The Tulip Girl

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘I don’t know,’ Maddie said now. ‘Mrs Potter always said that once we were school-leaving age, we were out and couldn’t go back, so I don’t see . . .’

  ‘Don’t argue with Mr Frank,’ Harriet snapped. ‘You want to think yourself lucky. Now he’s having to go round telling folks, we can expect a visit from the police any day now, I shouldn’t wonder. Want to see him carted off in handcuffs, do you?’

  Maddie swallowed. For the sake of her child, she would marry its grandfather, though the lie she was being forced to live out went against her instinctive honesty.

  ‘No one must ever know the child is Michael’s,’ Frank pleaded with the whole household. ‘Beyond these four walls, the child is mine. I’m counting on you, Harriet, just as I’m counting on you both to stay here. You and Nick.’

  Maddie watched the conflict visible on the woman’s face. She was sure now that Harriet Trowbridge had harboured hopes of marrying Frank herself, but now these hopes were dashed for ever. Maddie held her breath, half-hoping that the woman would keep to her threat, pack her bags and leave.

  But now Harriet and Frank were staring at one another, their gaze held by the past in which neither Maddie nor even Nick had any part.

  ‘More secrets, eh Frank?’ Harriet said softly.

  ‘Aye, more secrets, my dear.’

  Slowly, Harriet nodded.

  ‘And Nick?’ Frank persisted. ‘He’ll not say anything? Because I don’t think he’s in favour of this plan. I think, maybe, he thinks that when he’s older . . .’ Frank gestured towards Maddie.

  Harriet’s eyes widened in horror. ‘What? You mean – he . . . With her? Oh no. Never.’

  Frank put his head a little on one side and smiled as if he had just played his trump card.

  Harriet was still struggling with the conflict raging within her. At last she said, ‘Well, in that case, Mr Frank, there’s nothing more I can say.’ And both Frank and Maddie knew that to save her son from even thinking of marrying Madeleine March, Harriet Trowbridge would finally sacrifice her own hopes.

  They were married in July after the main work of lifting the bulbs for storage through the summer had been done.

  ‘You’d do better to make out you’re older than you are. Put seventeen when you sign the register.’

  ‘More lies, Mrs Trowbridge,’ Maddie muttered.

  ‘What’s a lie, if it saves him from prison, eh?’

  Maddie shuddered, but for the first time in her life she had to agree. Perhaps in such dire circumstances, a lie was justifiable.

  ‘Besides,’ Harriet went on. ‘It’s not really as if you are certain about your age, is it?’

  ‘Mrs Potter said . . .’

  ‘And what does Alice Potter know?’

  Maddie stared at her. ‘You know her?’

  ‘What? Oh . . .’ For a moment Harriet was flustered as if realizing she had said too much. ‘Of course I know her. I met her when I brought you here. And . . .’ she wagged her finger in Maddie’s face, regaining her control now, ‘I rue the day I did.’

  ‘But you referred to her as Alice just now.’

  ‘I did no such thing. I said Mrs Potter. Your hearing must be defective.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my hearing. You said, “And what does Alice Potter know?” ’

  ‘I did no such thing. Don’t argue with your elders and betters, girl.’

  ‘Elder, maybe,’ Maddie muttered. ‘Better, certainly not.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  Maddie grinned at her. ‘Nothing, Mrs Trowbridge,’ she said innocently, thankful that if anyone had defective hearing, it was the housekeeper.

  ‘Have you told the vicar my age?’ Maddie asked Frank as they drove towards the church in his motor car. ‘Because Mrs Trowbridge thinks I ought to say I’m seventeen.’

  Frank glanced sideways at her. ‘I wouldn’t want you to lie. Not for me, Maddie, and not in church especially.’

  ‘I’ve always been truthful,’ Maddie said slowly, ‘even if it got me into trouble. Somehow, I can’t tell lies.’ She paused and looked sideways at him. ‘I wasn’t lying that time about the hen-house, you know.’

  Frank sighed. ‘No, I know you weren’t, love.’ He paused and then haltingly said, ‘There’s things about Harriet you don’t understand. Maybe one day, you will. But just trust me, Maddie, will you?’

  She looked at him again, this time long and hard. His face was in profile to her as he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead. It was a good, honest face, she thought. A little troubled. In fact, a lot troubled. There were dark shadows beneath his brown eyes and he didn’t seem to smile as much as he had when she had first come to the farm. Maddie felt a stab of guilt. She had been the cause of some of his anxiety, though she could hardly be blamed for the difficulties with the farm.

  They did not speak again until he drew the car to a halt outside the church, switched off the engine and turned to face her.

  ‘Before we go in, Maddie love, there’s just something I want to say to you.’ He licked his lips that were suddenly dry. ‘We both know why we’re doing this.’

  Maddie nodded and determinedly swallowed the lump that rose in her throat as she thought of Michael.

  It should be Michael standing beside me today. I should be about to become Mrs Michael Brackenbury, not Mrs Frank. But she said nothing. Michael didn’t love her, or at least he didn’t love her enough. She was on her own now. And she’d do whatever it took to protect her child. With a deep sigh for what might have been, Maddie knew she must face the future without Michael. In that moment, she locked away all memories of him, all thoughts of him and looked to the man at her side. The man who was willing to give her child a name. When it was born, it would bear the legitimate name of Brackenbury and even though there would perhaps be another lie to be told when she registered the child, at least it would have every right to that surname and Frank, legally, would be its father.

  Frank was speaking again, haltingly with embarrassment. ‘I want you to know that I don’t expect you to be a wife to me. What I mean is, I shall make no demands upon you. The marriage will be in name only.’

  Maddie looked at him then, full in the face. That good, kind and caring face that she was already very fond of. Suddenly, she smiled at him, ‘Oh no, Frank,’ she said, calling him by his Christian name for the first time without the title Mister in front of it. ‘Oh no. If we are to be married, I shall be your wife in every way.’

  For a moment he looked startled and then he too, smiled. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. His voice slightly husky, he said, ‘Well, if you’re sure, my dear.’

  ‘I am,’ Maddie said firmly and then added, ‘Can I ask you something now?’

  ‘Of course, love.’

  ‘I – I don’t want to pry . . .’ Suddenly, she felt hesitant, but before she married Frank she wanted to know the answer to something that had been puzzling her ever since she had come to Few Farm. ‘Or – or to bring up painful memories for you, but would you tell me what happened to your first wife and why you never talk about her?’

  As Frank leaned back against the car seat and sighed heavily, Maddie said swiftly, ‘Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked . . .’

  ‘No, no, love. I can understand that it must seem a bit odd to you.’ He glanced at her and smiled gently. ‘Specially for someone who probably longs to know about her own family.’

  Maddie found it difficult to speak as the long buried yearning rushed to the surface. More than ever before, as she waited for the birth of her own child and now as she was about to enter into marriage, she missed the comfort of a mother, father and even of brothers and sisters.

  ‘It must seem to you as if we don’t want to talk about her,’ Frank was saying softly, ‘but nothing could be further from the truth. I loved Michael’s mother dearly but she died at his birth. She’s – she’s buried here in this churchyard. In fact, if you like, when we’ve seen the vicar, I’ll take you to see her grave.�
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  Maddie nodded and whispered, ‘I’d like that.’ There was a pause and then she asked, ‘But why do you never talk about her? Why are there no photographs of her around the house?’

  ‘There were at first. In every room and for the first year or so after her death I never stopped talking about her. My sister came to look after the baby and me at first. I think I must have driven her mad going on and on about Elizabeth and how happy we’d been. But she was very good. She never complained. I think she realized it was my way of coping.’ He sighed. ‘But my sister couldn’t stay for ever. She had her own life. And it was when Harriet moved in as my housekeeper that things had to change. She’d had a very unhappy experience. I can’t tell you about it, Maddie, because I gave my word to her years ago never to talk about it, but because she wanted the past buried, it was difficult for me to talk about mine. Gradually, I noticed she removed all the photographs of Elizabeth and the only one I have left is in my bedroom.’ He turned to her. ‘But I’ll put that away now, if you . . .’

  ‘No, no,’ Maddie reassured him. ‘Not on my account, please.’

  ‘So,’ Frank went on, ‘the only time I could ever talk about Elizabeth was to Michael as he grew older.’

  There was silence and although he said no more, the unspoken words hung in the air. And now he’s gone, there’s no one I can share my memories with.

  Maddie leaned across and gently kissed Frank’s weather-beaten cheek as she whispered, ‘Well, you can talk to me about her, any time you like. In fact, I’d like you to.’

  Again he raised her fingers to his lips as he murmured simply, ‘Thank you, my dear.’

  Thirty-Four

  ‘I suppose I ought to go and see Michael again and tell him he has a son.’

  Nick was standing at the end of the big double bed in the main bedroom that Maddie now shared with her husband and had done since the day of their marriage.

  She smiled to herself when she remembered the look on Harriet Trowbridge’s face when she had moved all her belongings, such as they were, from the tiny room along the landing into the master’s bedroom. The woman had said nothing but the high colour on her cheeks, her tight mouth and eyes that sparkled suspiciously with tears of either disappointment or rage – Maddie could not have said which – spoke loudly her feelings.

  ‘You needn’t bother on my account,’ Maddie said tartly now and brushed the downy head of her tiny infant with her lips. ‘I don’t care if he knows or not. John has a father.’

  Nick jumped visibly and his eyes widened. ‘You’re – you’re not calling him that, are you?’

  Maddie blinked. ‘Yes. Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Does – does me Mam know?’

  ‘Nobody knows yet. I’ve only just decided. We said we’d leave the naming until we knew whether it was a boy or a girl. Well, now we know. And his name’s John.’

  ‘So – so Mr Frank doesn’t know?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh. Er – well, I think you’d better see what he ses.’

  ‘Why. What’s wrong with the name?’

  ‘Nothing. But . . .’

  ‘But what?’

  Nick waved his hand and said, ‘Oh nothing. See what Mr Frank ses.’ He turned as if to leave when Maddie said, ‘Nick, there is someone I’d be ever so grateful if you would tell.’

  He turned back to look at her.

  ‘Jenny. Would you go and see her for me, please? And ask her to visit?’

  He pulled a face. ‘All right. Just so long as she doesn’t start following me about all over the place again.’

  As Nick left the room, Maddie lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes. She felt elated, triumphant. She had her baby. A fine, healthy son. The birth had been surprisingly easy. All those old wives’ tales about being in agony for days had not happened for Maddie. She hadn’t even had time to wait for the midwife to arrive and Frank had delivered his own grandson.

  The baby snuffled in his sleep and Maddie laid her cheek against his head. ‘Oh John, part of me longs for your real daddy to see you. I’d love to see you in his arms and see the pride and joy in his eyes, just like it was in your grandad’s when he handed you to me for the first time. But you’re never going to know your real daddy, my darling boy. He – he doesn’t want to know us any more. Either of us.’

  In the privacy of the bedroom, Maddie allowed the tears to fall. Just this once, she told herself.

  ‘You never miss a trick, do you, you little hussy, to humiliate me?’

  Maddie was startled from a light sleep to find Harriet bending over her. ‘What – what on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘It’s not enough that you’ve taken the only man who’s ever shown me any real kindness, but you have to stick the knife in and twist it, don’t you? Wanting to call your little brat, John. Oh, but you’re clever, I’ll grant you that. Cleverer than even I’d given you credit for.’

  Maddie blinked, feeling vulnerable and helpless under the woman’s verbal attack that felt as if at any minute it might turn physical. Weak from the labour of her child’s birth, relatively quick and easy though it had been, for the first time in her life, Maddie felt threatened.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked in a voice that sounded far firmer than she felt.

  ‘You know very well what I’m talking about.’ She leaned closer and Maddie could feel the angry woman’s spittle raining on her face. ‘Oh I under-estimated you. That was my mistake. I thought I could get my revenge on you, but I was wrong. But . . .’ the face came even closer so that their noses were almost touching, ‘I aren’t finished yet, girl.’

  Suddenly, she straightened up, turned and left the room.

  Maddie sank back against the pillows. ‘Well,’ she said aloud and glanced down at the cradle beside her where her son slept on, serenely undisturbed. ‘What on earth was all that about?’

  She heard Jenny’s excited chatter on the landing even before the door opened and she was rushing headlong into the room. ‘I came as soon as I could. Nick came to the shop to tell me. How are you? Where is he? Can I hold him? Ooh . . .’ The last was a long-drawn-out sigh when she bent over the cradle. ‘Isn’t he just perfect?’

  Maddie laughed. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. You might not think so if he woke you every three hours, even all through the night, demanding to be fed.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Jenny murmured, never once taking her gaze from the baby. ‘When will he wake up? Can I hold him if he does?’

  ‘Of course you can, but come and sit by me.’ She patted the bed beside her and Jenny came reluctantly and perched on the edge, but still her glance was on the child.

  ‘I’m sorry I missed your wedding,’ Jenny said.

  ‘Me too, but – well – in the circumstances it all had to be done very quietly.’ She paused a moment before she said hesitantly, ‘Jen, there’s something I’ve got to ask you. A big favour.’

  ‘’Course. What is it?’ Jenny was still only half listening. She was leaning away again, watching the baby and his every tiny movement.

  ‘Jen, listen to me a minute. This is important.’

  Jenny giggled. ‘Sorry, Maddie, but I love babies. You know I do.’

  Maddie remembered now how the only time she had ever seen Jenny really happy at the Home was when a baby had arrived. Sometimes she had been allowed to help in the nursery. Maddie had thought, at the time, that it was because it took her away from the other girls’ teasing, but now she realized it was because Jenny had genuinely loved the little mites.

  ‘What is it, Maddie?’

  Maddie took a deep breath. This was very difficult for her. ‘You know I never tell lies, that I always try to be truthful?’

  Jenny nodded.

  ‘Well, I have to ask you to help in a little – well – not exactly a lie but not quite telling the truth. Mr Frank wants people to think that the baby’s his. That way, if there’s any trouble because I was underage when I conceived, it’ll be him they�
�ll come after not – not Michael.’

  ‘Well, I can try,’ Jenny’s tone was doubtful, ‘but I think everyone in the village knows it’s Michael’s and that’s why he’s gone away. Mrs Trowbridge saw to that. It was her that told Mrs Grange, ’cos I asked her and she said it was. I know Mrs Grange’s a bit of a gossip, Maddie, but she’s not malicious. Not like Mrs Trowbridge.’

  So, Maddie thought, she had been right. She sighed. ‘Oh,’ she said flatly, ‘so it’s too late to kill the gossip then?’

  ‘’Fraid so, but I shouldn’t worry about anyone coming after Mr Frank. If they’d been going to do that, they’d have done it by now. By the time the rumour did get round the village and probably PC Parsons got to hear of it, Michael was long gone.’ She leant forward. ‘Have you ever stopped to think that Mrs T might have deliberately spread the rumour once Michael was safely out the way so that Mr Frank wouldn’t be blamed?’

  Maddie stared at her. No, she hadn’t thought of that. ‘She wouldn’t . . .’ She began and then stopped. She had been going to say, ‘She wouldn’t do that to help me’, but now that she thought about it, such an action was not to help her but to save Frank and that Harriet Trowbridge would most certainly have done.

  Maddie closed her eyes and shook her head and lay back against the pillows. ‘Oh, it’s all too much. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should just let well alone.’

  ‘What did you put on the birth certificate?’

  Maddie pulled a face. ‘Frank wanted me to put his name but when it came to it I couldn’t. I explained it all to the Registrar and he said that in the circumstances it would be best left blank. If the real father isn’t there to say he’s the father, then I couldn’t put Michael’s name on anyway.’

  ‘Oh well,’ Jenny patted her hand. ‘At least he’s got his mum’s name on the certificate and the name Brackenbury that’s really his. That’s a lot more than you and me have got, Maddie.’ She paused and then asked, very softly, ‘Do you ever wish you did know who your real family are? Why – why they left you like they did?’