Yes, Mama

by Helen Forrester

  IV

  On a warm, late September day, Florence and three of her children dropped in for afternoon tea. After enduring the children while Alicia served tea, Elizabeth suggested wearily that they should take the youngsters for a run in the garden, so Alicia and Florence took them outside.

  Alicia pointed out with jubilation that, today, she had her hair up for the first time, and she turned her head so that Florence could admire the neat bun at the back of her neck.

  Florence said absently that it was very nice, and turned to chide three of her children who were romping through a bed of delphiniums, the pride of Mr Bittle, the gardener. Her scolding was ineffectual and she felt wearily that she had not the strength to heave them bodily out of the flowerbed, so she turned a fretful face back to Alicia.

  Alicia was saying, ‘Flo, do you think I’m old enough to have a Coming Out Party?’

  Away in her parsonage ever since Alicia was born, Florence had little idea of the day-to-day isolation of her half-sister, and she replied casually, ‘I imagine you could have your friends in. The drawing-room is big enough for a little dance.’

  ‘It needs a good clean,’ replied Alicia ruefully. ‘You had a dance, didn’t you? And that’s how you met Clarence?’

  ‘Yes. Mama asked the sons of friends of hers, and he was one of them. The idea is to meet possible husbands.’

  ‘Are you happy with him, Flo?’

  The sudden question disconcerted the older woman. Under the brim of her straw hat, her eyes were troubled. ‘Well, of course. Clarence is very good and the children are a great consolation. What else can one expect?’

  ‘Were you in love with Clarence, I mean truly, romantically in love?’

  ‘Really, Alicia, I think that is a rather impertinent question. Naturally one loves one’s husband – it’s the duty of a wife.’ They sat down together on the garden seat and Alicia stretched her arms above her and then clasped her hands behind her head. ‘I’d like to be in love,’ she declared, ‘really and truly in love.’

  ‘Alicia! Don’t stretch yourself in public; it’s most unladylike. In love? Well, I hope it happens.’ She thought how nice it would be to be sixteen and not know anything about the nastiness of love and the pain and exhaustion of child-bearing – and how totally unreasonable husbands could be. She pushed back errant wisps of hair from her face; she looked terribly tired and old, and Alicia pitied her.

  ‘You know, Flo, if I get married, I’m not going to have a lot of children.’

  Florence smiled sadly. ‘You don’t have any choice. They simply come.’

  ‘Even if you don’t get married?’

  Florence hesitated. ‘Well, you know that old maids don’t have them. But you don’t want to be an old maid, do you?’

  ‘Aunt Sarah seems to be quite happy in her little house and with her pony and trap.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but Miss Webster was left quite a competence by her father.’

  ‘Well, won’t Papa leave you and me something? I thought all fathers did.’

  Florence did not know how to answer the question. Though Humphrey tolerated Alicia in his house, Clarence had not hesitated to state that Alicia was illegitimate and that her mother’s morals had been a source of gossip for years. He had, at the same time, pointed out that a Vicar’s wife must always be above suspicion.

  Under Alicia’s steady gaze, Florence squirmed uneasily. Though her father sent her generous monetary gifts for her birthday and at Christmas, she knew that he never gave anything to Alicia; he seemed to ignore the girl as far as possible. And Clarence was in part correct; her mother had been in times past rather a flirt and her clothes had tended to be extremely fashionable and too bright in colour for a place like Liverpool. Alicia was, however, waiting for an answer, so she said hesitantly, ‘Well, I’m not sure. I suspect that he is not quite as well off as he used to be, so I can’t say.’

  The cheerfulness engendered by her mother’s permission to put her hair up went out of Alicia, as she looked at her obviously embarrassed, prevaricating sister. Papa was certainly being quite careful about money; yet she felt that Florence was trying to evade replying to her question. As it had done many times lately, a sense of dread invaded her and made her stomach muscles clench. Without Papa, what would happen to Mama and to herself? If they could not pay Polly, she, too, would have difficulties and would have to find another job. Alicia wondered how she could live without Polly. She licked her lips, and tried to be practical, as she suggested, ‘Perhaps I should forget about Coming Out; the girls at school used to say that it wasn’t the party you gave yourself that was so much fun, but the parties of the other families to which you were invited. And who is going to ask me? I never see another girl these days – I mean, nice girls – when I go shopping; they are all in school.’ She stopped, her expression pensive. Then she added heavily, ‘I must be the most boring person on earth.’

  Florence did not deny her last remark; Alicia was rarely spritely. She did feel, however, a sense of guilt. If her mother was not well enough to bring Alicia out, she should herself help the girl a little – though what Clarence would say if she suggested giving parties for Alicia would probably be unprintable.

  Yet, Coming Out launched you on the marriage market, gave you a chance to meet eligible young men. Even plain girls like Alicia had to marry – what else were they to do? The few girls who earned their living in offices or stores were lower class. There was, of course, nursing, thanks to the efforts of Florence Nightingale; but if Alicia became a nurse she would have to live in the hospital amongst a lot of ignorant, Roman Catholic Irish girls, and Florence shuddered at the thought of the amount of floor-scrubbing and cleaning of bedpans she would have to do before she received her nurse’s cap.

  The very thought of giving even a Tea for Alicia made Florence feel tired to death, but she said reluctantly, ‘I’ll mention it to Mama, if you like.’

  ‘Would you, Flo?’ She looked wistfully at her sister. ‘I would so love a party with a special dress – not made by old Miss Blossom!’ She smiled at her own reference to the elderly dressmaker whose clothes always seemed behind the times.

  ‘I’m sure you would.’ Inwardly, Florence sighed. The hint that the girl was a bastard, added to that almost white, wispy hair, the light grey eyes with their pale lashes behind glasses, the quietness of the girl. There was nothing to recommend her to a well-placed youth unless she had a good dowry. She’s pleasant and she’s capable and that’s all, thought Florence.

  The recollection of Alicia’s ability to organize her mother’s house reminded Florence of her own need for additional help at home.

  ‘You know, Alicia,’ she said slowly, ‘if Papa was not able to leave either of us any money, the Reverend Browning would give you a home; Clarence is a little stern, but he would never let you starve.’

  Alicia’s lips looked almost grim because at this remark she clamped them together so tightly. No, she screamed inwardly. Heaven preserve me from becoming an unpaid help in a brother-in-law’s house, penniless, and without a moment’s privacy or peace. Better to be a paid governess in the house of a stranger. She said aloud, ‘That would be very kind of you both, Flo. Thank you.’

  V

  Florence broached the subject to her mother on one of Elizabeth’s rare visits to the Vicarage.

  Because Humphrey had had a new lock put on the wine cellar, Elizabeth was unusually sober. Seated in Florence’s pokey little sitting-room, a glass of the Reverend Browning’s poor quality Madeira in her hand, she was doing her best to sip the wine genteelly while she longed to gulp it down and ask for another glass. Her hands trembled and her mind had a tendency to wander.

  Sarah Webb who had driven her out to the Vicarage noted her friend’s predicament and thought that, later, she would warn Florence not to offer her mother alcohol. Poor Elizabeth would kill herself with drink, if she were not watched.

  Elizabeth was caught off balance by Florence’s request for a Coming Out for Alicia. She blurt
ed in reply, ‘Your father would never allow it.’

  ‘But, Mama, I had one.’

  ‘It – er – would be so expensive, nowadays.’

  Florence tried again. ‘It would not need a great deal, Mama. I’m sure we could cater it ourselves – and get flowers from the garden. I could play the piano for dancing. And that leaves only wine – which Papa probably already has in his cellar.’

  Cornered, Elizabeth cast a frantic glance at Sarah.

  Sarah knew all too well that a Coming Out Party would cause another round of malicious gossip and would probably not result in Alicia getting a husband. Elizabeth had already told her of Humphrey’s angry remark that he would leave nothing to Alicia, and, of course, Elizabeth’s capital left her by her father could not be touched; she could use only the interest, so, presumably, Alicia had no dowry.

  Watching Alicia slowly take over the housekeeping, Sarah sensed that, in any case, Elizabeth simply did not want to alter the current situation; for once, Elizabeth and Humphrey were in silent agreement; it was convenient to have a trustworthy, unpaid housekeeper.

  Anxious not to hurt Alicia, Sarah took a careful sip from her teacup, and said to Florence, Your Mama and Papa are far from well, dear – and the passing of Edward … the wear and tear of a party could be too much for them.’ She turned to Elizabeth, and asked, ‘Would Clara in West Kirby give a little party for her and invite the local young people?’ That, she argued, might introduce the girl to a new group, give her a little chance.

  ‘Clara is totally bed-ridden now; her companion-help has to do everything for her. She could not even come to Edward’s Memorial Service. She’s been very kind in asking Alicia to visit her to get the sea air … but I haven’t been able to spare her lately …’ Elizabeth could hardly hold her teacup steady and leaned forward to put it down on the side table, before she dropped it.

  All this time, Alicia had been kneeling in front of the windowseat on which she and Florence’s youngest daughter had spread a jigsaw puzzle. As she half-listened to the debate on her Coming Out, she felt a painful sadness; her mother’s remark about her aunt’s invitations, however, was comforting; dear Aunt Clara had not forgotten her, as she had often assumed. Now it struck her that arthritic hands and sheer age had probably made it difficult for her to write many letters and, naturally, she would write, when she could, to Elizabeth. Mama, being often drunk, had probably forgotten to pass on the gentle, kindly messages.

  As her little niece triumphantly placed a corner piece in the puzzle, Alicia felt again that walls were closing round her – and the walls had no doors or windows. Though she had never had a social life, she had always hoped that as she grew up she would get a chance of making a circle of cheerful, intelligent friends.

  Elizabeth was woodenly declaring that dear Alicia did not need to Come Out; her place was with her mother.

  Alicia wanted to cry; the walls loomed even bigger and more menacing.

  She had wept and raged one night recently, while helping Polly plough through the household mending. ‘Why can’t I be like other girls and go back to school? At least I was learning something there.’

  Pitying her and anxious not to add to the girl’s burdens, Polly had tried to rationalize the situation for her. She had said, ‘Well, luvvy, your Ma and Pa need your help very badly at home; any girl would do the same as you and look after them. It’s a single daughter’s duty – you see it all the time.’ She had put down her sewing on the table and had leaned over to touch Alicia’s hand. ‘You’ve got enough book-learnin’, already, to last you a lifetime, duck.’

  Alicia had hung her head, so that Polly should not see the rebellion in her expression, and had continued to cross-stitch round a patch in a flannel sheet.

  Polly changed the subject to divert her, and asked, ‘When I done this hem, will you help me write to Billy? Come on. Here’s a hankie to dry your eyes.’

  Resignedly, Alicia wiped her face, blew her nose and agreed to help. Billy did not write that often, but at least three or four times a year, a long, printed epistle would arrive, and his adventures in Canada were sometimes very funny, as he described them to the sister for whom he hoped to make a home.

  Now, in Florence’s dowdy sitting-room, young Beatrice carefully put the last piece into the puzzle and smiled up at Alicia in triumph. She scrambled down from the windowseat and went to ask Florence for a piece of cake.

  Alicia got up off her knees and quietly took a seat by the completed puzzle.

  As the debate on a party for her petered out, she felt defeated. She knew she had duties towards her parents, duties defined by the Church which she no longer had the time to attend and by a society which did not hesitate to keep a daughter at home and single, if it were convenient to her parents.

  Doesn’t anyone have duties towards me? she wondered forlornly.

  VI

  In an effort to alleviate the disappointment her godchild must be feeling, Sarah Webb changed the subject of conversation, by asking Alicia, ‘Did you see the Indian troops pass through on the electric tram, dear? They’re here for the Coronation.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ replied Alicia a trifle defiantly, as she glanced at her surprised mother. ‘Polly and I walked down to Sefton Park to see them.’

  Her mother blinked. She was quite shocked. ‘Alicia! You should ask before you leave the house. To go out with the common herd to gape at foreign troops!’

  ‘You were asleep, Mama. I did not wish to wake you.’ She did not add that her mother had been sleeping off a bottle of port which Elizabeth had ordered Fanny to go out and buy for her. ‘I wanted to see the kind of men that Edward commanded.’ Her nose went into the air in a movement like that of her mother in earlier days, and she added, ‘They looked very fine – very handsome. I was safe there with Polly – and really a lot of most respectable-looking people had turned out for them.’

  Elizabeth responded sharply, ‘Well, it’s not to happen again. You are not to leave the house without my permission.’

  An outraged Alicia opened her mouth to protest, but Sarah took one of the girl’s hands and pressed it urgently. Alicia swallowed her anger, and answered sullenly, ‘Yes, Mama.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  I

  Though Alicia never knew it, the idea of her being Brought Out was finally killed by the Reverend Clarence Browning. With his eyes on promotion in the Church, he forbade Florence to have anything to do with it. ‘I cannot forbid you to see your half-sister,’ he had fulminated, ‘but the less attention drawn to her – and to her mother – the better it will be for us.’

  Florence protested at the slur cast upon Elizabeth, but the biting sarcasms thrown at her sent her weeping to her bedroom. Alicia would have to fight for herself, Florence decided in desperation. And as for her mother, Florence had an uneasy feeling that she was losing her wits; she seemed so stupid at times.

  Alicia would not have seen anything of the festivities for the Coronation of King Edward VII on August 9th, 1902, had not Sarah, pitying her confinement, persuaded Elizabeth that an old woman needed someone with her if she were to mingle with the crowds in the city.

  ‘I know you don’t want to go,’ she said, ‘so I want to borrow dear Alicia just for a couple of hours.’

  ‘I can’t imagine why you want to go – the city will be packed – full of vulgar curiosity seekers,’ responded Elizabeth fretfully.

  ‘I always did love crowds,’ Sarah replied sweetly, so Elizabeth reluctantly gave her consent.

  There was so much traffic on the roads to the city centre that the two ladies decided to go by electric tram; and it was a pleasure to Sarah to see Alicia’s face light up when she saw the gay buntings and streamers strung from the lamp-posts and the delightfully decorated trams, one of which had been specially illuminated in honour of Alexandra, the pretty new Queen.

  When Sarah’s legs began to fail, they went into a small café much frequented by lady shoppers. Sarah ordered an assortment of iced cakes, lemonade, ice
cream and tea and watched with pleasure as Alicia enjoyed them. The child can be quite vivacious, she ruminated, given a chance – but she does look dreadfully frumpy amongst the other young women in here.

  On the way home, Alicia thanked her godmother profusely for the outing. ‘I must be very frivolous,’ she confessed, ‘but I do love going out.’

  ‘Nonsense, child. I wish I could take you more often.’

  At sixty, Sarah was feeling her age and, though she hated to admit it, she could no longer afford such expeditions; like many others, her income inherited from her father now bought considerably less than it had twenty years before. She was preparing to give up her governess cart because she could no longer afford the stabling fees and she had already dispensed with her live-in maid; she now managed with the aid of a grey, silent charlady from the Workhouse, who came in every morning.

  Despite her growing infirmities, however, she arranged another little outing for Alicia, one that did not cost anything. She insisted that she and Alicia should go to see the opening of the new Toxteth Branch Library. Elizabeth complained capriciously that she could not spare Alicia, to which Sarah had roundly replied, ‘Rubbish, my dear. You should come along yourself; it is an important local event which we should be a part of. The library will make a lot of difference to this district.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly come,’ Elizabeth replied. ‘Standing amid the rabble would be too tiring.’

  ‘Well, then I promise not to keep Alicia more than two hours. Where is the child?’ And she insisted that, there and then, Alicia be sent for, so that she could be invited personally. She wanted to make sure that her godchild actually received the invitation; Elizabeth was most forgetful.

  Polly was surprised when, the next morning, Elizabeth asked where Alicia was.

  ‘Miss Webb came for her about an hour ago, Ma’am, to go and see the new lilbrary.’

  Elizabeth looked a little bewildered and then answered, ‘Yes, of course she did.’