by Benita Brown
‘No.’ She knew it would be pointless to lie to him. ‘But to assure her that she need not worry. Her friend is quite sane and ... and has much to be thankful for.’
Frank looked away. ‘I’ll tell her that.’ He stood up and looked out of the window. ‘I think the rain is easing off; please wait here as long as necessary. But I mustn’t be late for lectures. Goodbye, then, Constance.’
‘Goodbye.’
She watched him go. He didn’t look back. Constance was dismayed to discover how much that hurt her.
‘Nella, it will be at least a year before the girls can wear these!’
‘That’s the idea. I want to be able to take them out walking in them.’
‘They’re beautiful.’ Constance held up one of the white satin dresses and examined the delicate, self-coloured embroidery. ‘Far too good for these little rogues. They must have cost you a fortune!’
They were in the nursery and the twins were sitting on a large rug spread out on the floor. They were surrounded by soft toys but they were more interested in sucking on the biscuits that Nella had just given them - which she would never have dared to do if Florence had been there.
Nella looked at them and smiled. ‘There’s nothing too good for them bairns! And, as I’m nivver gannin’ to hev any of me own, you must allow me to spend me money on your children. That’s the next best thing.’
Constance laid the dresses back in the box and folded them into the tissue paper. ‘Very well.’
She stared out of the window. The branches of the trees were bending and swaying in the wind, but at least it hadn’t rained today. She wondered whether it grieved Nella that she would never have children, that she would never have a normal marriage. But then, what was normal? Certainly not her own marriage and even her two daughters had not been ... were not...
‘Ee, Constance, look at this mess!’
She turned to find Nella on the floor with the girls, trying to wipe the dribbled, sticky crumbs from their faces. Amy submitted to her ministrations patiently but Beatrice howled with rage and squirmed out of the way.
‘She’s a bad ’un!’ Nella said, but she smiled in spite of herself.
They both looked at Beatrice and neither of them spoke for a while. Then Nella crawled over to an easy chair, just as one of the children would have done, and pulled herself up. She settled back amongst the cushions with a sigh. Constance sat down at the other side of the hearth. She guessed that her friend was going to tell her something. And what it would be.
‘It is possible, Constance,’ Nella said finally, ‘because of what happened to you only one night before yer wedding night, and the evidence of the birthmark, it is perfectly possible - and likely - that the girls hev different fathers.’
Constance stared at her. ‘You asked Frank Alvini, didn’t you?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because you’re talking like a textbook - and who else do you know who is studying medicine?’
‘Yes, I asked Frank. Do you mind?’
‘It’s too late if I do.’
‘Divven’t look at me like that. You can trust Frank. And he doesn’t think any the worse of you, if that’s what’s bothering you. He’s not the kind of man that would think it the woman’s fault for being raped.’
‘Hush, the children!’
The twins had lain down where she’d left them and were looking drowsy. Nella glanced guiltily at them and then she smiled ruefully. ‘I don’t think they understand what we’re saying, but I’ll keep me voice down, anyway.’
‘So tell me, what did Frank say?’
Nella told her of the papers that he’d found in the library of the Medical School, and then of the correspondence he’d had with an American professor about the births in the slave plantations.
‘But I can’t prove it?’ Constance asked finally.
‘There is no proof that would stand up in a court of law, although Frank thinks that one day there may be,’ Nella said. ‘But right now at least you know that there’s a very strong chance that you’re not imagining things.’
Constance remained silent.
‘And does that make you any happier?’
‘A little. At least I can believe that Amy is my husband’s child. That she is rightfully part of John’s family. And, Nella,’ she glanced at her daughters, whose eyes were now closed, ‘we must never speak of this again. As Beatrice and Amy grow older I never want them to hear anything that might ... that might...’
She broke off when she realized that there were tears in her eyes. Nella pushed herself up and came to put her arms around her.
‘I know, Constance, I know.’
Later that night, when she was alone in bed, Constance thought about Nella and herself and the way their lives had changed so dramatically since they had worked together at the house on Rye Hill.
Who would ever have believed that Nella would become rich and famous and marry such a handsome man? And who would envy her if they knew the truth about her marriage or the pain her work caused her frail, twisted body? And yet, she seemed to be happy.
And me. What of me? Constance thought. I am also married to a fine-looking man. I have my own home, two beautiful daughters, all the clothes that I could ever wish for and servants to look after us. A lot to be thankful for ... She remembered her words to Frank Alvini in the coffee house that day. And it was true, she supposed, if a good life meant wanting for nothing material.
Was it so wrong to want more?
Dearest Constance,
We are to be parted again. Iris and I are leaving Lodore House, and this time I do not see how I can ever return. Believe me, I did not know for many years that it was my grandfather who had bought the house from our father’s creditors. I suppose that he wanted to save my childhood home for me. But not for you. And, for that, I am sorry. It was gracious of you to tell me that day that you were glad it was me that was living there.
I hope that you will believe me when I tell you that I was overjoyed to find you again and I fully intended that we should remain close. I am sure that Iris would have come round in time. Especially when she learned that you and she had so much in common as the mothers of young children. Why did you not tell me about your children, Constance? I had to learn from gossip in the business community that John Edington and his beautiful wife had twin daughters.
Whatever the reason, I know that you will make a wonderful mother because you are so much like your own mother. I will never forget how she took me to her heart and made me believe that I was as important to her as if I were her own son. I bless her memory.
But now I must beg you to answer my letter and I hope that we will become regular correspondents. For, you see, I am leaving the shipping office; I am a failure as a businessman. My grandfather has decided to salvage what he can by selling the fleet to George Heslop; who will now have his own colliers to carry his coals from Newcastle.
Iris and I are to live in Berwick and, although I do not need to find employment, I believe that my father-in-law hopes to train me up to manage his estate, but with the ‘help’ of his trusted land agent. Iris is delighted.
And what of Lodore House? My grandfather has decided there is no further use for it and a buyer has already been found. In fact I have met her. It is a lady who is buying it, apparently, although her husband came with her - a big handsome man who followed her round obediently while she did all the talking.
Oh, Constance, if you could have seen her: such a strange little woman and yet strangely beautiful. She had a sweet face and such expressive eyes. And I wish you could have seen how tenderly she addresses her husband - and he her. It pleases me to think that they will be happy in this house, even although it distresses me that you and I will never be able to meet here again.
But I hope fervently that we will be able to meet again sometime, somewhere.
With love from your affectionate brother,
Robert
Constance put the letter aside. How odd t
hat Nella should be buying Lodore House, for, of course, it must have been Nella and she couldn’t have known that that was Constance’s childhood home. She sat for a moment waiting for the tears. None came, although she felt sad for Robert.
She realized how much she liked him. He may have failed in business but he was a nice man - just as their father had been. Surely he had noticed Nella’s crooked back and the fact that Valentino was slow-witted? And yet he had simply said that she was a strange little woman and that the man had let his wife do all the talking. And then he had mentioned their good qualities.
And he had said that she herself would be a good mother because she was so like her own mother. Well, she loved her daughters, there was no question of that. Whatever had happened had not been the fault of two innocent babies. And she was learning to deal with her feelings and keep them separate from her children’s needs. Ever since the day she had given way to her emotions so dramatically, it was getting better. She had learned to accept those things that she couldn’t change.
She hoped that Robert would be happy with his domineering young wife - but she feared for him.
Still dry-eyed, Constance glanced out of the window. This year’s April showers had gone on well into May and, in addition, there had been some high winds. The trees in the garden looked drenched through and some of the spring flowers had been flattened by a combination of non-stop rain and worrying winds. But the clouds were clearing; she could even see a patch of blue above the roofs of the tall houses at the other side of the terrace.
She rang for Polly. When the maid came, Constance asked her to bring her hat and coat. She would go out for a walk.
As soon as the rain stopped Belle McCormack hurried out of the coffee shop and looked up into the sky. She had to judge whether it would stay dry enough, for long enough, to allow her to set up some tables on the pavement. The coffee shop was so busy nowadays that, at certain times, the customers had to queue up for tables. They didn’t like that and sometimes the impatient ones decided to take their custom to the inferior establishment at the other side of the Haymarket.
Belle stood in the doorway and pushed a wisp of hair back behind an ear. She was a calm, thoughtful woman who never panicked, and who never had to raise her voice to command obedience. But latterly she had been burning with an inner excitement. She could hardly wait for the day when Patrick took over the restaurant. It wouldn’t be long now.
She must have been smiling because she noticed a few heads turning to look at her. And the glances the men gave her were appreciative. The people hurrying by were beginning to furl their umbrellas and the sun that had broken through the clouds was actually warm. The flowerseller was setting out her baskets on the opposite corner. Belle made her decision: she would bring out the tables.
A short time later Nella and Valentino sat at one of the tables to have coffee and cakes before leaving to catch the train to Middlesbrough. Belle was overseeing the packing of a hamper for them to take. Patrick came out to join them.
‘Well, then, Patrick,’ Nella said. ‘It won’t be long now.’
He knew what she meant. ‘No, and my Belle can hardly wait.’
‘Won’t she mind living here, above the shop, in the centre of town?’
‘Alvini’s is hardly a shop! And, no, she’ll love it. But you, will you miss it?’
‘I suppose I will. But it will be marvellous to hev me own house - me and Valentino, I mean.’ She smiled fondly at her husband, who was enjoying his favourite chocolate cake. ‘And it’s such a grand place, Patrick. I’m so lucky to hev found it - and I can’t wait to show the house to me friend Constance. I hevn’t told her about it yet; I want to take her there and surprise her!’
‘And Madame Alvini? How is she taking the move?’
‘She’s sad, of course. She lived here with her husband and she brought up her boys here. But Frank has convinced her that she will enjoy living at the coast and being a doctor’s mother!’
An automobile went by and sent up a spray of puddle water. Nella lifted her feet and twisted aside in her chair. ‘Careless beggar,’ she said, but she was laughing, and Valentino, seeing her smile, joined in.
‘Do you know, I’m thinking of buying one of those things,’ she said, ‘but Jimmy Nelson will hev to learn to drive it because I divven’t think Valentino or I could master it.’
‘Why would you want an automobile? Surely the trains can take you anywhere you want to go - and they’re quicker.’
‘Well, not quite everywhere - for instance, we might want to bowl along on a trip to the country. And, anyway, I believe that’s the future, Patrick. That’s the way the world’s gannin’.
‘And talking of gannin’, that’s what we’ll be doing as soon as Jimmy arrives. You know we’ve decided to stay in Middlesbrough for the length of this engagement? It’s too trashing coming back every night.’
‘Very wise. I’ll see if Belle’s got your hamper ready. I told her it’s only just over an hour’s journey, but she likes to spoil Valentino - and you, of course.’ Patrick got up to go.
‘Wait, Patrick.’ Nella paused. She’d rehearsed many times how she was going to say this but she still found herself hesitating. ‘I ... I wondered ... them young hooligans, the ones that used to pester Valentino ... do they still come to the restaurant?’
‘Yes, they do.’
‘Oh.’
It was no use; she just couldn’t think of a way to ask the question that needed to be asked. But, after a slight pause, Patrick sat down again.
‘At least two of them do,’ he said. ‘I doubt that Gerald Sowerby will be bothering us again.’
‘Why’s that?’ Nella had to use all her acting skills to keep her voice from trembling.
‘Well, we all knew that he was drinking too much. They all were, but Sowerby didn’t seem to have any control over his appetites.’
Nella hoped Patrick hadn’t noticed her shudder.
‘One night - I remember it - his pals had to carry him down the stairs and put him in a cab. One of them should have gone home with him but, in my opinion, the other two never really cared for him.’ Patrick frowned.
‘So ... what happened?’ Nella prompted.
‘Oh well, he didn’t make it. He almost got home - right to the front door, in fact, but then he must have slipped or taken a drunken fall. He landed down in the area yard - where he was found amongst his own blood and vomit the next morning.’
Nella gasped and raised both hands to her face.
‘I’m sorry,’ Patrick said. ‘I shouldn’t have spoken so plainly.’
‘Was he ...?’
‘Oh, he didn’t die, but he’d taken a severe blow to his head. They say his brains are scrambled. He can’t even remember what happened, and now he can neither walk nor talk properly. They don’t think he’ll ever recover sufficiently to complete his studies. His parents are heartbroken.’
He glanced at her keenly. ‘Nella, I shouldn’t have told you this story. You’re too tender-hearted. I’ve upset you.’
‘Upset...’
‘Let me get you a shot of brandy.’ Patrick McCormack rose and hurried into the coffee house.
‘Nella?’ Valentino had finished his coffee and cake and was staring at her worriedly. ‘Are you upset?’
‘No, my darling. Everything’s fine.’
‘Where shall I serve the coffee, Mrs Edington? In the front room or the conservatory?’
‘The conservatory, please, Polly. It’s such a pleasant evening, don’t you think, John?’
He didn’t reply but he smiled and went ahead to light the lamps, although, at almost midsummer, it wouldn’t be truly dark for more than an hour yet. They didn’t have a garden at the back of the house, only a yard, but the conservatory, built out from the dining room, was large and, thanks to Albert Green and his father, it was beginning to rival that of John’s uncle and aunt at their grand villa in Jesmond.
John held her chair for her and when she was settled, he sat at the other
side of the engraved brass-topped table and smiled ruefully. ‘I wish Polly would say “drawing room” not “front room”. Can’t you train her any better?’
Constance controlled her own irritation. ‘She’s doing very well, John.’
She would have liked to add that, although she was doing her best to educate their maid, she herself was beginning to question some of the trivia of social niceties, but she held her peace. After all, it was only recently that John had started dining at home again and, as he was obviously trying to please her tonight, she did not want to upset him.