The Christmas Card

by Dilly Court

  ‘You heard what she said, Mama. If you should have a son she’ll take him from you. Is that what you want?’

  Beth smiled feebly. ‘But if I’m blessed with a child it might be another girl, just like you. You’re a woman now, Alice, and you don’t need me any more. I want to be needed, it’s as simple as that. I will have Horace to protect me, and a baby to love. One day you will marry and you’ll have a child of your own. You’ll understand then.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand you.’ She turned to Clara. ‘I’m leaving now. Will you fetch my bonnet and mantle, please?’

  Clara’s pursed lips resembled a pink prune, but she merely nodded and hurried from the room.

  ‘Don’t go like this,’ Beth pleaded, holding out her hand. ‘I want you to be happy for me, Alice.’

  ‘If you’re happy then so am I, but I won’t stand by and watch you being ruled by a termagant like Aunt Jane.’ Alice leaned over and dropped a kiss on her mother’s forehead. ‘I have to go. It’s a long walk to West Smithfield.’

  She did not add that yet again she thought she was being followed, and it was not hard to imagine who was trailing her to and from her place of employment. The person melted into the shadows whenever she stopped and turned her head, but she was certain that it was Molly. How long it would be before Miss Bishop discovered that she had lied about Flora’s whereabouts was a matter of conjecture, but it could not be long now. Billhook and Eric the Axe would soon return from their fruitless trip to Gretna Green, and then there would be trouble: of that she had no doubt.

  She made a move to the door but hesitated, holding it open. ‘Are you absolutely certain that you want to go ahead with this marriage, Mama? It’s not too late to change your mind.’

  Beth gave her a wan smile. ‘I will marry Horace. I just wish that you would come and live with us.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘Thank you, but my mind is made up. I’ll attend your wedding, but I don’t want to share your home.’ She left the room without giving her mother a chance to protest.

  Outside the cobblestones glistened damp in the gaslight. The rain had ceased, leaving a pale mist clinging to the treetops in the square garden, and the roofs of the tall buildings were blotted out by low-hanging cloud, giving them a weird decapitated appearance. Alice glanced round anxiously, but the passers-by looked innocent enough and there did not seem to be anyone sinister following in her wake. She kept to the main streets for as long as possible, but as she left Duke Street and entered Bartholomew Close she realised that she was no longer alone. She quickened her pace and broke into a run, but the footsteps grew closer and she could hear noisy breathing. Whoever was pursuing her it was not a woman. Judging by the heavy tread it might even be Eric, and he was catching up with her. As she neared Half Moon Passage she was afraid she might not make it as far as the boarding house, but as she hurtled into the dark alleyway she collided with someone coming from the opposite direction.

  ‘Alice, is that you?’

  Her cry of fright froze in her throat as he wrapped his arms around her, preventing her from falling. ‘George?’

  He stiffened, holding her close. ‘Who’s there?’ The answer was a clatter of hobnail boots on the cobbles as Alice’s pursuer ran away. George peered at her in the dim light of a streetlamp on one of the houses opposite. ‘Someone was chasing you.’

  She regained her balance and straightened her bonnet with a shaking hand. ‘Yes. I don’t know why, it should be obvious I’ve nothing worth stealing.’

  ‘It’s not always about theft,’ George said darkly. ‘You shouldn’t be wandering about the streets on your own.’

  ‘I have to get back to my lodgings every evening after work, George.’

  He frowned, taking her by the hand. ‘I wouldn’t like any of my sisters to live alone in a place like this. Come on, I’ll see you safely home.’

  Alice led the way into the gloomy depths of Half Moon Passage. ‘Why are you here anyway?’ She came to a halt outside the lodging house. ‘How did you know this was where I live?’

  ‘Beasley gave me your address, but only because I was sent by Mr Frederick.’ He put his hand in his pocket and took out an envelope. ‘The boss came looking for you, but you’d just left the office. He gave this to me, and said if I was passing to drop it in to you as tomorrow is Sunday and he knew that you’d been anxious about Flora. Does that make sense?’

  Despite everything Alice felt her spirits rise as she took the crumpled envelope from him. ‘Yes, it does. I’m so grateful, George. I’ve been sick with worry about the poor child.’

  ‘My brothers and sisters drive me mad at times, but I’d miss them if I had to leave home.’

  Alice stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘Thank you for taking the trouble to find me, George. And thank you for turning up at exactly the right moment.’

  ‘You need to be more careful.’ George glanced up at the shabby exterior. ‘This isn’t a good place to be.’

  ‘I’m looking for a room elsewhere, but I don’t get much free time.’

  ‘I could help you,’ George said eagerly. ‘We live in Five Foot Lane. It’s between Old Fish Street and Upper Thames Street, quite handy for the office. Ma lets a room every now and again, when things get tight moneywise. It’s noisy and chaotic, but you’d never feel lonely. You can’t miss our house – it’s got a blue door and there’s always washing hanging out.’

  She smiled up into his earnest face. ‘Thank you, George. I’ll give it some thought.’

  ‘That would be splendid. You’d love my sister, Carrie. She’s the eldest and the best, but the other girls are fine as long as you keep them in their place, and the boys are little imps, but they mean well, most of the time.’

  ‘I really will think about it, George. But if you don’t mind I’d better ring the bell. Mrs Leech doesn’t allow gentlemen callers, so I can’t ask you in.’

  He backed away. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it anyway. Ma is very strict about manners and how to treat a lady with respect. I’ll see you in the office on Monday.’

  ‘Thank you, George.’ Alice tugged at the chain and the bell clanged sonorously inside the building.

  The door opened a fraction and Mrs Leech peered out. ‘You’re too late for supper; I fed it to the dog.’ She stood aside, glowering, but Alice did not choose to stop and argue.

  She hurried upstairs to her room and lit a candle. In its flickering light she pored over Flora’s childish handwriting, which was smudged and covered in blots. All her worst fears were realised before she had read the first paragraph. Flora was utterly miserable and if only half of what she described were true then the establishment sounded more like a penal colony than a school for young ladies. Alice slumped down on her bed, staring at the single sheet of paper with tears running down her cheeks. Flora’s last words stood out on the page as if written in flames – ‘Save me, Alice. Save me, please.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alice barely slept that night, and when she did drift off in the cold small hours her dreams were haunted by Flora’s plea for help. Next morning she rose early. It was clear that Mr Dearborn knew nothing of his daughter’s plight and must be made aware of it as quickly as possible. She could not wait until Monday morning when he would be occupied with business matters, and so she set off for Russell Square with the letter in her reticule.

  Hoskins let her in although he seemed doubtful as to whether the master would be willing to see her. ‘The mistress left instructions that you weren’t to be admitted under any circumstances, Miss Alice,’ he said in a low voice. ‘But she’s still abed and unlikely to rise before noon.’

  ‘It’s about Miss Flora. I must speak to Mr Dearborn; it can’t wait.’

  Hoskins glanced over his shoulder. ‘I suggest you go to the kitchen, miss. Cook will take care of you until the master comes down for his breakfast, and then I’ll ask him if he’ll see you.’

  The prospect of a warm fire and perh
aps a hot cup of tea was too tempting to resist. As she went down the back stairs and the aroma of cooking assailed her nostrils Alice realised that she was very hungry. She had missed supper and had left the house too early for breakfast, which in any case was usually tea and toast with the merest a scrape of butter.

  Cook was busy preparing the joint to roast for Sunday luncheon, and Nettie was the first to spot Alice. She hurried round the table to give her a hug. ‘I know as how I shouldn’t say it, miss, but I’m so pleased to see you.’

  ‘Get back to work, Nettie,’ Cook said, frowning. ‘What can I do for you, Miss Radcliffe?’

  ‘If I might sit for a while I’d be very grateful, Cook. I came to see Mr Frederick on an urgent matter.’

  ‘Miss Flora, is it?’ Cook reached for the teapot. ‘Nettie, fetch a cup and saucer and bring the fruitcake from the pantry. Miss Radcliffe looks perished and half-starved.’

  ‘It is about Flora,’ Alice said, mystified. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘She’d be the only reason you would enter this house again, miss.’ Cook poured the tea and cut a generous slice of cake. ‘Pass this to Miss Radcliffe, Nettie. Then get on with peeling those vegetables. We haven’t got all day.’

  ‘It does concern Flora,’ Alice said carefully. ‘But I need to discuss it with her father.’

  ‘I understand.’ Cook attacked the leg of lamb, stabbing sprigs of rosemary into the flesh. ‘The sort of school she’s been sent to is just for rich folk to get rid of the children they can’t be bothered with, if you ask me. It was bound to end badly.’

  Alice sipped her tea, saying nothing. The cake was rich, fruity and delicious, and she ate hungrily, all the while keeping an eye on the clock above the mantelshelf. She looked up with a start as one of the bells on the wall board jangled impatiently.

  Cook gave it a cursory glance. ‘Dining room, Nettie. You’ll have to go because Dora has the day off to visit her mother.’ She waited until Nettie had disappeared up the stairs carrying a pot of coffee and a jug of cream. ‘Bring Miss Flora home, if you can. She was a naughty child until you came along, but we’ve all seen a different side of her since you took her in hand.’

  Hoskins appeared on the staircase. ‘The master will see you in the dining room, Miss Alice.’

  Frederick was seated alone at the vast table with a plate of bacon, devilled kidneys and buttered eggs in front of him. He glanced at Alice, eyebrows raised. ‘What is so urgent that it could not wait until business hours tomorrow, Miss Radcliffe?’

  Alice took the letter from her reticule and laid it on his side plate. ‘This will explain everything, sir. I’m very worried about Flora.’

  Frederick studied the sheet of paper. ‘I’ve had something similar, but we must allow for exaggeration and Flora’s gift for the dramatic. I hope that in time she will settle down.’

  ‘It’s not just that, sir.’ Alice realised that she would get nowhere unless she told Flora’s father the real reason for her state of near panic. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, choosing her words carefully. ‘There are others involved, Mr Dearborn. You need to know the whole truth.’

  ‘I can see that you’re not going to let this rest.’ He pushed his plate away. ‘Sit down and tell me everything.’

  When she had finished telling him about Molly and the threat she posed to Flora she sat back in the chair, hoping that she had done the right thing.

  Frederick was silent for a moment and his expression gave nothing away. ‘This is more serious than I had thought,’ he said gravely. ‘The police must be informed.’

  ‘Do you think that’s wise, sir? Molly has a whole gang under her command, or so I believe. The police might catch a couple of them but she’s determined to get Flora, and if she is her real mother there’s very little that the law can do to stop her.’

  He frowned thoughtfully. ‘I’ve never met Molly Bishop, but I doubt if a woman from the criminal class could produce a child like Flora. Even if she has a birth certificate in her possession it would probably be a forgery. However, that is immaterial at the moment. She must be stopped somehow and the law is our only recourse.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better to move Flora to another school in a different part of the country? She might be happier in a different establishment.’

  ‘First things first, Alice. I have friends in the constabulary and I will contact someone today, if possible. There’s no point taking Flora away from Willoughby Hall until the felons are under arrest.’

  Alice gazed down at her hands, which had clenched into fists in her lap. She knew better than to argue with her employer, especially when he had seemingly made up his mind. She rose from the chair. ‘Thank you for seeing me, sir. I’ll have to leave the matter in your hands.’

  He smiled and his features relaxed. ‘I’m glad you’ve seen sense.’ He picked up his knife and fork. ‘And by the way, I’m very impressed with the designs you’ve put before me. Rawlins tried to take the credit for some of the ideas, but I know his work too well, and I could tell that the drawings were yours and yours alone. Well done, Alice. Rory has convinced me that there is a growing market for Christmas cards and I’m beginning to think he’s right, especially if we can adopt the new chromolithography technique. Now go home and enjoy what is left of your day of rest.’

  Alice left the house feeling let down by Frederick’s casual acceptance of his daughter’s unhappiness. There was a sense of desperation in Flora’s untidy scrawl that did not bode well for her future at Willoughby Hall, and Alice feared that it was only a matter of time before Molly discovered her whereabouts. There was little enough for the police to go on, and she doubted whether they would instigate a search on the basis of threats alone. Molly had so far managed to evade the law and would probably continue to do so, but she seemed unlikely to give up her quest to find Flora. Alice glanced nervously over her shoulder, but the only people she could see were families on their way to church. She experienced a sudden pang of regret. Perhaps she ought to have been more sympathetic to her mother’s desire for home and security. If Horace was the man to fulfil such a desperate need then she would have to accept their union with good grace, but of one thing she was certain: living with them was not an option.

  She arrived back at her lodgings to find Mrs Leech quite literally hopping up and down with rage.

  ‘I don’t like the company you keep, Miss Radcliffe.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Alice stood in the entrance hall, staring at her in surprise. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You’ve fallen in with a bad lot,’ Mrs Leech continued angrily. ‘I don’t want people like that knocking on my door. Next thing you know it’ll be the coppers with a warrant to search my house, and I ain’t having any of it, so you can sling your hook, miss.’

  Baffled, Alice continued to gaze at her. ‘But I haven’t had any visitors, not that I know of.’

  ‘Don’t act innocent with me. A great hulking brute came looking for you. He said you was stepping out together. Well, I took one look at his dial and I slammed the door. I can spot a villain a mile off, and I thought you was a respectable young person.’

  ‘I am,’ Alice protested. ‘He’s lying.’ From Mrs Leech’s brief description the man in question could only be Eric the Axe.

  ‘Well, he knew where to find you, miss. So like I said, I want you out of here.’

  Alice could see that Mrs Leech had made up her mind. ‘All right. Give me time to pack my bag and I’ll be gone.’

  It did not take long to throw her belongings into the valise she had stowed beneath her bed, nor did she feel any qualms about leaving the miserable garret, and she walked away from Half Moon Passage without looking back. To remain there would be courting danger now that Molly knew she had lied about Flora’s whereabouts. It was only as she reached the main road that she realised what she had done. She was once again homeless, but to return to Queen Square was unthinkable. Aunt Jane would doubtless enjoy her humiliation and would take her in, but
she would never let her forget that she was living on charity. Residing with her mother and Horace would be even worse, and anyway they would not be in their new home for another two weeks. There was a real possibility that she might end up sleeping rough beneath the railway arches. Alice set her shoulders and headed in the direction of Upper Thames Street. George had made her a vague offer of accommodation and he was her last hope.

  The house in Five Foot Lane boasted a bright blue front door, as George had said, and was situated between a ship’s chandler and a pub. All four storeys looked as though they had been squashed into a small space as a last thought by a builder who was in a desperate hurry, and the result was slapdash and slightly eccentric. The brickwork was interspersed with bands of coloured tiles, set in geometric patterns, and the dormer windows frowned sleepily at the busy street below. Even though it was Sunday, washing hung from poles sticking out of the building like the prickles on a hedgehog. Tiny nightgowns and larger articles of underwear twisted and turned as if in a mad dance as the wind whistled up the side streets that led to the river.

  Alice raised the knocker and let it fall once, twice and a third time. The racket going on inside the house must make all within deaf to such a small sound, she thought, stamping her cold feet on the frosty pavement. She was about to knock again when the door was opened by a tall, fair-haired young woman who bore a striking likeness to George.

  She greeted her with a smile. ‘You must be Alice.’

  ‘I am, but how did you know?’

  ‘My brother talks about you all the time.’ She held out her hand. ‘Do come in. I’m Carrie, by the way.’

  Alice stepped over the threshold. ‘George told me that you might have a room to let.’

  ‘Who is it, Carrie?’ A plump woman carrying a baby in her arms with a toddler clinging to her skirts came hurrying towards them.

  ‘It’s George’s friend, Ma. He told her we’d got a spare room.’