The Christmas Card

by Dilly Court

  Beth hurried towards her, arms outstretched. ‘Don’t go, Alice. Won’t you stay until Horace returns? I know he’d like to see you.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Alice said with feeling. ‘I’m sorry, but Horace and I will never get on well together. I’ll tolerate him because he’ll be your husband, but please don’t expect me to like him.’

  ‘If only things were different.’

  ‘Well they’re not. If you’re happy then I’ll be happy too. I can’t say fairer than that, but Jane and Horace will never be my favourite people.’ Alice gave her mother a quick hug. ‘I’ll see you in the church.’

  Beth nodded emphatically. ‘I was hoping you’d be my bridesmaid.’

  ‘I’ll be there to wish you well, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking part in any other way. You don’t need me. You have Horace to care for you from now on.’

  ‘Yes, dear, I know.’ Beth did not sound convinced. ‘Are you sure you won’t stay for supper?’

  ‘I’m expected back at my friend’s house.’ Alice squeezed her mother’s hands. ‘I love you and always will. Goodbye, Mama.’

  As she left the house she thought she saw a shadow slip behind one of the trees in the square gardens. There had been no sign of anyone following her for the last few days, and she realised that she had been lulled into a false sense of security since she left Half Moon Passage. Molly knew of her deception and was not the sort of person to forgive or forget that her plans to abduct Flora had been thwarted. The mere thought of what Flora might suffer at Molly’s hands sent a chill down Alice’s spine and, forgetting her own safety, she ran to the railings, peering into the gloom. ‘Leave me alone,’ she shouted angrily. ‘If you come within twenty paces of me I’ll fetch a constable and have you arrested.’

  A couple of roosting pigeons rustled the bare twigs and they fluttered from a branch overhead, making her jump, but otherwise there was no response.

  ‘I know you’re there,’ Alice said shakily. ‘Keep away from me.’

  She turned and fled, running as fast as she could until she was too breathless to keep up the pace, and a painful stitch in her side caused her to stop and bend double until the spasm passed. Walking on more slowly, she was conscious of footsteps behind her but every time she turned round there seemed to be just ordinary folk going about their daily business. Convincing herself that it was her imagination playing tricks, Alice hurried homeward, arriving outside the now familiar blue door at the same time as Carrie.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Carrie demanded anxiously. ‘You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘It’s nothing. I thought I was being followed but I must have been imagining things.’

  Carrie raised the knocker and rapped on the door. ‘I thought that had stopped.’

  ‘So did I,’ Alice said, glancing over her shoulder. She uttered a gasp of fear as she spotted the large man, leaning against the lamppost at the corner of the street. ‘Oh no,’ she breathed. ‘It can’t be! I thought I’d given him the slip.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  The sight of Eric the Axe was enough to convince Alice that the time had come for action and not words. The next day after work, with her wages tucked safely in her reticule and a few things stowed in her valise, she arrived at King’s Cross station and bought a return ticket to York.

  It was late at night by the time the train pulled into the station at the end of her journey and Alice was close to exhaustion. She found a porter and asked him where she might find a room for the night. He looked her up and down, pushing his cap to the back of his head and scratching his bald pate. ‘There’s the Royal Station Hotel, miss, but thee doesn’t look as if thee could afford such a place.’

  His forthright attitude was embarrassing, but came as something of a relief. At least she would not have to explain her straitened circumstances. ‘Somewhere a little less expensive would be better.’

  ‘Come with me, lass. I’m just going off duty and I’ll put thee on the right road. There’s a respectable woman who takes in commercial travellers not far from here. She might be able to give thee a bed for the night.’

  Alice could have kissed his whiskery cheek, but she simply smiled and thanked him. He took her valise and led her through the ticket office to the station forecourt. It was too dark to see very much and she was in a strange town, but she was glad of his company as he walked her to the house in a side street.

  The landlady gave her a calculating look as if assessing the cost of her outfit and the value of her belongings. ‘What’s a young woman like you doing travelling all alone, I might ask?’

  ‘I’m planning to visit a young friend at her school,’ Alice answered truthfully.

  ‘Take her in, Mrs Updyke. You can’t leave the poor lass to wander the streets.’ The porter dumped Alice’s valise on the holystoned doorstep. ‘I’m off home.’ He turned on his heel and trudged off into the darkness.

  A cold wind whipped at Alice’s bonnet and tugged at her skirts. She shivered, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Very well.’ Mrs Updyke stood aside to let Alice into the narrow hallway. ‘Come in. Luckily for you I’ve got a room vacant, but only for the one night, mind you.’

  ‘That’s all I want. Thank you, ma’am.’ Alice picked up her case and entered the house. The smell of lye soap and carbolic assailed her nostrils as she followed the landlady upstairs to a small bedroom at the back of the house.

  Mrs Updyke put the oil lamp down while she lit a candle, placing it on a deal chest of drawers, which was the only furniture in the room apart from an iron bedstead. Alice’s breath formed a halo around her head in the chilly air, but at least she had a roof over her head and a bed for the night.

  ‘That will be one shilling in advance. Breakfast is extra. It’s served between seven thirty and eight thirty, not a minute later. I expect you out of the house by nine sharp.’

  Alice took a coin from her purse and placed it in Mrs Updyke’s open hand. ‘Thank you.’

  Mrs Updyke pocketed the money. ‘I don’t usually take in single young women,’ she said, sniffing. ‘But I’ve made an exception this time.’ She picked up the lamp, hesitating in the doorway and her stern expression was softened by a hint of a smile. ‘I expect a nice hot cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss.’

  Alice sank down on the edge of the bed. ‘That would be lovely, ma’am. Thank you.’

  ‘You may be a southerner, but you have nice manners.’ Mrs Updyke left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Alice had just unpacked her nightgown when Mrs Updyke reappeared bringing a cup of tea and a slice of ginger cake. ‘Parkin,’ she said tersely. ‘I made it this morning. You look famished, lass.’ She put the cup and plate on the chest and whisked out of the room without waiting for Alice to respond.

  Revived by the tea and cake, Alice undressed hastily and jumped into bed, curling up in a ball in an attempt to keep warm. The room was even colder than those in Aunt Jane’s house, and she wished she had brought warmer clothes with her, but eventually she drifted off to sleep.

  When she awakened next morning she thought for a moment she was in Carrie’s room in Five Foot Lane, but then she realised that she was on her own. She sat up, wrapping the coverlet around her. It was still dark but the intensity of the cold and a pale glimmer of light through the thin cotton curtains suggested snow, and a quick peek outside confirmed her suspicions. The rooftops were white all over, as was the street below. Footsteps were barely audible and the sound of horses’ hoofs and cartwheels was muted by the snowfall, which must be several inches deep. It did not bode well for a visit to the wild moorland, but Alice had come this far and she was not going to be put off now.

  Despite her desire to save money she decided to take breakfast in the parlour where several gentlemen were already seated at table. They glanced at her without any sign of interest and went back to their bowls of porridge or munched on thick slices of buttered toast. Mrs Updyke clattered into the room with a tea tray and did not seem surpr
ised to see Alice. ‘You won’t get far on an empty belly in this weather,’ she said tersely. ‘That will be another threepence – fourpence if you want jam.’

  Alice shook her head. ‘Tea and toast will be fine.’

  ‘Porridge is included. I’ll bring some in a minute.’ Mrs Updyke glared at one of her clients. ‘Mr Liversedge, how many times have I told you not to wipe your mouth on the tablecloth. Do you behave like that at home?’

  The man flushed to the roots of his hair, peering at her through the thick lenses of his spectacles. ‘Apologies, ma’am. I thought it were me table napkin.’ He rose from the table with the cloth still tucked into the neck of his shirt, and it was only through the quick action of the man sitting next to him that a disaster was prevented.

  ‘I should see an eye doctor, old chap,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Maybe your spectacles need changing.’

  Liversedge nodded. ‘Aye, happen you’re right.’ He left the room mumbling apologies.

  ‘You’ll be setting off soon then?’ Mrs Updyke placed a cup of tea in front of Alice. ‘The snow will make travelling by road difficult in any event. Where are you bound, lass?’

  Alice was uncomfortably aware that heads were raised and she was suddenly the focus of attention. ‘Willoughby Hall. It’s near Ryby, so I’ve been told.’

  ‘That’s a fair stretch from here,’ Mrs Updyke said, nodding her head as if agreeing with her own statement. ‘You’ll need to find someone who can transport you there. You can’t do it on foot, not at this time of year.’

  ‘I’m going that way.’

  Mrs Updyke turned to the man who had spoken. ‘How are you getting there, Mr Jones? Could you take the lass with you?’

  ‘I’ve arranged to go on the carrier’s cart, missis. Dunno if he’s got room for another, but he’s travelling through Ryby village. I know that for certain.’

  ‘There you are then,’ Mrs Updyke said triumphantly. ‘Get some food down you, lass, and maybe you can go with Mr Jones. He’s one of my regulars so you can trust him.’

  ‘You hear that, lads? I’m a respectable traveller.’ He guffawed with laughter amidst ribald comments from the three other gentlemen at the table.

  Mrs Updyke tossed her head. ‘Don’t prove me wrong, Joe Jones. If I hear you’ve let me down you won’t find me so accommodating next time you’re in this area.’ She stomped out of the room.

  ‘Only joking, girl,’ Joe said with an apologetic smile. ‘We have to have a laugh every now and again or we’d die of melancholy. I’ll be leaving in twenty minutes. Join me if you want to.’ He stood up, flipping his hand across the head of the man seated next to him. ‘And no more sly comments from you, Bill. You’ll put the young lady off.’ He strolled out of the room, winking at Alice as he passed her chair.

  His friend leaned towards Alice. ‘You’ll be all right with Joe,’ he said in a whisper. ‘He’s a married man with ten little tykes to feed.’

  Alice smiled in response. She was desperate to visit the school and find out how Flora was faring, and she had already decided to risk travelling with Joe Jones. She could not afford to delay in York a minute longer than was necessary.

  The journey on the carrier’s cart was less than comfortable. She had to lodge herself between a wooden tea chest and a crate filled with squawking hens, while Joe perched on top of a brassbound trunk, which according to the label was being transported to Willoughby Hall. Alice had paid the carter a shilling to be jolted over rutted roads without so much as an umbrella to shelter her from the elements, despite the sudden snow flurries. Joe himself seemed to be used to such modes of transport and he huddled in his old-fashioned caped greatcoat, keeping up a one-sided conversation largely concerning his brood of children and his ever-patient wife, who was bringing them up seemingly single-handedly as he was almost permanently on the road. After a while the cold had seeped into Alice’s bones, numbing her fingers and toes. Breathing the icy air was painful in itself and she could see the tip of her nose glowing pink like a beacon.

  ‘H-how far n-now?’ she asked after what seemed like hours on the road.

  Joe shrugged his shoulders. ‘I dunno, miss. What is your name, lass?’

  ‘Alice Radcliffe.’

  ‘Nice,’ he said approvingly. ‘My youngest is called Alice. Did I mention her?’

  Several times, Alice thought wearily, but she managed a smile despite the fact that her lips were cracked with the cold. ‘Yes, you did.’

  ‘How far now, mister?’ Joe called to the carter, who had been silent, sitting on the box, smoking a foul-smelling pipe. ‘How long will it take to reach the village?’

  ‘Can’t say in this weather. Wheels keep slipping on the ice. Might end up with a broken axle at this rate.’ With his pipe clenched between his teeth the carter puffed a cloud of blue smoke into the grey sky where it joined the bank of pot-bellied clouds. ‘Willoughby Hall first. Got a trunk for Miss Cotton, the new teacher.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘If you’re after the job it’s already gone. She’s sent her things on in advance.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Alice said quickly. ‘I’m just visiting.’

  He shook his head. ‘They don’t allow visitors unless it’s a school holiday. Very strict, they are. I know that for a fact because my youngest lass used to work there. Gave it up, though. Couldn’t stand seeing them poor little mites treated so bad.’

  Alice experienced a sudden shiver running down her spine that was not due to the bitter cold. ‘What do you mean?’

  He took the pipe from his mouth and spat onto the snow. ‘Forget I said anything, miss. It ain’t my place to say what goes on in that place.’

  Joe leaned over to pat Alice on the arm. ‘Don’t worry, lass. Little tykes need a bit of discipline now and again.’

  ‘But I must see Flora.’ Alice stared at the trunk, an idea forming in her head. ‘You say this trunk belongs to Miss Cotton, the new teacher.’

  ‘Aye, so it says on the label.’ The driver flicked the reins as the horse skidded on a particularly icy patch. ‘We’ll be lucky to get as far as Ryby at this rate.’

  Alice sat in silence, studying the label written in neat copperplate. Miss A. Cotton, Willoughby Hall, near Ryby, Yorkshire. She looked up with a start when Joe tapped her on the shoulder.

  ‘You’d best return to York with the carter, miss.’ He glanced up into the gunmetal sky. The bleached moorland seemed to melt into the clouds as the snow began to fall in earnest. ‘There’s no accommodation to be had in the village, and it doesn’t sound as if they’ll make you very welcome at the school.’

  ‘I think I’ll take my chances,’ Alice said slowly. ‘Surely they wouldn’t turn away a traveller on a day like this?’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on it, lass.’ He cupped his hands over his lips and blew on them. ‘Sometimes I wish I were travelling in leather goods. I could do with a new pair of gloves. I lost mine a couple of days ago.’

  ‘There’s the school yonder.’ The carter pointed with his whip and in the distance Alice could just make out the dark grey shape of a large building. As they drew nearer she could see the crenellated roof, giving the impression of a fortress, and this was emphasised by the high stone walls that surrounded the school. As they drew up in front of tall wrought-iron gates Alice was struck by the lack of trees or bushes that might soften the stark lines of the edifice. The flat, snow-covered expanse within its walls suggested an unrelieved sweep of gravel or grass. Willoughby Hall did not look welcoming and Alice was immediately certain that Flora’s description of life at school had been accurate. She knew that she must gain admittance, and she knew now exactly how she was going to do it.

  ‘I wouldn’t fancy leaving any of my daughters here,’ Joe said grimly. ‘Best do as I suggested, Alice. You won’t get in there. I’ve seen prisons that look more accessible.’

  She clambered down from the cart. ‘I have to try. Thank you for the lift.’ She stood ankle-deep in snow while the carter hefted the trunk onto his back.

  �
��Ring the bell for me, miss,’ he said breathlessly. ‘I think the young lady has filled this with bricks. It weighs a ton.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Alice said confidently. ‘Leave it by the gate and go on your way while you can.’

  ‘We can’t just leave you here, lass,’ Joe protested. ‘What will you do if they refuse to let you in?’

  ‘It would be a hard-hearted person who would condemn me to certain death in a snowstorm,’ Alice said with more confidence than she was feeling. ‘Go quickly and I’ll ring the bell. They’ll have to admit me.’

  Reluctantly the carter climbed up on the driver’s seat and urged the horse on. ‘Good luck, miss,’ he called over his shoulder.

  Alice tugged at the bell pull. The snow was falling faster than ever and the light was fading even though it was midday. She yanked at the chain, and the sound echoed eerily. A thin stream of light shone on the icy particles as the heavy oak door opened and a cloaked figure made its way towards her. ‘What do you want?’ The female voice was as cold and hard as the ice beneath Alice’s feet.

  ‘I’m the new teacher,’ she said boldly.

  ‘But you’re supposed to be ill. We heard that you would not be able to start for a week or two.’

  ‘I made a rapid recovery, but I’ll surely die of lung fever if you keep me standing here much longer.’

  The woman produced a bunch of keys, selected the largest and unlocked the gate. ‘Come in.’

  ‘I’ll need someone to bring my trunk.’ Alice tried to keep the note of relief from her voice. She was acting a part and she must remember that at all times.

  ‘I’ll send the caretaker to fetch it. Follow me.’

  Making her way carefully across the smooth surface of the hard-packed snow, Alice followed the woman into the house. It was marginally warmer inside than out, but the severity of the architecture was repeated in the uncompromising lines of the entrance hall. The stone walls were unadorned and the flagstone floor was bare of any kind of rug or carpet. A wide oak staircase led to a galleried landing, and icy draughts whistled through the dimly lit corridors.