Eve and Her Sisters

by Rita Bradshaw

  ‘So,’ he said quietly, ‘you think the Germans are the only ones to have concentration camps?’

  It brought the response he had anticipated. ‘Of course not, I didn’t say that. Merely that they don’t treat their prisoners of war as we treat ours.’

  ‘And you know this how?’

  ‘By reading the newspapers and listening to the reports on the wireless.’

  ‘Ah, I see. And you trust these reports implicitly, do you? In spite of our discussion about war propaganda the other day? Or is it only the Germans who twist the truth to suit them?’

  ‘Howard, please,’ Esther intervened, her soft voice reproving. ‘Don’t tease Eve.’

  ‘I’m not teasing her, m’dear. We’re merely having a conversation. Is that not so, Eve?’

  Eve stared at the man she had come to like and respect greatly. He was a good man, a good husband and a good employer, and in spite of being one of the leading lights of the town of Newcastle he had no side to him whatsoever. She’d known she had landed on her feet when she had arrived here, bruised and raw in spirit a month after William’s funeral at the parish church in Washington.

  She had seen the advertisement for the post of housekeeper to a Mr and Mrs Howard Ingram three weeks before this in the Sunderland Echo.At her interview she had felt it was the place for her, should she be offered the post. She had been offered it and had accepted with alacrity, immediately informing Caleb of her intention to leave so he had time to find her replacement.

  Ada and Winnie had promised to take care of Jack for her, but the big dog was devoted to Caleb and so she hadn’t felt so bad about leaving him behind. Only Nell knew her new address. She’d divulged it to no one else, wanting a complete break from her old life. Nell was the only person she corresponded with.

  She knew she’d mortally offended Caleb. First by leaving his employ, then by refusing to give him her address. This could not be helped. And when, three months later, Nell had written to say Mary and Caleb had become betrothed, it had been all the confirmation she needed that she had done the right thing. Even when Mary ran true to form and disappeared again a few weeks later, it did not change her mind about returning to Washington. She was done with that life. Nor had she weakened when Mildred had passed away with a massive heart attack. There had been no love lost between Caleb and his mother, he would not need comfort for his loss and she was sure the last person Caleb would wish to see was herself anyway.

  And she was content in Newcastle. Not happy exactly, but content. And that was enough for the present.

  She was brought back to herself by Howard saying, ‘Well, Eve? What say you on the matter of propaganda? ’

  ‘I know it happens, of course.’

  ‘It certainly does. Take the South African war with the Boers. A tiny nation of farmers, in effect, but unfortunately for them the Afrikaner republic of Transvaal just happened to be situated on the richest goldfield in the world. Britain waging war against them showed us as bullies in the eyes of the world but you would never have thought that from the newspaper reports here. And it was Horatio Kitchener, m’dear, the great British commander, who conceived a new tactic to bring the Boer people to their knees, the concentration camp.’

  ‘Is that true? That we thought of it first?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Not Britain’s finest hour.’

  ‘But you—’ She stopped abruptly. She knew Howard had fought in that war, that was where he had lost his left arm.

  ‘I was part of that army which devastated the countryside and rounded up thousands upon thousands of Boer women and children for the camps, yes. As I said, not our finest hour and certainly not mine.’

  ‘But you were just a young man out of officers’ school,’ Esther protested. ‘And you were only over there the last six months.’

  Howard nodded. ‘Yes, I was, but is that excuse enough? I think not. The trouble was I didn’t think for myself in those days and thinking is vitally important for both men and women. Never forget that, Eve. For men and women.’

  She nodded. Education was a bee in Howard’s bonnet and she had gained much because of it. Shortly after she had come here a chance remark of hers one day had started a discussion about the reasons for the war, and by the end of it she had been mortified to realise how ignorant she was. But her employer had not belittled her, foolish though some of her statements had been in retrospect. The next morning he had taken her aside and inquired if she had any desire to learn. Not ladylike accomplishments such as painting on glass or doing fine tapestry, he’d added impatiently, but real learning. History, politics, social reform - things that mattered. And Eve had answered yes, she would like to gain a knowledge of such subjects.And so her education in this house had begun.

  Most afternoons after lunch when Esther took her nap and the cook and maid Howard also employed were busy about their duties, he delayed returning to his engineering business in the middle of town to give her an hour’s instruction. As time had passed Eve had begun to appreciate that in the class and society to which he belonged Howard Ingram was one of those rare creatures who truly had the working class’s best interests at heart. He had been a great advocate of the school leaving age being raised to fourteen which had come into effect three days ago on 13 March, and he was known far and wide as the best employer in Newcastle.

  With this in mind, Eve said quietly, ‘I can’t believe that even as a very young man you would have done anything cruel.’

  They were having Sunday lunch and Daisy, the maid, bustled in at that point with their pudding. Howard waited until it was just the three of them again before answering. ‘I wish I could say your faith in me is justified but it is not.’

  Esther, her voice low but penetrating, said, ‘I hate it when you talk like this, Howard. Whatever you did, you did under orders. Why must you torture yourself with such thoughts?’ She turned to Eve, her once pretty face, which was now marked by the years of suffering she had endured with a chronic and progressive disease of the nervous system, reflecting her distress. ‘He is the kindest and best of men.You know this, Eve.’

  Howard leant forward, taking his wife’s hand and pressing the frail white fingers. ‘Don’t upset yourself, m’dear. We will talk of this no more except to say I learnt things at that time I could not have learnt in any other way so it was not all loss.’

  What trite things he said on occasion to ease her mind. As his wife’s face relaxed and she smiled at him, his answering smile hid the contempt he felt, not for his wife but for himself. From a small child his father, a military man, had instilled in him a desire to follow in his footsteps and those of several generations of Ingrams before him. The army had been held up as representing everything that was good and fine about England, and he had not questioned this in his youth. After a good education followed by officers’ school, he had been thrust into this fine and noble world. It had nearly been his ruin, and the loss of his arm had been the least of it. He had been sickened by what he had seen and done, a hundred lifetimes would not be long enough to assuage the shock of first-hand experience of man’s inhumanity to man. Esther had been his lifesaver, he knew that.They had become betrothed just before he had left for South Africa and on his return, when he had been sick in mind and body and his parents had become irritated and then angry with what they perceived as his weakness, Esther had stood by him. Theirs had been a happy marriage, in spite of the onslaught of this vicious illness of hers which now saw her confined to a wheelchair.

  Pressing Esther’s fingers once again before releasing her hand, he looked down at his treacle pudding. ‘That looks tasty enough in spite of the butter rationing,’ he said in an effort to lift the sombre mood. His tongue ran away with him on occasion, the more so since Eve had joined the household. He had got into the habit of speaking his mind freely and sometimes he forgot Esther’s delicate constitution.

  ‘That comes from having a cook whose sister happens to be married to a local farmer.’ Eve wrinkled her nose and smiled.


  ‘Don’t tell me.’ Howard held up his hand in mock protest. ‘I don’t want to know. That way when I’m taken to account by the authorities I can say in all honesty I wasn’t party to such carryings-on.’

  Eve raised her eyebrows. ‘But I thought you told me the other day I should examine my conscience in all matters.’

  ‘Absolutely. And you must do as I say, not as I do.’

  Esther was laughing as she gazed at the faces of the two people she loved best in the world. She often had to remind herself it had been only eighteen months since she had met the woman who was now such a necessary part of her life. It was hard to recall a time when the days hadn’t been brightened by Eve’s presence. When Eve had replaced the elderly housekeeper who had been with them since their marriage, she hadn’t expected to find a friend. No, more than a friend. Much more. Her sisters and the friends of her youth had gone on to have children and grandchildren, and although they were always kind when they visited, it was with a faintly patronising air. From the first she had sensed a wealth of understanding in the young woman whom society would deem was beneath her. But as Howard always said, the British class system needed to evolve and this wouldn’t come about so much by laws being passed as by men and women in all stratas of society accepting that no human being should be considered better than another by the mere accident of birth.

  It had been this school of thought, along with Howard’s strong views on decent education for the masses and the right of women to have the vote, among other things, which had finally alienated them from his family. She had shed no tears about this. His parents were very much lord and lady of the manor, with a large country estate in Durham and a town house in London, and she had never cared for them or Howard’s three older brothers and sister.

  Her parents had held Howard in high esteem. As their only child, she and Howard had inherited her father’s engineering business and a great deal of money on their untimely demise in a yachting accident whilst holidaying abroad shortly after she and Howard had got married.Within a matter of months she’d begun to show symptoms of the disease which now racked her body. But she had much to be thankful for. She hugged the thought to her as she smiled at Howard and Eve’s banter. Not least a husband who loved her and for the first time in her life a friend she could talk to about anything. She hadn’t realised what had been missing from her life until Eve had come to live with them, but she knew now she couldn’t do without her.

  Howard was now on his favourite subject of the Labour Party’s elaborate scheme for the political organisation and education of women through the Unions and the Co-operative movement. Few if any in their social circle held similar views and it made for some interesting dinner parties. She caught Eve’s eye at one point and the two women smiled at each other. Yes, thought Esther. She had plenty to be thankful for.

  Very early the next morning Eve was woken by a sharp knock on her bedroom door. She pulled on her dressing gown, thrust her feet into her slippers and padded to the door without bothering to light the gas mantle.

  ‘Can you come quickly?’ Howard’s face was white in the light of the oil lamp he was holding. ‘She’s worse, much worse. Something’s happened. I’ve sent for Dr Wynford but she wants you. Something’s dreadfully wrong, Eve.’

  As soon as Eve entered the dimly lit bedroom, she could see the change in Esther. ‘Eve.’ Esther drew in three short breaths and then as Eve took her hand, looked up at her husband. ‘Please . . .’ She struggled for breath, her face becoming contorted for a moment. ‘Please, Howard, leave us for a few moments. I-I wish to-to talk to Eve alone.’

  Howard bit his lip but when Esther murmured once more, ‘Please,’ he nodded.

  ‘I’ll be waiting outside,’ he said to them both. ‘Call me if you need me.’

  When the door shut behind him, Eve bent over the frail woman in the bed. ‘What is it, dear?’ she asked softly, dropping the more formal ‘Ma’am’ she used if anyone else was present.

  ‘I must-must ask you . . .’

  ‘Don’t talk anymore, wait until the doctor comes.’

  ‘No. Eve, I know - I know the time is short. I’ve known for-for weeks now. I’ve felt - different.’

  It was painful to witness such pain and be powerless. Tears in her eyes, Eve whispered, ‘What is it you want to ask me, dear?’

  ‘Howard. He’s - not as he presents himself to the world. Not inside. Vul-vulnerable. Needs - you.’

  ‘I’m not going to go anywhere, Esther. And in a little while you’ll feel better and things will be back to normal.’

  Ignoring this, Esther’s fingers tightened on hers with a grip surprising for such a sick woman.‘Promise me you - you will - stay. Take care of him. To-together. Want to think of you together.’

  Eve’s eyes widened.‘I’ll stay on as long as he wants me to, as long as you both want me to. You know that.’ Esther couldn’t be suggesting . . .

  ‘He - admires you.’Esther’s head sank into the pillow, the white of the cloth emphasising the grey pallor of her skin. ‘And he is kind. Suc-successful marriages are built on such - qualities.’ She gasped, making a sound in her throat as though she wanted to cough but instead, to Eve’s horror, she began to choke.

  Eve screamed out for Howard and he rushed into the room. They raised Esther into a sitting position. This seemed to help but as the choking stopped, a thin stream of blood began to ooze from her mouth and her head fell heavily against Howard’s chest.

  It was over very quickly. By the time Dr Wynford arrived, Howard was sitting in stunned silence by the side of the bed and Esther was at peace. Eve had wiped her friend’s face and pulled the coverlet up to her neck, concealing the bloodied nightgown, and to all intents and purposes Esther could have been sleeping. In death the lines of pain and exhaustion had smoothed away and she appeared much younger.

  After a brief examination, the doctor confirmed what they already knew. Gently, he said to Howard, ‘She died in her own home with you at her side. That was always the way she wished it. Be grateful for that.’

  ‘Grateful?’ Howard stared at the doctor who was also a friend. ‘The last years she’s suffered dreadfully with this foul thing.What is there to be grateful for?’

  ‘This last stage could have gone on for days, weeks. She was spared that, Howard.’

  Howard rose to his feet. ‘You mean well, John, but I would like some time with my wife alone.’

  ‘Of course.’As Eve led the way out of the bedroom, John turned at the door. ‘If you need me, call.’

  ‘I need no one.’

  In the hall, the doctor paused. His voice low, he said, ‘He will take this very hard, Eve.You are aware of that? He needed her every bit as much as she needed him.’

  She nodded, feeling numb. It had happened so fast, she couldn’t take in that Esther had gone.

  ‘If you’re worried about him in any way, please call me, night or day. Try and persuade him to take these.’ He reached into his black bag and brought out a small phial of round white pills.‘One at bedtime for a few nights. They are a strong sedative so no more than one with a glass of water.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll do that, doctor. Thank you.’

  ‘In cases like this where the couple have been very close and there are no children, it’s doubly hard,’ the doctor said sadly. ‘Goodbye for now and don’t forget what I said. Call at any time. And . . . and keep the pills in your possession, Eve.’

  Eve stood alone in the hall for a few moments. She knew Daisy and Elsie, the cook, were in the kitchen waiting to hear what the doctor had said. She ought to go and tell them their mistress had passed away.

  They both cried. Elsie had been with the Ingrams as long as the former housekeeper, and Daisy for nearly five years. She was the newcomer, Eve thought as she retraced her footsteps up the stairs and stood outside Howard and Esther’s room on the wide carpeted landing, not knowing what to do. And then she heard it. A groaning that sounded as though it was wrenched up from the depths of him.
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  She stood for some moments more and when she turned and made her way back to her own room to get dressed, she found the sound had unlocked her own grief and her face was awash with tears.

  Chapter 18

  It was almost six months later. New Allied tactics had got Germany on the run and the character of the war had changed, tanks and planes now being used in large numbers against the enemy. The character of life had changed at 47 Penfield Place in the heart of Newcastle too.

  The first month after Esther’s death Howard had been inconsolable, spending most of his time in his study when he was back from the engineering works. He had barely eaten anything in spite of Elsie rustling up all sorts of delicacies to try and tempt him.When he had begun to eat a little again, he had also begun to drink heavily. He had always had a glass of wine or two with his meal when his wife was alive, but now it was more in the nature of a bottle or two and this was often followed by him disappearing into his study where Eve knew he kept a bottle of brandy.

  Eve said nothing about this, she did not feel it was her place. With Esther’s going, something had changed in her relationship to her employer.The old easy familiarity had gone. At first she had thought this was a result of his grief and the fact that she saw so little of him now compared to before. The hour of instruction had ceased the day after Esther had died and although she had half expected it to resume again in the following months, it had not. But as time had gone on she had come to feel Howard was deliberately holding her at arm’s length. It was not just her, he treated everyone the same, refusing to accept any social invitations and shutting himself away each evening. When visitors called, and there had been quite a few in the early days although only John Wynford had continued to persevere, Howard’s manner could only be termed wooden. He was a changed man.