The Tulip Girl

by Margaret Dickinson

  Realistically, Maddie said, ‘Not really,’ and added wryly, ‘I might not like what I find out. Why, does it bother you?’

  Jenny glanced down at the patchwork quilt covering the bed and traced her finger around the hexagon-shaped patterns. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘It does bother me. I have the strangest feeling sometimes that I ought to know, I mean, that I ought to be able to find out.’ She looked up then, straight into Maddie’s eyes. ‘For both of us really. We’re so alike. And it was funny how we were both left outside the same orphanage in the same way and only a few months apart. We might be related. We might even be sisters. Oh Maddie, I’d love to be your real sister.’

  ‘Your head’s full of romantic notions, Jenny Wren. Real life’s not like that.’ Her voice hardened. ‘Look what’s happened to me. I fell in love with Michael and I really thought he loved me in return. And what happens? Off he goes leaving me with a bairn. If it hadn’t been for the goodness of his father, I’d be living in Mayfield Wood by now. No, Jen, don’t get any romantic dreams of someone turning up to claim you as their long-lost daughter. We’re the bastards of some trollop, just like Mrs Potter always said we were.’ She paused and looked at the crestfallen face of her friend. She reached out and took her hands. Then she smiled, ‘But I grant you, it is just possible we could be sisters. You were newborn when you were abandoned, but I wasn’t. I was at least a month old, they thought, if not more. So shall we settle for that, eh?’

  ‘Oh yes, Maddie. Yes.’ Jenny wrapped her arms about Maddie and hugged her close almost squeezing the breath from her.

  ‘How are you feeling, love?’

  Frank came and sat on the side of the bed and took her hand in his.

  Maddie had been asleep and now she roused herself, yawned and stretched and glanced immediately to the cradle at the side of the bed.

  ‘You were both sound asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, but I have to talk to you,’ Frank whispered, his voice so low that she could hardly hear him.

  ‘Don’t tell me. The name.’

  Frank nodded.

  ‘Mrs T was up here a while ago, but I really couldn’t understand what she was on about. She was talking in mysteries.’

  There was such a look of deep distress in his eyes that Maddie said at once, ‘Oh I’m sorry if the name means something to you I didn’t know about.’ Her mind was running riot. Perhaps it was the name of someone in his family he’d lost, perhaps . . .

  ‘It’s not me it upsets, but Harriet. Like I told you before, I’m not at liberty to explain everything to you. All I can tell you is that it was her husband’s name. Nick’s father’s name.’

  ‘I see,’ Maddie said slowly, though even now she did not fully understand.

  ‘It brings back tragic memories for her. She thought you’d done it on purpose, but I’ve told her that’s nonsense. How could you possibly have known her husband’s name?’ He paused. ‘What did make you think of that name, Maddie?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. I just like it, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, it would be kinder if you could think of another name you like.’

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed readily.

  Frank raised her hand to his lips in an old-fashioned courtly gesture. ‘Thank you, my dear.’

  ‘Is there a name you like, Frank?’

  He smiled sadly, ‘Well, the obvious one is Michael, isn’t it?’ Her face tightened and seeing it, he hurried on, ‘But of course that’s not a good idea for several reasons.’ He thought for a moment and then said, ‘What about Adam?’

  ‘Adam.’ Maddie repeated the name once or twice savouring the sound of it. ‘Yes, I like it.’ Her eyes clouded for a brief moment, feeling for a moment the acute loneliness of one without any blood relatives to call her own. ‘I wonder what my own father’s name was?’ she murmured wistfully.

  Moved, Frank took her into his arms. ‘Don’t, love. We’re your family now.’

  Maddie returned his hug, comforted by his kindness and yet her heart still ached for Michael.

  Her face buried against Frank’s shoulder, she screwed her eyes tightly shut as if trying to blot out the memory of his face. I won’t think of him, she vowed. He’s gone for ever. I won’t even think of him again.

  But she knew it was a vow she could not keep.

  Thirty-Five

  The first day that Maddie ventured downstairs, she was greeted with an ecstatic welcome from Ben. She made a huge fuss of the dog and then carefully introduced him to the wriggling, gurgling little baby in the pram.

  ‘How do you think he’s going to be with him, Frank?’ Maddie asked quietly, as Ben stood looking into the pram, his nose resting on the side, his tongue lolling, his tail wagging.

  ‘I think he’ll be all right, but we should watch him at first.’

  But it seemed that Ben, robbed of his four-legged charges, undertook to stand guard near the pram every time it was set outside in the front garden or the yard.

  Fondling the animal often, Maddie would bury her face in his rough coat and whisper, ‘He’s little Michael, Ben. And you miss his daddy, as much as me, don’t you?’

  The dog, seeming to understand, would whine and try to lick her face in comfort.

  Once Maddie was really up and about again, the household slipped into a routine, though it was an uneasy one. Harriet rarely spoke to Maddie, except when she was obliged to do so, but her manner towards Frank, instead of being resentful, seemed to Maddie to be even more fawning than before.

  Though it irritated her, it did not really bother Maddie, but there was something that did worry her far more. She was anxious for the safety of her child. Soon she would have to return to the fields for, in another few weeks, it would be planting time again and it would not always be practical for her to take the baby with her. There was no alternative but to leave the child in the care of the housekeeper. I’d sooner leave him with Ben, Maddie thought to herself.

  The first morning she returned to outdoor work, Maddie worked in the glasshouses, close to home and went into the house every hour to check on the child.

  ‘I thought he might be hungry,’ she made the excuse, which she hoped was a plausible one since she was still breast-feeding him.

  ‘I can always give him a bottle,’ Harriet said and sniffed. ‘I haven’t quite forgotten how to do it, you know.’

  Maddie said nothing, but bent over the cradle, her anxious eyes examining him. But he was sleeping peacefully, his tiny fingers curled in repose.

  As if sensing her unease, Harriet came to stand on the other side of the cradle. ‘I do know how to look after a baby, you know. He’ll be quite safe with me.’

  Maddie raised her eyes slowly and the long look she gave the woman said it all. Not a word passed her lips, but she knew Harriet Trowbridge would be left in no doubt as to her suspicions.

  As she left the house again, Maddie realized that the housekeeper now had a weapon more powerful than ever before; she could hurt Maddie through her child. The only thing – or rather person – who protected Maddie and her baby was Frank.

  But the woman was so devious, Maddie thought. If there was a way to do something that would not point the finger of blame at her, then Harriet would do it.

  Maddie sighed. Once more, her overwhelming love, this time for her child, had made her vulnerable.

  Over the next few months, Maddie had to admit that her fears seemed groundless. Far from carrying on her resentment towards the child, Harriet was captivated by the little chap. It was not until Maddie overheard Harriet talking to Frank one evening that she began to understand a little perhaps why, even though her antagonism towards Maddie herself was still evident, Harriet was charmed by Maddie’s son. Harriet obviously thought that Maddie was upstairs when in fact she was in the kitchen heating the baby’s bottle that had now become necessary since her own milk was not so plentiful. So Harriet made no attempt to keep her voice low and her words carried clearly through the half-open door.

  ‘Do you know, Fran
k, I can’t bring myself to dislike the little fellow.’

  ‘Why on earth should you, Harriet?’

  ‘Because he’s hers.’

  Frank’s heavy sigh was clearly audible. ‘Oh Harriet, I don’t understand why you’re so against poor Maddie. After all, you brought her here from the orphanage. If you remember, it was you who was adamant we should have a girl from the Home. I wasn’t so sure myself at the time.’

  ‘I had my reasons.’

  ‘What, exactly?’

  ‘Well . . .’ There was a brief pause and Maddie sensed that Harriet was floundering for a reply. ‘Well, with an orphan you’ve no parents demanding this, that and the other. No one coming to see if they’re working a few more hours than they should. Checking up. All this Welfare State – huh! Hard work never hurt anyone. I don’t hold with it, all this namby-pambying children today.’

  ‘And was that the only reason?’

  There was a pause before Maddie heard Harriet say sharply, ‘You’re too sharp by half, Frank Brackenbury.’ Then her voice softened as she deliberately changed the subject. ‘It’s like having Nicholas little again and this time I can enjoy looking after the little man without all the worry I had then.’

  Maddie heard the low murmur of Frank’s voice but as the milk boiled up and threatened to spill over, she made a dash for the saucepan and could hear no more.

  So Maddie returned to her work in the fields with a lighter heart and though she still did not entirely believe that Harriet would never bring her pain through her child, she did now think that the woman would not harm the baby boy.

  ‘It’s nice to have you back,’ Nick said, as they planted row after row of bulbs alongside each other.

  ‘It’s nice to be back.’

  ‘You have recovered quickly, haven’t you? And you’ve got your slim figure back, except . . .’ His voice faded away but Maddie had seen that his glance lingered on the fuller shape of her breasts.

  Nick was only a few months older than herself and it was natural that he should start to be interested in girls. And since she was the nearest . . .

  ‘Have you got a girlfriend, Nick?’ she asked, keeping her tone light, teasing, but not unkind.

  ‘Huh, who’d look at me? Besides, they wouldn’t get further than the gate, now would they?’

  ‘What about Jenny? She really likes you, you know?’

  ‘Does she?’ His tone was non-committal.

  ‘Why don’t you ask her out sometime? You could take her to the village dance or to the pictures.’

  ‘I don’t think . . .’ he began and then he glanced up and stopped whatever he had been going to say. ‘What’s he doing here?’ Now his tone was full of belligerence.

  Maddie straightened up. ‘Who?’ she began and then, as she saw the rider on horseback picking his way carefully down the edge of the field, she said, ‘Come to see what we’re doing with his land, I expect.’

  The rider had dismounted and was standing beside his horse holding the bridle and watching her as Maddie stepped carefully towards him along the single row left empty between the bulbs.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Theo. Have you come to see how we’re getting on?’

  He smiled as he touched his riding hat with his whip. ‘Good day to you. I trust I find you well?’

  Closer now, Maddie looked into his eyes and saw that his enquiry held genuine concern. She wondered if he knew. At his next words, she was left in no doubt.

  ‘I understand congratulations are in order.’ His voice was soft and its tone still kindly, yet the smile was gone from his mouth and there was a strange look in the depths of his eyes. ‘Both on your marriage and the recent birth of your son.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

  ‘And the child? All is well with you both?’

  ‘Thank you, yes.’

  ‘Ah. Good, good.’ He paused, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Then turning to other matters he became more at ease. ‘I’ve brought you some good news.’

  ‘Really?’ Her heart lurched. Was it Michael? Had he somehow got news of Michael? It was the first thing that sprang to her mind.

  ‘Yes. I’ve just had word from the authorities that you can plant another two acres of bulbs this year and I’m sure it won’t be long now before restrictions are lifted altogether.’

  Despite the plummeting of her heart in disappointment, Maddie smiled, ‘That is good news. Thank you.’

  There was a pause as for a moment he held her gaze. Then he glanced over her shoulder and said, ‘By the look on Nick’s face, I’m keeping you from your work. I must go. Be sure to give my regards to – er – your husband.’

  He gathered the reins in his hands and mounted. ‘Good day to you . . .’ There was the tiniest pause before he added, ‘Mrs Brackenbury.’ Then, once more, he guided his horse carefully along the side of the field towards the gate.

  She stood watching him until she heard Nick’s truculent voice behind her say, ‘Are you going to help me plant the rest of these bulbs today or not?’

  Thirty-Six

  It was a bright warm autumn day when Maddie tucked baby Adam into the deep-bottomed black pram and wheeled him down the lane towards the village. She had promised to visit Jenny and Mrs Grange at the corner shop and today she had allowed herself the afternoon off to do just that.

  She parked the pram outside and climbed the steps to push open the door. The loud clang of the doorbell made the two people standing behind the counter and their one customer look up.

  ‘Oh Maddie.’ She heard Jenny’s cry at once as she came darting around the counter from her place and saw Mrs Grange nodding a welcome.

  After the first greeting, Maddie glanced towards the young man standing near the counter, holding his hand out for his change from the old-fashioned till.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t Stinky Smith. Fancy seeing you.’ Almost before the words were out of her mouth, she felt Jenny’s sharp nudge in her ribs.

  ‘Don’t call him that any more, Maddie. He’s got a nice job in town now, in an office, haven’t you Sti . . . I mean, Steven?’

  Maddie looked him up and down and had to admit at once that the name no longer suited him. Standing before her was a well-dressed young man in a suit, white shirt and tie with his once unruly hair slicked neatly back.

  But the grin he gave her was as cheeky as ever. ‘And I hear the name the Mad March Hare doesn’t fit you now.’ The grin widened. ‘The mad bit might, of course, but I hear you’ve changed your name.’

  Maddie was suddenly on the defensive, wondering what was coming next, but Stinky – or Steven – as she told herself she must now call him, seemed quite at ease. ‘Where is the little fellow then? Outside is he? Come on, Ma, let’s have a look-see.’

  ‘Cheeky young imp, you are,’ Mrs Grange laughed but came round the counter and passed through the door Steven held open for her. Puffing, she descended the three steep steps and bent over the pram.

  ‘He’s a lovely little chap. Hasn’t he got a shock of dark hair? Get a lot of indigestion when you was carrying him, did you, love?’

  ‘Not particularly,’ Maddie laughed.

  ‘Ah well,’ Mrs Grange nodded sagely, ‘they always say if you have it bad when you’re carrying, the babby’ll have a lot of hair.’

  At that moment the child whimpered and wriggled.

  ‘Bring him inside. I should like to have a hold of him.’

  ‘Well, I’d best be on me way,’ Steven said. ‘See you, Jen. Don’t forget. Sat’day night?’

  Jenny turned a little pink. ‘All right.’

  Minutes later, they were sitting in Mrs Grange’s back room and she had taken the child from Maddie. Cuddling him against her ample bosom, she rocked him gently to and fro.

  ‘Now then, now then,’ she crooned, ‘let’s have a proper look at you. Why, you are just like your daddy was when he was a babby. He was a handsome little chap an’ all.’

  Maddie frowned and then forced herself to laugh and s
ay, ‘Oh Mrs Grange, you don’t look old enough to remember Frank as a baby.’

  The huge bosom heaved with laughter. ‘I aren’t, lovey. But I do remember Michael as a bairn.’ Now she stared straight at Maddie as if defying her to deny the truth.

  Maddie felt herself colouring and dropped her gaze. So what Jenny had told her had been true. It was too late to stem the gossip and, for once, the gossip had been the truth.

  She heard Mrs Grange chuckle softly and say, ‘Don’t worry, lass. All the village know the truth and they know that Mr Frank has married you to save that young scallywag’s skin.’ She laughed even louder as she added, ‘Even the village bobby knows all about it, but he’s not going to do owt when you and the bairn are being well cared for and that young scamp safely out of the way, now is he? He knows as well as the rest of us, that Mr Frank’s not to blame.’

  ‘I . . .’ Maddie felt herself growing hotter by the minute.

  ‘Mind you,’ Mrs Grange went on. ‘I must say I was surprised at young Michael going off like that. I had him made of sterner stuff than that. Oh, I know he flirted a bit with the village lasses and I don’t doubt there’s more than one around here fancied her chance with him, but I wouldn’t have thought he would have deserted you the way he did. And I have to say it . . .’

  And who would be able to stop you, Maddie thought, but she held her tongue between her teeth to stop the words from slipping out.

  ‘We’d have thought better of him if he stayed and faced the music and stood by you.’

  ‘I – it’s not as simple as that,’ Maddie blurted out, forced to speak about something she had vowed she never would again.

  ‘No, lass, I don’t suppose it is. Life ain’t simple. It never was.’ The woman was still rocking the baby in her arms, but now she was glancing from Maddie to Jenny and back again, a thoughtful look on her face. ‘Are you sisters?’ she asked bluntly.

  Maddie and Jenny exchanged a glance and then, with a similar gesture, they both shrugged. ‘We don’t know who we are, really,’ Maddie explained and added wryly, ‘only that we were both not wanted ’cos we were dumped on the steps of the orphanage only a few months apart.’