by Dilly Court
'I was trying to make dinner, but it all went wrong.' Rosina sank down on a chair, covering her face with her hands.
Walter had followed Bertha into the room. He took a cloth from the table and stooped down to retrieve the smoking saucepan. 'There's not much damage done.' He hurried through to the scullery and Rosina heard the hiss of cold water hitting the hot metal.
'Pans cost money,' Bertha said crossly. 'And what's all this?' She snatched up the bag of biscuits and poked her finger into the fatty bacon. 'Did you waste our last few pennies on this rubbish, Rosina May?'
Tears spilled from her eyes and Rosina nodded wordlessly. 'I was going to cook dinner.'
'What sort of meal would you make out of biscuits and fat bacon? I thought you had more sense.' Bertha pushed the food away with a disdainful snort. 'I can't leave you on your own for one moment.'
'I'd say that she was trying her best.' Walter came back into the room empty-handed. 'I'm afraid the pan is ruined, but it's not the end of the world. And if you've never taught her how to do things, how can you expect her to manage on her own?'
Bertha puffed out her chest and her cheeks flushed wine red. 'Don't you speak to me like that, young man. I've brought Rosie up since she was a baby, and I don't need you telling me what I should or shouldn't do.'
'I'm sorry if it offends you, Miss Spinks, but I'd say that you're not being fair to her.'
Rosina leapt to her feet. 'Stop it, both of you. I've made a terrible hash of things and it's all my fault. Now we've no food and no money either. Tell me off if you want to, Bebe, but I was just trying to do my best.'
Bertha's face crumpled and she flung her arms around Rosina. 'Oh, my pet. I'm sorry. I'm just tired and I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. Walter is quite right.'
'I'm pleased to hear you say so,' Walter said, grinning. 'Was that an apology, Miss Spinks?'
'Certainly not.' Bertha tossed her head. 'I got nothing to apologise for.'
'How is Papa?' Rosina asked, changing the subject. 'Is he any better?'
'I've done all I can, ducks. I think he's on the mend, but he could do with seeing the doctor.'
'There's no money left,' Rosina said, shaking her head. 'None at all.'
'Not quite.' Walter took a leather pouch from his inside coat pocket and placed it on the table. 'There is enough there to pay the doctor, and also the funeral expenses.'
Bertha picked up the pouch, weighing it in her hand. She raised her eyebrows, staring at Walter. 'This feels like a lot of money. Where would you get so much?'
'Bebe! That sounds so ungrateful.' Rosina linked her hand through Walter's arm. 'Well done, my good friend. I know that I can always rely on you, Walter.'
'I hope so, Rosie.'
'Rosie? Remember your place, young man. It's Miss Rosina to you.'
Bertha's voice was severe, but Rosina saw that she was smiling, and she allowed herself to relax. 'I'd say it doesn't matter where the money came from. Perhaps we could use some of it to buy proper food, Bebe?'
'Yes, indeed. But I'll tell you what to buy this time. And you can take Walter with you to make sure that you don't spend it on chocolate or iced buns.'
'May I see Papa first?' Rosina clasped her hands together, casting a pleading look at Bertha. 'May I? Please.'
Bertha nodded her head. 'All right, but if he's asleep, don't wake him. And don't get too near the bed.' She turned to Walter. 'And you, young man. Go and fetch Dr Wilkinson. He can see young Caddie while he's about it, and maybe give her some tonic that will set her back on her feet. It's not good for a young woman to turn her face to the wall. I've known some do that and simply fade away.'
Dr Wilkinson came and was full of praise for Bertha's nursing. He prescribed a restorative draught for Caddie and lung tonic for Edward, together with rest and quiet. Peace of mind and a good diet were necessary, he said, for the recuperation of invalids who had suffered from lung fever. The captain must be kept quiet and not troubled with business matters until he was fully recovered. Furthermore, a fresh egg whipped up in sherry might be beneficial, and would tempt a jaded appetite. The doctor refused a cup of tea, but accepted his fee, and went on his way.
'Whatever we do,' Bertha said, nodding her head wisely, 'we must not let your papa attend the funeral. You heard what the doctor said, Rosie. Your papa must not be excited in any way.'
It seemed that the whole of Black Eagle Wharf, and many people from the wharves in the Upper Pool, had crowded into St John's church on the corner of Bird Street and Green Bank. Caddie was supported on one side by Walter and on the other by Rosina. Gladys had stayed at home to look after the children, but the shopkeepers, dock workers, sailmakers and other tradesmen had all closed down for an hour or so out of respect for Arthur Trigg. To her surprise, Rosina saw Sukey and Mrs Barnum sitting in the front pew, together with Mary and Lillian. She had not expected them to come, but at least Captain Barnum had had the good grace to stay away. She stifled a sigh of relief: it was going to be difficult today, what with poor Caddie still very weak and only having risen from her sickbed to attend the funeral. Then there was Papa, who had insisted on coming, even though the doctor had told him not to exert himself for a while at least. She had tried her best to persuade him to stay in bed, but Papa was stubborn at the best of times and he had dragged himself to the church, even though it was obvious to all that he was far from well. He had said that Artie was his shipmate and he would pay his last respects to him, even if he was to die in the attempt. Rosina was secretly afraid that this might turn into fact, but she said nothing. Once Papa had made his mind up, nothing would deflect him from his course. She slipped her arm through his as they sat side by side in the pew opposite Mrs Barnum and her daughters. She was proud of the fact that Papa had acknowledged Mrs Barnum with a curt nod; at least he was gentlemanly enough not to blame her for her husband's ill doings.
Hearing slow, measured footsteps, she turned her head to see the coffin being carried up the aisle by the pall-bearers. Rosina's hand flew to her mouth and she gasped in horror as she realised that one of them was Captain Barnum. Her fingers closed on her father's arm. She prayed silently that he would not say anything, but he was staring straight ahead. She caught Walter's eye and saw that he too was looking anxious. She bit her lip, willing the pall-bearers to place the coffin on the bier and make their solemn retreat before her papa had spotted his old enemy. Bertha was sitting on Edward's right, and up until this moment she had been quietly mopping her eyes, but Rosina's worst fears were realised when she sat bolt upright, staring at Barnum who was about to make his way to his seat next to his wife. Bertha leaned across Rosina to nudge Edward. 'Look who's here.'
Edward looked at Barnum – looked away – and then stared at him as if he could not believe his eyes. He leapt to his feet, pointing a shaking finger. 'You! May God strike you down for this act of blasphemy, you villain.'
Rosina tugged at his arm. 'Papa, please sit down.'
'Leave me be, child.' Edward shook her hand off, and he made his way to the end of the pew, staggering slightly, but seeming to gain strength from his anger. 'You killed that young man as surely as if you had shot him through the heart, Ham Barnum.'
Barnum faced him angrily. 'Keep quiet, old man. This is a holy place.'
'And you desecrate it with your presence.' Edward swayed on his feet, and he clutched the carved end of the pew for support. 'Get out now.'
The vicar hurried towards them, his surplice flapping like the wings of an agitated seagull. 'Gentlemen, please. This is neither the time nor the place. Please remember where you are.'
Caddie rose to her feet, trembling visibly. 'Is it true, Captain Barnum? Did you kill my Artie? Did you leave me widowed with three babies to bring up on me own?'
'Certainly not.' Barnum went red in the face, running his finger round the inside of his shirt collar. 'This old man is deranged by the fever. He doesn't know what he is saying.'
A murmur of consternation rippled through the congregation. Mo
ving to Edward's side, Walter laid his hand on his arm. 'Please, Captain May. Calm yourself, sir. This is not doing anyone any good.'
Edward's eyes blazed angrily and he pushed Walter away. 'It's none of your business, Brown. This reprobate has much to answer for. And I won't have him casting a shadow over the funeral of a good man who would still be alive today if it weren't for his lack of seamanship.'
'What?' Barnum's voice thundered around the vaulted ceiling, echoing like the voice of doom. 'Say that again, and I'll forget that I'm in the house of God.'
'I'd say you've both forgotten where you are, and what a solemn occasion this is.' The vicar placed his arm around Caddie's shaking shoulders. 'Think of this poor young woman, gentlemen. If you are not God-fearing men, then at least think of how you would feel if she was your daughter.'
'Don't bring my family into this, Reverend.' Barnum turned his back on the vicar and he caught Edward by the lapels of his jacket. 'Sit down, you old fool. Sit down and shut up.'
Edward brought his fists up, breaking Barnum's grip, and if Walter had not seen it coming and grabbed his right arm, he would no doubt have landed a well-aimed punch on Barnum's florid nose.
'Papa, please.' Rosina clutched his other arm, as pandemonium broke loose in the church. The men, who had been sitting in shocked silence, suddenly rose to their feet in one body. As if by general consensus, they divided into two factions, each one surrounding the angry captains, and they carted them unceremoniously down the aisle and out of the church. Rosina would have followed them, but Caddie collapsed in her arms, swooning. Bertha slithered to the end of the pew and produced a vinaigrette from her reticule, which she wafted under Caddie's nose.
'Please, Walter,' Rosina said urgently. 'Go and make sure that my papa is all right. He's still weak as a kitten from the fever.'
'Weak as a lion,' Bertha said proudly. 'He's a match for old Barnum any day.'
Walter glanced anxiously at the vicar. 'Will you carry on without them, Reverend?'
'I think we must. I have a wedding at midday, and a christening at one o'clock.'
Walter strode off down the aisle and the vicar went to stand by the coffin, clearing his throat. 'Dearly beloved . . .'
'Well, I'm not staying if my husband is not welcome in the house of God.' Mrs Barnum rose to her feet, and the stuffed bird on her over-decorated hat wobbled as if it were about to fly away. 'Come, girls. We won't stay where we are not wanted.'
Mary and Lillian jumped up, seemingly only too eager to follow their mother out of the church, but Sukey stopped by Rosina with an apologetic smile. 'This is a poor show, Rosie. I am so sorry.'
'And I too,' Rosina whispered. 'We mustn't let this come between us, Sukey.'
'Sukey Barnum.' Mrs Barnum's stentorian voice echoed round the church. 'Come away from that person. We are not speaking to the May family from this day forward.'
'Sorry,' Sukey murmured, putting her head down as she hurried to join her mother and sisters.
Caddie buried her face in her hands, sobbing loudly.
'Do you wish me to continue, ma'am?' The vicar drummed his fingers on the coffin lid as he looked at the empty pews. 'In the circumstances, maybe . . .'
Rosina could see that Caddie was close to hysteria and complete collapse. Anger roiled in her stomach. Papa and Captain Barnum were behaving like horrible, spoilt children. She gave Caddie into Bertha's arms and she stormed down the aisle and out into the hot June sunshine. The scene outside made her even angrier. Walter was standing in between her papa and Captain Barnum, doing his best to keep them from attacking each other, but the rest of the men had formed a circle and were actually egging them on to fight. 'How could you?' she cried. 'Hasn't poor Caddie suffered enough, without grown men acting like children? Get back inside, all of you, this minute. Papa, I'm ashamed of you. And you too, Captain Barnum. Have you no respect for the dead?'
Chapter Ten
Shamefaced and muttering their apologies, the men shuffled back into the cool interior of the church.
Ham Barnum adjusted his necktie, glowering at Edward. 'We'll sort this out at a later date, old man. But don't think I'll forget this insult.'
'I only spoke the truth.' Edward leaned heavily on Walter's arm. 'I'll get you one day, Barnum.'
'Ham, come away from that wretched man.' Mrs Barnum shooed her daughters into a waiting hackney carriage. 'I won't stay in this place a moment longer. And I'll have words to say to you when we get home, sir.'
'That's right, Barnum,' Edward jeered. 'Petticoat rule, old man.'
Scowling, Barnum silently followed his wife into the carriage and slammed the door.
'And I meant what I said, Papa.' Rosina took him by his other arm. 'That was a disgraceful show. You must apologise to poor Caddie.'
'I will, poppet. But I'll get that brute if it's the last thing I do.'
'And that's just what it will be if you don't stop fighting him, Papa.'
The altercation with Barnum seemed to have breathed new life into Edward. Despite his constant coughing and breathlessness, his recovery from the bout of fever was rapid. There was a martial gleam in his eyes, and a purpose in his step as he set about trying to raise the money to repair the Ellie May. Accompanied by Walter, he went out every morning, returning later in the day in such a state of exhaustion that he had to go to his room to rest. Bertha nagged him incessantly, arguing that a wooden box would be his next mode of transport if he did not take things more easily, and Rosina begged him to heed Bertha's good advice, but Edward was stubborn and refused to listen. He seemed to be obsessed by two ambitions, the first being the repairs to his beloved barge, and the second to get even with Captain Barnum. Rosina was powerless to do anything, even though she longed to be able to help. She had tried to see Sukey, hoping that between them they could persuade Captain Barnum to put an end to the feud, but her efforts had been in vain. When Gertie answered the door, she had been ruder than ever, and she seemed to take malicious delight in sending Rosina away, informing her that it was 'The missis's orders – no vagrants, no tradesmen and definitely no Mays to be allowed in.'
Rosina had to leave without seeing Sukey, and there seemed no way of contacting her. She hoped she might come across her when out walking, but, when she did see her, Sukey was always accompanied either by her mother or her sisters. The feud between their two fathers was now affecting both families and its continuance upset Rosina greatly. Bertha was as implacable in her attitude as Edward, and ready to range herself against the whole Barnum household. Rosina knew she could expect no sympathy from that quarter. It was Caddie who comforted her, saying that Mrs Barnum was not a bad sort when she forgot to stick her nose in the air and pretend to be better than she was. She was certain that Mrs Barnum would relent when she realised that she was making Sukey unhappy. Rosina was doubtful, but she was also relieved to see that Caddie was slowly recovering from the initial shock of her bereavement. Although, sometimes, in the night when she awakened in the middle of a dream about her pirate, Rosina could hear muffled sobs coming from the attic room. Her heart went out to poor Caddie in her grief, but she knew that only time would heal the terrible wound caused by Artie's untimely death. At least Caddie had gained enough physical strength to have baby Arthur back in her keeping.
Two weeks after Artie's funeral, Rosina sat in the chair by the range, cradling the sleeping baby in her arms, while she watched over Ronnie and Alfie eating their bread and scrape. Caddie was outside in the yard doing the washing, and Bertha was upstairs cleaning the parlour. Papa had gone to the bank in a last attempt to effect a loan and Walter was also out of the office. She would not have blamed him if he had looked for work elsewhere – with the best will in the world, he could not be expected to exist without pay. She knew that Walter had no close family, but she wondered if he had friends who were helping him out financially. She knew so little about his private life, and almost nothing about his past.