by Nancy Carson
Lawson went in to dinner alone. Although he had been hungry, his appetite had disappeared and he picked at his food fitfully, ruminating on his conversation with his wife. He had already considered threatening to evict the Drakes from Paradise to deter Daisy from leaving. However, she had anticipated him, neutralising any threat. In any case, ousting them would only succeed in uniting them all against him. Word would spread and he would be vilified; if he acquired a reputation as a ruthless landlord, it could even affect future lettings and thus his pocket. The Drakes would simply end up renting another house where they could all live together happily and spend their waking hours reviling him to their hearts’ content.
No.
There was another way.
There was a better way to wreak his revenge upon Daisy. It would be far more subtle, yet far more hurtful. This way would spoil the miserable lives of each and every one of them. He would find it a singular pleasure to administer too … and all was fair in love and war.
* * *
In barring her from the dinner table, Lawson had made it plain what Daisy must do. Stunned at his ostracising her thus, Daisy went to her room, collected together as many of her things as she could carry and packed them into two large bags. Silently, determinedly, she crept downstairs, put on her coat and, with the bags, slipped out of the front door and onto the drive unseen. In the autumnal darkness, she retraced her steps by way of the shortcut over London Fields to the old mine manager’s house.
‘Next, you’ll be the one to be evicted,’ Daisy said to John. ‘Especially when he knows I’m here. Do you really think I’m worth all that trouble?’
‘All that trouble and more.’ John smiled kindly and squeezed her hand. ‘What can Lawson Maddox do to hurt us when we have each other? We’ll find somewhere else to live.’ He turned to face her, held her gently by the arms and looked into her big blue eyes. ‘Oh, Daisy, this is a dream come true, having you here with me. If we’re poor as church mice, living off floorboards and rickety old chairs, it doesn’t matter. I swear I’ll do my best to make you happy.’
She bent her head forward and rested it on his chest. Tears began to flow; she put her arms around his waist and held him tight. It was not all over yet. Not by any means. But already she felt happier, more at peace. She could rely on John entirely, and knowing it made such a difference. It didn’t matter that they must live off floorboards for as long as they were allowed to remain in this house. It didn’t matter that the furniture was old and frail. She had had fine furniture, plush carpets, fine bone china and lead crystal glassware on the dining table, but none of it had brought her happiness. She had enjoyed a fine gig with a divine mare to match, but neither had brought her contentment. Only this unselfish man, uncertain of himself, whose only asset was his talent for placing paint on canvas, knew how to make her happy. Only this quiet recluse who was prepared to sacrifice all for her, could make her contented. If only she had known him before Lawson entered her life … But then … the ways of the world never were quite that simple.
Chapter 20
Sarah Drake, sixteen years old and as fresh as a summer morning, shuffled along in the queue at Hillman’s Leather Works to have her time-card stamped. It was six o’clock and time to go home. In front of her was Maggie Butler, of similar age; Sarah’s friend and confidante. Behind her, Sammy Wilkes, who was two years older, was trying to gain her affection by intermittently pinching her firm, young buttocks, believing she liked it.
‘Stop it, Sammy!’ Sarah said, feigning disapproval but gratified nonetheless at the attention.
‘Come out wi’ me tonight then,’ he suggested, not for the first time.
‘Why would I want to go out with you, Sammy Wilkes? I want somebody handsome.’
‘Handsome is as handsome does … And I could do you handsome, Sarah Drake.’
‘You’m not getting the chance. Did you hear him, Maggie?’
‘Just ignore him.’
‘But he keeps pinching my bum.’
‘Then lamp him round the yed. I’ll hold your time-card.’
But Sarah could not hit him round the head; the clock intervened and diverted them all. Maggie inserted her card into the machine and pulled down the handle. It made a thud as it imprinted the time. Sarah hovered next to her, blinked in anticipation of the horrid thud as it stamped her card, then put the card in the rack to be stamped again at eight o’clock next morning. They hurried out together, jostling with the hordes of people flowing from the factory in a great swarm.
Outside, away from the unrelenting, cloying smell of leather, the air was cool and the October dusk wrapped all in a grey mantle. Maggie and Sarah hurriedly crossed the street to escape Sammy Wilkes’s unwanted attentions but he caught them up, pinched Sarah’s bottom again and she shoved him away huffily. They were about to turn into Little Street with its precariously leaning chimneys atop ramshackle houses, heading for one of the alleys that led to the bright and bustling shops of Hall Street, when a horse and gig pulled alongside them. Sarah looked up, alarmed. Unwittingly, she’d almost walked into it, but she smiled as she recognised the man driving the two-wheeler.
‘Lawson! Fancy seeing you.’
‘Sarah! I was hoping I might see you. Hop aboard. I’ll give you a lift.’
‘It’s all right, thanks. I was going to walk with my friend Maggie.’
‘Maggie can come as well. There’s room for the two of you if you squash up.’
The two girls looked at each other seeking consensus. But the novelty of riding in a smart gig with a handsome gentleman in a high hat, being seen by all their workmates, was sufficient to warrant their mutual approval. They giggled and Sarah climbed up first, followed by Maggie.
‘Squash up to me then,’ Lawson said with a warm smile as he flicked the reins.
As they moved away, Sarah, from her greater height on the gig, bobbed her tongue out at Sammy, who looked disappointed that his quarry had escaped.
‘Right. Let’s take Maggie home. Where do you live Maggie?’
‘John Street, by the gasworks.’
‘Lawson’s my brother-in-law,’ Sarah announced proudly.
‘I like his float,’ Maggie said as the horse broke into an effortless trot, leaving behind the hordes of workers trudging home on foot.
The two girls giggled again.
‘It’s a cabriolet,’ Lawson corrected, smiling affably.
‘A cabriolet?’ Maggie repeated in awe.
‘Yes. A float is what the milkman uses.’
‘This is nice and plush, in’t it, with lovely soft leather seats?’ Sarah remarked. ‘A float’s just plain and there’s no hood on a float like there is on this. That’s right, in’t it, Lawson?’
‘I’m not that familiar with milk floats, Sarah.’
‘Well sod the milkman. I want somebody with a two-wheeler – a cabriolet like this,’ Maggie declared, savouring the word on her tongue. ‘You can tell that Sammy Wilkes to sod off as well, Eh, Sarah? Unless he can come up with a cabriolet … eh?’
‘I know.’
The girls giggled.
‘Who’s Sammy Wilkes?’
‘Oh, just some chap who fancies Sarah. He keeps pinching her bum and she don’t like it. Do yer, Sarah?’
‘I wouldn’t mind if he was somebody I fancied,’ she replied.
‘What’s the ’orse name?’ Maggie enquired.
‘Docker.’
‘Docker? That’s a funny name for an ’orse, in’t it?’
‘It suits him,’ Lawson said. ‘Anyway, what name would you suggest?’
‘Dunno … How about St Thomas? I mean, you can call an ’orse anythink, can’t ya?’
‘St Thomas? Yes, that’d be novel.’ Lawson roared with laughter. ‘What made you think of that, Maggie?’
‘’Cause I can just see the spire of St Thomas’s church poking up over there.’ She pointed to it, visible on the horizon through the alleys between the houses as they drove down Oakeywell Street.
They chatted on about anything and nothing until they reached the end of John Street at the bottom of Constitution Hill, seemingly overpopulated with bawling ragamuffins. Maggie stepped down, thanked Lawson for the lift and walked the rest of the way. Lawson turned the cabriolet around and they set off back up the hill.
‘She’s funny, your friend.’
‘But I like her. She says what she thinks.’
‘Do you go out with her, nights?’
‘Occasionally. Not very often. She’s got a sweetheart she sees most nights.’
‘Lucky Maggie.’
‘Yes, I know. Lucky Maggie.’
They turned right into Fountain Street, the location for several workshops dotted between blocks of grim terraced houses. Poverty was rife here, that much was evident.
‘So you haven’t got a sweetheart, Sarah?’
‘Not yet.’ Her eyes met Lawson’s as he turned to look at her in the half-light.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with the young chaps round here, missing out on a beautiful girl like you.’ He smiled warmly.
Sarah dropped her eyelids bashfully. ‘I bet you don’t mean that.’
‘Oh, but I do, Sarah. I most certainly do. You really are a beautiful girl.’
‘What? As beautiful as our Daisy?’
‘Even more so … I chose the wrong sister …’
Sarah felt her heart thump at the extreme compliment. ‘Oh, you mustn’t say that, Lawson …’
‘But it’s true.’ For dramatic effect he drew the horse to a halt and looked into her eyes intently. ‘And nobody will ever stop me saying it … You have the loveliest eyes, you know, Sarah. Such a pretty little nose …’ He put his forefinger to it, pressed it gently, intimately. ‘And the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen.’
‘Kissable?’ A thrill ran up and down her spine. ‘Oh, Lawson … Do you really think so?’
‘Just give me one kiss …’ He leaned towards her and offered his lips.
She reciprocated without hesitation and their lips touched as gently as the beating wings of a butterfly, making her heart flutter. He slid his hand around her waist and gave her a hug, then withdrew it. She smiled at him perplexed, but her stomach swirled with exhilaration, flattered that this man, so much older, found her so attractive after all.
‘Oh, such soft, adorable lips,’ he whispered. He covered her hand with his and looked into her eyes. ‘Kiss me again.’
She kissed him once more and this time they lingered a few seconds. Never before had her heart pummelled so hard within her; like the insistent rhythm of a kettle drum.
‘There’s something I want to say to you, Sarah …’ His eyes were two liquid magnets from which she could not detach herself. ‘I came directly to find you. You’re the first person I thought of. The only person in the world I wanted to see … Daisy has left me, Sarah … She’s gone off with somebody else … Gone to live with him, I believe.’
‘Our Daisy?’ Sarah queried, astounded. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure. It’s my guess that she’ll already have been to let your mother and father know—’
‘Lord, I can scarcely believe it, Lawson. Our Daisy? You ain’t bin married five minutes.’
‘Five months … Anyway, the point is, she believes that because she’s left me, I’m about to turn you all out of the house in Paradise … I could, of course … I’d be within my rights …’ He turned his gaze away from her. ‘Maybe I should, the way she’s treated me.’
‘But where would we go? Oh, Lawson, don’t. Our poor father couldn’t stand it, moving again.’
‘But don’t you think I’d be a fool to allow you all to live there rent-free while my wife – your sister – their daughter – is living in sin with some ne’er-do-well elsewhere?’
‘But … I don’t know.’ Sarah struggled to arrange her thoughts. So much information, so many conflicting emotions needed to be sorted.
‘Well, I don’t want to do that, Sarah.’ Lawson smiled warmly to allay her fears. ‘So I thought … Well, I thought, I’ve always actually fancied you, I’ll see how you feel … When I first caught sight of you at the Cooksons’ house – remember? – I asked Robert who you were … You seemed very young then, but so lovely. Barely fourteen as I recall.’
‘I’m fifteen now,’ she hurriedly corrected him. ‘I’ll be sixteen soon.’
‘Fifteen’s not too young, is it?’ Their eyes met again and held.
‘No. I don’t think it is, Lawson.’
‘So how do you feel, Sarah?’
‘About you?… It’s funny, I’ve always fancied you. I thought you was a god.’ Sarah laughed as she recalled it. ‘I was that peeved when Daisy told me she was meeting you on her nights off. I could’ve killed her.’ She uttered a little laugh of self-mockery. ‘Honest I could.’
Lawson squeezed her hand affectionately and sighed. ‘If only I’d known what I know now … Of course, if you were my girl there’d be no reason at all to evict you from the house, would there?’
‘Are you saying then, that you want me to be your sweetheart?’ Sarah felt breathless at the prospect. It was what she’d secretly hankered for. She risked glancing at him again and caught his eyes upon her, intense, brooding.
‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. I’d like nothing better. And with Daisy gone it sets me free … Otherwise I wouldn’t dream, of course … Be my sweetheart, Sarah, my little love, and I’ll treat you to the nicest dresses and hats and shoes. You’d never find me ungenerous. What do you say?’
She looked at him in awe, her small hands clammy inside her gloves, trembling within his. She needed his final reassurance. ‘Are you sure, Lawson? Are you sure I’m not too young for you?’
‘Never too young, my little flower. I love your freshness.’ This was true.
‘I wouldn’t want to do the dirty across our Daisy.’
‘She did it across me …’
‘You’re sure she’s gone to live with another man?’
‘John Gibson. An artist. She’s taken up with an artist. Can you believe that?’
‘She must be mad.’
‘But her loss is your gain. Meet me tonight and I’ll take you out somewhere. What do you say? Have you got a nice frock you can wear?’
‘Yes …’
‘Good. Meet me at eight, at the top of Oakeywell Street where it joins King Street. Don’t tell your mother and father you’re meeting me, though. But tell them not to wait up, eh?’
Sarah smiled conspiratorially and nodded. ‘All right. Eight o’clock. And I won’t breathe a word.’
‘First, though … If you hear your mother and father talking about being evicted, it means Daisy’s been and told them she’s left me. Whatever reason she’s given them, ignore it. Think nothing of it. If you like, you could say, “Oh, he’d never do that, he’s too soft-hearted” – which I am of course. But say nothing else. She’ll very likely tell them a pack of lies anyway to justify her own shenanigans. Just say nothing. Offer no opinion. Never appear to be on my side particularly. Otherwise they might twig that we’re sweethearts and they mustn’t know. It must be our secret for now …’
‘I won’t breathe a word,’ Sarah whispered, feeling a blaze of excitement sear through her breast at this new, dangerous, but utterly irresistible intrigue with her own brother-in-law.
‘Now let me taste those lovely lips of yours again, to keep me going till later … Mmm!… I intend kissing you a lot more, my love …’
Sarah was not at the appointed place come eight o’clock, so Lawson flicked the reins and headed slowly towards Paradise. After only a few yards he saw a slight female figure, silhouetted by a gas lamp, hurrying in his direction and he smiled to himself. He halted Docker and she crossed the street, stopping at the gig.
‘Sorry if I’m late, Lawson. Our clock’s wonky.’
‘You’re not late, my angel. I just thought I’d save those lovely legs of yours the extra distance. Hop on.’
She climbed into
the cabriolet beside him with admirable energy and youthful grace. He turned the carriage around and Docker set off at a steady trot, the clip-clop of his hooves and the rumble of the iron-rimmed wheels the only sounds in their ears.
‘Where are you taking me?’
‘Somewhere respectable for a quiet drink and a cosy chat. The Dudley Arms.’
‘Ooh, I say!’ Sarah was impressed.
‘Did your folks say whether Daisy has been to see them?’
‘Never mentioned it. I don’t think she’s been a-nigh.’
‘Well, fancy … Maybe she’s too ashamed.’
‘I reckon she must be, Lawson. I’ve been thinking about it ever since you went. She’s a fallen woman, in’t she?’
‘Yes, entirely so.’
‘Are you going to divorce her?’
‘In time, when I’m ready to marry again, yes …’ He engaged her eyes with a look of tantalising promise.
In the comfortable upstairs saloon of the Dudley Arms, where less than a year ago he had wooed Daisy, Lawson called for a bottle of champagne and two glass flutes. He placed them on the table with a flourish and popped the cork, laughing and making a great show of it to overawe his young companion. He poured and when the bubbles had subsided he handed her a glass and raised his.
‘To us, Sarah. To a tender, lasting and fulfilling relationship.’
Imitating him, she raised her glass. At his reassuring words, hot blood was surging ever faster through her body.
Lawson was enchanting, charming and teasing. Sarah could barely sit still as he spoke, wriggling her bottom in her chair, crossing and uncrossing her legs as she giggled and laughed at his outrageous, tantalising suggestiveness. Seldom had she enjoyed herself so much as she was doing now with this man who was twice her age. It was hard to believe she was alone with Lawson Maddox, that this was the romantic tryst she’d longed for from the moment she first cast eyes on him. Funny how things happen. How wonderful that Daisy and he had parted. How thankful she was.
‘I hope you won’t be like your sister,’ Lawson said with a provocative flick of one eyebrow.