‘That was a long time ago. You’ve had it easy for a while, chuck.’
‘Easy, you say, with all that’s happened to me?’
Millie had the grace to flush. ‘What I mean is, there’s plenty round here would give their eye-teeth for a job and be jealous of the fact that you’ve lived in a posh house with servants at your beck and call. You must admit that some of the nobs’ fancy ways have rubbed off on you.’
‘So what if they have, I reckon I can still cut the mustard, as they say. I’m not looking to run the world, not just yet, but I hope I’m not too proud to do a hard day’s work.’
Kate did indeed find herself a job, even without a reference, working on Campfield Market, no questions asked. She spent three days a week weighing biscuits, and her evenings minding her daughter. She’d never been happier in her life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bunty went to see Toby at the factory and persuaded him to pass a note to Callum. He wasn’t too happy about becoming involved in her subterfuge. ‘This business has naught to do with me, but nor do I owe Lucy any favours so I’ll oblige, this once. Don’t make a habit of it, though. You and Callum must work your own problems out.’
Bunty promised that she wouldn’t ask him again, and Toby agreed to have a reply for her by the following Monday. She waited with increasing anxiety all week, kicking her heels and drifting about the house in an agony of tension.
Lucy grew irritated with her and told her to snap out of it. ‘What on earth is wrong with you, moping about?’
‘I’m thinking of Callum, who else? I worry about him.’
‘That boy’s name, as I have made clear a dozen times, is not to be mentioned in this house. He is nowhere near good enough for you and you will never see or speak to him again.’
‘That’s for me to decide, not you, Mother.’
‘I think not, madam.’ Lucy decided it was time to come clean. She made no bones about what was expected of her daughter, calling Bunty to task for her display of bad behaviour the other night and coldly informing her that she was to be found a husband, a man with sufficient wealth to keep them both in comfort.
Bunty laughed as if her mother had said something highly amusing. ‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Never more so. Unless you can think of some other way to restore our fortune we must follow the age-old path of marrying into it.’
Bunty was utterly flabbergasted and protested strongly, insisting that she loved Callum, that they had dreams and plans of their own; that she had no intention of marrying some old man she didn’t care a bean for. All of which her mother dismissed with contempt.
‘It is your duty to make a good marriage, and mine to find a suitable husband to care for and provide for you. Isn’t that what every girl needs, what every mother must secure for a beloved daughter?’
‘If I really were your beloved daughter, you’d let me marry the man I love.’ Bunty glared at her mother, and Lucy glared back.
‘Until you come of age, you have no say whatsoever, and don’t think you can put off the evil moment for well nigh two years. We need a solution to our predicament now, and you, my dear, are the means to provide it. If you don’t care for Evan Hayton, we can look elsewhere, although I must warn you that young men are hard to come by these days, so you must be flexible with regards to age.’
‘I will not marry a man I don’t love!’ Bunty felt as she was falling over a precipice and no one was lifting a finger to stop her.
Lucy’s response was astonishingly, dangerously calm. ‘You will do as I say. We cannot afford the luxury of sentimentality. Besides, love comes later, after marriage, when you get to know a person. And if he’s no good in bed, then you can always take a lover, although generally I’ve found the mature male to be far more experienced than a raw youth in that respect.’
‘I don’t believe you. Aunt Cissie told me you’d hoped to marry a man years younger than yourself, someone called Teddy? But you were disappointed. I assume you had an affair with him though. Maybe with several others as well.’
Lucy slapped Bunty hard, leaving four red fingermarks across her cheek. ‘How dare you! Teddy and I ... Well, never mind. It’s none of your business, madam! Have you any idea what I’ve been forced to endure because of that dreadful woman who stole, and then lost, our entire inheritance?’
Bunty put a hand to her burning cheek, nursing it, wondering if it was a sin against God, or nature, to hate one’s mother as much as she did. ‘But was it Kate who lost it, or you who wasted it with your spend, spend, spend?’
Although there were tears of pain and misery in her eyes, Bunty dared to challenge Lucy because she remained resolute that she would win through in the end. This wasn’t some penny dreadful romance or an eighteenth century novel, so how could Lucy possibly force her into an arranged marriage?
Callum would meet her next Monday and be only too ready to help her escape Lucy’s clutches. They would both get jobs, rent a cottage, and live happily together until she was old enough to marry without her mother’s permission.
Bunty was more than willing to defy convention for the sake of love. Who would have her then, once she and Callum were openly living together as man and wife, as she so longed to do? She would have put herself quite beyond the pale. She had already, in any case, by having his baby, except that she hadn’t had it. Lucy had deprived her even of that possibility.
The thought of Callum brought a rush of warmth to her heart, a beat of excitement to her breast, restoring hope to Bunty’s bruised heart. Oh, how she loved him, how she needed him. There were admittedly a few minor issues to clear up first between them, explanations and apologies to make about her long silence, as well as the baby of course. Then they could fall into each other’s arms and live happily ever after, no matter what her mother tried to do.
Lucy was still talking, still scolding her in a voice that had risen in cadence and volume by several notches. Bunty had thankfully missed most of it but refocused upon the part where Lucy was insisting she was simply behaving like any loving mother with her own daughter’s best interests at heart, which must be the biggest lie she’d ever told.
‘I’m sure you’ll come to see that a good marriage is the best possible course for everyone, once you’ve had time to appreciate how very difficult life is, living here in Heversham with the mad aunts.’
‘They are not mad, merely eccentric.’ Bunty chuckled, her equilibrium quite restored by her private musing. ‘I’m very fond of Aunt Vera and dear Aunt Cissie, as a matter of fact, and I’m sure they would be on my side. They even like and admire Callum.’
‘Which proves what complete nincompoops they are. Don’t be misled, girl, they haven’t a bean between them and know they are dependent entirely upon my munificence.’
Bunty gasped. This was something she had not considered or expected. Being told one was penniless was one thing, experiencing it in reality quite another. She tried one last desperate bid for independence. ‘Well, they certainly wouldn’t approve of my marrying some dirty old man. I shall throw myself on their mercy and beg their support.’
‘You will not! You will do as you are told.’
Finding herself suddenly dangerously close to tears, Bunty stamped her foot in frustrated temper and cried out, ‘And I won’t go to any more of your awful dinner parties, so there!’
For which piece of defiance she was locked in her room for twenty-four hours on a diet of bread and water, to ‘allow ample time for you to come to your senses, girl,’ which of course Bunty was compelled to do, if she was to be free to meet Callum on Monday evening.
Kate was fascinated by Ingram’s department store where Millie worked, and on her days off would frequently wander about it, investigating the various departments, always striving to avoid the floor-walker whose task it was to supervise customers and direct them to the right assistant to be served.
The haberdashery counter where Millie worked was situated quite near to the main entrance. Kate would hov
er close by in the hope of catching her friend’s eye for a quick chat, or give a nod and a wink to say she’d meet her across the road in the café for a quick cup of tea. If the boss was around Millie would panic, flap her hand and urge her friend to go away.
Kate sympathised. It was hard work on the haberdashery counter, a constant stream of customers mostly buying small items and spending forever choosing exactly the right shade of cotton, width of elastic, the right size or shape of button. Everything had to be measured out, cut and rolled up, put in a little paper bag, and some complicated arithmetic carried out, such as three and a half yards of rick-rack braid at eightpence three-farthing a yard.
Inevitably, she was drawn to the shoe department where Kate would secretly study styles and designs, critically comparing them with her own, and watch ladies occasionally buy half a dozen pairs at a time, proving there was money in this city.
Generally speaking, though, she was unimpressed with Ingram’s selection and often noticed women walking away without having made any purchase at all.
Nor had she found any decent shoe shops in the city centre. Little had changed since before the war with plenty of boot and shoe repairers, but few shops which actually sold quality, well designed footwear for ladies. Ingram’s, in her opinion, was missing an excellent opportunity to cash in on this situation. Not that it was any concern of hers.
Ingrams was a very old-fashioned store, she decided, and she stared again at their selection shoes, a thoughtful frown on her face.
Bunty spent Sunday lunch attempting to fend off the attentions of one Daniel Perry. He was younger than the last candidate by about five years, being somewhere in his early forties according to Lucy, and rake thin, which was at least an improvement. He was also eager for marriage and in need of an heir to his property fortune. His land and other assets had been listed at great length, like an inventory, by Lucy; not that Bunty had either listened or cared. As usual, an inordinate amount of time had been devoted to choosing the right gown for her to wear.
‘An air of simplicity and charm is essential, I feel. Virginal white perhaps,’ Lucy had suggested.
‘But I’m not.’
‘Not what, dear?’
‘A virgin, if you recall.’
Lucy flew to the bedroom door and slammed it shut. ‘Never, never, never say such a thing. That – unfortunate – incident has been dealt with and you must forget it ever happened. So far as anyone is aware, and certainly any gentleman to whom you are introduced, you are as pure as the driven snow. Is that quite clear?’
Bunty hid a smile. ‘If you say so, Mama.’
Now she ate her roast beef in silence, offering only the occasional, perfunctory smile, going through the motions to satisfy her mother, but making no effort to charm or win him over.
Mr Daniel Perry was the third suitor in one short week to be paraded before her and Bunty was bored by the whole stupid enterprise. Lucy absolutely refused to give up this crazy notion of finding her a husband, and Bunty was beginning to feel as if she’d got caught up in a very bad French farce. Her nerves were a wreck in any case, a sensation of sick anticipation deep in her stomach. Tomorrow was Monday, the day she would finally see Callum again after all these long months apart. She ached to have his arms around her, his mouth on hers. Would the moment never come?
The day dragged endlessly on, and as her mother nudged and prodded her to speak and smile, Bunty kept her mind firmly focussed on that glorious reunion. Tomorrow they would be together at last. Would he sweep her into his arms? Would he have missed her as much as she had missed him? Would they make love there and then, in the sweet smelling grass at their trysting place on the fells?
Oh, Callum, will tomorrow never come?
So anxious was Bunty about the coming reunion that she arrived a good two hours early. She paced to and fro, agonising over what she would say, imagining what Callum might say to her, how he would look, what he would think of her. Would he notice that she had changed and grown into a young woman?
The minutes ticked slowly by. She counted ants tramping back and forth about some invisible business of their own, studied a dung beetle as if it were the most fascinating creature in the world. And as time seemed to slow and falter, the sensation of sickness increased accordingly, her confidence evaporating as the appointed hour arrived and Callum did not.
What if Toby hadn’t passed on the note? What if Callum simply wasn’t interested in her any more? How would she live if he no longer loved her, no longer wanted her? If he didn’t even come.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
And then suddenly there he was, hurrying up the hill towards her, his face bright, his eyes riveted upon her face, and when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, Bunty thought she might swoon with joy, or explode from sheer ecstasy.
The kiss went on and on, each reluctant to end the embrace. Callum studied every inch of her face, kissed every part of it over and over, stroked her hair, nibbled her fingertips, even tweaked her nose, and laughed and hugged her from the sheer joy of being together at last.
It was some moments before they finally sat, settling themselves beneath the inadequate shelter of a silver birch, still holding tight to each other. The sky was overcast, a chill breeze stirring the clouds, though they didn’t notice. A golden autumn day was turning into a chill dusk but neither of them cared.
So overcome by emotion were they that both were now struck by a shy silence. They sat on a cushion of bracken, speechless with happiness, gripping each other’s hands and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. Bunty swayed a little towards him, wanting him to kiss her again but then a leaf floated gently down, landing on top of his head, and she was overcome by a fit of giggles. The spell was broken.
‘Will you marry me?’ Callum asked, and she put back her head and laughed, joyously.
‘You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve evaded that question this week alone.’ She told him then, very briefly, about her mother’s latest scheme. ‘It’s all rather like some daft Victorian melodrama. She thinks she can avoid the dire prospect of certain poverty by marrying me off to the highest bidder, would you believe?’
‘I’m afraid I’d believe anything of your mother. She kept you from writing to me, didn’t she?’
‘I did write, at first. Every single week. But since I never got any reply I assumed she was intercepting our letters, and then – then something happened. I was moved to another school, and I was afraid to write after that. She said she’d hurt you, have you sacked or something, if I did.’ Bunty swallowed. She hadn’t meant to reach this point of her story quite so quickly, and she was filled with a sudden gush of fear. She prayed he wouldn’t notice. ‘I decided there was nothing for it but to wait till I was free, which I now am. Isn’t it wonderful?’
His gaze was fixed on her brightly smiling face. ‘You’ve changed. Grown up. Have I?’
She shook her head, laughing delightedly. ‘No, you look just the same. You will always be the boy I love, even when you are very old.’
Callum grinned. ‘We could have been married already if it hadn’t been for blasted Lucy and her conniving ways. Not that we’d’ve had much money. No doubt have been living on a dry crust in Poor House Lane.’
‘That would have been a million times better than what I did have to endure ...’ She stopped, and a blush of hot crimson seeped into her cheeks.
‘What is it, Bunty? What happened to cause her to you move you to another school? What are you not telling me?’
She half turned from him, dropping her gaze so that she wouldn’t see the condemnation in his eyes. ‘There’s something you need to know.’ She took a deep, steadying breath, then blurted it all out, forgetting all the careful phrases she had practised. How she found herself pregnant, was expelled from school, her mother making her have an abortion. ‘There, that’s it. It was an awful, terrible time, but it happened and then I was packed off to another finishing school, to learn deportment, study French as if nothing had happened
and...’
Callum interrupted. ‘You had what?’
She glanced sideways at him, saw how the skin had tightened around his flared nostrils, how his jaw clenched. He’d dropped her hands and was gazing at her in stunned disbelief.
‘I didn’t want to have the baby taken away. I know it’s against the law to kill a child, and very dangerous for the mother, but I’d no choice. My mother met me in London, marched me off to some doctor she knew in Harley Street. It was all over in hours.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? You never said a word. Why didn’t you say that you were having a baby? I’d have married you like a shot.’
‘I know, but how could I? None of my letters were getting through.’
‘You could have tried harder, sent a letter to Toby or to the aunts. This was important, Bunty. You should have told me! You’d no right, no right whatsoever just to do away with it - the baby – my baby. An innocent child!’ He moved away from her, gazing at her in open horror. ‘How could you allow such a thing to happen?’
Bunty felt the small kernel of fear inside her start to grow bigger. ‘But I’ve just told you, I didn’t have any choice.’
‘There’s always a choice. It’s your body. You could have refused.’
Bunty thought of how upset she’d felt at the time, how vulnerable and scared she’d been at the prospect of bearing and bringing up a child on her own. She wanted to tell him all of this, to explain how alone she’d felt, how young she’d been, how confused and miserable. How determined her mother. But she only said, ‘Mother wouldn’t have allowed us to marry, even then, baby or no baby. She made that very clear. I would have been shamed, ruined.’
‘So you were thinking of yourself, not the child?’
‘No! I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘Sounds like it to me.’
‘Callum!’
She saw, to her dismay, that his eyes were suspiciously bright, and very angry. Then he got to his feet and walked away, his voice a muffled murmur so that she didn’t quite catch what he said, something about trust and true love, and needing time to think.
The Woman From Heartbreak House Page 22