the couples who had sometimes visited the workhouse with a view to giving one of the children there a home. They had always refused to even consider Mickey because of the colour of his skin and eventually he had given up hoping that one day he might be a part of a loving family. But Mickey was a very attractive young man and from the second he arrived, Nell followed him about adoringly. Suddenly she was taking more pride in her appearance and Mrs Spooner remarked on it one day to Annie when the youngsters were both outside.