by Rosie Clarke
‘Yes, I understand,’ Marion said. ‘I don’t have any lemons, but we do have sugar and milk.’ Honey was a treat and wouldn’t last more than a day in this house and she only made soup when she had time. ‘I could make some soup with carrots and onions or potatoes…’
‘Yes, when Mrs Kaye is able to take food, a nice thin vegetable broth will be the very thing… no meat or anything heavy…’
Marion nodded; her heart squeezing as she looked at her mother’s pale face. Ma hadn’t moved, even the flicker of a finger or an eyelid.
‘You are quite clear about my instructions?’ Doctor Phillips asked as they went downstairs. ‘Now, I need to wash my hands please…’ His gaze moved around the room. ‘If you have carbolic, you should scrub as much as you can manage of this room, the bathroom and the kitchen. Mrs Kaye could not fight an infection in her weakened state…’
He was making her feel the house was dirty, when she cleaned and scrubbed as often as she had time. The unfairness of it stung. How was she expected to do everything? Houses like this were impossible to keep clean, whatever you did!
Marion hurriedly supplied soap, warm water from the kettle and a clean towel. The doctor washed his hands, smiled at her and then walked to the door, turning to look at her.
‘Now, a fire in Mrs Kaye’s room, warmed milk for your sister, just a little to settle her tummy – and, above all, watch your mother and get help if she takes a turn for the worse. I shall return later…’
Marion nodded and hurried to collect what she needed, taking the coal bucket, wood and paper up to her mother’s room. It didn’t seem that cold to her, but the doctor knew what he was talking about, so she lit the fire and put the guard up. She went down to the kitchen then and boiled a kettle and heated a little milk in the pan, adding some sugar to it.
Milly was still looking sorry for herself, but clearly better. She was able to take her milk and drank it slowly and carefully, then smiled sleepily at her sister, snuggled down in bed and promptly fell asleep. Marion stroked her head, smiling at her innocence, and then went next door to her mother.
She touched her mother’s hands and found they were warmer, a little moist now. Was that what the doctor had wanted, to warm her up, make her sweat out the infection, whatever it was? However, she still wasn’t moving and she didn’t answer when Marion spoke to her.
It was eleven o’clock when the back door opened and Mrs Jackson called out to her. Marion left her mother and ran down to the kitchen. Mrs Jackson had brought the medicine bottles and also a loaf of fresh bread, some oranges, a home-baked seed cake and a dish containing a casserole of something that smelled delicious.
‘I thought you might not have time to shop, so I cooked a little more for you,’ she said kindly. ‘Now, is there anythin’ more I can do for you, Marion?’
‘You’re very kind, thank you. Could you keep an eye on Ma while I nip down to the shop and ask Mr Rosen to let me use his phone to ring Harpers and tell them I shan’t be in, please?’
‘Yes, of course, love,’ her neighbour said. ‘I’ll go upstairs and look in on them both while you nip out…’
Marion snatched up her purse and raced down to the corner shop. Mr Rosen was serving a customer, but as soon as he heard about her mother, he told her to go through to his parlour and use the phone. She rang the office at Harpers and explained that her mother and sister were ill and that she hoped to be in the next day with fingers crossed. The girl who took the message was friendly enough, but Marion worried what her supervisor would think – and yet she had no choice. She couldn’t leave her mother.
She then returned to the shop to pay Mr Rosen for her call and purchase a jar of honey and six eggs, but he didn’t have any lemons in his shop.
* * *
It took her about fifteen minutes to get there, make the call and return home and when she burst into the kitchen, she discovered Mrs Jackson making a pot of tea.
‘Your ma has just woken up and asked for a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘She seems very poorly, Marion. I hadn’t noticed how thin she was gettin’ – arms almost like sticks.’ Her eyes held sympathy as she looked at Marion. ‘I’m mostly next door, Marion, and if you ever need anything, just ask. My boys are good lads and I never go short of anythin’ – there’s always a bit goin’ spare…’
Marion flushed, because she knew Mrs Jackson was being kind, but Ma hated charity and she wouldn’t even have asked for help if she’d been consulted.
‘Thank you for what you did,’ Marion said. ‘We can manage most times. Robbie always brings his wages home; I don’t earn much yet, but it helps – and Dan gives us a bit when he comes home… so does Pa…’ A few bob if there was any left after he’d been to the pub.
Mrs Jackson shook her head, her expression betraying what she thought of Marion’s father. ‘Well, I shan’t press you – but my Reggie likes you, young Marion, and he would want me to offer… so we’re always there…’
Marion felt hot all over. She thanked her neighbour but was glad when she left. She carried a tray with two cups of tea up to her mother’s room and found Ma lying back against her pillows with her eyes closed.
‘You shouldn’t have troubled Mrs Jackson…’ Ma said weakly. ‘It was kind of her to come but…’
‘It was the doctor insisted…’ Marion said and Ma’s eyes opened.
‘Marion, you didn’t call him out!’
‘You were ill and so was Milly. I had to… I thought one of you might die…’
‘Oh, if Milly was bad…’ Ma’s eyes closed and she leaned back weakly against the pillows. ‘For her sake… it doesn’t matter about me…’
‘How would I go to work if you were gone?’ Marion asked and brought her a cup of hot sweet tea. It wasn’t what the doctor had recommended, but it was what Ma wanted.
‘You could let Kathy stay home,’ her mother said. ‘Milly will be at school in another year – and then Kathy can watch her… I shan’t be missed then.’
‘Ma, don’t!’ Marion said, feeling hollow inside. ‘We all love you – think of us…’
‘I’ve hung on until you’re old enough to cope,’ Ma said and sipped her tea. ‘He’s broken me, Marion. I’ve got nothing to go on for…’
Marion turned away angrily. Her mother was ill; she didn’t know what she was sayin’. Once she felt better, she would regret it.
‘You’ll be all right,’ she said, struggling to hide her feelings. ‘You’ve got to be, Ma. Milly still needs you.’
‘I suppose she does…’ Ma sighed, pushing away the hardly touched tea. ‘For a bit longer – but I count too, Marion, and I’ve had enough…’
Marion’s tears trickled down her cheeks as she left the room and went to see if her little sister was all right. Milly was sleeping but her temperature was normal. She’d taken her mother’s illness lightly – but Marion knew the doctor was right, something more, something fundamental, was wrong with her mother. She didn’t know if it was a physical illness, but, whatever, it was dragging her down, sucking her will to live.
When Doctor Phillips returned, she would tell him what was worrying her. Perhaps if he sent her mother to the infirmary, they could make her better… but did her mother really want to be well again? Did she use her illness as an excuse to keep her husband from her bed?
5
‘That is beautiful work…’
The man’s voice made Minnie’s spine tingle and she caught her breath, hardly daring to turn around. It couldn’t be him and yet she’d heard the name of their manager and wondered, but somehow it was still a big shock to see him standing there in her room.
‘I was away when Mrs Harper took you on, so I wanted to welcome you to the staff…’
‘Mr Stockbridge…’ the word was strange on her lips, because he’d always been Jonathan to her.
For a moment, her hands lingered on the exquisite gown she’d been embroidering. Minnie made herself breathe slowly, but she knew him, the feeling of intimacy so awkward after all these yea
rs but still there. He had changed little, a bit wider round the middle perhaps, but still that same grave face and open grey eyes that seemed to see into her soul. She wasn’t sure if he remembered her – but why should he? He’d had so much more in his life than she’d ever experienced… and they hadn’t met for over twenty years, when she’d told him she could never marry him. Yet, as she stared at him, it was if it were only yesterday.
‘Miss Minnie…’ he said and the sudden shock in his eyes told her that he’d just realised who she was and was stunned. ‘I saw the name, but it didn’t occur to me that it could be you…’
‘Mr Stockbridge,’ she replied her cheeks on fire. ‘I didn’t realise you were the manager here, well, not at first. No one told me until after I started working in the department…’ It had been too late to draw back then; besides, she’d been curious as to what he would look like after all these years.
‘How are you – and Miss Lumley?’ he asked, frowning as he recovered from his shock at seeing her.
‘Mildred passed away last year,’ she said, a catch of sadness in her voice. ‘It meant I couldn’t afford to go on living in the boarding house. Mrs Craven offered me a home and she spoke to Mrs Harper about a position for me. Mrs Harper was very kind and said she’d never seen such exquisite work…’
I’m sorry to hear about your sister…’
‘It was such a shock…’ Minnie said in a choked voice.
‘Yes, of course, it would be. I hope you’re feeling better now?’
‘Yes, thank you…’ Minnie offered a small smile.
‘Well you’re here now.’
Yes, I was very lucky to get the position.’
‘I was interested when I saw the invoices for your work,’ he told her, explaining why he’d come down to visit. ‘We’ve done alterations before this, but the embroidery is new…’ He was struggling against shock or emotion, she wasn’t sure which, and she gave him time to recover.
‘It can make such a difference to a plain gown,’ Minnie said, enthusiasm coming to her rescue and banishing the crippling shyness. Her love for her work overcame the embarrassment at seeing him for the first time in years and she spoke of what was in her heart. ‘How is your wife? I heard you married…’ And Mrs Harper had told her he had a daughter named Becky, who was seventeen years old, but she’d been too reticent to ask more questions.
‘My wife died soon after our daughter was born,’ he said soberly. ‘I live alone with Becky and a woman comes in to do the housework and cooks a meal for us sometimes. I often make do with a light supper and Becky has her lunch at school when she goes but she is capable of making her own these days… quite the young lady now…’ He smiled at the thought. ‘A lovely girl…’
‘Oh…’ Minnie wasn’t sure what to say, but then she realised he was talking too much because, like her, he wasn’t sure what to say. This meeting was just as awkward for him. ‘I am so sorry you lost your wife. It must have been hard bringing up your daughter alone…’
‘My mother was alive then, if you remember?’
Minnie nodded. She remembered his mother very well. Mrs Stockbridge had not particularly liked Minnie and she’d often wondered if that was why he’d accepted her refusal of his proposal so easily.
‘She helped and I employed a nurse until Becky went to school. It was difficult, but I had a little money from my father’s will…’
Minnie sympathised with his predicament. She knew only too well how hard it could be living on a legacy from a parent and a small wage. Of course, as Harpers’ manager, he would now be earning far more than she ever had from her sewing.
‘Is your daughter well?’
‘Yes, very – she is the light of my life…’ He coughed nervously and then recovered his composure, assuming his role as manager. ‘Well, I shall leave you to get on with your work, Miss Minnie – and welcome to Harpers. We like our staff to be happy…’ He hesitated, then looked back at her and for a moment she saw the old Jonathan, the man she’d loved so very much. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again, Minnie…’
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said and emotion rose in her throat, making her incapable of further speech. She thought she saw a flicker of something like regret in his eyes as he moved away.
After he’d gone, Minnie discovered she was shaking. She’d never expected to see Jonathan Stockbridge again, hadn’t imagined he would bother to visit her room. After all, he was the general manager and she was just a seamstress; she wasn’t sure she would have taken this job if she’d known he was the manager here before she’d applied for the position and then she hadn’t been able to turn it down because she’d needed it so badly. However, now that awkward first meeting was over and it would never be as bad again. He would probably avoid her department and she would do nothing to attract his attention. His embarrassment had been painful, she’d seen that at once – and she was sorry. He’d married a few months after she’d told him she could never leave Mildred and that showed he hadn’t felt the deep love that had stayed alive in her heart all these years. A love that she must never disclose to him or anyone!
Tears were hovering, but she blinked them away as someone entered the workroom and came towards her. Thank goodness! It was only Miss Gibbs – dear little Maggie who shared her home with her. She made an effort to paint on a smile and greet her.
‘Mrs Burrows sent me with these so you can check the colour for the embroidery you’re doing for Mrs Smythe-Jamieson, Miss Minnie.’ Maggie showed her the hats she was carrying in her large box. ‘You wanted to make sure the blue matched exactly your thread…’
‘Oh yes, of course I did,’ Minnie said and went to her box to take out the two threads she’d selected earlier. ‘I’d forgotten for a moment…’
‘Are you all right, Miss Minnie?’ Maggie asked, a flicker of concern in her eyes.
‘Yes, perfectly, my dear,’ she replied, though it was taking all her courage not to burst into tears. ‘There we are – now look… yes, I think this one matches perfectly. And the pink is just right for hat number two…’
‘Mrs Smythe-Jamieson was so particular,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m glad we checked, because she would have been cross if they hadn’t matched.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Minnie said and smiled. ‘The customer must have what she wants, Maggie dear – oh, forgive me, I should call you Miss Gibbs…’
‘No one else is listening,’ Maggie said, smiling at her. ‘The hats are paid for, so I shall leave them with you and then Mrs Smythe-Jamieson can try her dresses and hats together and she will see how well they look…’
‘You are such a thoughtful girl, my dear.’
Maggie admired Minnie’s latest work; an evening gown, which was hanging from a stand nearby. ‘You embroider so beautifully, Miss Minnie – one day I’d like you to do something for me.’
‘Of course, I will,’ Minnie said. Her hurt was easing now and it was all due to this young girl who was so kind and friendly. ‘I’ll make your wedding dress one day…’
‘I would love that,’ Maggie said and laughed. ‘All I need is someone to ask me to marry him…’
‘You have a very nice young man…’
‘Yes, Tim Burrows is lovely, but he’s more interested in the Royal Flying Corps at the moment. He’s learning to be a pilot and all his energy goes into that. When I do see him, we have tea and talk, but it’s mostly about his work and the men he flies with…’
‘Gentlemen are often that way,’ Minnie said gently. ‘One day he will surprise you by saying something lovely and then you’ll fall in love and marry him, you’ll see…’
‘Miss Minnie, I do love you,’ Maggie cried with a laugh. ‘I am so glad that Mrs Craven brought you to live with us.’
‘And it was my lucky day,’ Minnie said. ‘I was so alone after my sister died, but now I have you and Rachel – and Mrs Burrows too.’
‘We’re all friends here at Harpers,’ Maggie replied with a naughty smile. ‘Mrs Harper calls us Harpers’
girls and says we’re all her family… and I love her too.’
‘Yes, she is very kind,’ Minnie said. ‘She told me to call her Sally, but, of course, I don’t – one must not take advantage of another’s kindness. She is my employer’s wife and I shall never forget that she gave me this wonderful job…’
‘You more than repay her kindness with work like this,’ Maggie said. ‘I must go or Mrs Burrows will think I’ve got lost. I shall see you this evening.’
Minnie smiled as she left. Maggie’s arrival had saved her from making a fool of herself! The tears had been so close, but there was no point in giving way to them. So stupid of her to let the past affect her in that way. She had been shocked to see Jonathan, but she should not have let it affect her like that – it was so many years ago and she’d made her choice. She’d chosen Mildred, because her sister could not have managed without her, but she’d never stopped thinking of the man she’d given up. Even when she’d seen the report of his wedding in the paper, she’d continued to hold his memory dear. Strange that she hadn’t known he was a widower. Perhaps she hadn’t seen the announcement in the paper. Mildred had not always purchased one, of course, because she said it was an unnecessary luxury.
It was so foolish, because he clearly had not felt the same about Minnie, because he would not have married so soon had he loved her. Now it was time for her to put the past behind her and get on with her life. Jonathan had his own life and a daughter; he was no longer interested in the woman that had turned him down. She had new friends and a new life, to regret what she’d lost so long ago was a waste of her feelings and something she refused to indulge in.