Yes, Mama

by Helen Forrester

  ‘In the factory?’

  ‘Oh, aye, she is.’

  ‘How horrid!’

  ‘Oh, aye, it is. So my line of thinkin’ is, let’s ask her to come to look after your Mam. Offer her a real housekeeper’s job with a good housekeeper’s wages.’

  ‘Polly! It’s a marvellous idea – but she couldn’t manage alone – she’s so small, for one thing. And to get nurses would be impossible – they’re all going to the army.’

  ‘Your Mam don’t need professional nurses – only very kind and patient women. Now, at present there’s many a soldier’s wife with kids who can’t make ends meet and yet can’t leave the children for long; I bet that in the smaller streets round here, we could find half a dozen as would take turn and turn about for a few hours a day and be thankful for it. Mr Harold would have to pay ’em well, but Fanny could teach them and keep them in line – she knows what’s to be done; and she’s methodical, too.’ She paused for breath, and then went on earnestly, ‘Doctor did suggest a nursing home a while back. But you couldn’t get her into one now, even if you wanted to, with all the wounded crowding in.’

  Alicia agreed to her last remark. Then she said slowly, ‘With your idea, she would be in her own home. Do you think such women would mind the washing and the cleaning up? It’s a disgusting job, sometimes.’

  ‘Women as has had three kids close together is used to such things. And a lot of them will’ve nursed, or seen nursed, old folks in their own homes – they’ll know.’

  Alicia nodded agreement. She slowly put down the brooms and dusters she had been carrying. As Polly watched her, she went over to the chaise longue in the window where Elizabeth reclined, fretfully kicking off the shawl over her feet. She looked thoughtfully down at her. Though at the moment her mother seemed comparatively quiet, Alicia knew she could get up at any moment, to rant and tear off her clothes and defecate on the polished, oak floor.

  Elizabeth ignored her daughter’s approach and Alicia slowly raised her eyes to stare out at the busy street. What Polly offered meant a new life to her, perhaps a hard life, but one with a person beside her who loved her. It was made possible, she thought, only because Elizabeth now recognized nobody. She felt a sense of desolation at the emptiness of her mother’s life and at the terrible price she, her daughter, had had to pay for it. She had given her youth, as she did her duty in nursing Mama – and Papa, who had, so unwillingly, given her a home. She had paid a frightful toll, and it had been taken for granted by most of those around her, she thought bitterly.

  She glanced down again at Elizabeth. She found it difficult to believe that this benighted woman was her mother who had once loved a tall, blond man with the same passion that Alicia felt for Billy – and the result had been an unwanted, neglected child who had become a servant – and only Uncle Harold had really tried to make the servitude bearable.

  ‘If Mama had cared at all for me, she could have had my devoted love – instead of pity and duty,’ she ruminated and felt again her childhood sense of being shut out by Elizabeth.

  She turned slowly back to Polly, and said acidly, ‘Dear Florence and dear Charles are going to have a fit.’

  ‘Do them good. No reason why Mr Charles and his Missus shouldn’t live in this house, if they’re worried about your Mam; then they could supervise Fanny.’

  ‘You’re right.’ Alicia’s voice was suddenly brisk. ‘I think we’d better start by talking to Dr Bell.’

  Dr Bell felt that Polly’s suggestion was workable. ‘I remember Miss Barnett well,’ he said with a smile. ‘And, of course, she’s been with Mrs Woodman nearly all her life.’

  While Billy fretted impatiently, Alicia wrote to Charles and to Florence. They both arrived with their spouses the following day, Charles and Veronica first.

  ‘Get married?’ exclaimed Charles disparagingly. ‘Who to?’

  ‘A rancher from Canada called William Tyson.’ Alicia sat calmly in front of him in the morning-room, her chin set defiantly in the air.

  ‘What an incredible idea,’ Veronica exclaimed, fear clutching at her heart. She sat down suddenly in Elizabeth’s old chair by the window.

  The surname of Alicia’s proposed husband sounded vaguely familiar to Charles but he could not place him.

  ‘Where did you meet Mr Tyson?’ he inquired, watching his apprehensive wife out of the corner of his eye.

  ‘I wrote to you about him nearly twelve months ago. He’s Polly’s brother.’

  ‘What?’ This from Charles.

  ‘You couldn’t marry a servant!’ expostulated Veronica.

  ‘I resent your remark!’ Alicia flared. ‘He can keep me and he’s a very decent man. I see no reason why I can’t marry him.’

  According to them, there were a thousand reasons, and also according to the Reverend Clarence and Florence, who panted in about half an hour later, the most compelling one being the unspoken one that none of them wanted to care for Elizabeth.

  The family row, through which Alicia fought her way stoically, was vicious. Apart from anything else, they said Alicia was betraying her class.

  White with rage at the insult to Billy, Alicia announced that she would make arrangements for the care of Elizabeth with Uncle Harold, since he was their father’s executor.

  ‘But I’m her son,’ shouted Charles indignantly.

  ‘Then you look after her,’ Alicia snapped back. ‘Behave like a son.’

  She swept from the room, beside herself with anger which she had never expressed before.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  I

  Alicia fled to the morning-room and shut herself in. She was trembling from the aftermath of the quarrel and sat down on her mother’s old chair by the window, her hands clenched in her lap. The winter afternoon had closed in and it was almost dark. The gasfire was unlit and the room was cold. She put her head down on her knees and began to cry with great, hard sobs.

  She barely heard Charles slam the front door after him when the family left. She was terrified that they would find some way to make her stay with her mother, make her break her engagement. Clarence had, after all, the awesome authority of the Church behind him and Charles was a brilliant scholar. She felt that beside them she was a nobody, simply a woman who should obey.

  Would kind Uncle Harold feel that Billy was beneath her? Or that she should not leave her mother to a servant, however good?

  Polly had been sitting mending in Elizabeth’s room, while she watched her mistress. She heard in the distance the sound of angry voices and made a wry face, but she dared not leave Elizabeth who was restless and fretful. Poor little Allie. She wished that Billy was at home, but he had gone to visit his sister, Mary and his nephews and nieces.

  A few minutes after the family’s stormy exit, he came running up the front steps, whistling cheerfully. He let himself in and, after struggling out of his blue overcoat, went in search of Alicia. He found her still in the darkened morning-room, quiet now, except for an occasional dry sob.

  He was beside her in a flash, his good hand on her bent shoulder. ‘Luvvie! What’s to do? What’s up?’

  She raised her head and turned to look up at him. Then she wailed, ‘They all came and shouted at me. They said I was deserting Mama. All kinds of dreadful things.’ She put her arms round him and laid her face against his rough, serge trousers, and began to cry again. ‘Four of them, all going at me at once.’

  ‘Aye, luv,’ he soothed. ‘They’re not worth givin’ away with a pound o’ tea. Don’t you fret. I’m goin’ to marry you, come hell or high water. Then they’ll have to do somethin’ about your Mam.’

  ‘But I can’t simply leave her!’

  ‘Na, of course not. You get a hold of your Uncle Harold. You always said as you got along with him, and he’s the man what looks after your Papa’s money, isn’t he? He can fix to pay Fanny good wages and maybe talk some sense into your brother and sister.’

  Alicia took out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘I hoped a little bit
that they might be pleased I was going to be married – and one of them might volunteer to look after Mama,’ she said unhappily.

  He pulled her up from her chair and held her to him. ‘What does it matter whether they’re pleased or not? We’re goin’ to be six thousand miles away, and I can tell you that there’s people there as’ll like you and be your friends. They’ll be more like family to you than your brother and sister ever will.’

  That night, Alicia wrote to Uncle Harold. He arrived at his late brother’s house the following afternoon, perturbed and tired after an argument with his wife, Vera, about the suitability of Alicia’s proposed marriage.

  To Alicia, he looked very frail and she realized, for the first time, what an old man he was. She offered him a glass of brandy from the last bottle in Humphrey’s cellar. He accepted it gratefully and leaned against the back of the settee on which he was sitting. Polly had brought up the brandy and, at a gesture from Alicia, she stayed in the room; hovering in the background while Alicia explained to him the details of the plan suggested by her.

  He listened quietly, nodding his head from time to time, until she had finished. Then he cleared his throat, and said, ‘I think I should meet Mr Tyson, first, if he’s at home.’

  Agreeably surprised, Polly went to find Billy, helped him into his hospital blue jacket and watched while he hastily combed his hair.

  With some trepidation, he marched into the morning-room and stood respectfully in front of the old man, his left hand tucked into his buttoned-up jacket.

  Uncle Harold looked the young man up and down and then held out his hand to him. ‘Sit down, Tyson.’ Billy shook hands and then perched on the edge of a straight chair.

  Harold Woodman asked which Regiment he had served in and how he had been wounded, to which Billy replied briefly. Then he asked what Billy proposed to do when he was discharged, and, with some enthusiasm, Billy told him about his quarter-section and how he hoped to continue to raise horses. Hesitantly, he spoke of his share in Huang’s cafe and how they were building it up; he was not sure what Uncle Harold would think of such a business venture. Uncle Harold, being a very shrewd businessman himself, thought it could be a remarkably good investment, and he said so. Then he held out his hand to Billy, and said, ‘I’ve neglected to congratulate you; you’re a lucky man.’

  ‘I know it, Sir.’

  ‘When is the wedding to be?’

  Billy glanced at Alicia, who smiled at him. ‘Soon as we can fix up Mrs Woodman,’ he said firmly.

  ‘And then you’ll take Miss Alicia to Canada?’

  ‘Yes, Sir. And me sister, Polly, here, so Miss Alicia won’t feel lonely, Sir.’

  ‘Can you pay the fares?’

  Alicia interrupted here, to say, ‘Between the three of us, we can, Uncle. I’ve saved from the salary you’ve been paying me and Polly has some savings, too.’

  Polly thought it wise to bob a curtsey, and add, ‘Yes, Sir. Between the three of us we’ve plenty enough.’

  Alicia could do far worse with an Englishman returning wounded from the War, Harold Woodman ruminated, as he weighed up Billy. Unlike Charles, he remembered his own father’s humble beginnings and how he had laid the foundations for the prosperity of his sons, Humphrey and Harold.

  He chatted amiably for a few minutes with both Polly and Billy and then said that he was rather tired and would be glad to rest for a little while, so they left him with Alicia. Billy felt he had found an ally.

  Alone with Alicia, Harold Woodman relaxed. ‘Nice fellow, you’ve got there,’ he remarked, as he took a sip from his glass.

  Alicia was delighted by his approbation. She smiled.

  ‘Mind you, my girl, you have to realize that he has been brought up differently from you. Are you prepared for that?’

  ‘Do you mean that he’s a working man?’ Alicia bristled slightly. ‘He’s made his own way since he was twelve – and that’s good enough for me.’

  Uncle Harold laughed. ‘My father began life as a shoemaker,’ he told her. ‘But you have been fairly protected in your life.’

  ‘To all intents and purposes, I was brought up by two maidservants, one from the workhouse and one from the slums,’ she responded sharply.

  He was hurt by the bitterness of her tone but he knew she was right.

  II

  That afternoon, Billy took a note from Alicia to Fanny’s lodgings asking her to come over in the evening.

  While Polly patiently sat with Elizabeth, a mystified and slightly flurried Fanny was installed in the morning-room with Billy and Alicia, a large glass of Humphrey’s port in front of her.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked suspiciously.

  When they told her of their engagement, she jumped up and embraced them both in turn, with whoops of pleasure that would have done credit to an Indian on the warpath. ‘I knowed it!’ she shouted. ‘I seen ’im lookin’ at yez.’

  Laughing, Alicia disentangled herself from her and restored her to her chair. She then went carefully through Polly’s plan with her. She finished up by saying, ‘I hope you can come, Fan. I hope you can.’

  Fanny had listened soberly and was thrilled. She was careful, however, not to express too much enthusiasm. She would be employed by Old Fishface’s family and if they were anything like him where money was concerned, she felt she should play hard to get.

  She drank her port, while they waited. She saw herself as companion-help to an invalid lady, a person of dignity, garbed in good black bombazine with a jet necklace and earrings – and a black silk apron to indicate her status. And best of all, savings locked up in a proper tin cash box in her bedroom.

  ‘I wouldn’t consider it for less’n the wages I’m gettin’ now,’ she told them. ‘And I would need help ’cos I got to have me days off. And somebody’d have to help me lift her.’

  Though Billy understood Fanny’s ploy, Alicia did not and her face fell at Fanny’s lack of enthusiasm.

  Fanny saw her disappointment and felt that she had been too hard on her. She relented a little and said smilingly, ‘I always loved your Mam, and I’m sure I could manage her as well as you could. I bin with her nearly all me life – and coming back would be like comin’ home. Only I’m determined to improve meself.’ She folded her hands primly in her lap to indicate her firmness about this.

  Uncle Harold will never agree to wages equivalent to those of a munition worker, though Alicia despairingly. Aloud, she promised to talk to him.

  III

  That afternoon, after taking a short nap, Harold Woodman spent a few minutes lying contemplating the ceiling of his late brother’s bedroom while he considered the best way of coercing either Charles or Florence into caring for their mother.

  Then as a strategy occurred to him, his wrinkled face broke into a smile. He knew all the combatants fairly well and he earnestly wished for his sister-in-law to have the best possible care. He told Alicia that he would take the electric tram out to see the Reverend Clarence Browning and that he would probably be late in returning.

  He accepted a quick lunch and left to get his tram without further explanation, leaving a very doubtful Alicia. Billy kissed her and told her, ‘Cheer up, luv. I’m goin’ to put the pressure on by booking passages to Canada – and we’ll get the banns read.’

  ‘How can you, Billy, without first settling about Mama?’

  ‘We can and we will,’ he replied grimly.

  Equally grimly, Uncle Harold sought the help of the Reverend Browning.

  After pleasantries had been exchanged and it was explained that Florence was giving a bible class in the church hall, Uncle Harold expressed the opinion that she was not strong enough to take over the care of her mother, if Alicia got married.

  The Reverend Browning was very surprised at this; he had rather expected to be pressed into taking in his mother-in-law, after seeing how adamant Alicia was about going to Canada. His relief that this was not likely to be so was very great and he willingly undertook to go with Uncle Harold to see Cha
rles.

  Pleased that he had succeeded in his first manoeuvre, Uncle Harold surveyed the enemy over a cup of tea brought in by Clarence’s elderly maid. Florence was, in his opinion, a disorganized fool. It would be far better to pin the responsibility on to Charles and his wife. Charles could move into what was, after all, his own house, close to the University. And Charles’ wife, he knew, ran her home and children in an orderly manner. Cutting out Florence on grounds of ill-health would stop the brother and sister trying to push the burden on to each other. And getting the Reverend Browning on his side would, thought Harold, bring the weight of church opinion onto a reluctant Veronica.

  After writing a quick note of explanation to be given to Florence on her return from her class, they set out by tram and ferry to Seacombe.

  The family delegation was received by Charles and Veronica with little enthusiasm. They were expecting guests for dinner and were about to go upstairs to change into their dinner clothes.

  ‘How sweet of you to call,’ gushed Veronica, half her mind on her dinner party, despite apprehension about the reason for the unexpected visit.

  The Reverend Browning beamed on her, his clerical collar shining in the gaslight, while Charles shook hands and offered them a drink.

  Uncle Harold sat down in the most comfortable chair and took a glass of Madeira as if he expected to be there for some time. Charles’s heart sank, as he handed the smiling Clarence a glass of port.

  Harold Woodman wasted no time. He went straight to the point, outlining Alicia’s plan to marry and the need for Elizabeth to have suitable care. ‘You are legally responsible for her,’ he told his nephew, and the Reverend Browning nodded agreement in a most annoying way. ‘She’s actually living in a house that you own close to the University. It would be easy to move your family into it.’

  Veronica looked at him, appalled. Charles was about to reply, but before he could, Harold outlined the plan to employ Fanny to nurse Elizabeth. ‘I am the administrator of your father’s Estate and she can be paid out of it, as can any extra help she may need.’ He handed his glass back to Charles to be refilled.